Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(33)

“Well, we sorta know his age, right?” Dex said. “At least a pretty good guess? And we know he was probably at Exillium about eight years ago. So we start with that.”

“That’s still going to leave you with hundreds of different boys,” Della reminded him. “And even if you do find a good candidate, what then?”

“Then I break into the registry—”

“No you do not,” Della interrupted.

“Don’t worry, the registry is super easy to access, and I know how to make sure they don’t catch me. Then I can cross check any suspicious names against pendant locations to find out where they are.”

“You’re assuming they’ll be back in the Lost Cities,” Della said. “I don’t think you understand that Exillium is for the Unworthy. It removes those that do not belong in our world. Anyone sent in error can earn their way back. But very few do. Very few should.”

Sophie wasn’t sure she liked how casually Della talked about banishing, as if it were the perfect solution.

Then again, was locking them in Exile better?

“Well, I still think it’s worth going through the records and seeing what we can learn,” Dex said. “Even if we can’t find the Boy Who Disappeared, we might find a Neverseen member hiding there now.”

“Or it could be a waste of time,” Della countered.

“But its our time to waste,” Keefe said. “And it’s better than reading boring books. Do you know what I learned yesterday? That when our minds break from extreme guilt, they can shatter different ways. Most people shut down and can’t function anymore. But some turn erratic and reckless. Sometimes people even get violent.”

“That’s important!” Della told him.

Sophie had to agree. That explained why Alden went catatonic over his involvement with Prentice’s memory break, while Brant turned into a deadly pyromaniac after he killed Jolie.

“Right, but how long did that take me to explain?” Keefe asked. “Ten seconds? Five? But it took me three hundred and twenty-nine pages to read! So yeah, I’ll take searching through Exillium files any day.”

Della started pacing. “What are the odds of you listening if I tell you not to pursue this?”

“Slim to none,” Keefe said.

“That’s what I thought. So fine—you already have the records. If you want to go through them, I won’t stop you. But no breaking into the registry without consulting with me—clear?”

“Fine,” Dex agreed. “I’ll build something so you guys can see the files I copied. Maybe if I rewire an Imparter—I’d probably need gold instead of copper wire and—”

“Yeah, yeah, Technopath stuff we don’t understand,” Keefe jumped in. “What do we do while you do all of that?”

“How about we change out of these crazy outfits?” Biana said. “I mean really, what was the Black Swan thinking?”

“That if your pajamas were embarrassing enough, you kids would be discouraged from after-curfew meetings.”

Everyone scrambled as Mr. Forkle stalked into the room, followed by Granite and Blur.

“Clearly our plan was not as successful as we’d hoped,” Mr. Forkle said. “Dare we ask what made you willing to suffer the furry disgrace?”

“I think the better question is, what are you guys doing here so early?” Keefe countered.

“We promised we’d report to Calla as soon as we’d learned anything about Wildwood,” Granite said.

“And?” Sophie asked.

“So far there’s been no change—but that’s good news in some ways,” Blur said. “The gnomes’ symptoms seem to be holding steady.”

“But they still don’t have a cure,” Sophie clarified.

“No,” Mr. Forkle admitted. “But they’re working on it.”

“They should have my dad try,” Dex said. “He’s the best alchemist out there.”

“I’m sure he’ll be their next call. Right now Lady Galvin is trying her hand,” Granite said.

Even months later, Sophie still flinched at the name. Her old alchemy instructor had made her first year at Foxfire equal parts humiliating and stressful.

“So if all the best people are working on it,” Sophie said, “why haven’t they found the cure?”

“It comes down to isolating the pathogen,” Mr. Forkle explained. “They haven’t been able to find the source, and without that crucial information, they don’t know what to target. The physicians suspect each gnome is plagued by only a single parasite, so finding it is a bit like that old human expression about needles in haystacks. But at least they’re not pressed for time. The gnomes have responded well to the symptom treatments, so the need for the cure isn’t as dire.”

His eyes drifted to the Evader in Dex’s hand, and his expression darkened. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is—or that you’ve at least had the common sense to not put it to use.”

“Well . . . if you want me to lie . . . ,” Dex mumbled.

Mr. Forkle’s sigh sounded more like a growl. “This is about Exillium, right? I told you it wasn’t worth the risk.”

“But there was no risk,” Dex said, pointing to a thinner wire on the Evader. “I call this a wiper. It erased every step I took, so there’s no way the Council will know I was there.”