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  In the smith’s, Abeke crouched behind a half-built cabinet. Finn took a place behind a large harrow. Meilin hid beside the still-warm forge. The blacksmith was on the higher side of the road, and from their hiding places they had a clear view into one of the only rooms with a normal-sized window. Inside, there were five people eating a not insubstantial meal. One very handsome, oily man and four kids.

  The last time Meilin had seen the man with his tidy beard and expensive clothing, he had been stabbing one of her allies in the back during the battle for the last talisman. Just the sight of him placing a spoon in his mouth was enough to close off her throat for a moment. She barely checked her first impulse, which was to leap across the road and engage him in combat on the spot.

  “Zerif,” Meilin and Abeke snarled at the same time. Their voices were equally harsh, which surprised Meilin. She still didn’t trust Abeke, but her rage at Zerif sounded genuine. Uraza’s tail thrashed at the abrasive tone.

  Finn said, “I’ll stand watch here. You two go listen.”

  Abeke handed Finn the cat and Meilin shook her head with annoyance.

  “What are you planning to do with that thing anyway?” she demanded. “Throw it at Rumfuss?”

  But Abeke merely smiled, cool and catlike, before following Meilin to the window. The voices inside were mumbled, but audible.

  “Don’t be foolish,” Zerif was saying in between bites of dinner. Meilin was disgusted to watch him eat — not because he wasn’t careful, but because of the opposite. For some reason the care he took to place each bite in his mouth and then wipe his lips infuriated her. How dare he eat like there is nothing wrong in the world. How dare he wipe his beard clean as if it matters if he is handsome!

  “No one will care about the Great Beasts when we’re done,” he continued. “Did you see any of the townsfolk caring a whit for Briggan today? They only had eyes for Elda.”

  Devin preened as he admired his wildcat tattoo. “She is everything the people want.”

  “That’s what I am telling you children,” Zerif said. The older blond girl with the flat frog looked rather annoyed at the word children. “For decades, the Greencloaks lured in most people with their talk of Erdas’s Great Beasts. By making every village everywhere reliant on the Greencloaks and the Nectar, they denied the power every country already has. Briggan serves no one but Briggan! But you, Devin. You serve Eura with their black wildcat. And you, Tahlia, serve your people with Tiddalik, Stetriol’s beloved water-holding frog. Ana, with Amaya’s glorious and fearful gila monster, Ix. And of course Karmo with Impundulu, Nilo’s lightning bird. How long have your people been waiting for these legends to release them from hardship? Now they don’t have to wait for the future. We make the future.”

  Devin nodded enthusiastically as Meilin silently fumed.

  “How long do we have to deal with people like them, then?” demanded Karmo, jerking his chin toward the interior of the barn. He was a handsome, dark-skinned boy already as tall as Zerif. “As long as we battle the Greencloaks, we are distracted from our true purpose of aiding our people.”

  People like them. Meilin was sure he must mean Rollan, Conor, and Tarik.

  “Once we get the talismans, they will be powerless to stand against us,” Zerif said. He was briefly distracted by his reflection in the spoon. He admired it.

  Tahlia looked vexed. “Just how can you be so certain? There are four other children with Great Beasts out there, looking for the exact same thing as us.”

  “Two,” corrected Devin with a smirk. “These two we already have aren’t getting out any time soon. My father built the Howling House to be the best.”

  Abeke and Meilin shot each other a look. Two? Who was missing?

  “And I chose all of you to be the best,” Zerif said. “The four returned Great Beasts were summoned at random to rather unworthy human partners, as I think you saw earlier today. Each of you, on the other hand, was handpicked to be a hero. Excellent breeding —” He smiled at Devin. “Exceptional intelligence —” He pointed his spoon at Tahlia. “Exceeding connections —” This was directed to the girl with the lizard. “And exacerbating strength,” he said to Karmo.

  The table was quiet, probably because none of them knew what exacerbating meant, including Zerif.

