Before Alex could offer a defence, Blake jumped in.
“Clan leaders, you have known me for a number of years now,” he said, stepping up beside Alex. “My companions may seem young, so I understand you might not be inclined to trust them. However, I’m asking you to trust me. What they have to say is of vital importance. Please listen to them.”
Humming arose as the Flips looked at each other and communicated in their wordless language. A minute or so passed before they turned forward again.
It was Eefi who addressed them next, her voice almost as timid as Glyn’s. “Speak, humans, and we shall listen.”
Releasing the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, Alex felt D.C. reach out to quickly squeeze her hand in support. It was enough to give her the courage to begin her tale.
“So it wasn’t a total win.”
Alex looked up at Jordan who was sitting across from her in the food court and said, “It wasn’t any kind of win. I’m surprised they didn’t make us swim back up to the surface, considering how fast they wanted us out of there.”
She picked at her food, frustrated by the failure of their morning. While the Flips had accepted her announcement that Aven was now ruling Meya, they didn’t see how that was any concern to them, given that their city was protected so deep beneath the ocean. As such, they had been wholly unreceptive to her warnings, even so far as humming out their laughter—something Alex hadn’t needed a translator to understand.
No matter how hard she’d tried to convince them, they were confident in their own safety. And because of that, they weren’t willing to so much as entertain the idea of providing support should the time come when it was needed.
“We are a careful race, Alexandra Jennings,” Tork, the most diplomatic of the five Clan leaders, had said. “We avoid enmity at all costs. That requires us to avoid meddling in the affairs of others. I am sorry, but we cannot help you.”
When D.C. had cautiously stepped forward and asked what they would do if Aven did target them, the Flips had all laughed again, with Ayva saying, “Zhat vill not ’appen.”
Her certainty had alarmed Alex. The only thing worse than them not respecting her warnings was if they ignored them entirely. But short of screaming at them to wake up and look outside their goldfish bowls, there was seemingly nothing Alex could do to convince them they were in danger.
The only thing that helped ease her concern, if slightly, was that once they’d returned to the Tryllin harbour after a silent, miserable trip back in the Airlock, Glyn had caught Alex’s eye and visibly summoned the courage to speak.
“My brethren speak true when they say we are a careful race,” the Flip had said, her timidity even more acute with Alex’s full attention on her. “We’ve heard whispers of a coming threat which is why we closed our borders. We are nothing but cautious, and despite what you believe, your warnings will be taken to heart. I’m sorry we cannot offer more.”
Alex had been grateful for the Flip’s acknowledgement, even if the result wasn’t what she would have liked. She only hoped Medora’s other three most powerful races would be more willing to ally themselves with the humans—or at least consider her warnings to be more urgent.
“Chin up, Alex,” Bear said, passing her a bowl of ice cream. “So the Flips weren’t all that fired up to jump on board—it’s not the end of the world.”
Alex winced, and she heard Bear give a hiss of pain when the table jerked after either D.C. or Jordan had presumably kicked him in the shin.
“Bad choice of words, mate,” Jordan murmured.
Leaning down to rub his leg, Bear sent a scowl towards D.C.—his apparent attacker—before arguing, “Maybe so. But think about it. If they’re as careful as they claim, they wouldn’t be much use fighting Aven and his army, anyway. They’d be just as likely to run back to their ocean and swim as far away as possible.”
Perhaps Bear was right, but Alex still wished the morning had produced more encouraging results.
“At least we don’t have to worry about them reporting us or Blake to my parents and their council,” D.C. said. “One of the benefits of them not taking us seriously.”
That much was true; it was one of the few positive outcomes of their morning. The Clan had let them off with a warning, claiming they wouldn’t be lodging any formal complaints with the ISDS. Alex and her friends, along with Blake and Jeera, were in the clear.
“It can only get better from here, right?” Jordan encouraged, swiping Alex’s ice cream when he realised she wasn’t going to eat it. “We’ve got Maroo next. And we know the Jarnocks are anything but timid and careful. I’m sure this afternoon will go much better.”
Alex’s only experience with the Jarnocks was again from Species Distinction, when one of them named Mareek had visited the class. The small, dirt-covered man had remained behind a barrier during his stay because, while he had mostly been civil and happily answered questions about his race, he had also started screaming at them on a whim in between shooting poisonous darts.
As Jordan had said, if the rest of the Jarnocks were anything like Mareek, then they would definitely be neither timid nor careful. And perhaps that was exactly what Alex—and humankind—needed.
The only extra knowledge Alex had learned from her meeting with her teachers was that the tree dwellers’ canopy city, Maroo, was located on a small island to the northwest of Tryllin. The entire island was warded against Bubbledoor entry, meaning the only way to get there was with a transport vessel. Alex was confident the Library would offer her direct access to Maroo without needing a vessel, but the teachers—Darrius in particular—had warned her to take note of where the door they arrived through was located in order to travel back using it, otherwise she and her friends would be stranded without the means to return.
Alex had promised she would do so, and while she wasn’t worried per se, she was certainly on edge about how their afternoon would proceed.
“Here’s the plan,” she said to her friends. “One hour from now, we’ll meet in the Library’s foyer and head straight to Maroo. Fingers crossed we’ll have a better outcome than this morning.”
“Fingers crossed you still have fingers to cross once Kyia and Zain are through chewing you out,” D.C. said, spooning up some of Alex’s—now Jordan’s—ice cream.
Alex cringed, fully agreeing with D.C.’s statement.
The reason she and her friends weren’t heading to Maroo straight away was because as soon as they’d arrived back from Nialas, Alex had found a note on her bed in Kyia’s elegant script: three words, followed by her name.
Where are you? – Kyia.