Chapter 4
TRUTH OR POISON
Cloaked beneath an invisibility spell, Conner and I headed for one of the many Rebel hideouts in the city. This particular hideout was in the Market, the district just south of Killfield, on a lovely road lined with blooming jacaranda trees.
I looked up at the purple canopy, smiling. “They’re so beautiful.”
“Most years, they’re done flowering by December. The flowers are hanging on longer this year,” Conner said. “Maybe they were waiting for you.”
“Waiting? For me? Why would they do that?”
“Maybe they didn’t want to miss all the fun. There hasn’t been a dull moment since you arrived at the Fortress.” He winked at me.
I tried not to laugh, but that didn’t work out so well. “All right, funny guy, which one is it?”
I scanned the houses: all very grand with leafy gardens and Federation-style architecture. I’d read all about the pre-Curse suburbs that now made up the Fortress. A lot had changed since the Curse hit, but not these houses. I tried to single out the Rebel hideout—and failed.
“Ok, I give up,” I said.
Conner had done a good job hiding his secret lair. I had no idea which house was his.
“This one.” He led me to a perfectly-normal-looking house that blended into the neighborhood of other perfectly-normal-looking houses.
That was one way to hide a secret base from the Watchers. Without his help, I certainly never would have figured out which one it was.
We found Ren inside the house, at an enormous wooden dining room table that could seat twelve people, no problem.
He was the only one seated there now, but he was making good use of the space.
The entire tabletop was covered in magic lanterns in various states of assembly. Or disassembly, for that matter.
Ophira, his bodyguard, stood slightly to his side.
As usual, she was doing an excellent job of looking menacing.
Her fingers rested lightly on the hilt of the sword at her hip.
I took some comfort in the knowledge that she didn’t view us as enemies.
If she had, that sword would have been in her hand. Or against our throats.
“How are you getting on here?” Conner asked Ren.
“Fine. I was doing better before you interrupted,” the Alchemist said gruffly. “What do you want?”
Conner looked at Ophira, smiling. “Is he always so charming?”
The bodyguard’s expression might as well have been carved from ice. “Yes.”
Most people would have cut their losses and given up there, but not Conner. He didn’t let anything deter him from making a joke, not even the recipient’s total lack of humor.
“I can see why you two get along so well,” he said.
Ophira’s fingers twitched on her sword. “Why are you here?”
I stepped in before Conner tried to tell another joke. “We need Ren’s help.”
Ophira and Ren exchanged looks. “That didn’t take long,” she said.
“He doesn’t have to help us,” I said quickly. “But I hope he will.”
“What do you need?” Ren asked.
Something in his voice or body language must have sent a silent signal to Ophira because the bodyguard stepped aside.
I inched closer to the table. “Do you think you could make us a truth serum?”
Ren folded his hands in front of him. “That would depend on what you’re planning on doing with it. The truth can be a very dangerous weapon, young lady.”
I summarized the situation. Nefarious organization of Apprentice-snatchers called the Order of Kings.
The Order of Kings employed super-soldiers called Templars to do the snatching.
One of said Templars was running around the Fortress now.
This was our chance to capture him and give him a truth serum so he would tell us where the Apprentices were being held.
Then we could rescue the missing Apprentices and bring them home.
To my surprise, Ren didn’t take much convincing. “I will help you.”
Huh. Could it be that the grumpy old Alchemist actually had a soft spot for children in danger?
“I take issue with the idea that powerful people can kidnap whoever they want and get away with it.”
Ren’s eyes smoldered like hot coals. Ok, so this was about him.
“I’m also not about to pass up an opportunity to derail one of Duchess Dellondré’s schemes,” he added.
“You think Duchess Dellondré is part of this?” I asked.
“Perhaps. While I was her prisoner, I heard things.”
I glanced at Conner, then back at Ren. “What kinds of things?”
“The Duchess had many visitors. One of them mentioned that name: the Order of Kings.”
Figured. I wouldn’t be surprised if Duchess Dellondré was one of them. There was a very distinctive air of evil about her.
Ren started grabbing potion ingredients off his shelves. Liquid vials. Powder boxes. Tiny velvet bags stuffed with weird bead-like things.
“Wow, truth serums are complicated.”
Ren glanced up from the portable mixing station he’d set on the table. “Yes, they’re temperamental things. If you’re just a little bit off with one ingredient…instead of the truth oozing out of the person, other things start oozing out.”
I felt the blood drain from my cheeks. I did not care to imagine those ‘other things’ or ‘oozing’ of any kind, for that matter.
“But that won’t happen here. You’re really smart, right?”
“Yes. I’m really smart,” he said with a chuckle. He really was an arrogant man, wasn’t he? “Of course, if you want there to be oozing, I can make that happen.”
“Why would I want that?” I gasped.
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose it depends on the truth serum’s intended recipient. If you’re not overly fond of the person…”
“Now there’s an idea. Say, Ren, could you make an extra potion, this one with lots of oozing?” Conner’s whole face lit up with a grin.
I knew what he was thinking, and that was not happening. I gave him a sharp look. “We are not going to poison the General.”
He sighed. “You’re no fun at all.”
I smiled at him.
Ren finished the truth serum, and we left the hideout.
We were halfway to the train station when we had an unexpected encounter with a tornado.
The Templar was on the other end of that tornado spell, and he wasn’t fooling around.
The spinning funnel slammed into me, throwing me up into the air—and right back down again.
My body hit the hard asphalt road. I tried to roll into the fall, but only half-managed.
My shoulder made a very unpleasant noise. And so did my knee.
Conner’s head came into view. “Savannah?” He helped me to my feet. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
He nodded, then took off running after the Templar. A weird, sparkly black mist billowed up behind Conner like a cape caught in the wind. Whatever spell he was brewing, it was serious business. The Templar turned and ran the other way. Conner ran faster.
I tested my throbbing knee by putting my weight on it. The pain intensified. Ok, bad idea. I grabbed a thick stick off the ground and limped my way toward the train station.