The drawing was in black ink. There was a solid, horizontal line about a third of the way up from the bottom. Below this line there was another line that started at the bottom near the lower left-hand side and curved up until it hit the right edge of the page, making a quarter of a circle. Above the horizontal line were a bunch of dots sprayed around in no particular pattern. In the upper right-hand corner were a series of five symbols. It looked like they continued on to the right half of the page that had been torn away.
I had no idea what this half drawing meant, until I noticed something that rocked me. In the upper left-hand corner of the page was a round symbol. It was the exact same symbol with the interlocking letters that was on the note Spader’s father had left for him. I looked to Spader in shock. Spader’s eyes were fixed on the paper. Finally, after an eternity, he whispered,
“Faar.”
“Far?” I shot back, my pulse rate spiking through the roof. “Far what?” I looked to Loor and demanded, “Where did you get this?”
“My mother was a Traveler,” she said calmly. “She knew Spader’s father.”
Whoa! Major twist.
“Before I knew of my destiny,” Loor continued, “she returned from one of her travels with this drawing. She told me of a man whom she admired greatly. She said he knew answers when most did not yet know the questions. He had risked his life many times over to find the information on this page. He said it was important to the future of Cloral. But he feared it might be found by those with evil intent. That is why he tore it in two and gave half to my mother. Your father said that his time was growing short, and that his son would carry on his work. He asked my mother to pass this on to his son when he came looking for it. My mother is now dead, Spader. It is my duty to give this to you.”
This was incredible. The web of Travelers was truly interconnected.
“This is the same symbol your father left you,” I said to Spader. “If you know what it means, you gotta tell us!”
Spader stood up and paced. Things were happening too fast for him.
“It’s a tall tale,” he said nervously. “A children’s story.”
“What is?” I insisted.
“Faar!” he snapped back. “It’s a legend. Everybody knows it.”
“We don’t,” I said.
“Then I’ll tell you,” he continued. “The symbol represents a mythical city called Faar that was built on the only dry land that existed on Cloral. It was supposed to be this amazing place full of scholars and music and scientists and art, like some kind of perfect place. But there was a tum-tigger of a disaster and this perfect place sank into the sea. The elders of the city saw the disaster coming and prepared for it. Somehow they saved the city, even though it sank into the ocean. The legend says the people of Faar will always live down below the water, secretly protecting all those who live on the habitats above.”
“It was destroyed?” asked Loor.
“It sank, I didn’t say it was destroyed,” Spader said.
“Why didn’t you tell us this when you saw the symbol on Magorran?” I asked.
“Because it’s a fable. It was a bedtime story my father used to tell me. I thought he was giving me the symbol so I’d remember our time together. I didn’t think it meant anything more than that! I still don’t!”
“But, what if your father was trying to tell you something?” I said, attempting to keep my mouth from running ahead of my brain. “What if this is more than a children’s story? What if your father discovered that Faar really exists?”
“That’s impossible!” scoffed Spader.
“But if it isn’t,” I continued while holding up the half page. “This could be a map. Orhalfa map. Your father might have discovered Faar.”
“But Faar isn’t real!” he shouted back at me.
“But if it is,” added Loor, “it would be just the kind of thing Saint Dane would want to destroy especially if it is important to the people of Cloral.”
“Saint Dane!” shouted Spader. He was really worked up now. All the input over the last few days had finally gotten to him. “I don’t know about territories or Travelers or Halla or flumes or any of that scutty-do magic, but there’s one thing you’ve said that makes sense. If this Saint Dane is responsible for poisoning the people of Magorran, then I don’t carewhyhe did it. He killed my father and I’m going to pay for that. Pendragon, take me back to Cloral, now!”
This was going badly. After all we told Spader about being a Traveler and the mission we were on, there was only one thing he took away from it. He wanted revenge on Saint Dane.
I jumped up and said, “You don’t get it. Saint Dane isn’t just some guy you get even with. The dude is like… evil. And he has powers — more than you can imagine. He’d kill you before you even know you’re in trouble.”
“He couldn’t be tougher than Loor!” countered Spader. “She’s a warrior. She could come with us and use some of those natty weapons on him.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” I said, trying not to get too frustrated. “You can’t bring things from one territory to the next. We learned that the hard way.”
“Fine!” he shouted. “There are plenty of weapons on Cloral. Let’s just go after him!”
“You can’t go after him!” I shouted back. “One on one, you’ll be dead meat!”
“Then I’ll be dead meat,” said Spader with finality. “But I can’t let my father’s death go unavenged — no matter how big and bad this guy is. Take me backnow'
I had to think fast. Spader was out of control. I had to diffuse this situation, fast, before he did something dumb.
“No,” I said with as much force as I could generate. “I’m tired and I’ll never find the gate in the dark. If you want to go back on your own, knock yourself out. I’m not going back until tomorrow.”
I sat down, picked up my coconut drink, and tried to act casual. It was a major-league bluff and I could only hope that Spader wouldn’t go looking for the gate by himself. I didn’t think he could find it, but you never knew. He stood with his feet firmly planted and his fists balled, weighing his options. Finally he said, “All right. We go back tomorrow. But then I’m going after Saint Dane whether you’re with me or not.”
With that he stormed out. I started to go after him but Loor put a hand on my shoulder.
“Let him walk alone,” she said. “He needs to calm down.”
I sat back down and dropped my coconut drink. Ihatedcoconut.
“Well, that couldn’t have gone any worse,” I said with a false laugh.
“He has spirit,” said Loor.
“Yeah, tell me about it. But if he goes after Saint Dane — “
“You must control him, Pendragon. You know as well as I that Saint Dane will kill him. I do not mean to sound uncaring, but he is no help to us dead.”
“I get it. Between the two of us we can — “
“No,” she said firmly. “I cannot go to Cloral with you.”
That wasnotwhat I wanted to hear.
“What do you mean?” I asked incredulously. “We’re Travelers. We help each other. You know ‘the way it was meant to be/ and all that stuff. Don’t bail on me now!”
“I have not yet found the turning point on Zadaa. But there is growing tension between the Batu and the Rokador. I want to try and stop the trouble before it grows worse. If I am successful then it will be one less battle we have to worry about in the future.”
“Yeah, but what about the battle I’m fighting right now?”
“Your mission now is to control a passionate new Traveler and to solve the mystery of Faar. Think, Pendragon. You are better suited to that task than I. I would simply batter Spader senseless until he was unable to chase Saint Dane.”
Good point. Diplomacy wasn’t high on Loor’s skill list.
“When you need a warrior,” she added, “I will be there. You know that.”
Of course she was right. Loor was always ready to fight, even if fighting wasn’t the smartest way to go. I didn’t need the responsibility of controllingtwohotheads. Putting it another way, if she was the brawn of this team, then I was the brains. It was time to start using them.
