Quest Maker (5 page)

Tito hung up.

Brynne's phone started playing harp music again. “Maybe I should answer?”

Among the dead leaves, something glittered in silver and gold. Caden reached down and grabbed it. In his hand, he held a ripped and soiled emblem of the Winterbird. He held it up to show Brynne.

His heart jumped. Behind Brynne, behind the dead oak where she rested her hand, a dark figure loomed. It wasn't Jasan. Nor was it Rosa.

“Brynne!” Caden tried to warn her, but it was too late. The figure grabbed her elbow.

It was Rath Dunn.

His red clothes stood out in the dark woods. The wound on Caden's arm started to ache. Rath Dunn had his blood dagger. That meant that unlike Caden, Rath Dunn was armed.

“You two disappeared. We've been looking for you,” Rath Dunn said. Brynne grimaced, and Caden knew he was holding her arm too tightly. Rath Dunn turned. In a booming voice, he called uphill. “I've found them.”

Caden stuffed the emblem in his pocket.

Rath Dunn turned back. “I just followed the smell,” he said. “And did I hear a harp? It's good you two keep some culture.” Then he looked between Caden and Brynne. “What are you doing out here? Looking for someone?” He laughed, and Caden felt he knew exactly who it was they sought. “Too bad. Students aren't allowed out here.”

Brynne wriggled in his grip. “Then we'll return,” she said. “Rosa is waiting for us.”

“And I'm taking you back to her,” Rath Dunn said. “In a minute.” He waved for Caden to come closer. Caden stayed put. “Now, boy, do you want the young sorceress to be the only one punished for running into the woods?”

Rath Dunn began to drag Brynne out of the woods.
Caden followed and the ache in his arm deepened. “Where's my brother?” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

“Which one?” Rath Dunn said. “The one who bled out on the night no snow fell? Worm food in the crypt.” How did Rath Dunn know there'd been no snow that day? Caden hadn't told him that detail. The math tyrant continued. “Or maybe you mean the soon-to-be-dead ones?” He paused to turn and grin at Caden. “Or maybe you mean the traitor?”

As soon as they stepped from the woods, the sun was bright. Brynne jerked herself loose. Rath Dunn took a moment to glower at her. “You'll regret it if you run.” He pointed uphill to the gathered crowd. Rosa, with her bright clothes, was waiting at the edge with her hands on her hips.

Caden caught Rath Dunn's gaze. “I mean Jasan,” he said. “Where is he?”

“Hmm. I'm looking for him myself.” He directed them up the hill. “I do hope Ms. Primrose hasn't eaten him already.”

Caden felt himself go pale.

Brynne moved farther from Rath Dunn. “That would be bad for you,” she said, “as you want his blood.”

That was right. Rath Dunn still needed Jasan's blood. Whatever Rath Dunn's plot was, it required Jasan's blood specifically. It wasn't in Rath Dunn's interests that Jasan be eaten.

Rath Dunn guffawed. “What makes you think it's not bloody when she eats?”

R
osa drove them in angry silence. Once home, she ordered Caden to go take a shower. After he was pleasant smelling and freshly dressed, she made him sit next to Brynne on her interrogation seat—the living room's green couch.

Rosa stood in front of Caden and Brynne, her bright shirt catching sun rays from the window, and crossed her arms. Officer Levine stood beside her. Apparently, he'd come as soon as he could. Whenever Rosa needed support, Officer Levine always came immediately. Jane and Tito weren't in the room, but Caden suspected they listened from the vent in the attic.

“An emergency situation isn't the time to run off,” Rosa said.

Caden leaned forward. He looked her in the eyes. “I am
truly sorry to have worried you, but we had to go to the woods.”

Her cheek twitched. “Why?”

Beside Caden, Brynne was quiet. She'd closed her eyes. No matter, Caden would explain without her help. “I feared Ms. Primrose would eat my seventh-born brother, Jasan.” Rosa wasn't fond of Caden's tales of the Greater Realm, but she wanted her questions answered. “I still do. And Rath Dunn wants his blood.”

“So you ran into the woods?” Officer Levine said. There was a concerned wrinkle to his brow. “Because of that?”

“I suspected Jasan was there.”

Some of the anger had drained from Rosa's face. For a moment, she didn't say anything. Finally, she said, “Go to your room, Caden.”

“Jasan is in danger.”

Rosa's expression became like iron. “Go to your room, now. You, too, Brynne.”

Brynne opened one eye. “Yes, Rosa.”

“And young lady,” Rosa said in a weary voice. “Stop encouraging him.”