  “With the Bile,” Zerif continued, “we can create even more worthy heroes. It creates bonds even when the Nectar fails. And the bonds are superior. The human has complete control! We choose the animal! No follower of the Reptile King needs to worry about bonding with a field mouse. Long live the Reptile King!”

  The table was quiet again, and the faces of the children indicated that they had heard Zerif give this speech before.

  Finally, he cleared his throat, moved his plate, and produced a piece of parchment. “Here’s the map we got from the two urchins. Devin, you and Karmo will use this to follow them to their destination. Get the talisman. I will come find you.”

  Karmo said dubiously, “You are not joining us?”

  “Karmo,” Zerif said. He stood and draped an arm across the tall boy’s shoulders. “Karmo, Karmo, Karmo. Now that the first stage of your training is done, it’s time for me to return Tahlia to Stetriol and Ana to Amaya, where they can begin to inspire their people. Devin remains here in Eura where he is most influential. And you, as we’ve discussed, have more work that you can do on Nilo’s behalf before you go home as a hero. There are two of you. Two of them. I think we can all agree that Elda and Impundulu are more than a match for that panda, even with Uraza helping her.”

  Meilin gritted her teeth. There was no point in staying any longer. Punching Abeke’s arm lightly, she indicated for the other girl to follow.

  When they returned to Finn, Meilin said grimly, “They’re definitely Conquerors, handpicked by Zerif. He says they have some sort of version of Nectar that can force a bond. And they have Rollan and Conor there in the Howling House.”

  Finn’s expression went very dark. He said, “At Greenhaven, we had heard rumors. . . . There’s no time to spare. We have to get the others out. What we need is a diversion. Havoc. So they don’t have time to attack us.”

  Meilin felt an idea prickle. She whispered, “Keep a lookout. I need to have a moment of silence.”

  She released Jhi from her dormant state. The panda was dreadfully conspicuous in the dark. Not the black bits, of course. But everything white. And the blacksmith shop was not designed to fit a panda. Jhi shifted her weight so that the anvil would stop poking her in the flank.

  Meilin asked, “Jhi, will you help me? I think I have an idea, but I need to focus.”

  The panda actually looked happy to be asked — ears pricked forward, eyes brighter, mouth less tense. Meilin hadn’t realized before that Jhi’s face was capable of holding such expression.

  The moment Meilin closed her eyes, the panda’s calming influence washed over her.

  It would be easy to fall asleep, she thought. She could curl up in the panda’s soft fur right here. Suddenly she missed Zhong so badly that she could cry.

  This was all part of the panda’s power, she knew. Pushing down all her logical barriers. She didn’t have time for it. Focusing, she shoved away the emotion.

  Choices swirled into view. This time they were more like stars than planets: bright and hard to look at directly. When Meilin considered some of them — causing a commotion with the mastiffs, sneaking in another window, attacking the guards directly — they fizzled and died out.

  But one choice stayed bright. Meilin let it circle her as she studied it from all sides, looking for dull areas or weakness.

  This idea isn’t an easy one, she thought.

  Jhi’s encouragement washed over her. Of course she was right. Meilin had never needed the easy way.

  She opened her eyes.

  “Well?” Abeke asked.

  Meilin said, “I’m going to need you to cover for me. This idea is going to take a bit of time.”

  9: Escape

  “WELL, THIS
IS BRILLIANT,” ROLLAN SAID. “EVERYTHING I imagined our second mission would be.”

  Their captors had taken all their things and thrown them in a stall in the Howling House, fifteen feet wide and fifteen feet long, with bars and fine wire over a single, tiny window high up on the wall. The stone floor was covered with claw marks. Deep ones. Some of them were at the edges, like an animal had tried to dig itself out. But some of them were randomly gouged into the middle of the wall. Like the animal was just angry. Or crazy.

  Conor was halfway to crazy himself after being in the stall for only an hour. He didn’t do well being contained. All he could think about was how wrong Trunswick seemed, and how he didn’t know if his mother was trapped here — or even if she was still alive. He couldn’t be sure of anything in a world where he was thrown into prison on sight.

