Next to her stood Wraith—or rather, Wraith’s hovering silver cloak. He was a Vanisher and had turned everything invisible except his clothes. His voice sounded distant and hollow as he told them, “Welcome to Alluveterre.”
Blur introduced himself next, explaining that he was a Phaser, and could break his body down to pass through walls. But with the right concentration, he could re-form only partially. The effect reduced him to splotches of color and smudged lines and shadows.
It would’ve been the craziest thing Sophie had ever seen—if Granite hadn’t been standing next to him. Granite explained that he consumed a chalky powder called indurite, since his ability as a Telepath couldn’t disguise him. The rare mineral caused his body to crystallize and harden, turning him into a talking, roughly carved statue.
He sounded scratchy and gravelly as he said, “We’re grateful to have all of you here—including you, Ms. Vacker.”
“Della,” she corrected. “Surely if I have to call you those crazy code words, you can call me by my familiar name.”
Squall’s face crackled as she smiled. “Della it is.”
“We’ve been informed of your request to officially join our cause,” Granite said. “And . . . it’s a tricky situation. We realize your husband has clearly shown remorse for what happened with Prentice—and that errors occurred on both sides of that situation. Still, there are some among our organization who might find you hard to trust, and we cannot damage our unity.”
“But you’re accepting us,” Biana said, pointing to herself and Fitz.
“You have proven yourselves,” Wraith reminded her.
“I’m prepared to prove myself as well,” Della promised. “I’ll swear any oath, submit to any test. All I want is a chance to set the past right.”
The Collective turned to each other and Sophie was sure they were debating the matter telepathically. The Council used the same trick, so no one could hear them argue.
“We believe you,” Mr. Forkle eventually said. “And are willing to give this arrangement a try. You can swear fealty tonight with the others.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Sophie asked, hoping there was no embarrassing ritual.
“It’s a simple process,” Granite said. “It’ll make more sense when you receive your packages. They’ll be delivered to your rooms before your bedtime.”
“Wait—we have a bedtime?” Keefe asked.
“Yes, Mr. Sencen, your curfew will be midnight—and that means lights out,” Mr. Forkle said. “We also expect you to stay in your separate houses for the remainder of the night. Every morning you’ll meet for breakfast, then spend the rest of the day with your lessons.”
“What kinds of lessons?” Biana asked.
“Exercises to better prepare you for the tasks ahead. You’re all very talented, but you’ve only begun to hone your abilities. We will mentor you when we can, and when we’re unavailable, your rooms have been stocked with books and assignments.”
“Or we could, y’know, work on hunting down the Neverseen,” Keefe suggested.
“The Neverseen are not a pressing threat at the moment,” Blur said.
“You’re kidding, right?” Keefe asked. “They’re running around starting fires—”
“One fire,” Granite corrected.
“That you know of,” Fitz countered.
“No, Mr. Vacker, one fire,” Granite insisted. “We have eyes all over the world. If anything burns, we know about it. Just like we were there to extinguish the Florence fire. And now that Gethen has been moved, the Neverseen have disappeared without a trace. We must wait for them to reveal themselves before we take further action.”
“Unless they already did something,” Sophie said, careful to keep her words vague.
Mr. Forkle cocked his head. “I see you have all kinds of theories.”
Sophie backed away. “Are you reading my mind?”
“Of course.” He didn’t sound sorry.
“Does that mean I can poke around your head?” she countered.
“By all means, be my guest.”
Sophie ignored his confident smile as she tried to open her mind to his thoughts . . .
Or Granite’s thoughts . . .
Or Wraith’s . . .
Or Blur’s . . .
Or Squall’s . . .
“I made your Telepathy unstoppable,” Mr. Forkle said, “but that doesn’t mean it can’t be deceived. Once you figure out what that means, you’ll earn the right to hear what I’m thinking.”
“That’s not good enough!” Sophie snapped. “Just because I’m here doesn’t give you the right to invade my privacy.”
Mr. Forkle started to argue, but Granite placed a rocky hand on his shoulder.
“If we maintain the rules of telepathy,” Granite asked her, “would that make you more comfortable?”
“A little,” Sophie mumbled.