The Madness Project (The Madness Method) (86 page)

Tarik’s hand tightened on mine.  His other hand, I noticed,
held a revolver.

“Tarik!” the aviator called, and I caught my breath.  That
was Griff Farro. 
My
Griff.  He strode toward us, flinging his arms at
his sides, horror and confusion written all over his face.  “They told me
Rivano was on the palace grounds, escaping.”  His gaze shifted over to Rivano,
then back to Tarik.  “What the hell is going on here?”

“I’m sorry, Farro,” Tarik said.  “I think we have to be
enemies now.”

“What the devil are you talking about?  Mr. Zagger?  What’s
going on?”

Tarik took a few steps toward him, never letting go of my
hand.  I kept staring at Griff’s face, remembering the wide-eyed and
curly-headed boy who’d chased me through the trees.  He glanced at me once, and
his brow creased, but maybe he was just wondering why a slumdog was holding the
Crown Prince’s hand.

Tarik sighed and said, “I wish I could explain.  But I’ve
got no time.  Please.  We’re leaving now.  Don’t make me take you down to do
it.”

“You’ve turned on him?” Griff asked.  “You turned on your
father to join sides with this…this…Jixy?”

“Yes,” he said.  “Because that’s what I am too, Farro. 
That’s what I’ve always been.  Now stand down and let me pass.”

Griff stared at him.  Tarik’s hand felt so cold in mine, his
muscles tense, every line in his face betraying his grief.

“Griff Farro,” I said suddenly, dragging his gaze to me. 
“The flying man.  I always knew you’d be swell.”

His face went white.  “Oh, stars,” he gasped, and he pressed
his knuckles to his lips.

A minute and he just goggled me like that, then he swore
something fierce and threw his arms around me, picking me clear off the
ground.  I caught Tarik’s gaze and he smiled, some strange blend of sorrow and
joy in his eyes.

“Hayli,” Griff said.  “I thought you were dead.”

“Hayli Lorin is dead,” I murmured.

“I’m so sorry.  You—”  He glanced from me to Tarik.  “You
two…?”

Tarik put a hand on his shoulder, saying, “We’ve got to go. 
The palace guards will be here any minute.”

Griff straightened up, biting his lip, his gaze flicking
from me to Tarik to Rivano. 

“Oh, damn it all, Tarik!” he cried.  “You’d make me a
traitor too?”

“I could just knock you out and we could say you got
overpowered.”

“I was supposed to shoot the whole lot of you down from my
aeroplane,” he said.  “Getting knocked out on the ground would just look bad. 
No.  No, I can’t.  I can’t do it.”

He turned and strode back toward his plane, while Tarik
shouted after him, “Can’t do what?  Farro!  Devil take you, what can’t you do?”

But Griff didn’t turn around and he didn’t answer, until he’d
gotten into the cockpit and turned the engine.  The plane shuddered and drifted
down the road a bit toward us.  When it got close enough, Griff leaned out of
the cockpit and said,

“Better run.”

Tarik swore, and we all set off running again.  The plane took
to the skies ahead of us, and we kept staring at it, waiting for it to loop
around and start firing that massive gun at us again.  I knew Tarik was hoping
it wouldn’t happen, so when the plane twisted and circled around behind us, he
swore again and picked up the pace.  There were only fields stretching on
either side of the road.  Not even a ditch to give us any cover.  So we just
ran flat out, the gate in our sights, the two guards at post lining up to face
us down.

The plane swooped over our heads and gunshots thundered in
our ears, kicking up chalky dust from the road all the way to the gate.  The
guards threw themselves away from the gunshots, landing in a heap behind the
guard post.  In another moment we were through the gate, and Kor and Zagger split
off to deal with the cowering guards.

The plane swooped once over our heads.  Tarik covered his
mouth, staring up at that beautiful mad plane and its mad pilot, then he
touched his fingers to his temple in a salute.  The plane dipped a wing, and
then circled away to the east.

“Once they find out he let us go, they’ll court-martial
him,” Tarik said.  “That grobbing idiot.  He’s got to escape now.  Doesn’t he
know that?”