As they trudged to the steps, Brynne whispered, “If Jasan were dead, my spell wouldn't have located anything. He still lives.”

Caden wasn't so confident. “But your spell didn't find him,” he said. He thought about his curse by the half-moon; he thought about the Winterbird emblem. “And your magic
doesn't always work the way it should.”

He intended to sneak out again, but Officer Levine and Rosa stayed up late, and Caden fell asleep atop his pink-and-orange quilt. It was Tuesday morning way too soon.

At school, the science classroom was sealed up, but the rest of the school was open and normal smelling. Caden wore his blue T-shirt with snowflakes on it and his coat. Today, his garments honored his homeland in the Winterlands.

The hallway was a sea of black, brown, red, and blond hair, but his tall and noble brother wasn't there. He tapped Brynne on the shoulder. “Let's search the grounds,” Caden said.

“You know,” Brynne said, “you'd think he'd be looking for you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He knows where you are, right? Let him find you. What do you think I mean, prince?”

Caden thought she meant to start an argument. Jane touched his arm and smiled. “Give her a break, Caden. She's still worn out from the spell.” Then Jane grabbed Tito's hand—which made Tito grin like a Razzonian snickle puppet—and pulled him down toward the side hall. “We'll check the cafeteria for you.”

Truth be told, Caden suspected Brynne was worn out, and Caden could search on his own. He zigged and zagged, dodged a group of studious-looking sixth-grade
girls, and ran to the gymnasium.

It was large, with a wooden floor and exposed metal beams. There were skylights, and rays of sun shone down. Caden's classmate Derek and Derek's friends Tyrone and Jacob played basketball inside. It was a game with hoops and nets, but no baskets. Like many things in the odd land, the name made no sense.

Derek, Tyrone, and Jacob weren't Caden's favorite people, but he needed information. “I need to ask you something,” he said.

Derek threw Tyrone the basketball and turned. “Hey, Fartenbush, we're busy here.” It seemed Caden shouldn't have explained the terrible smell to his classmates. Besides, it wasn't the fartenbush that smelled bad, it was its fruits. And Caden cared not about insults from peasants.

“Listen,” Caden said. “I seek my brother. He may be the new gym teacher. He's tall, royal, and doesn't speak English. Have you seen him?”

They stared at him. “Nah,” Derek said. “Sorry, Fartenbush, we haven't seen him.”

Caden was tempted to interrogate them further, but the first warning bell rang. Ms. Primrose ate students who missed class. Well, she had rules about eating locals. Derek, Tyrone, and Jacob would only get detention for being late. Caden, however, wasn't local. He'd be brunch.

Tyrone dropped the basketball. As he and the others walked out, Tyrone said, “Good luck, Nutcase.”

Nutcase? Truly, Derek's name-calling skills were far superior. Caden wasn't pleased to be called Fartenbush, but he would be proud to be compared to a nutcase. Cases for nuts were tough and protective and useful. Had Caden not been worried about his brother, he might have explained that.

Caden hurried to his locker: unlucky number twelve-four. He would use each break to search a different part of the school. It seemed the best strategy. As he grabbed his reading book, a paper fell out.

Every morning for the past five school days, someone had been putting papers with Ashevillian handwriting in his book. They cluttered his locker, and he couldn't read them. He bent down to pick up the note. The writing was local and large, and the paper pink, so it wasn't from Jasan.

He folded this note and set it back in his locker with the others, then turned toward his reading class. When he got a chance, he should ask Tito what the notes said. Not knowing was foolish. They could be threats.

Speaking of threats, Mr. Creedly waited near Caden's classroom door like a malevolent shadow. “She's sent me to summon you,” he said. “She wants to see you.”

“Ms. Primrose?”

“Yes.”

Yesterday, Jasan had been there. Maybe he was there now, too.

Caden followed Mr. Creedly. His lanky shadow
stretched abnormally across the tiles and the lockers, making it appear as if he had too many arms and legs. At the end of the long hall, Mr. Creedly slunk into his desk. There was hate in his eyes, in the long flat line of his mouth, but he pointed to the heavy office door. It shut with a thud behind Caden.

Ms. Primrose sat behind her marble desk. Her suit was patterned with blue irises and she was on the phone. “Certainly,” she was saying. “The smell is completely gone. No, it wasn't toxic. We did tests. No one was hurt. It seems likely it was an overzealous student and a science experiment gone awry.”

