“I thought you had a project to work on,” Mr. Forkle reminded him. “Something to do with a memory?”
“Yeah . . . it wasn’t what I thought it was.” He tried to shrug it off, but his fists were clenched. “Besides, I thought I should be a good friend and check on Fitz. Do not go in there. It’s pretty much the Great Vacker Hurlfest. Every time Fitz spews up black gunk, it makes Biana barf, and then Della loses it—and repeat!”
“Does that mean he’s getting worse?” Sophie asked.
“Actually, he looks pretty good—y’know, when he’s not gagging up bug venom. He’s awake now, and he’s got some color back in his cheeks. But I couldn’t stick around. I don’t know how Dex is doing it.”
“It’s remarkable what one can withstand when one feels they must punish oneself.” Mr. Forkle rolled the cache around his palm before handing it back to Sophie. “Protecting this is your responsibility now. And you must take it as seriously as the Councillors do. They swear on their lives to never let it out of their possession.”
“But I thought you didn’t want me carrying it around.”
“I don’t. You haven’t tried to access the secrets within the cache, have you?”
Sophie shook her head.
“Good. Do not attempt it. I couldn’t tell if Oralie was bluffing when she suggested that Kenric made a way for you to open it, but her reasoning makes sense—and trust me when I say you don’t want that responsibility. There are reasons the Councillors erase these secrets from their minds.”
“Are the secrets the same in every cache?” Sophie asked, wondering if any involved the drakostomes. That would explain their reaction when she’d mentioned giving it to the gnomes.
“The Council divides the secrets up to ensure each of them is only responsible for protecting a portion. This cache contains seven.”
“Okay, but here’s what I don’t get,” Keefe jumped in. “How does it help to forget about something? It’s not like that makes it go away.”
Sophie had been wondering the same thing. It was like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand.
“Some of the secrets are removed for the Councillors’ self-preservation,” Mr. Forkle explained. “Ruling the world is full of impossible choices. Sometimes they must act in ways that would shatter them from guilt. So they erase it from their minds to spare themselves the agony. But there are also secrets that would send the planet spiraling into chaos if they ever came out. The safest option is to ensure no one knows about them.” He stared longingly at the cache. “Never let me have this. The temptation is too great.”
“So what do I do with it?” Sophie asked.
“I’ll have to enlist the aid of a trusted Conjurer. In the meantime, that cache must not leave your possession—and you will not leave this hideout. Is that clear?”
“But I have to go to Exillium.”
“No you don’t. You’re in hiding,” he reminded her. “The Council can hardly force you.”
“But I want to go,” Sophie argued.
“So do I,” Keefe jumped in. “I’m tired of being cooped up in this hideout all day.”
“You mean you’re tired of being safe?” Mr. Forkle asked. “Tired of training and improving your abilities?”
“Pretty much,” Keefe said.
“Most of our training was to prepare us to rescue Prentice,” Sophie added, “and now we’ve done that. Well, we’ve almost done that. He’ll be rescued tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, we still don’t know what the Neverseen is doing with those trees. And we’re about to hand Gethen over—”
“Not a good trade, by the way,” Keefe interrupted.
“It was, actually,” Mr. Forkle told him. “We’ve learned all we can from Gethen. Plus, the Council is not without their talents. Why not let them try their hand? Anything they learn we’ll be able to recover.”
“Okay, but my point,” Sophie said, getting back to her argument, “is that with Gethen gone, Exillium is our best chance of discovering more about the Psionipath. Someone has to remember something about him. Or if nothing else, we’ll learn about the Neutral Territories.”
Mr. Forkle rubbed his head, leaving red marks from pressing so hard. “All I can promise is that I will discuss the matter with the Collective.”
“That usually means ‘yes,’?” Physic said, making everyone jump as she swished back into the room. “He knows the Collective never rejects his ideas. Why else do you think we have these stupid code names?”
“Well, now we know one of his identities,” Keefe said.
“He told you he’s—”
“Sir Astin,” Mr. Forkle jumped in. “And nice try, Mr. Sencen. No one will be revealing any of my other identities, accidentally or otherwise. Physic will also not be revealing hers. Did you get the ingredient for Mr. Vacker?” he asked her.
Physic held up a palm-size white jar. “It wasn’t easy. My usual apothecary was closed, so I had to go to the Hekses’ unicorn preserve. Why didn’t you tell me the plague had spread to the Starkrial Valley?”