“Maybe he’s just…taking the plane back?”

Tarik turned and grinned at me.  “If he wanted to join us,
we could certainly use an aeroplane,” he said.

“Listen,” I said, turning to Rivano to include him.  “The
mages are gathering at the old aluminium smelter outside the city walls. 
Should be safe enough.  Nobody ever gans out there anymore.”

“Let’s get going then,” Zagger said, holstering his
revolver.  “Sooner we can get off the street, the better we’ll be.”

“I’ll meet you there,” I said.  “I’m ganna gan round up some
more mages for Derrin.”

I hesitated.  More than anything I wished Tarik would kiss
me again, but Zagger, Kor and Rivano all stood staring at the two of us, and my
cheeks turned red just thinking about it.  But Tarik shot them a dangerous kind
of look and turned to face me, running his fingers through my hair.

“I’m a traitor now, Hayli,” he said softly.  “I’m not a
prince.”

“No, he’s the bloody Godar of Istia,” Zagger commented from
behind us.

“Zagger!” Tarik shouted, glaring at him over his shoulder.

Zagger just grinned and took a step back.

“Is that true?” I asked.  “Are you really?”

“That’s what the Ambassador thought.  God knows if he
survived that meeting with Trabin, though.  I’m sure Trabin is busy calculating
the advantage of having Eskir and his envoy meet with a terrible accident here
in Cavnal, so no one in Istia will ever hear about me.”

“You’re the Godar.  Of Istia.”

He tipped his head back, smiling faintly.  “It’s not
important right now.  Right now, we just need to keep moving.” 

He shot another glare at the three men behind him.  When
they just stood there, Kor and Zagger grinning like mad things, he gave them an
obscene gesture and bent and kissed me, a fleeting thing, sweeter than
sunshine.

“Be safe,” he murmured, his lips close to my ear.

“You too,” I said, my heart racing like mad, fire in my
veins.

Then, before I could change my mind about leaving him, I
turned and threw myself into the wind.

I fly through the city, hunting for Billiman Square. 
Somehow I feel like I know the place.  I know exactly how to get there.  Maybe
it’s the energy of the mages there that I’d never noticed before, but now felt
like a thread, pulling me in.  It takes me little time to find the brick
building, with the men standing watch outside the door, just as Derrin told
me.  I don’t even need to shift back. 

I land on the ground at the nearest man’s feet and say,
“Gantry!”

The man looks at me, surprised, but he just exchanges a
glance with another sentry and they open the door for me.  I fly in, weaving
through the halls, following the pulse of magic that draws me in.

In an inner room I find four mages gathered together, so
I land on the ground and Shift.

I got to my feet, shaking my head.  An odd kind of dizziness
clung to my mind, stronger than I usually felt after Shifting.  One of the
mages reached out and gripped my arm, helping to steady me.

“Are you all right, girl?” he asked.  “That was a fantastic
bit of magic.”

“I’m jake,” I said, pressing the bridge of my nose.  “Just a
bit topsy.  Give me a tick and I’ll be a’right.  Are any of you hurt?”

“No,” the mage said.  “We’re all fine here.”

I leaned on the table, searching each mage’s face, wondering
how Derrin had gotten on their bad side before.  They all looked pleasant
enough.

“Strange place to hide in,” I said, scanning the room.  I
blinked, squeezing my eyes shut a moment, because I couldn’t seem to fix on any
details.  “And it smells terrible.”

“I know,” one of the other mages said.  “Stars know what
they used to do in here.”

“You have news for us, little mage?” the first one asked.

“We’re gathering in the old aluminium smelter southwest of
the city.  Spread the word, if you got a ken of any other mages still hiding.”

“We will.”

I frowned, because something didn’t feel quite right.  I
just didn’t know what.  It was that cold smell.  It was this room I couldn’t
quite see.  And…

I lifted my gaze to the mage standing beside me, the one who
had steadied me, my heart  a weight of lead in my chest. 

“I div’n feel aught when you touched me,” I said, alarm
prickling through me.  “I should have felt something!”

He exchanged a glance with one of the other men.

