His mother hadn’t mentioned this in her letter. Conor’s pulse fluttered.
Where is my mother?
“Devin!” he called, trying to cover his surprise. “It’s me, Conor.”
Devin said, “I know.” Then he called to the guards, cool and imperious, “What are you waiting for? Seize them!”
Rollan grabbed Conor’s elbow. Together they jumped away. One of the guards snatched at Conor, but he rolled out of the way. Briggan snapped at the mastiffs. They were stronger, but slower. And there was absolutely no reason to engage them: they had no purpose here in Trunswick. Conor knew these streets. If he could get to the smaller alleys, he might be able to lead Rollan and Briggan out of danger.
He ran down an alley. Beside him, Briggan jumped on top of crates, his powerful hind legs sending them crashing behind him. Essix coursed overhead, her shadow shrinking and growing as she ducked beneath clotheslines and over jutting roofs.
A girl shouted out a window, “Run, Greencloaks!”
Conor barely had time to look up before the girl’s mother dragged her inside and clapped the window closed. The mother’s expression was frightened.
Farther ahead, more windows opened. A boy and a girl waved at Conor, and then, just after Conor and Rollan had passed, they tipped buckets of scalding-hot water into the alleyway. The pursuing guards yelled in pain. Steam curled up the walls. The children were helping Conor and Rollan escape.
Conor had no breath to thank them, but he waved and hoped they understood.
“I’ll remember that!” one of the guards shouted at the windows, his hand clapped over his scalded face. Conor and Rollan left them behind, not slowing. Conor knew that there was a hidden weakness in the wall nearby. If they could just make it there, they could leave Trunswick behind and escape across the moors.
But as Conor darted down a side street, a huge lizard — as long as Briggan — suddenly loomed from the darkness. Its face and clawed feet were black, but the rest of its bumpy hide was a checkerboard of orange and black. Everything about it looked poisonous. It hissed like something out of a nightmare. Conor scrabbled in the other direction. Behind him he heard snarls and cries. He couldn’t see Briggan or Rollan. It felt like there were walls and people everywhere — an older girl with a flat frog in her hands, another girl with the giant lizard, and Devin with his leering smile.
As he spun, Conor was brought up short by a fourth person: a tall, dark-skinned boy and his spirit animal, a long-legged chestnut bird with a big, stork-like head. The bird was tall enough to look right into his eyes. Possibly it was adrenaline, but the hair on Conor’s arms felt charged, like when lightning had struck very close.
“I’d suggest giving in,” the boy said. “My hammerkop here has a very short temper.”
“Also,” added the girl holding the flat frog, “because we have your spirit animal.”
The mastiffs had pinned Briggan to the ground. Conor’s heart sank when he saw that one of them had bracketed its jaws loosely around Briggan’s windpipe. The wolf’s eyes flashed, full of rebellion, but he had no choice but to submit.
“Also also,” Devin said, “we have this one. His cloak seems slightly less green than yours.”
He pointed to Rollan, who squirmed and thrashed in a guard’s hands. Behind them, a tall, handsome man in a richly embroidered cloak watched the proceedings with an approving smile.
“Two little piggies,” the man said. “And one not-so-big, not-so-bad wolf.”
Rollan sneered and spat at him.
The man seemed unconcerned. If anything, Rollan’s rage pleased him. “You had your chance to choose sides, Rollan. We both see you chose poorly.”
This man knew Rollan? Conor tried to place him. Was he from the castle? A guard?
No.
His mind returned to the mountains of Amaya, where Barlow, their ally, their friend, had been slain — stabbed through the back while saving Abeke’s life.
This was Zerif.
A Conqueror.
We’ve delivered ourselves to the enemy, Conor thought, cursing himself. All because I wanted to come back here. Why? This isn’t home. This place has always been a trap. All because I wanted to return to a place where I’d always been trapped. Now I’m trapped all over again.
He couldn’t explain to Rollan how sorry he was.
The crowd parted for the earl himself. He looked exactly like his son Devin, only he had a pointy, neatly trimmed beard. He surveyed them coldly. “Put them both in the Howling House. We’ll decide what to do with them later.” To Conor and Rollan he said, “Place your spirit animals in passive form now.”
