Crystal Keepers (27 page)

“Then what should we do?” Cole asked.

Harmony gave him a long stare. Her hand found his shoulder and rested there. The regret in her eyes made him uneasy.

“I must ask a favor of you,” Harmony said.

“What?”

“I know of a secret meeting tomorrow,” Harmony said. “A gathering of elite Enforcers and expert spies. Owandell will conduct the meeting. He is on the brink of finally making his real bid for power. The signs are all there. The timing is right. This meeting could reveal much about his intentions.”

“Wait,” Cole said. “What's the favor?”

She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You must attend the meeting in disguise.”

Cole almost gagged. “Isn't this the guy you were just
warning me to stay away from? Including not using the wrong nickname?”

“Everyone will be in disguise,” Harmony said. “The Knave can't afford to let his top spies identify one another.”

“Don't you have your own spies?” Cole asked. “People with more experience?”

“I did,” Harmony said. “Lately many have gone missing. None remain whom I can trust with this. I considered going myself, but my powers are unusual, and Owandell is familiar with them. He would almost certainly sense me.”

“Aren't my powers unusual?” Cole asked.

“They are, but they are deeply scarred by shapecraft,” Harmony said. “Many of the Enforcers are shapecrafters who have tampered with their abilities. Some of them are even young like you. Unless Owandell pays you very special attention, you should blend in.”

“And if I don't blend?” Cole asked.

Harmony released his shoulder. “Owandell will not be gentle. He will want information, and he will undoubtedly experiment on your unusual abilities, blocked or not. After much suffering, you would probably pay with your life.”

“I get the feeling you've never worked in sales,” Cole said.

“You deserve to know the truth,” Harmony said.

“How did you find out about the meeting?” Cole wondered.

Harmony's lips bent toward a grin. “I sometimes see visions of the future. I can't usually force or control them. This one was quite clear. Owandell would have no reason to suspect anyone could know about his gathering. I know
where you should go, what invitation you should carry, and what costume you should wear. All can be arranged. If you stay calm and hold your tongue, you should succeed.”

“Why do I need to go if you already saw a vision?” Cole asked.

“I heard nothing,” Harmony explained. “But I saw the meeting vividly, lit by torches and candles deep below the castle, near the Founding Stone. I can provide instructions.”

“What about everybody else if I blow it?” Cole said. “What about Constance and Miracle? What about my friends who were kidnapped?”

“If you get caught, you don't know enough to cause my daughters serious harm. But don't get caught.”

“I need to know this is worth it,” Cole said. “I want to help Mira. I want to help my enslaved friends. I need to know you'll tell me how to find Constance.”

Harmony regarded Cole somberly. “I have left Constance where she is for a reason. Abram Trench knows her value, and will protect her from both Stafford and Owandell. But with her powers unstable, who knows how else he might try to use her? And considering the showdown that I expect between Stafford and Owandell, who knows how long Abram can keep her safe? Should Owandell rise to power, after he disposes of Stafford and me, his next target will be the Grand Shaper of Zeropolis.”

“So you'll tell me how to find Constance?” Cole asked.

Harmony nodded. “I am out of trusted messengers. If you fulfill this assignment for me, I will tell you the exact location of Abram's secret base where Constance is being
held, and I will help you secure passage back to Zeropolis. Furthermore, if I can remain in power, I will see to it that all of your friends who were taken from Earth with you are found and restored to their freedom.”

For a moment Cole was speechless. “It's more than I could have hoped,” he finally managed.

“Before I can help your friends, I'll need to survive the upcoming coup attempt by Owandell. Given the recent activities of the Knave and his shapecrafters, I'm not sure how much longer my reign will last.”

“It's good enough to know you'll help if you can,” Cole said. “Is there any chance of us getting home and staying there?”

“I know of no way,” Harmony said. “My abilities combine some aspects of the shaping found in Necronum, Creon, and Elloweer. I have studied the physical aspects of the Outskirts my whole life, and have found no way for those who come here to permanently return to any of the outside worlds. It would require changing how this world connects to the others.”

Cole didn't like her answer. It reinforced what so many others had told him—that getting home would be difficult, if not impossible. “Could I ask one more favor?”

“You may ask,” Harmony said.

“One of the friends I lost is named Jenna Hunt,” Cole said. “She came here after she was taken, but I don't know where she was sent as a slave. Could you find out?”

“One does not ordinarily bargain with royalty,” Harmony said. “But if you help me, I will try. Does this mean you will infiltrate the meeting?”

Cole braced himself. “Yes.” The word was easy to say, but he knew the commitment would lead to lots of stress and danger. “Queen Harmony, you said you don't have trusted servants to send. Why trust me?”

“One of my talents is reading people,” she said. “Not just mannerisms and intonations. I can see more deeply than most. Some people are easier to read than others. Parts of you are crystal clear. Everything you told me about helping my daughters was true. Your desire to help your friends is sincere. More than any current servant I can name, I know you're on my side.”

