then she exhaled, tension vanishing, and her eyes settled on the stings. “You really should put something on those welts.”
Nolan looked down at his dotted, lumpy arm. Moving quickly, he jerked a long-sleeved red shirt out of one of his piles and stepped out onto the planks, tugging it on. “I’m fine. And my penance starts now. I will introduce you to
Antigone looked at Cyrus. Cyrus shrugged. A moment later, the two of them were balancing carefully on the bouncing planks, passing peeling posters and bunk beds as they tried to catch up. Nolan was already out of sight.
Somewhere in Nolan’s stuff, Antigone had discovered a long red string, and Cyrus watched her use it like a headband, tying back her damp black hair while she walked. She didn’t seem too worried about her balance. Or about Nolan.
Cyrus tugged on his sister’s shirt and leaned forward to whisper, “You want me to go first? He did try to kill you.”
“I’m fine,” Antigone said, pulling free.
“Right,” Cyrus said. “I forgot that girls love moody guys.”
“Don’t be a moron, Cy. It’s not a good time.”
Cyrus grinned, following his sister. “When is a good time to be a moron? You should get me on some kind of schedule.”
“You know what I want to know?” Antigone asked. She twisted back, whispering over her shoulder. “Why didn’t the spiders kill him?”
Cyrus shrugged. “Maybe he built up some kind of immunity or he drinks their milk or something.”
“Drinks their milk? What did I just say about morons?”
“You two do not learn quickly.” Nolan’s voice echoed off the walls. He had stopped at the door, waiting. “Sound behaves oddly in this room.”
“So which is it?” Cyrus yelled. “Are you immune, or do you drink spiders’ milk?”
“I am immune to many things.” He pushed the big door open and stepped back in surprise. He’d knocked someone back onto the stairs.
“Excuse me,” a boy’s voice said. “Apologies. We’re looking for Cyrus and Antigone Smith. Is this the Polygon?”
Cyrus and Antigone bounced up to Nolan. The pimply porter stood beside a pretty girl with green eyes and curly brown hair pulled tight in the front and exploding in the back. She was clutching a clipboard to her chest and fidgeting nervously.
“Hey!” said Cyrus. “It’s the ten-year-old from earlier. Thanks for your help, by the way. We wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t grabbed his legs.”
“I’m fourteen,” the porter said. “And my name is Dennis Gilly. You’re welcome.” He nodded at the girl beside him. “This is Hillary Drake. She failed the Acolyte exam when I did, but she was placed in Accounts.” He inflated his chest. “When she heard that I was the one who found the outlaws and helped carry Mr. Lawney’s corpse, well, she knew she could ask me to help.”
He smiled at the girl beside him. Her wide green eyes were bouncing from Nolan to Cyrus.
“Corpse?” Antigone asked. “Horace is dead?”
“No. Well, I don’t know,” said Dennis. “Maybe.
Maybe not. Anyhow, Hillary asked me if I would bring her to you. I’m on break, and she has questions for you. For her forms. And well, what with inheriting from Billy Bones, and him being murdered, and people saying that you probably killed him and Horace and maybe Gunner, too, and you being all the way down here, she was a little scared to meet you alone. And the infestation notice was disturbing, too.” He looked at Hillary, and his pimples practically glowed with pride. “Not to me, though.”
Dennis stuck his thumbs in his waistband and waggled his eyebrows. But then he looked up into Nolan’s eyes. The porter’s brows froze and then drooped slowly.
“Which dining plan, please?” Head down, Hillary coughed the question out all at once.
“What?” Cyrus asked. He looked at his sister.
“What’s normal?” Antigone asked.
“Full access, dining hall only, breakfast only, lunch only, supper only, Monday-Wednesday-Friday only, Tuesday-Thursday only—”
“Hold on!” said Cyrus. “Didn’t Horace set us up with something? Mr. Lawney? He didn’t talk to you all about what we would do? He said the Skelton estate would cover all our costs.”
“Um.” Hillary slowly raised her eyes. They were very wide, very green, and clearly as curious as they were nervous. “He tried. But the forms were, um, voided. Mr. Rhodes says you don’t have access to the estate. Not while you’re still Acolytes. The Order established Passage.”
“They don’t need anything,” Nolan said. His voice was stony-certain. “No dining plan.”
Antigone caught Cyrus’s eye. Her brother shrugged. Hillary had already ticked a box. “Maid service?”
“No,” said Nolan.
She ticked another box. “Access to local and/or global community aircraft and nautical vessels?”
“No,” said Nolan.
“Wait.” Cyrus leaned forward. “How much is that? What would it cost if I said yes?”
Hillary’s big eyes bounced up to his and then back down to her clipboard. “Global or local?” she asked.
“Let’s just say local.”
“Ten thousand American dollars, per Acolyte, per nine-month Acolyteship period, with a twenty-five percent deposit due immediately.”
“Wowza.” Cyrus laughed. “Can we defer payment until Horace wakes up?”
Hillary coughed, confused, and she stared at her clipboard. “Due immediately.”
“Right,” said Cyrus. “Let’s stick with the ‘no,’ then.”
“How many aircraft and vessels will you be bringing?”
“Um …” Antigone looked at her brother, and then at Nolan. “None?”
“I don’t understand.” Hillary tested a small smile. “You have to bring your own or you register to use the Order’s. Most people just bring their own.”
“Why?” Cyrus asked. “What if we don’t want to sail or fly a plane?”
Hillary cocked her head to one side.
Dennis laughed. “Mr. Smith, you’re Acolytes. You have to.”
Antigone squinted at him. “We have to fly a plane?”
Nolan sighed loudly. “Give me the book.” He snatched the
“I just, it would …” She flipped two pages. “Fifty-five thousand, four hundred and fifty American dollars.”
“Each?” Nolan asked.
Hillary nodded. “Per nine-month Acolyteship period. Twenty-five percent due upon arrival.”
Nolan sighed. “Were you in the Galleria today when these two presented themselves?”
“Yes. I thought Mr. Rhodes was unkind. Even if they are outlaws.” She smiled at Cyrus.
“He was,” said Nolan. “But he was kind in another way. What Acolyte standards were applied?”
“Nineteen-fourteen!” Hillary said, flushing angrily. “And that’s impossible. No one thinks they can do it. Nobody could.”
Nolan flipped open the booklet and turned to the back. He cleared his throat. “ ‘Fees for Acolytes: Room and Board, one hundred fifty dollars; Light, Fuel, Craft Usage, Harbor and Hangar Fees: one hundred fifty dollars; Tailoring, Tutoring, Weaponry, Library: fifty-five dollars. Acolytes must place a fifteen-dollar deposit against their fees upon arrival.’ ” He snapped the booklet shut. “They’ll have the full package. Everything.” He pointed at the clipboard. “Write it down. Make a note. Make sure they get on every list tonight — dining, library, haberdashery, everything.” He dug a cigar of crumpled bills out of his pocket. “Here’s a twenty, and here’s a ten. Thirty dollars for the two of them. That’s the deposit paid in full. Check all the boxes.” He grabbed the big door and began pulling it