“Yeah,” Devin agreed. “It’d be too bad if we had to hurt a Great Beast.” His nasty smile indicated he didn’t think it would be too bad at all.
“Wait,” Rollan snapped. “What are we being imprisoned for?”
“We’ve done nothing,” Conor said. He unsuccessfully searched the earl’s face for any trace of compassion. “And you know I’m not a stranger to Trunswick.”
The earl barely glanced at them. It was obvious he didn’t find Rollan or Conor worthy enough to get the full attention he’d give a proper enemy. He said, “The cloak you wear here condemns you, boy. Trunswick has had enough of the Greencloaks’ iron rule. We’re weary of all their talk of Erdas’s destiny.” He lifted a lazy hand toward a blue flag bearing the wildcat. “Erdas, indeed. All this talk of our destiny. Trunswick will make its own destiny.”
Conor protested, “My lord, we only came to —”
The earl held up his hand as if he were calming a dog. “Please be quiet. I will no longer tolerate hearing the voices of the likes of you.”
The likes of you.
His voice oozed dismissal.
It was like a slap. Conor had not been hit, but he felt the same urge to sink to his knees. The same rush of blood to his cheeks. The same thud of his heart in his rib cage.
Devin was trying very hard to hide a smile. Zerif nodded approvingly. As if he was so pleased the earl had finally stopped letting those Greencloaks push him around.
The earl turned to the guard beside him. “If the boy won’t put his animal into passive form, have the dogs kill it and burn the body with the rest.”
Rollan’s eyes widened, his cool facade dropping.
Conor wordlessly stretched his hand toward where Briggan was pinned to the ground. The wolf immediately vanished from beneath the mastiffs and appeared on Conor’s arm. Rollan, however, had no such success. With a scowl, he called to Essix. But the falcon flew high overhead in ever wider circles. Every so often the bird looked down so that it was clear she was listening, just not obeying.
Devin and the girl with the frog snickered. Zerif yawned. It was a glorious yawn, his hand elegantly covering his mouth and his laugh at once. Behind them, Conor could see Devin’s little brother, Dawson, averting his eyes. He’d always been the best one in the family. It was hard to imagine him taking any joy in this horrible scene, but he was too young to help now.
“The boy’s bond is weak,” the earl said. “So the bird’s no threat anyway. Just leave it and lock the others up.”
“Welcome home, shepherd,” Devin sneered.
8: The Howling House
IT DIDN’T TAKE ESSIX LONG TO FIND MEILIN, ABEKE, AND FINN. They were just climbing a grassy bank that afforded a view of Trunswick when Finn spotted the falcon circling. He waved one arm, and then two. Abeke and Meilin joined in. Essix wheeled toward them.
“It’s Essix. Does that mean something’s happened to Rollan?” Meilin asked. The thought annoyed her. If someone was going to hurt that boy, she wanted it to be her.
“Essix doesn’t seem alarmed enough for him to be dead,” Finn said. Abeke winced, but Meilin appreciated that Finn didn’t try to sugarcoat the possibilities for them. Lives were at stake. It would do them all well to remember that.
Finn shielded his eyes to better see the falcon. “But she seems agitated. It’s hard to say if Rollan sent her to us or i
f she’s come on her own accord. Do you see a message tied to her leg?”
“Nothing,” Meilin verified.
“Are they in Trunswick?” Finn called up to Essix. The bird shrieked back, three times.
Meilin said, “I think that means yes.”
Finn asked the falcon, “Should we meet up with them right now?”
Essix cried out once. It was an angry, ferocious bark of a sound. Quite clearly: no.
“Imprisoned, I would guess,” Finn said. “Or working secretly to get information. Either way, we’ll have to be cautious.”
Meilin considered. She touched the tattoo where Jhi waited in passive form. It wasn’t nearly as effective as the meditation sessions, but the gesture reminded her of that clarity of thought. She asked, “Should we circle the town to see if we can learn any more?”
Finn nodded. “Probably a wise idea. I shouldn’t really go marching into town without some strategy anyway. The Earl of Trunswick and I had a disagreement not too long ago.”
