Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe #2)(121)

“Sound the alarm in the council chamber,” he said. “Get them out of there.”

? ? ?

In the council chamber, the alarms would have rung loud and clear, had they not been disconnected because of false alarms several weeks before. It was Supreme Blade Kahlo’s call. They would go off in the middle of proceedings and the Grandslayers would evacuate, only to find out that there was no actual emergency. The Grandslayers were simply too busy to be bothered with equipment malfunctions. “If there’s an actual emergency,” she had said, flippantly, “send up a flare.”

The fact that the general alarms had been disconnected, however, was never communicated to Buoyancy Control. On their screens, the alarm had been sounded, and as far as they knew, the Grandslayers were crossing one of the bridges to the inner rim of the island. It was only when they received a panicked call from the island’s chief engineer that they learned, to their horror, that the Grandslayers were still holding council.

? ? ?

“Rowan?” Anastasia was both thrilled and horrified by his presence. There wasn’t a more dangerous place in the world for him to be. “What are you doing here? Are you crazy?”

“Long story, and yes,” he said. “Listen to me carefully, and don’t draw attention.”

Anastasia glanced around. Everyone was involved in their own business. Scythe Curie was way ahead of them now, not yet realizing that Anastasia had fallen back. “I’m listening.”

“Goddard has something planned,” Rowan said. “Something bad. I have no idea what it is, but you need to get off the island right away.”

Anastasia drew a deep breath. She knew it! She knew that Goddard would not let the Grandslayers’ judgment stand if it came down against him. There would be a contingency plan. There would be retribution. She would warn Marie, and they would speed up their departure.

“But what about you?” she asked.

He grinned. “I was hoping I could hitch a ride.”

Anastasia knew that such a thing would not be easy. “High Blade Curie will only give you passage if you turn yourself in.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Yes, she did know. Anastasia could try to sneak Rowan onboard as one of their BladeGuard escorts, but the moment Marie saw his face, it would be over.

Just then, a woman with jet black hair and a face with the sheen of too many corners turned, came running toward them.

“Marlon! Yoo-hoo, Marlon! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She grabbed Rowan by the arm, and she saw Rowan’s face before he could turn away. “Wait—you’re not Scythe Brando . . . ,” she said, confused.

“No, you’ve made a mistake,” said Anastasia, thinking quickly. ?“Scythe Brando’s robe is a slightly darker leather. This is Scythe Vuitton.”

“Oh . . . ,” said the woman, still a little hesitant. She was clearly trying to figure out where she had seen Rowan’s face before. “I’m sorry.”

Anastasia feigned indignance, hoping to shake her up enough so that she’d lose focus. “You should be! The next time you accost a scythe on the street, make sure you have the right one.” Then she turned with Rowan, and pulled him away as quickly as possible.

“Scythe Vuitton?”

“It was the only thing I could think of. ?We’ve got to get you out of sight before someone recognizes you!”

But before they could take another step, they heard behind them the awful sound of rupturing metal, and screams. And they realized that Rowan being recognized was now the least of their problems.

? ? ?

Just moments before, outside of the council chamber doors, the Australian scythe had come up from below. ?“Excuse me,” he said to one of the guards at the door, “but I believe there’s some sort of leak on the lower levels.”

“Leak?” asked the guard.

“Well, there’s certainly a lot of water—the carpet is soaked—and I don’t think it’s from the pipes.”

The guard sighed at this fresh hell. “I’ll notify maintenance,” he said, but of course when he tried, the communication lines were dead.

Then a page came rushing in from the veranda. “Something’s wrong!” he said, which was the understatement of the year. ?When was something not wrong on Endura these days?

“I’m trying to raise maintenance,” the guard told him.

“To hell with maintenance,” cried the page, “take a look outside!”

The guard was not allowed to leave his post at the door to the council chamber, but the page’s panic troubled him. He took a few steps out to the veranda, to see that there was no veranda anymore. A balcony that used to be a full ten feet above the surface was now underwater—and the sea was beginning to spill into the corridor leading to the council chamber.

He ran back to the chamber doors. There was only one way in or out, and he did not have high enough clearance for his handprint to open the doors, so he began to pound as loudly as he could, hoping that someone on the other side of the heavy doors would hear him.

By now, everyone else in the council complex, except for the council itself, had surmised that something was amiss. Scythes and their staffs awaiting an audience came piling out of the anterooms, flooding onto the three bridges that led to the island’s inner rim. The Australian scythe did his best to help people wade over the submerged veranda and onto the nearest bridge.