“You really lucked out,” Cole said. “A kid with messed-up powers.”

“No,” Harmony said gravely. “A young hero who has survived much hardship. I'll be honored to include you among my private errand boys. I will not see you again until after the gathering. Sophie will take care of the details. Watch for my instructions tomorrow afternoon.”

C
HAPTER

26

SIDETRACKED

W
ithin an hour of his arrival, none of the other royal errand boys would so much as smile at Cole, no matter how friendly he acted. It did not take long for him to figure out that these boys had spent their lives working smart and hard to earn their positions, and they had no respect for a kid who showed up out of nowhere.

Cole hadn't tried to make up a history for himself. The more fake details he gave, the more he would set himself up to get caught in a lie. He just mysteriously told the boys who asked that he had connections. At first some seemed to think he might belong to a powerful family, but when he refused to tell where he was from or reveal anything about his background, they soon lost interest.

The errand boys serving the king and queen shared a mess hall but had separate sleeping quarters. The king had about fifty boys, the queen thirty. At first the high numbers had surprised Cole, until he considered how many messages a king and queen might have to send while governing
a kingdom. This wasn't Zeropolis. They didn't have communicators.

During the first day among them, Cole eavesdropped as best he could. He heard some of the boys griping that they weren't used as much lately because of all the secret messages being delivered by soldiers or other agents. A few of the boys expressed uneasiness about working directly with the High King, since his moods had apparently been unpredictable lately.

Nobody sat with Cole at dinner. That was fine with him. He only expected to be an errand boy for a day or two, and then he would flee Junction with highly sensitive information. The less people who noticed him the better.

The next day the Chief Boy summoned Cole to his room. After receiving a brief orientation from the Chief Boy the day before, Cole still didn't know his name.

The Chief Boy had to be almost fifteen. He was tall and stuffy-looking with a prominent nose and watery, unimpressed eyes. Cole figured that on his next birthday, the kid would have to find a new job.

“I found out about you,” the Chief Boy said.

A sharp stab of worry pierced Cole. “What do you mean?”

“Your arrival smelled funny. We had orders to add you to our ranks on short notice and without the proper references. Now I understand. You were brought in to deliver a particular message.”

“Maybe,” Cole said, relieved that the kid seemed not to know the whole truth.

“I'm not trying to discover the message. That goes against
all we stand for as errand boys. This sort of arrangement happens on occasion. Sometimes the nature of a particular message calls for a certain hand to deliver it.”

“That's the idea,” Cole said. “I'm Rod, by the way.” It was the alias agreed upon with Queen Harmony.

“Harold,” the boy said. “You can't imagine how thrilled I am to babysit you. I'm told this message will be relayed in the dark of night. I'll show you what door to use. The late-night messages usually deal with romantic matters, but it isn't my place to speculate.” His intonation suggested he wanted Cole's opinion.

“I don't know either,” Cole said.

Harold rolled his eyes. “Formally we never know anything,” he said. “But it doesn't take too many clues to make guesses.”

“I'll watch for clues,” Cole said. “Is that all?”

“One more matter,” Harold said. “I report to the king. All errand boys owe their ultimate loyalty to him. I informed him about you and your errand, and he would like to meet with you before you carry out your assignment.”

Cole went rigid. “Isn't this a matter for him and the queen to talk about?”

“The king seldom interacts with her directly,” Harold said. “But he likes to learn what he can. He has been extra cautious lately. He specifically asked for word of any suspicious messages. That includes suspicious messengers.”

“I'm just doing a job,” Cole said.

“A job for the queen,” Harold said. “I must ask you to come with me.”

“Now?” Cole asked.

“The king thought it wise to leave you without time to prepare yourself,” Harold said. “Will you come willingly, or should I summon the guards?”

“I'll come,” Cole said.

Harold stood. “This way.”

Cole followed him out of the room. As they left the errand-boy quarters and moved through the castle halls, Cole considered making a run for it. But how would he get away from Harold and the guards who chased him? And even if he gave them the slip, how would he attend the meeting tonight? People might have suspicions about him, but nobody really knew anything yet. Running would just make him look guilty.

They passed several guards. Everyone seemed to know Harold and let him pass without question. Finally they went through an iron door into a tower. A pair of large guards confronted them in an opulent room.

“His Majesty expects to interview this boy,” Harold said.

“Very well,” one of the guards responded. He proceeded to thoroughly pat down Cole, checking his coat and pockets, probing into his shoes, and feeling his arms and legs. “You're boring.”

“Thank you?” Cole responded.

“A good trait under the circumstances,” the guard said. “Come with me.”

Harold and the other guard stayed behind as Cole was led up a flight of stairs and through a door. Inside he found the High King pacing, a crown on his head and a scowl on his face.