“You’re not a mage!” I gasped, trying to back away. 
“You’re…”

That smell.  That white, sterile smell.

“You’re Kippler’s men.”

Chapter 18 — Tarik

It was near nightfall when we finally reached the colossal
aluminium smelter, its towering smokestacks slicing the twilit sky.  The main
building of the smelter was a sprawling brick affair, surrounded by a number of
smaller stone structures—likely housing the old company offices and storage
facilities.  A few mages stood on guard outside in the smelter yard, including
Scorch, the mage who had tried to crash Griff’s aeroplane.  I’d seen him from a
distance once, and I’d sworn I would confront him the next time I saw him, but
I made myself swallow my anger when I spotted him.  Now was not the time for
revenge.

But they all snapped to alert as we approached, until we got
close enough that they could recognize Rivano—and me, because I’d Masked into
Shade again to forestall the inevitable uproar when I revealed who I really
was.  The mages let Rivano pass, and would have let me go too, but I stayed
where I was when they moved to block Zagger and Kor.

Scorch stepped forward, scanning Zagger head to toe.  “I
know you, don’t I?” he asked, with a nasty smile.  “You’re the Prince’s
bodyguard, right?  What the devil are you doing here?”

“Maybe I got bored,” Zagger said.

“Royal agent,” Scorch said, holding up his hand.

The mages didn’t carry guns.  But their hands flashed up,
two with knives, two with flickers of flame dancing over their finger tips. 
Zagger glanced at me, but Kor’s hands flashed at his sides and he drew a pair
of revolvers.

For a few moments they stared each other down, locked in a
stalemate.  Finally I sighed and stepped forward.

“Scorch, let them in.  They’re with me.”

“Why would you have a royal bodyguard with you?” Scorch
asked.

“Because,” I said, “he’s
my
bodyguard.”  I let out my
breath in a sigh, and unMasked my face.  “Now, are we through with the
questions?”

Scorch stared at me, stunned speechless.  The other mages
lowered their hands, and Kor holstered his guns.

“Does Rivano know about this?” Scorch asked, after his
tongue made a few false starts.  “You’re…you’re Prince Tarik.  But how…”

“Yes,” I said.  “He knows I’m Tarik, and yes, he knows I’m a
mage.  Now come on.  Let us pass.”

He spun sharply and his hand shot up, beckoning us to follow
him.  I met Zagger’s gaze and, with some weary resignation, decided not to Mask
again.  It would have to come out eventually anyway.

Scorch led us into the smelter, into the wide main factory still
cluttered with broken machines and generators.  I didn’t know what half the
devices did, but I could imagine how loud the place must have been when it was
operational.  Now it was just stark and quiet, even with the low hum of
conversation from the groups of mages.  Water dripped from some stained corner
of the ceiling, and the wind whistled through a cracked window, but even so,
the air felt oppressed by the eerie hush. 

And it was all broken and abandoned, and time washed away
the meaning, all the meaning, until there was just a shell that meant to
forget…that needed the forgetting…

I shook my head, scrabbling at the wall for support.

“Tarik?” Kor murmured, his arm around my shoulders. 
“Everything all right?”

“Just…lost my balance,” I said.  I meant to wave him away,
but I couldn’t let go of the wall and I couldn’t let go of my head, or it would
all fall apart.  “Where are we going?”

I blinked to focus as he pointed across the room.  “There, I
presume,” he said.  “Does that look like your crew?”

After a moment my vision steadied and I saw the Hole rats
all huddled together in one corner of the room.  The rest of Rivano’s mages had
gathered near them, sitting or standing in a knot by the wall.  My heart caught
in my throat when I saw them, because there in the midst of them I saw a small
body lying on the ground, wrapped in an embroidered blanket of dark blue
linen.  Bugs.

Everyone stared at me as we walked in.  Some of the mages
shuffled back to let me pass, while others stood stone-still, muttering amongst
themselves.  I’m sure they thought I was there to turn in the whole lot of them
to the King.  But I paid them no mind.  Just headed straight for the Hole
skitters, straight for Jig and Anuk who had scrambled to their feet, ready for
a fight.