  Rollan lolled on the opposite wall, scruffy and indolent, picking his teeth with a piece of straw. He looked rather at home here in prison. But Conor was beginning to realize that Rollan worked very hard on looking at home anywhere.

  “I just don’t understand how Devin has a spirit animal,” Conor said. “I was there, Rollan. I saw him at the Nectar Ceremony. There was no trick.”

  Rollan mused, “Did you see how tight he and the spirit animal were? They were the best of friends. It did just what he asked. I mean, why would it do that? Clearly it’s not because of Devin’s dazzling personality.”

  In between this line of thinking and remembering the encounter with the Trunswicks earlier, Conor suddenly felt awfully tired . . . and an awful lot like a shepherd’s son. “Look, Rollan. I’m sorry. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

  The other boy wordlessly lifted an eyebrow.

  “It wasn’t that it was ever home,” Conor confessed. “Home was the fields. But . . . it was different, at least, before. My mother sent me a letter and said she was working here now that I was gone, and that things weren’t going so well. I just wanted to see her, see how bad things were. And I thought it would make her proud to see . . .”

  He trailed off. He didn’t want to think about where his mother might be. His heart felt as low as it could go.

  “We all make mistakes,” Rollan said. “For instance, that laundry I ate last night. That was a mistake. I can still taste it.”

  Conor sighed. At least he had apologized. It didn’t make him feel much better, though. He knew only weakness had brought him here. Why in the world would someone like him have summoned Briggan? What a waste.

  “You’re driving me crazy with the pacing,” Rollan said. He frowned. “Did you just hear something?”

  Conor listened. He heard the sounds of animals moving in the stall next door, and night birds cooing outside, and the sound of his own breathing. “What sort of something?”

  Rollan cocked his head. “A screaming sort of something?”

  They both listened.

  Outside, a thin shout pierced the quiet. Then another. Then a higher scream, far away.

  “Yep,” said Rollan. “See, screaming. I’d recognize that sound anywhere. I’m a bit of a connoisseur of it. That, to me, sounds like high-quality surprise right there.”

  They both jumped as something struck the fine wire of the window. It was Essix, perched precariously on the ledge. She dragged her talons across the wire.

  “She’s trying to get in!” Conor exclaimed.

  “Sadly, that’s not going to happen, my friend,” Rollan told Essix, who cried thinly.

  Outside, the shouts grew more numerous. They were followed by a peculiar crashing noise that Conor couldn’t quite place.

  Suddenly Finn was at the door, a small square of his face visible through the wire-covered view hole by the latch. He worked busily at the lock.

  “Finn!” Conor said happily.

  “Get ready,” Finn warned. His fingers trembled as he worked at the lock, but his voice was steady. “You might have to fight your way out.”

  Rollan yipped in surprise. Water pooled around his feet.

  Alarmed, Conor lifted a damp boot from the ground. “Where’s that water coming from?”

  “The water tower,” Finn said. He kept digging at the lock. His hands kept trembling, but the rest of him stayed steady. Voices rose outside.

  “What’s that sound?” Conor asked.

  “Greencloaks, and their supporters,” Finn replied. He kicked the lock angrily. “The earl’s locked up dozens of people who spoke out for the Greencloaks.”

  Rollan joined Conor at the door. “What’s wrong with your hands?”

  Finn’s eyes cut up to Rollan. “Nothing.”

  Rollan’s eyes narrowed as if he knew there was more to the story, but he just asked, “What’s wrong with the lock?”

  “It’s jammed somehow,” Finn said. He pulled on the door, hard. It jumped on its hinges but didn’t give way. “I need more force. Can you push from the inside?”

  Conor and Rollan threw their shoulders against the wood. The door jumped unsuccessfully. They couldn’t push hard enough. There was shouting from not very far away.

  “Are the other locks like this?” Conor asked.

  “No. It’s only this one that seems jammed! I’ve unlocked it, but the bolt won’t give.”

  “Then free the others,” Conor said. “Maybe they can help hold off the guards. We’ll keep pushing. Go!”

  Finn hesitated. “I’ll come back when I’m done if you haven’t escaped yet.”

