Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(55)

“So far. But there’s a lot to sort through.” Dex tapped his gadget, shutting down the hologram. “I’ll search as fast as I can. But right now I have to check each scroll one by one. I’m hoping I can make some tweaks to search by keyword or something.”

“Please be careful,” Della said. “It’s amazing that you’ve been able to gain access this quickly, but doesn’t that worry you? I don’t mean this as an insult—you’re clearly a brilliant Technopath—but doesn’t it almost seem too easy?”

Dex flipped over the gadget to show her a tightly coiled wire. “Don’t worry. This emits a signal that erases any trace of where I’ve been. No one will have any idea I was there.”

“Assuming you haven’t missed a security protocol,” Della reminded him. “Let’s all try not to underestimate the Council. If these drakostomes are a crucial secret, they’ll have gone to great lengths to protect it.”

“She’s right,” Sophie said. “And we should be really careful who we tell about this—especially Calla.”

If the drakostomes were related to the plague, they wouldn’t just have proof that the ogres were behind it.

They’d have proof the Council knew this could happen and never warned the gnomes.





TWENTY-FIVE


THE NEXT FEW days were quiet—too quiet for Sophie’s liking.

The dwarf stationed in Merrowmarsh kept reporting “no change,” as did Sior when he’d check in with the Collective to update them on his search for Keefe’s mom with Lur and Mitya. Keefe hid in his room, searching his memories, and so far he hadn’t found anything worth sharing. Even Dex didn’t make any progress with his new gadget. He’d named it the Twiggler, because it seemed to grow more powerful with every stick he added. But he still couldn’t make it search the scrolls any faster.

Mr. Forkle must’ve sensed everyone’s angst, because he kept reminding them to focus on their training. The Collective was still moving forward with their plan for rescuing Prentice.

She kept busy by working through trust exercises with Fitz, which did at least seem to be helping. By the end of the week Fitz could transmit to Sophie even when Calla had led her deep into the forest. And Sophie could feel herself needing way less concentration, even when she worked alone. She barely had to strain when she called Silveny to check on her, and the alicorn’s memories were so sharp Sophie often had to remind herself she was still in her tree house.

Biana made progress as well. She could hold her vanish for so long, Sophie would forget she was in the room. But Biana couldn’t figure out how to hide from Calla, and neither could Della. Calla kept explaining that she saw “glints of life”—which sounded a bit like pollen—gathering on their skin and giving them away. But they couldn’t sense those glints, so they didn’t know how to block them. Biana was determined to figure it out, though, and tried all kinds of crazy methods, most of which did nothing more than give her a headache.

When they weren’t improving their abilities, Della insisted they learn basic fighting skills, since self-defense was a type of violence the elvin mind could tolerate. The moves weren’t all that different from human martial arts. And of course Sophie’s clumsy limbs refused to cooperate, while Fitz, Biana, and Dex excelled.

Sophie quickly grew tired of feeling sore and pathetic—and even more tired of only seeing Keefe when he sulked out of his room for meals—so when Fitz, Dex, and Biana were practicing some sort of scissor-kick that would surely tear every muscle in her body, she slipped away and pounded on Keefe’s bedroom door.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me,” she told him.

When Keefe finally relented, she ducked under his arm and snuck into his room.

“Um . . . wow,” she whispered, stepping back to take in the full effect.

Three of his four walls had been covered floor to ceiling in scribbled-on pieces of paper, like something a serial killer would do. More notes were scattered on the floor, his desk, the bed.

“So . . . you’ve been busy,” Sophie said carefully. “Did the fathomlethe make you remember all this?”

Keefe kicked a crumpled note under the bed. “It gave me a surge. But the rest is just me.”

Sophie crossed to the most cluttered wall and squinted at his messy writing.

First day of Foxfire——where was she?

Level Four midterm gift——reason?

Why did she make them test me twice to see if I’d manifested as a Conjurer?

Keefe kicked another crumpled note that said something about the Celestial Festival. “It’s a lot to search through, y’know? Photographic memory.”

Sophie nodded. She turned to the wall that sat catty-corner, where the notes seemed to be focused on his more recent memories.

Dad’s missing blue pathfinder——was it her? Where did she go?

When did she rig my Sencen Crest?

Was she one of Sophie and Dex’s kidnappers? Did she hurt them?

What is she “preparing” me for?

Sophie traced her fingers over the last note. “Can I help?”

“I don’t see how. It’s all about what’s in my memories, and lucky for you, you didn’t grow up in that house.”

“I’m a Telepath,” she reminded him. “I can search your memories and project them in a memory log. Wouldn’t it be nice to have the whole picture, instead of just scraps of paper?”