Mr. Forkle’s sigh sounded more like a growl. “This is about Exillium, right? I told you it wasn’t worth the risk.”
“But there was no risk,” Dex said, pointing to a thinner wire on the Evader. “I call this a wiper. It erased every step I took, so there’s no way the Council will know I was there.”
Mr. Forkle took the gadget, examining it from all angles. “Well, I’m no Technopath—and this is one of the most bizarre executions I’ve seen—but I must say, it’s rather . . . inspired.”
Blur took the Evader and passed his smudged hand through. “It’s a totally different approach than anything I’ve felt. But maybe that’s what we need.”
Dex looked ready to float away with the praise, and Sophie didn’t blame him. After being underestimated his whole life, he deserved the recognition.
“Do not let our compliments overshadow our disappointment,” Mr. Forkle said, bursting their brand-new bubble. “When we give orders, we expect them to be followed.”
“Not if they’re dumb,” Keefe argued.
“I’m not going to debate this any further,” Mr. Forkle said. He turned to Dex. “I’d rather you focus your energy on a much more important assignment.”
He paused to confer with Blur and Granite before he continued. “You have an incredibly unique approach to technopathy, Mr. Dizznee, and perhaps that fresh take can solve a problem we’ve been facing.”
“For months we’ve been trying to gain access to a secret archive,” Granite jumped in. “In fact, ‘secret’ isn’t a strong enough word. It’s an archive that should not exist. Our best Technopath discovered it, but hasn’t been able to breach beyond that.”
“What kind of archive?” Dex asked.
“We have no idea,” Blur said. “All we know is it’s hidden in Lumenaria.”
Della’s eyes widened.
“Yes,” Mr. Forkle told her. “As I said, it should not exist. Lumenaria is where all the worlds gather for crucial negotiations,” he added when he saw Sophie’s confusion. “Any meetings there are not to be recorded, beyond the wording of the treaties. But it appears that someone has been transcribing the sessions.”
“What kind of security are the files protected by?” Dex asked.
“That’s the strangest part,” Blur told him. “We’d assumed the archive was the Council’s dirty little secret. But it’s guarded by technologies from all of the intelligent species.”
Dex whistled. “So I have to hack ogre technology?”
“And dwarven. And trollish. And goblin. And gnomish. And elvin as well,” Mr. Forkle confirmed.
“I didn’t even know the gnomes had technology,” Biana said.
“Not all technology comes in the form of gadgets,” Blur reminded her. “Which is why I think you’ll be perfect for this, Dex. Only you would build a crazy Evader like that. So let’s see what else you can do.”
“And if you do manage to gain access,” Granite added, “we’d like you to search for information on the Wildwood Colony. The Council’s silence on the plague has made us want to further explore the Colony’s history.”
“I’ll have supplies sent within a few hours,” Mr. Forkle said. “And we need you to make this your number one focus. No more wasting time on this.” He shoved the Evader into his pocket before turning to the rest of them. “You have assignments and training to work through as well. I suggest you get started.”
“Anyone else getting tired of the Black Swan bossing us around?” Keefe asked after they’d de-furry-pajamaed and regrouped in the common room of the boys’ tree house.
The room was decorated like a campsite, with indoor trees, a ceiling glinting with stars, and an enormous fire pit in the center. The flames burned in every color of the rainbow, and Sophie was sure the gnomes meant it to be just as stunning as the waterfall in the girls’ house. But she would never see fire as anything but death and destruction.
“I think they just want to make sure everything goes right when we rescue Prentice,” Biana said. She was working with Della by the window, learning to hold her invisibility in shifting light.
“It is annoying, though,” Sophie mumbled, following Fitz to a clump of boulders that turned out to be beanbag chairs.
Dex had fortunately been smart enough to save a copy of the Exillium records he’d stolen, and he’d promised to make a gadget they could use to search through them. In the meantime, it was back to Cognate training, and it felt extra nerve wracking doing it in front of everyone. Dex had taken over most of the floor with tools and bits of gadget supplies. And Keefe had slumped into a chair in the darkest corner, pretending to read another empathy book. Every few minutes he’d mutter, “This is the stupidest thing ever.”
“Should we start at the beginning?” Fitz asked, opening his Cognate training notebook.