Authors: Brandon Mull
“She’s so lifelike,” Mira said.
“Few shapers could manage such a creation,” Declan said. “Flying semblances are hard. Personalities are harder. None of us can replicate lifelike humans and other beasts to match the ones the Western Cloudwall creates. Semblances like Lyrus are uniquely realistic.”
“Could Lyrus come with us?” Cole asked.
“I would relish nothing more than an adventure,” the soldier said.
“I’m aware,” Declan replied. “But nothing we can do would allow you to leave here and survive. That aspect of you is beyond any of our abilities to tamper with. It would be like trying to shape an actual human—there is too much complexity to cause anything but disaster. The semblances from the sky castles can only survive on the castles or here on the peninsula.”
“Then why can Mango come with us?” Cole asked.
“It is easier to make semblances out here beyond the Brink,” Declan said. “Most of the semblances and renderings we create can’t leave. But with effort, we can design semblances and renderings that could survive elsewhere in Sambria, just as most nonliving renderings from the sky castles can survive elsewhere.”
“Forgive me if I spoke out of turn,” Lyrus said, head bowed.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Declan said. “If I could
make a gift of you to help these young people on their way, I wouldn’t hesitate.”
“You’ve already done so much,” Mira said. She made eye contact with Asia, Jamar, and Liam. “Thank you for the gifts.”
“We’re not done yet,” Declan said, sounding mildly offended. “I haven’t given you mine.”
“There’s more?” Mira asked.
“How about this for starters?” He waved an arm in a wide gesture and Cole felt his wrist tingle.
All four kids investigated the sensation. Cole saw that the mark tattooed there had changed.
Jace gasped. “It’s a freemark,” he said reverently.
“That’s right,” Declan said. “It would be difficult to go abroad marked as slaves.”
“You can’t change a bondmark!” Mira exclaimed.
Declan gave a small smile. “Most people can’t. They’re designed to be permanent. The shaper who developed them was a student of mine.”
“Just like that,” Twitch said, rubbing his wrist.
“It looks real,” Jace marveled.
“It
is
real,” Declan said. “Those new marks are indistinguishable from authentic freemarks. They have been reshaped. No traces of the original bondmarks remain. No shaper or needle master can claim otherwise.”
“I can hardly believe it,” Mira said.
“There’s more,” Declan said. “Join me outside.”
Declan moved a finger and his chair hovered up and away from the table. Advancing at a pace that let the others keep up, he led the way to the courtyard. At first Jace didn’t
follow the others. It took a nudge from Cole to stop him from staring at his freemark.
Beyond the castle doors, an odd carriage awaited in the courtyard. The enclosed compartment rode on four wheels—not fancy, but clean and well crafted. At the front, instead of a horse, there stood a huge black brick with legs.
“An autocoach,” Jace said.
“For us?” Mira asked hopefully.
“For you,” Declan said. “I could have modified it to move faster. I could have made it more elaborate. But I thought it wiser to make it as typical as possible.”
“Won’t it raise suspicions to see four kids with their own autocoach?” Twitch asked. “Free or not.”
“Astute,” Declan said. “Wearing nice clothes will help, which is why we updated your wardrobes. The last part of my gift also tried to address that problem. Bertram?”
The door to the autocoach opened, and an old man with a close-cropped white beard leaned out. He was dressed in a slightly shabby, old-fashioned suit. “What was that? My hearing isn’t so keen.”
“State your business,” Declan ordered.
The old man’s eyes widened. “How’s that? My business?” He absently patted his pockets. “Yes, well, if I wish to show my grandniece and grandnephews a bit of the countryside, I suppose it is my business. That’s enough chatterboxing. I feel past my prime today, and my joints ache something terrible.” Coughing, he closed the carriage door and leaned back out of view.
“That’s quite a semblance,” Mira said.
“Not my best work,” Declan lamented. “Don’t look to him for profound conversations. But Bertram should hold up well enough while you remain in Sambria. He won’t leave the carriage unless forced, mostly because I doubt his authenticity can withstand close inspection. But he should serve to deflect attention if questions get asked about four youngsters traveling alone.”