“What sort of disagreement?” Meilin demanded.
Finn narrowed his eyes in the direction of the castle. “He tried to kill me.”
That seemed like a valid reason to avoid going into town.
“In any case, it would be advantageous to have a plan,” he added.
Abeke made a little pained noise. At first Meilin thought it was because of worry, but then she saw no — it was because the Hawkers’ ridiculous black cat thought Essix was going to eat her. The cat had affixed its claws rather securely into Abeke’s hair. It looked as if the animal was actually growing directly from the other girl’s head.
“You could let that cat down,” Meilin said scathingly. “You wanted to free her, and now she’s free.”
Abeke tried to remove the cat from her head. Reams of her own hair stretched from her scalp to the cat.
“She’s scared,” insisted Abeke, still tugging. The cat let out a rattling wail that oscillated in time with the tugs. “She won’t slow us down.”
Meilin narrowed her eyes, but it was hard to argue. Abeke had been seeming a little more feline lately, more like Uraza. Maybe this was part of it. “Good. Keep it that way. The others need us, whether or not they’re in immediate trouble. The sooner we find out more and meet back up with them, the sooner we can get to Rumfuss. Now, let’s get out of here, unless you want the Conquerors to catch us.”
Before Meilin could stop herself, the insinuation slipped out — the prospect that Abeke might not mind the Conquerors finding them at all, since she might still be working for them. Finn leveled a very heavy look at her. Tarik or Olvan would have probably scolded her for talking to Abeke like that, but she thought they also would have understood why deep down, Meilin still didn’t trust Abeke. And it was hard to be very kind to someone she didn’t trust, now more than ever.
But Finn simply turned away and, under his breath, said something only Meilin could hear. “Trust must be practiced.”
Meilin wanted to roll her eyes and ignore him, but his words — and his quiet disapproval — rankled her. Somewhere along the way, she had started wanting to impress him. This annoyed her for reasons she couldn’t quite find words for. Why should she care for the respect of a man who wouldn’t even lift a sword to save himself at that forest battle?
But he had led them across the Giant’s Chessboard and the moor, and had pulled her from the waste. And without his advice in the Moon Tower, she would have never learned about Jhi’s problem-solving abilities.
What is a warrior’s heart? she wondered. Does it always carry a sword?
Grudgingly, she said out loud, “Abeke, I’m sorry if . . . my words seemed harsh. I didn’t mean them that way.”
Abeke’s eyebrows shot up. She appeared so surprised by this miserly kindness. Was it possible Meilin had been a little too uncaring the past several days? Just because she sometimes doubted Abeke’s loyalties didn’t mean she had to be so cruel about it.
Finn looked over his shoulder.
He didn’t say anything. Not a word. But he nodded, and Meilin’s heart felt lighter.
They climbed over the bank, down toward Trunswick, keeping enough distance to avoid attracting any unwanted attention. Meilin searched the town’s appearance for any clues as to what kind of place this could be and what their friends could be up to inside it. The town’s structure was straightforward: castle crowning the hill, buildings huddled around it. It stank of beeswax smoke, coal, and the peculiar scent of horse hooves, so Meilin could tell already that it had more than its fair share of blacksmiths. The blue flags that flew from nearly every roof flapped listlessly, made of heavy wool rather than the silk and linen flags that Meilin had grown up under. The entire town seemed crude and disheveled in comparison to Zhong’s elegant cities, and Meilin felt a pang in her heart.
She pushed it down.
No time for weakness or second-guessing her decision to stay now.
“Ah, Trunswick,” said Finn. His voice had gone a little flat. It was a bit like his face had gone when the Hawker had brandished the knife.
“What is that over there?” Meilin asked. Over a nearby knot of trees, a patch of sky was dark with smoke.
Lifting her chin, Abeke sniffed the air. “I think it’s a bonfire. It’s not just wood they are burning, anyway. Do you smell it?”
Abeke was right. There was something a little off about the odor of the fire. Something a little unpleasant that made her feel anxious.
Zhong, burning . . . She pushed the thought away as her eyes stung.
Finn interrupted her thoughts by saying, “It doesn’t feel like a good sign.”