  As he hurried away, Conor and Rollan tried the door again. Water wicked up their legs. Straw floated on the water seeping through the walls and under the door.

  “How much water can there be in that tower?” growled Rollan through gritted teeth.

  “How stuck can this door be?” Conor said. “They just put us in here! If we just had a bit more weight —”

  A voice came through the door. “You do. Release Briggan!”

  “Meilin!” both boys said at once.

  Her angular eye appeared in the opening. What was visible of her hair was soaking wet. She said, “Trust you two to need to get rescued! Conor, why are you just standing there? I said, release Briggan! Hurry up. Where’s Tarik?”

  “It’s a long story. He’s safe, but not here. Meilin, the guards —” Conor started.

  “They’re busy for the moment. I’ve knocked over the water tower.”

  “Knocked it over!” Rollan said, shocked. “It’s not a goblet. You can’t just knock it over.”

  “Well, I did. Conor!”

  With a flash, Conor released Briggan. The wolf instantly appeared beside him. He lifted his damp paws with distaste.

  “Can you help, Briggan?” Conor asked. “You’re heavy!”

  Without hesitation, the wolf jumped up onto the door. His weight hit it just as Meilin pulled on her side. Conor and Rollan hurled themselves against it as well. Meilin groaned. Briggan groaned. The boys groaned. The door groaned too. And then it fell open.

  “That’s it!” Conor clapped his hands on either side of the wolf’s muzzle. The wolf let out a thrilled, resonant cry.

  “All right, all right,” Rollan said. “Enough of the happy reunion.”

  They splashed down the dim corridor after Meilin. Half of the torches had been extinguished in the commotion.

  Rollan’s voice was tinged with awe as he asked, “How did you knock over the water tower?”

  Meilin glanced over her shoulder. Without a hint of a smile, she replied, “I had tutors for it, back in Zhong.”

  The three of them suddenly grinned at each other, relieved that they were back together again, even if they weren’t out of trouble.

  “Prepare yourselves,” Meilin added at the end of the corridor. “It’s wild out there.”

  Outside, the courtyard was lit erratically by fretful torchlight. Trunswick guards fought with over a dozen people without uniforms — the former prisoners of the Howling House. Spirit animals skirmished and galloped around the edges of the yard. Mastiffs milled underfoot.

  Briggan
pressed up against the back of Conor’s leg, pushing him outside, and Conor thought: This is madness.

  Finn and another man ran up to them. Even in the dim light, Conor could see that the other man was tattered and haggard. Conor had been imprisoned for just a few hours. It was clear the other man’s imprisonment had lasted much longer.

  “Hurry,” Finn urged. “Follow me! They can’t cover us long.”

  “Cover us?” Conor echoed. His eyes roamed over the fighting. “We have to help!”

  The haggard man shook his head. “No. Briggan and the others must escape from here. You are meant for more than this.”

  Just then, one of the mastiffs jumped, lurching heavily into the haggard man’s side. As he turned to face it, another savagely bared its slobbery teeth before lunging for his neck. Meilin immediately turned to help him, but Finn seized her arm.

  “You heard what he wanted. Don’t make him fight for nothing,” he snapped. “Our goal is the talisman. Their goal is to allow us to pursue that goal.”

  Another man ran up to attack the mastiffs. But the haggard man didn’t get back up.

  “They want you out of here,” Finn hissed, dragging Meilin away. “I’m getting you out of here. I said follow me.”

  It felt wrong to leave the Greencloak supporters behind, even if they wanted the Four Fallen to escape.

  This is wrong, Conor thought. If we’re so important, why can’t we make a difference now? What makes us any better than these men and women?

  As they threaded through the fighting, Meilin blocked blows and Rollan ducked under swinging staffs. Everything smelled like burning wood and sweat. A rabbit bounded by them. A small bear clawed on another side. Conor realized that these must be the spirit animals of the captured Greencloaks and their supporters from the Howling House. Individually, the animals wanted to help. But as a group, they had no plan or order. It wasn’t like Conor and the others — at least they’d had some training to work together.