Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(74)

“I only said otherwise to frighten him,” Mr. Forkle added. “It does raise an interesting question, though, doesn’t it? How far are we willing to go in this fight? For instance, would you have been willing to hand your cache over to the dwarves or goblins if the Council had called your bluff?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie said—but that was a lie.

You would’ve done it, Mr. Forkle transmitted.

Is that bad?

Quite the opposite. It’s a sign that you’re close to being ready.

Sophie knew better than to ask, Ready for what?

“Where are the gnomes under quarantine?” she asked instead.

She’d hoped to catch a glimpse of the treatment area, but all she could see was the solid stone and metal of the castle’s walls and gates.

“There’s a small grove behind the inner tower,” Mr. Forkle said. “I hear they’re being contained there.”

“You haven’t seen them?” Sophie asked.

“Only physicians are allowed to enter, and they haven’t been allowed to share any details.”

The castle bell ended their conversation, followed by the echo of heavy footsteps. When the gates creaked open, ten goblins stood arm in arm to block them from entering.

Sophie searched for Sandor among them, knowing it was a vain hope. She found only strangers, and none who looked friendly enough to ask if they’d heard any news about her recovering bodyguard.

Behind them, the Four Seasons Tree stood proudly on a small patch of grass. As Sophie studied its colorful branches, Bronte and Emery leaped into the courtyard.

“Where’s Prentice?” Mr. Forkle demanded.

“On his way,” Councillor Emery promised. “He didn’t respond to the sedatives Terik gave him for transport, so we sent Alina to calm him.”

“Alina is a Beguiler,” Granite explained to Sophie. “Her voice can be irresistibly soothing.”

“Then why is she always so awful?” Sophie had to ask.

Bronte’s lips twitched with a smile, and even Emery sounded mildly amused as he told her, “Much like Telepaths, Beguilers have restrictions for when they can use their power.”

“Without those restrictions, Alina would surely be a Vacker,” Granite added.

Sophie felt her jaw drop. “She’s that powerful?”

“It’s why we elected her to our ranks,” Emery agreed. “In these troubling times we may very well need the power of persuasion.”

His tone wasn’t threatening—but the words still felt that way.

“I take it this is our prisoner?” Bronte asked. “I see he had no issue with the drugs.”

“You will find him much the same when the sedatives wear off,” Mr. Forkle told him. “He’s using some sort of telepathy trick to keep his consciousness hidden.”

“I’ve never heard of such a skill,” Emery said.

“Neither had we,” Granite agreed. “But we’re growing used to finding ourselves in unfamiliar territory.” He motioned to the goblins standing at the ready. “You honestly thought this was necessary?”

“You are fugitives,” Emery said. “And this area is under quarantine.”

“It is indeed,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “Any progress on the cure?”

“All work is progress,” Emery said.

“Which is political-speak for ‘no’?” Granite pressed.

Bronte cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, it means we have little news to report.”

Sophie wished she could ask about the drakostomes, but it would be too risky. The Council had gone to great lengths to keep their existence hidden, and she couldn’t risk hindering the exchange for Prentice.

“Are you monitoring the Neutral Territories?” she asked.

“We’re watching everywhere the plague has spread,” Emery agreed.

“And have you found any trees with force fields around them?” she asked.

Bronte frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The Neverseen have a Psionipath working with them,” Mr. Forkle explained. “We’ve been trying to ascertain his purpose.”

“Then why have we heard nothing of this?” Emery snapped.

“Well, I suppose that’s the problem with treating us as fugitives,” Mr. Forkle said. “It makes it rather hard to work together.”

Emery and Bronte shared a look, but Emery shook his head.

“What about the Vacker boy?” Emery asked. “How is he faring?”

“He’s expected to make a full recovery,” Mr. Forkle said.

Both Councillors looked noticeably relieved.

“What about Oralie?” Sophie asked. “What did you decide for her punishment?”

“She should have been removed from the Council,” Emery said. “But our world does not need the uncertainty of another election, so she has been put under surveillance and relegated to menial assignments until she earns back our trust.”

“At the moment, she’s enduring our most odious task,” Bronte said. “Monitoring Lord Cassius’s investigation.”

“What is Keefe’s father investigating?” Sophie asked.

“His own memories. He’s working with Telepaths, hoping to uncover any clues his wife might’ve given. Oralie’s there to read his emotions and ensure he’s honest about what he finds.”