“Finn . . . I think Essix is trying to tell us something,” Abeke said. She pointed in the other direction, toward Trunswick. Or rather, since she was holding the cat with both hands, she pointed with the cat to where Essix circled over a large building partway up the hill. “Do you think the others are in that building?”
“It would be bad luck if they were,” Finn said. “That’s the Howling House. It’s where they keep people and animals who bonded without Nectar, and developed the bonding sickness. Well, one sort of bonding sickness — it’s for those who went mad. It’s part hospital and part prison.”
Meilin’s mind turned over his words: those who went mad. She had heard of the bonding sickness, of course. Everyone learned about the dangers of bonding without the Nectar. In the days before Nectar, some bonds went well, and other bonds didn’t. Human and animal were tied to each other, and yet couldn’t connect. Sleepless nights piled one upon the other. Some were able to work through it on their own, or learned to live with the difficult bond. But others, as Finn noted, went mad.
This was why even the most remote village in Zhong had a designated authority to notify the Greencloaks when a child came of age. It was hard to imagine anyone bonding without Nectar these days — harder still to imagine enough difficult bonds to warrant an entire prison.
Meilin asked, “You think they’re being kept prisoner there?”
“It is the only place that would hold them and their spirit animals, yes. Everything inside that building is reinforced to prevent spirit animals from escaping.”
Meilin said, “How do you know so much about that place?”
Finn didn’t answer. He’d gone all quiet and faraway again. Suddenly she remembered what he had said in the Moon Tower. He had bonded to Donn without the Nectar. What had he called his bond? Difficult.
Difficult enough to be locked up in the Earl of Trunswick’s house for insane humans and animals?
Difficult enough that the Earl of Trunswick might have tried to kill him?
“So now what?” Abeke demanded.
All three of them looked toward the sun in the sky.
Finn said, “We wait.”
He held out his arm, and Essix coasted smoothly down to land heavily on it. Abeke settled to the ground, opened her bag, and pulled out some jerky to munch on. They all seemed content to wait.
Waiting was Me
ilin’s least favorite thing.
Trunswick was a silent place after dark. When night fell, Abeke, Meilin, and Finn crept closer to town. Unlike the cities of Zhong, which were lit and beautiful even at night, Trunswick was nearly as black as the moor. Only a few lanterns illuminated the main street up to the castle. There were no candles in any of the windows. No voices rose from the bars and no stragglers moved through the streets. Even Trunswick’s famous and industrious blacksmiths completely disappeared as night fell, leaving behind only a few glowing embers in their forges. Guards stood in vigilant silence at each of the gates.
Finn whispered, “There’s something very wrong with this town.”
Meilin, Finn, and Abeke crouched around the back of the wall. There were no gates here; no one to see them. But that meant there were no easy entrances either. In a low voice, Abeke asked Uraza, “Can you find us a weakness in the wall?”
The leopard galloped away, low and silky. She returned a few minutes later to lead them to a bricked-up gate. Some of the barrier had crumbled, leaving an opening just large enough for a person to crawl through.
Meilin kept Jhi in passive form. The gap was not large enough for a giant panda.
On the inside of the wall, the soundless nature of the town was even more pronounced. Meilin was very aware of their footfalls on the uneven cobblestones as Finn led the way up the narrow roads toward the Howling House. Uraza trailed behind, ears swiveling as she listened for threats. Overhead, Essix’s dark form flitted from roof to roof, confirming they were headed in the right direction.
At the Howling House, torches blazed, their fiery reflections thrashing in the puddles of last night’s rain. Out front, guards moved restlessly. At least three large mastiffs lay just inside the door. It was a hive of activity in comparison to the quiet town.
“This seems impossible!” Meilin whispered to Finn.
“Patience,” he whispered back.
Meilin wasn’t very fond of patience.
Abeke whispered to Uraza, and the two of them danced quietly through the shadows, finding an invisible path around the side of the fortified barn. The leopard led them to a hiding space in a blacksmith’s shop directly across the narrow road from the Howling House. It was full of the things one would expect to find in a smith’s shop — anvil, furnace, wrought iron firedogs for holding wood — but was also cluttered with cabinetry and farming equipment.