“Where’s Prentice?” Mr. Forkle demanded.
“On his way,” Councillor Emery promised. “He didn’t respond to the sedatives Terik gave him for transport, so we sent Alina to calm him.”
“Alina is a Beguiler,” Granite explained to Sophie. “Her voice can be irresistibly soothing.”
“Then why is she always so awful?” Sophie had to ask.
Bronte’s lips twitched with a smile, and even Emery sounded mildly amused as he told her, “Much like Telepaths, Beguilers have restrictions for when they can use their power.”
“Without those restrictions, Alina would surely be a Vacker,” Granite added.
Sophie felt her jaw drop. “She’s that powerful?”
“It’s why we elected her to our ranks,” Emery agreed. “In these troubling times we may very well need the power of persuasion.”
His tone wasn’t threatening—but the words still felt that way.
“I take it this is our prisoner?” Bronte asked. “I see he had no issue with the drugs.”
“You will find him much the same when the sedatives wear off,” Mr. Forkle told him. “He’s using some sort of telepathy trick to keep his consciousness hidden.”
“I’ve never heard of such a skill,” Emery said.
“Neither had we,” Granite agreed. “But we’re growing used to finding ourselves in unfamiliar territory.” He motioned to the goblins standing at the ready. “You honestly thought this was necessary?”
“You are fugitives,” Emery said. “And this area is under quarantine.”
“It is indeed,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “Any progress on the cure?”
“All work is progress,” Emery said.
“Which is political-speak for ‘no’?” Granite pressed.
Bronte cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, it means we have little news to report.”
Sophie wished she could ask about the drakostomes, but it would be too risky. The Council had gone to great lengths to keep their existence hidden, and she couldn’t risk hindering the exchange for Prentice.
“Are you monitoring the Neutral Territories?” she asked.
“We’re watching everywhere the plague has spread,” Emery agreed.
“And have you found any trees with force fields around them?” she asked.
Bronte frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The Neverseen have a Psionipath working with them,” Mr. Forkle explained. “We’ve been trying to ascertain his purpose.”
“Then why have we heard nothing of this?” Emery snapped.
“Well, I suppose that’s the problem with treating us as fugitives,” Mr. Forkle said. “It makes it rather hard to work together.”
Emery and Bronte shared a look, but Emery shook his head.
“What about the Vacker boy?” Emery asked. “How is he faring?”
“He’s expected to make a full recovery,” Mr. Forkle said.
Both Councillors looked noticeably relieved.
“What about Oralie?” Sophie asked. “What did you decide for her punishment?”
“She should have been removed from the Council,” Emery said. “But our world does not need the uncertainty of another election, so she has been put under surveillance and relegated to menial assignments until she earns back our trust.”
“At the moment, she’s enduring our most odious task,” Bronte said. “Monitoring Lord Cassius’s investigation.”
“What is Keefe’s father investigating?” Sophie asked.
“His own memories. He’s working with Telepaths, hoping to uncover any clues his wife might’ve given. Oralie’s there to read his emotions and ensure he’s honest about what he finds.”
“Has he found anything?” Blur asked.
“Nothing of note. Lady Gisela was very careful.”
Before anyone could respond, a light flashed next to Bronte, and Councillor Alina appeared in all her jeweled finery.
“Where’s Terik?” Bronte asked her.
“He should be here right . . . now.” Alina waived her arms like a spokesmodel and Councillor Terik appeared beside her. Something dark was slung over his shoulder, and Sophie realized it was Prentice.
“The sedatives kicked in once Alina calmed him down,” Terik explained through huffing breaths. “I’d given him some pretty strong stuff, so he’ll probably be out for hours.”
Granite moved forward to help, but the goblins raised their swords.
“First, our prisoner,” Emery told him.
“You think we’re going to betray you?” Mr. Forkle snapped.
Councillor Alina adjusted her peridot circlet. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Fine.” Mr. Forkle turned to their dwarves. “Make the exchange.”
The dwarves passed Gethen’s cot to two of the goblins, and Terik handed Prentice to Granite.
“What did you give him?” Granite asked, cradling Prentice like a baby. Prentice’s head lolled to the side, his body limp and pale.
“You can blame his condition on Alden Vacker,” Alina told him. “And yourselves, for violating our laws.”