Tahki stared back into his brother’s green eyes. Sornjia spoke with such certainty. “You’re sure you saw Gotem?” It wouldn’t have mattered if it was Gotem or not. Someone had been captured. If Tahki could find him, it might be enough to prove Dyraien’s guilt.
“Pooka and I saw him,” Sornjia said. “She looked so angry, but I told her not to be rash. She’s waiting for us out on the sand field.”
“Waiting for us to what?”
“To make a plan,” Sornjia said. “We need to rescue Gotem, destroy the castle, and expose Dyraien. It’s up to us to set things right.”
Tahki watched his brother’s eyes flare with purpose. If Dyraien had caught Tahki in his room last night, Sornjia would have been stuck here, unable to get across the border. His brother had traveled to Vatolokít of his own volition, but he’d only done so because of Tahki’s recklessness. He’d been irresponsible, impulsive, and above all else, selfish. This castle might have proved his talent to his mother’s spirit, but all the talent in the world wouldn’t mean a thing if Sornjia got hurt or killed.
“The plan,” Tahki said. “The plan is to get you out of Vatolokít.”
Sornjia bit his knuckle, studying him, like it was Tahki who spoke in riddles now. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“There is no we this time, Sornjia,” Tahki said. “I’m going to forge the documents for you. You’ll go to Edgewater and take a southbound carriage to the border.”
“Have you been listening? They abducted Gotem. We can’t leave him.”
Tahki straightened his back. “I won’t leave Gotem. Once you’re gone, I’m going to find him. He’s the proof I need to convince Rye and Gale. After I have them on my side, we can work together to expose Dyraien.”
“That will take too long,” Sornjia said. “We need to act now.”
“We can’t just barge in there. Aren’t you the one who said we can’t be rash?”
“That’s before I knew how soon they’d complete the castle.” Sornjia stepped closer to him. “We can use Pooka as a distraction. She’ll cause a ruckus, and we’ll find Gotem and rescue him, and then we’ll destroy the castle.”
“We don’t even know where Dyraien took him.”
“Rye will help us. I know he will. If we can just—”
“Stop, Sornjia,” Tahki yelled. “You’re not going anywhere near that castle. You’re going home.”
Sornjia stared. “Tahki, I know you always tell me to speak normal, to be clear about what I say, so please listen closely. If you do this alone, you will die.”
Sornjia had never been so specific with his precognitions. Normally, when he predicted dark clouds and stormy weather, his eyes would glaze over, a part of him lost somewhere. But now he looked alert, his eyes brighter than Tahki had ever seen.
“This is not up for negotiation,” Tahki said. “It’s either you leave alone, or I drag you across the border, and then Gotem will be left behind.” It was a bluff. He wouldn’t leave Gotem, and he wouldn’t leave Rye. But he also couldn’t put his brother’s life in danger again. For once in his life, he would be the one thinking of Sornjia’s safety, instead of the other way around.
“Please, Tahki. Don’t send me away.”
Tahki didn’t answer. He went to Sornjia’s room, retrieved the blue papers from under his pillow, and walked to the front door.
“I’m going back to the castle now,” Tahki said. “My supplies are there. I should have these forged in an hour.”
“Tahki?”
“Swear to me you’ll leave.” Tahki turned to him. “Swear you’ll go home when I return with the documents.”
He expected his brother to argue, to spurt out some condemning metaphor. But Sornjia looked relaxed, his shoulders loose, body no longer posed for a fight.
Sornjia stared at him through half-lidded eyes, the fire in them now extinguished. And then, in a calm voice, he said, “All right. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”
“You swear?”
“I swear on the trees and the sky and the sea.”
“Good.” Before his brother changed his mind, Tahki jogged out the door, across the damp sands, and up the narrow path where the castle waited for him in the silent fog.
THIRTY MINUTES after he’d returned to the castle and started forging Sornjia’s documents, he heard a loud commotion downstairs.
The supplies had been delivered.
The queen wailed in her room, but Dyraien didn’t see to her. It was unlike the prince to ignore his mother’s cries. Tahki knew he should hate the queen for what she’d done to his people, but he remembered how pitiful she’d looked that first day in the castle, and he felt a little sorry for her.
He let the documents dry, fanning the rough paper back and forth so the ink wouldn’t smear, and then he folded them carefully into his pocket and walked to the stairs. Once his brother left, he could search for Gotem, or whoever it was they’d captured.
From the top of the steps, he saw two buckboards outside, the front doors spread wide, unhinged. Men and women heaved wooden crates and stacked them inside the open doors. He recognized a few of Zinc’s people from the gambling house. Most of the crates were six by three, the exact size of his conduit chambers. But the second buckboard was stacked with circular containers three times that size. He had no idea what might be inside. None of the parts needed to be that large.
Dyraien was nowhere to be seen. Rye stood near the entrance, clipboard in hand, checking off the boxes as Zinc’s people brought them in. Tahki didn’t know how to search for Gotem without appearing suspicious.
Rye looked up as Tahki reached the bottom step. “Tahki?”
Tahki walked over to him. “Sorry I’m late. I was in my room rechecking a mistake I thought I made on my schematics. Everything’s fine, though, but I have to run back to Gale’s. I left some supplies behind.”
Rye frowned. He stared at Tahki in an