“Four kids and an old man,” Cole muttered. “What if somebody decides to rob us?”
“We’ll have our gear,” Jace said. “Right?”
“Your items are already stowed in the autocoach,” Liam said. “I strengthened the shaping of the Jumping Swords to help ensure they would hold up through Sambria. The other objects should continue to function very well.”
“How’s my rope?” Jace asked, an edge to his voice. “It wasn’t working last I saw.”
“It was still functional,” Liam corrected. “I had merely severed its connection to you so it wouldn’t respond to your commands.”
“Will it now?” Jace asked.
“I restored the connection,” Liam assured him. “You don’t have to act so put out. I was doing you a favor. Asia would have cut the rope.”
“The rope is tough to cut,” Jace said.
“Maybe with normal weapons,” Liam replied. “Asia’s blade has a miraculous edge. It would have slashed through your rope like it was smoke, and your rendering would have been ruined, probably permanently.”
“Then thanks, I guess,” Jace mumbled.
“We’ve stored food and water in the autocoach as well,” Asia said. “You’ll find the food packed under the seats, and your gear in a compartment beneath the floor. We included some money to help you on your way. Bertram can assist if you have trouble finding anything. We suggest you leave now. The less time you allow the High Shaper to move his forces into the area, the better chance you’ll have to make a clean getaway.”
“The top speed of the autocoach is not impressive,” Jamar said. “Compare it to a horse at an easy trot. But the autocoach can maintain that speed indefinitely. It needs no food, no water, no rest.”
“So if we get chased, we might be in trouble,” Cole said.
“If dangerous enemies are in close pursuit, you may have to abandon the vehicle,” Asia said. “But the autocoach will only operate for Mira. This is standard enough that thieves will have little interest in the coach itself. Your belongings could be another story.”
“Does it know where to go?” Mira asked.
“Unless you issue new instructions,” Declan said, “the autocoach will take you to Middlebranch. Bertram can advise you about alternative routes and destinations. If you reach Middlebranch, seek out Gerta, a shaper. The locals call her ‘the herb woman.’ She could be a source of guidance. Most of my old colleagues are dead or in hiding. Gerta has no love for the High Shaper and is among the few from the old days who you can reliably find.”
Mira nodded. “Thank you for everything. It’s much more than we could have hoped for.”
“I wish I could do more,” Declan said. “For the first time in decades, your father has shown hints of vulnerability. He will move aggressively to reestablish the certainty of his reign. Evade him. Survive. Trust your instincts. Liam will catch up to instruct you about leaving Cloudvale.”
Mira gave Declan a peck on the cheek, then started toward the autocoach. Jace had lifted the hatch in the floor and was examining his golden rope. Beside him, Twitch searched the compartment, probably looking for his ring.
Lingering behind, Cole studied the withered old man in the floating chair. Declan watched him expectantly.
“We need to talk before I leave,” Cole said. “I’m not from here. Is there any chance of me ever getting home?”
Declan brought the chair close and spoke loud enough for Cole’s ears only. “I was beginning to wonder whether you would seek my counsel. There are ways for you to return to your world. Staying there will be slippery. This is a question for the Wayminders of Creon.”
“I briefly talked to a Wayminder,” Cole said. “It was the guy the slavers hired to help them reach my world. He told me the same thing—that I could probably get home, but that it would be hard to stay. I came here so unexpectedly. I still don’t really get where I am. What is the Outskirts? It’s almost like a dream.”
Declan gave a snort. “Almost, especially here in Sambria, where certain aspects of reality can be adjusted. I have studied this question, as have others. The most I know is that the Outskirts is an in-between place. One of the five kingdoms seems to lie between life and death, another between reality
and imagination, another has pockets outside the normal order of time and space, and another stretches the limits of technological innovation. As you noted, Sambria seems to lie between wakefulness and dreaming. Where else besides dreams can you rearrange the world according to your whims?”
Cole nodded. “Only here.”
“Each kingdom has its own kind of shaping,” Declan said. “Each has its own wonders and mysteries. I’ll let you in on a Sambrian secret. It may only be the fancy of an old man, but I suspect that the Western Cloudwall taps into dreams to form the castles. Could be dreamers in your world, or ours, or both, or more worlds than we can guess. Troubled dreamers, it seems to me. Perhaps failed dreamers. Call it a hunch.”
