Flight of the King (25 page)

“What do you think it means?” Gwen asked Phi as they hiked carefully along a steep ravine. The landscape had changed over the course of the last week, from steep but walkable
mountainsides to narrow paths between jutting, angry rocks. Climbing had become painstakingly slow and treacherous.

“You would know better than I would,” answered Phi. “Though I've noticed you don't like to look at it.”

Gwen shook her head.

“It scares me,” she said. “I'm sure it has something to do with the Instrument of Change, but each time I look at it, it only makes me nervous. My heart starts beating so
wildly, and I almost feel like it's watching me or
calling
to me.”

“I know that feeling,” murmured Phi.

“You do?” asked Gwen.

Phi stopped walking and bent to adjust her boot.

“I know that sounds crazy,” she said. “But I didn't just leave Fairmount because I wanted to help you—I do, of course. And I missed you too.”

Gwen felt herself blushing.

“I
am
glad for the company,” she admitted.

“I didn't tell Bailey this,” Phi continued, “or Tremelo. They'd have only worried. But someone—something—was watching me at the school. I never saw
them, but I heard rustling outside my dorm room almost every night. And I think someone was going through my things.” She stood straight again and walked on. Gwen fell into step behind
her.

“I made the decision to leave to protect the others,” Phi said. “But I don't know if it did any good at all. The Dominae could still be watching
all
of
us.”

As they climbed, every sound on the mountain made Gwen jump. She wondered whether the Dominae was after the Instrument of Change too—and if it could be the key to ending Dominance once and
for all.

“Why you?” Gwen asked her, as they edged along a cliff top overlooking the valley.

“I think I know,” said Phi. “But you have to promise not to be mad.”

“I promise,” said Gwen, growing worried.

Phi leaned back against the rock face and opened the lapel of her coat. Pinned to the lining was a sparkling blue-and-green brooch in the shape of a blossoming flower.

“It belonged to Sucrette,” said Phi.

Gwen gasped.

“You stole it?”

“No! I mean—yes, I did,” Phi said. “But it's not why you think.…”

“Why, then?” asked Gwen.

“We were right there when she died,” said Phi. “And I can't help but think: we
would
have killed her if those animals hadn't! It's so horrifying! I
don't ever want to forget that. She was a person, and we were involved in her death. I can't pretend it never happened. So this reminds me.”

Gwen breathed in deeply. She understood what Phi meant—the memory of Sucrette's grisly death upset her too. But she also remembered the Elder lying on the snowy forest ground, urging
them to be brave. The kingdom needed them. Phi was sensitive; it made her vulnerable.

“You have to take it off,” said Gwen. “Someone at Fairmount must have seen you wearing it.”

Phi nodded.

“But I can't get rid of it,” she replied. “Not yet. I—I can't explain it, but I don't want it lost in the mountains.”

“Then you'll have to keep it hidden,” Gwen insisted. She kicked at a rock, sad and angry all at once. But then, plunging her hands into her traveling coat pocket, she touched
Melore's harmonica. Relics, reminders—they meant something, it was true. The Elder had known that.

“I will,” Phi promised, pulling her coat tightly closed.

When they'd finally found each other, they had both assumed that the path would come to an end soon. But the air had grown much thinner in the last days of their journey, and the path had
become so steep they climbed a cliff face that was nearly vertical. Carin and the owls flew ahead each time, urging them with hoots and cries from the top of the rocks. Days came and went quickly,
and each night Gwen lay awake, counting her sore muscles until she could count no higher.

And each morning, Gwen unwrapped the wolf pelt to check on the Glass, and found it glowing brighter and brighter.

Finally, on a foggy morning, Gwen and Phi ascended the highest peak, and pulled themselves over the edge of a black rock to find a desolate cave.

“This is it,” Gwen whispered—the first words she'd spoken all day. They'd reached the mountaintop. She helped Phi to her feet, and together they faced the mouth of
the cave. Gwen's heart raced at the sight of the cave—she feared the dark, enclosed space. Phi was scared too.

“Maybe there's a way around?” Phi asked.

Something moved toward them from the shadows. Gwen grabbed Phi's hand as a wolf the size of a bear padded out. It was all white, with blue eyes. It lowered its head and growled. Carin and
the owls flew protectively low over the girls, and Gwen stepped in front of Phi in a useless attempt to shield her. Her mouth had gone completely dry. She frantically looked around the rocks for a
means of escape.

To the girls' horror, another wolf followed the first out of the cave, this one just as large and just as angry. Gwen held her breath, hardly believing that this was their journey's
end—to be attacked by vicious white wolves. Behind her and Phi, the rocks they'd just climbed dropped quickly down a steep ravine. There was nowhere to go.

Shhhh…

The noise was so quiet, so subtle, that when Gwen finally noticed it, she wasn't sure when it had begun.

The wolves stopped their growling, but they didn't take their light blue eyes off Gwen and Phi. Around their feet, the earth moved. At least, that was what Gwen thought she saw.

The hissing noise was the sound of the ground trembling and coming alive.

Phi gasped, and backed away a step.

“Spiders!”

Gwen could see them now, hundreds of them—tiny white spiders crawling along the stony bottom of the cave, glistening in the soft sunlight as they emerged to greet the girls. The wolves
moved out of their way as the spiders massed forward eagerly.

“Oh, Nature!” breathed Gwen.

The white spiders clambered around the girls' boots and the hem of Gwen's traveling coat. Gwen stiffened as the spiders passed over and around her feet.

“Gwen, look!” said Phi, pointing to the mouth of the cave.

Walking behind the spiders like a queen at the end of a procession was a woman. She had white hair, piled wildly on top of her head, with wisps floating out behind her as she walked. She
searched the rock for Gwen and Phi with eyes the color of fresh milk. She was blind.