Cole had seen an imitation of Stafford when they fought Carnag, and also at the Lost Palace. A man of average height, his dark, neatly trimmed hair had more gray in it than Cole recalled. His face was different in subtle ways—the cheeks more hollow, the eyes shadowed and slightly bloodshot, the skin grayer. His clothes, though fine, had a rumpled look, as if he might have spent the night in them.

“The new errand boy?” Stafford asked, sizing up Cole.

“Yes,” the guard replied. “Would you like me to remain?”

“Linger outside the door,” Stafford said.

The guard immediately exited and shut the door. Cole waited in silence, watching Stafford in disbelief. There he was. Mira's father. The man who made slavery legal in the Outskirts. The man who had stolen his daughters' powers and staged their deaths. The man who had bought so many of his friends. The man who planned to experiment on some or all of those friends using shapecraft. The man the resistance sought to overthrow.

“Tell me your name,” Stafford said, in a dry, no-nonsense voice.

“Rod,” Cole said.

“What is the nature of the message my wife commissioned you to deliver?”

The blunt nature of the question left Cole momentarily at a loss. So much for small talk!

“Don't make up a lie,” Stafford demanded. “I am your king. Tell me the nature of the message!”

“I don't know, Your Majesty,” Cole said, not needing to pretend to sound scared.

“You know something,” Stafford said, eyes narrowing.

“I think it has to do with some of Owandell's followers,” Cole said, which was true, if not the whole truth.

“Has she placed a spy among his people?” Stafford asked, his voice softer and a little hopeful.

“I guess so,” Cole said. “This is my first time working for her.”

Stafford squinted suspiciously. “And why would that be? How did she recruit you?”

Cole thought it would be best to stay as close to the truth as possible. “I was delivering a message from the chamberlain to Queen Harmony.”

“How long have you been an errand boy?”

“It was my first delivery,” Cole said.

Stafford stroked his chin, rings glittering. “She saw something in you. Some hint of promise. Something she liked. She does that at times.”

“She told me she could trust me,” Cole said.

“Which I expect is true,” Stafford said. “She has genuine ability in discerning such matters. But why? You must be an honest lad. Are you honest?”

“I do my best,” Cole said.

“That was not a straight answer,” Stafford said. “Maybe not so honest. Maybe adept at avoiding lies.”

“I'm honest.”

“Do not engage in wordplay with your king, boy. I prefer straight talk.”

“Okay.”

“She probably liked that you were new to the job. No
allegiances anywhere. You've had no opportunity to be corrupted. Have you ever consorted with Owandell or his folk?”

“No, sire,” Cole said.

“I believe you,” Stafford said. “You don't seem dull. A dim-witted errand boy can be useful in some cases. Have you a family?”

“Nobody,” Cole said. The answer felt painfully close to the truth these days.

“Expendable,” Stafford said. “A very useful trait. Too many royal errand boys have one connection or another. Very well. Deliver your message. Do not inform my wife that we spoke. After your message has been delivered, return to me. Harold will see to it.”

“All right,” Cole said.

Stafford licked his lips. “These are treacherous times. When things seem out of place, pay attention. Dismiss no suspicions. Trust slowly. Bring me good information and you will be rewarded.”

“Is that fair to the queen?” Cole asked.

Stafford began to repeatedly tap his forefinger against each finger of the opposite hand. “Do not read her message. Do not betray your trust. But do not forget who is your king, and king of every person you know. My wife is free to conduct her intrigues. She has served our interests well over the years. I want the information you gain with your own eyes and ears as you conduct the delivery. I am, after all, husband to the queen and High King of the Outskirts.”

“I'll do my best,” Cole said.

The king pressed his fingertips together. “Very well.” He
started coughing, softly at first, but it got louder, until he was doubled over making choking sounds.

For a terrible instant Cole thought the king might drop dead in front of him. Had he been poisoned or something?

The coughing fit finally subsided, and the king spat into a handkerchief. As he wiped a tear from his cheek, his hand trembled a little.

“Are you all right?” Cole asked.

“A minor agitation,” Stafford said. “No words about that to anyone, understand?”

“Yes, sire.”

“That was not the hacking of an ill man,” Stafford explained. “It was the reaction of a robust man with too much dust in his chamber.”

“Sure,” Cole said.

Stafford narrowed his gaze. “Are you staring at me?”

“I'm just looking at you,” Cole said, feeling off-balance.

“Looking at what?” the king asked. “Looking on whose behalf?”

“You called me here and I came,” Cole said.

“So you did,” Stafford said, seeming calmer. “Are you ever lonely, boy?”

“Sometimes,” Cole said.

“Try wearing a crown. The nights are long. Forget the pulmonary insubordination. I did not cough. There are enough stories circulating about me. I will see you tomorrow, after your delivery. Serve me well and the possibilities are endless.”

“Thank you, sire.”

“Off with you,” Stafford said. “Go rap on the door.”

The guard opened the door and escorted Cole back to Harold. As Cole walked back to the errand-boy quarters, he wondered if he would manage to leave Junction before Stafford sought a report from him. Why did everything have to be so complicated?