“That might explain why some of the castles have stuff from my world,” Cole said.
“It could explain that and more,” Declan agreed. “But the issue is mostly academic. Here is the lesson you must learn—the Outskirts may feel dreamlike at times, but this is no dream. In a dream, if you get into trouble, you can eventually wake up. You will not wake from this, Cole. If you get hurt, you will suffer. If you get killed, you will die.”
“I believe it. I can tell the difference between being awake and being in a dream. I’ve slept and had dreams since I came here. I’ve been hungry and thirsty and tired and scared. None of that felt like a dream. Some things are unbelievably weird, but it’s all way too real.”
“That’s right,” Declan said.
“I’m worried about the other kids who came here
from my world,” Cole explained. “Especially my two best friends.”
“The pair who went to the High King as slaves,” Declan said. “You’re certain of their destination?”
“Some woman tested us for shaping potential,” Cole said. “I had none. She called me the worst of the bunch. Kids with the most shaping ability were put into cages to go to the High King. That included my friends Jenna and Dalton.”
“When we met, you mentioned you came to the Outskirts voluntarily,” Declan said.
“Right,” Cole said. “I didn’t know where I was going, but nobody forced me. I was trying to help my friends.”
“The slavers didn’t know you came through on your own?”
Cole shook his head. “The Wayminder saw me after I came through and gave me a little help. I didn’t want him to get in trouble, so I pretended I arrived with the others but slipped away.”
Declan gave a frail chuckle. “That explains why you weren’t sent to the High Shaper.”
“What do you mean?”
“People who come to the Outskirts from your world tend to have more shaping potential than the average citizen born here, which explains why the slavers went to your world looking for slaves with shaping talent. People who come here voluntarily from your world, rather than by accident or compulsion, tend to have far greater ability than most.”
“Then why didn’t the woman see any shaping potential in me?” Cole asked. “When I came here, I didn’t really know
where I was going. Maybe that counts as ending up here by accident.”
“No,” Declan said. “If you followed the slavers, you purposely entered. You didn’t blunder into it by happenstance. Unsure of where it would lead, you chose to follow them, and that is deliberate. The shaping power manifests differently for someone who chooses to come to the Outskirts. It’s a rare occurrence.”
“What makes it different?”
“You become much more likely to develop more than one kind of shaping talent, and those talents tend to be unusually strong. But the abilities take longer to show up. I don’t currently see shaping potential in you. Not any. That is rare. Almost everyone has at least a little shaping talent. Having absolutely none is less common than having a lot. I expect that one day, you’ll discover powerful skills.”
“Really?” Cole said, excited by the thought of having ways to help his friends besides flying through the air with a sword. “How long will it take?”
Declan shrugged. “That’s where it gets complicated. It could take years. Or it could never happen.”
Cole’s excitement dimmed. “Is there anything I can do to speed it up?”
“I’m unaware of any techniques that would hasten the process,” Declan said. “But I do know this: If the slavers were looking for slaves with shaping potential, and they knew you came through voluntarily, and they saw that you displayed zero potential, you would have been their top pick.”
“Even though I might be a dud?” Cole asked.
“They would gladly take that chance. According to the odds, your talents will show up eventually, and when they do, they’ll be strong.”
“But that potential doesn’t help me much right now,” Cole said.
“True,” Declan said. “Perhaps not for a long time.”
Straightening, Cole steeled himself. “With or without shaping powers, I need to help my friends. Do you know how I can find them?”
“If they went to Junction City, I could direct you there,” Declan said. “So could Mira. Many people you would meet could point you in the right direction. But stealing a slave is a serious crime. According to the laws of the land, your friends legally belong to the High King. I don’t expect you could free them on your own. Even if you managed it, I doubt you would remain free. You’d be caught and punished, as would they.”
“You’re saying there’s nothing I can do?” Cole asked in frustration. “I have to try. It’s my fault my friends are here in the first place. I took them to the place where they were kidnapped.”
“Deliberately?” Declan asked.