“Come closer,” the woman said, somehow knowing that they were there.

Gwen moved her right foot forward, looking down to see the spiders cascade away from her to make a path. She didn't know who this woman was, or what she wanted, but she felt compelled
forward by a force very like the bond itself. She sensed comfort from this person. Gwen approached the woman, who was no taller than she was. The woman wore a long gray dress woven out of delicate
fibers that shimmered in the light. Spiderwebs. She raised her hands and began to touch Gwen's cheeks and forehead, and the tip of her nose.

“My dear,” she said, searching Gwen's face with her spindly fingers. “Here you are at last.”

GWEN SQUINTED AS THE
woman led them into the mouth of the cave, then stopped as though she'd forgotten something. Reaching toward the stone
wall, the Animas Spider felt around for a metal lantern hanging on a hook. A flare of bluish light appeared. Strands of silky spiderwebs glistened on the walls and rocks.

“That should make the way easier for you,” the woman said softly.

Gwen and Phi followed, with the blue light casting shadows that danced and shone.

“Are you a Seer?” Gwen asked, though part of her didn't dare believe. “An advisor to the old king sent me here. We called him the Elder, and he told me I'd find
something…” She trailed off, wondering how much they could trust her.

The woman simply turned and beckoned with her bone-white hand. Gwen remained silent.

They walked until the light from the mouth of the cave had disappeared, and then they walked even farther. The air remained chilly, and Gwen tugged the sleeves of her coat down over her fingers.
Finally, the tunnel opened up, and the light from the woman's lamp illuminated a tall, rocky ceiling, full of downward-reaching stalactites. The room had been constructed by Nature herself,
but it appeared as grand and solemn as any of the great halls of Parliament. Both Gwen and Phi craned their necks to gaze at the glistening ceiling.

“You live here?” asked Phi.

The woman nodded, and gestured to a table and chairs nearby. The furniture was made of crude, heavy wood. Gwen and Phi sat down.

“What's your name?” asked Gwen.

“We stopped using names long ago,” said the woman. “They are of little use to us.”

Gwen started—the old woman spoke firmly, and the sound of her voice echoed off the rocks.

“You asked if I am a Seer—that's what we are called, out there in Aldermere, yes. There are other Seers too, somewhere,” the woman continued. “We do not visit one
another often. The caves are deep.”

“How many of you are left?” asked Gwen. Phi, sitting next to her, stared openmouthed at the lofty stone ceiling. The birds had not followed them inside.

“We do not make it our business to peer into one another's doings,” she said. “But I believe there are others still alive. I would know if their lights had dimmed.”
She thought for a moment, and then smiled. “If you must call me something, you may call me Ama.”

Ama knelt at a small fireplace in the rock, and after a moment, a small fire flared under her bony hands. Ama felt along the wall, then grabbed ahold of a metal arm affixed to the rock, and hung
a copper teakettle on it.

“I am sorry if the wolves frightened you,” Ama continued. “They are Velyn kin, lent to me for protection. While
I
may have known that you were expected guests,
they
did not.” Gwen wondered how many guests a blind Seer entertained, alone under a mountain. Not many, she thought.

“Are you all alone here?” Gwen asked. “Does anyone live here with you?”

Ama shook her head. “Others cloud the sight. I have a visitor every—oh, year or so. More lately. But too much talk makes my light dim.”

She walked over to the table with a small metal tray balanced on her hands. Three mismatched porcelain cups wobbled on it, filled with steaming tea. Ama set the tray down on the wooden table and
gestured for the girls to take their pick. Dazed, Gwen gingerly picked a mug with an etched design of gold and yellow flowers. It was fine porcelain except for a chip in the handle. She wondered if
the cups had come from the palace. A gift, maybe, from a long-dead king.

“You said we were expected,” said Phi. “You knew that Gwen was coming to see you?”

“Oh, yes,” said Ama. The light from the suspended lantern reflected in her milky eyes.

“Maybe you can tell me about the Instrument of Change,” Gwen said, feeling her trust toward Ama growing. “The Elder—maybe you knew him—told me that I would find it
here.”

Ama nodded, and raised an eyebrow in recognition.

“The Elder, yes. He was a friend to the Seers. I was sorry to learn of his passing,” she murmured. “And the Instrument of Change
is
here.”

Gwen felt her heart jump.

“Please,” she said, “tell me what I need to do. Tremelo—the king—he needs it, and I'm the one who has to bring it to him.”

Ama leaned forward and pointed, unseeing, to Gwen's pack.

“Your Glass is calling to you, my dear,” she said. “It's almost singing with joy, just for you to answer.”

“What?” said Gwen. She brought her pack around to her front and dug in it for the fur-bound Glass. Carefully, she unfolded it and set it on the table in front of Ama. In the dimness
of the cave, the stone still retained a soft glow, but it didn't emit a sound.

“I don't understand. Does it have something to do with the Instrument?” she asked.

Ama nodded.

“You can feel it beckoning to you, can't you?” she asked Gwen.

“It's glowing,” Gwen admitted. “It has been for days. What does it mean? Is it—is it yours?”

Ama passed her hand over the Glass, but did not touch it.

“This does not belong to me,” she said. She reached into her silvery spun dress, and took out a Glass identical to Gwen's. “Every Seer has their own. Your Glass belongs
to you, just as this Glass belongs to me.”

She set hers down on the table next to Gwen's.

“Every Seer has an instrument, Gwendolyn—that of true sight. You cannot change what you are.
You
are a Seer, like me. How you use the instrument given to you is your choice.
You have my guidance, if you want it. The Elder wished it so.”