Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(61)

“Last reported count showed five hundred and eleven,” Mr. Forkle said quietly.

“Dude,” Keefe breathed. “And these are all psychopathic murderers and stuff? Yeah, never mind, that is definitely vomit worthy, Foster. Panic away.”

“Is there any way I can help?” Fitz asked.

“Too many broken minds,” Sophie reminded him. “I’m the only one who won’t get dragged under.”

“She’s right,” Granite agreed. “But we’ll still support her any way we can.”

The promise sounded as empty as the tunnel ahead.

“Is everyone clear on what they need to do?” Granite asked.

“Uh, did I miss the part where you told us how we’re getting out of here?” Keefe asked.

“We leave the same way we came in,” Blur said. “Unless the worst should happen. Then you use those pendants we gave you to create a unique path of light and leap away.”

“Why don’t we just do that in the first place?” Keefe asked. “That sounds way more awesome than carrying Prentice through a tunnel with angry dwarves chasing us.”

“I can assure you, it isn’t,” Mr. Forkle told him. “The Council has added a new force field around Exile, designed to pulverize anyone trying to leap through. The cloaks you’re wearing will dissolve into a protective coating, but the leap will still take a large toll. So only use your pendants if we’re captured.”

“Then why aren’t you wearing them too?” Biana asked.

Several seconds passed before Mr. Forkle said, “We will foolishly be viewed as the more important targets. Our surrender would give you a chance to leap away.”

“WHAT?” Sophie and her friends shouted together.

“Don’t look so afraid,” Granite said. “This is only a last resort. But if it comes to that . . .”

“This is crazy,” Della said after a stunned silence. “You should’ve sent lower members of the order to help us.”

“And make the Council’s mistake?” Mr. Forkle asked. “No, I think not. The centuries they’ve spent delegating responsibilities to their Emissaries have made them lose touch with the realities of our world.”

“Leaders must lead,” Granite agreed.

“But aren’t you worried about what secrets they’ll learn if you’re captured?” Fitz asked.

“We’re prepared,” Mr. Forkle said.

All five of the Collective held up their hands, revealing identical black-banded rings.

“They have poison in them,” Sophie guessed.

Mr. Forkle nodded. “But it only erases our memories.”

“Duuuuuude. You guys need some better planning skills,” Keefe said. “How about—”

“There will be no amending the plan,” Mr. Forkle interrupted. “But we do need all of you to promise that you will respect our wishes.”

“You seriously expect us to just leave you?” Sophie asked.

Mr. Forkle’s voice filled her mind. You think the Black Swan cannot function without us—but you’re wrong. Our Proxies would handle things until you five are ready.

It was the second time he’d mentioned Proxies, and she wasn’t entirely sure she knew what he meant, but she was more nervous about the last part of the statement.

Yes, he told her as an impossible thought started to form. That is our eventual hope.

Are you reading my mind?!

These are not normal circumstances.

He was right about that.

Five members of the Collective.

Five of her and her friends.

But . . . we’re just kids, she thought.

For the moment, yes. But we are talking about the future.

You really think we’ll still need a Black Swan that many years from now?

Yes. I believe we will always need a Black Swan. The world has gotten too complicated to leave any one group solely in charge. There needs to be a system of checks and balances. We do hope to someday work hand in hand with the Council. But even if that never happens, we should be there to keep them honest.

“So, are we all in agreement?” he asked out loud.

No one said yes, but no one argued.

They marched in silence the rest of the way, until they reached a web of roots. Calla pulled a specific thread and the whole web unraveled, revealing a wooden door.

“It begins now,” Mr. Forkle said as Calla removed a pouch from her pocket. Sophie smelled anise, saffron, and something smokier as Calla sprinkled them each with dried leaves.

“These herbs are the gnomes’ version of magsidian,” Granite explained. “Hopefully the dwarves will scent them and assume we’re here for a food delivery. It will not buy us long, but it should give us a few precious minutes.”

“From this moment on the mission begins,” Mr. Forkle said. “Trust yourselves. Let your talents aid you. And above all, remember your promises.”

Sophie remembered her promise all right—but she’d silently made a new one.

She was getting everyone safely out of Exile, no matter what.





TWENTY-EIGHT


SOPHIE HAD FORGOTTEN the sharp, bitter smell of Exile. But this time there was an underlying sourness, masked by something artificially sterile—as if the whole place were a carelessly bandaged wound, oozing beneath the surface.