“That’s what many of the gnomes I spoke to today feared as well,” Calla whispered.
Mr. Forkle rubbed his temples. “I do not have to check your thoughts to know you’re angry with me, Miss Foster. And I understand everyone’s worries. But chasing clues about this plague is like chasing the wind. The only way to gain control is to get ahead of it—which is something we are working on. In the meantime, we can’t ignore other important matters, like what we’re here to achieve. We know Prentice is hiding something. Perhaps it relates to some of these problems. But even if it doesn’t, we are freeing him today. All our surveillance indicates that this is our best chance. A group of additional dwarven guards arrives tomorrow. So please set your emotions aside and prepare yourselves for the mission.” He turned to Calla. “The six of you can hold the tunnel?”
“Our voices are strong,” she agreed.
The gnomes spread out, forming a circle around the old tree as they sang a slow song. The tree swayed as the roots twisted and tightened. Dirt, rocks, and debris were swept aside until a burrowlike opening appeared.
“Vered will keep the exit open,” Calla told them as all but one gnome scurried into the dark tunnel.
The Collective followed the gnomes.
Sophie glanced at her friends, wondering how they felt about risking their lives when the Collective had just admitted to lying to them.
“Come on,” Fitz said. “Let’s go get Prentice.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
ANYONE ELSE THINK it would be easier to just carry Foster?” Keefe asked as Fitz caught Sophie from falling for what had to be the two-billionth time.
In her defense, it was dark, and the roots under their feet kept shifting—but still. Couldn’t the Black Swan have given her a little more coordination when they tweaked her genes?
“Any reason we’re not letting the roots drag us along this time?” Sophie asked.
“Roots this ancient do not hold the same strength,” Calla explained. “We’re saving their energy for our escape.”
The tunnel narrowed as they sank further into the earth, forcing them to walk single file.
“Couldn’t we at least have more than one balefire pendant lighting up this place?” Dex called from the back.
“This tree has been generous enough to lend us its strength,” Mr. Forkle told them. “The least we can do is try not to bother it.”
“You also don’t want to see what’s crawling around us,” Blur said.
Something rustled near Sophie and she decided to take his word for it.
She counted her steps, and each time she reached about ten thousand, one of the gnomes stayed behind to ensure the song kept the tunnel open.
“It won’t be long now,” Mr. Forkle said when Calla was the only gnome left journeying with them. “And once we’re inside, a small team of us will go after Prentice. The rest of you will be in charge of causing as much chaos as you can generate. Squall, Blur, and Mr. Sencen will head to the most unruly residents. Between your various abilities, you should be able to get them sufficiently riled up. Just be sure to stay on the move so the dwarves don’t catch you.”
“Meanwhile, I’ll take Della and Biana,” Wraith said, “and we’ll head for the main entrance. We want to look like we’re fleeing, so they divert other patrols to prevent our escape.”
“Does that mean we shouldn’t vanish as we run?” Biana asked.
“Only intermittently,” Wraith said. “We need to ensure they follow us—but also not give away that it’s our intention. And once we reach the Room Where Chances Are Lost, we’ll vanish completely and hold for Mr. Forkle’s signal.”
“For the record,” Keefe told Biana, “my job sounds way better.”
“But they are both equally important,” Mr. Forkle said. “Our hope is that all of your efforts will create enough of a distraction for Sophie to lead the rest of us to Prentice. Mr. Dizznee will then be in charge of opening his cell, and Granite and I will tend to Prentice and signal when we’re ready to leave.”
“What about me?” Fitz asked. “It doesn’t sound like I’m doing anything.”
Dex laughed at that, but fell silent when Granite said, “You’re here for Sophie. She will need someone to lean on, to keep her calm and boost her strength while she tackles our most difficult task.”
“And what is that?” Sophie asked.
Mr. Forkle cleared his throat. “Prentice has been moved to one of the adjuncts, and we’ve been unable to determine precisely which one. Imagine the main prison as a spiral, with smaller spirals branching off the outermost edge. The adjuncts have been added over the centuries to house the special cases.”
“He means the most dangerous cases,” Granite clarified. “Another reason we will not want to choose the wrong one.”
“How many adjuncts are there?” Fitz asked.
“We have no idea,” Squall admitted. “There are no blueprints for Exile.”