On the mountainside outside the office window, small white flowers peeked up from cracks in the rock, reaching for sun. The incoming light, however, did nothing to warm the room. Icicles hung from the office shelves. Frost covered the button bowl. If not for his magical coat, Caden would be shivering. She was angry. Oh, but he could feel it in the chill, see it in the wild glint in her eyes. He felt his heart rate jump. Was that why she'd called for Caden? Because she was furious? Jasan wasn't here. Had she eaten him in a fit of rage?

Ms. Primrose set down the phone. It didn't seem like she'd squeezed it with much effort, but the receiver cracked in her gnarled hand. She looked at Caden with no signs of amusement or fondness. Her pupils were too small and her skin scaly and blue.

It seemed today she was more Elderdragon than usual,
and more ferocious Blue Elderdragon than somewhat benevolent Silver. Her bad mood aside, Caden was here. She'd called him. And he saw no reason not to speak first. He did, however, speak as respectfully as he could muster.

First, he needed to know Jasan wasn't in her stomach. His voice wavered on the words. “Where is my brother?”

“I sent him shopping with Manglor.” Manglor was the school janitor and father to Caden's friend Ward. Ms. Primrose continued. “My teachers are expected to look the part.”

Caden felt tension he didn't know he'd carried loosen. He would do what he could to protect his brother, to help him in this backward land. Certainly, a compliment was also smart now. “You are wise beyond measure to have hired him,” he said. “He's a great talent.”

“I haven't decided to keep him yet. He's a probationary hire. Bless his heart, he wears such a sour expression.” She seemed to think on that. “It's been awhile since I've eaten something sour.” She peered at Caden. “Is he so important to you?” The words sounded kind, but her tone less so. If Caden had to characterize it, he'd call it cold curiosity.

“He is,” Caden said, and squared his shoulders. She kept licking her lips. The slightest bit of drool had collected on the side of her mouth. He wasn't sure what she wanted, but she seemed hungry. Although it was likely unwise, he felt she must understand the consequences of ever eating his brother. “If you kill Jasan,” he said, “we will be enemies.”

For a moment she stared at him with her too-small pupils and pale-blue eyes. Then her icy expression broke. The sides of her mouth tipped up. She noticed the drool, pulled a flowery handkerchief from her pocket, and dabbed at it. “Oh my,” she said, and the entire room seemed to warm up. “How terrifying, dear.”

His threat was by no means trivial. Truly, Caden was insulted. He pointed at her. “I still have a dragon to slay. I'd prefer it not be you.” Likely he was saying things he shouldn't, but he felt no need to stay quiet. He was too wound up from the events of the last two days. Besides, his words seemed to only better her mood. “So don't eat my brother or my friends, else I reconsider.”

“I quake in my scales, dear.” Then she laughed and wiped her eyes. The icicles hanging from the shelves started to melt. “This is why I'm glad I haven't eaten you. In my foulest moods, you cheer me.”

If this was why he was here, he'd rather be in reading class. “Is that why you summoned me?” he said. “To amuse you?”

“Oh pish. Don't get huffy.” She leaned back and flapped her handkerchief at him. “You said you had pride in my school. You meant that.”

With Ms. Primrose, Caden was always sincere. “I did.”

She puffed up. “It's my jewel. My greatest treasure.” She'd appreciated his pride in the school more than he'd realized. “Yet someone dares tarnish it. Not everyone
shares our love. Yesterday's incident—” On the word “incident” her voice became sharp again. The cold returned. “The police deemed it an accident.”

It seemed Ms. Primrose didn't share the opinion that it was an accident. “You disagree with the police,” he said.

“It's not my job to agree or disagree with them. It's my job to follow my rules.” She was getting irritated again. It seemed he'd charmed her for but a moment. He would get better as he continued to practice. “I've gotten calls from parents.” The temperature in the room plummeted. “Derek's mother has called five times.”

Ms. Primrose disliked Derek's mother. Derek's mother was a lawyer and a local, though, and it seemed the combination made her less appetizing.

“Oh, they'll stop soon, but my school is getting bad press. All the magical work to make them forget is making me irritable. I haven't the time to polish my buttons or rearrange my treasures.” Then she leaned forward. “Now, if I was brought proof someone caused that accident . . .” She blinked—a slow unnatural movement. “Then I'd have someone to eat.” She paused. “Oh my, pardon me, someone to blame. That's what I meant. Yes. Blame.” She nodded as if to agree with herself. “Then eat.”

Caden wasn't to blame for the smelly green gas, and she didn't seem overly inclined to eat him just yet. So it seemed she was asking him for help. “What is it you want from me?”

“You're a prince, aren't you?” She leaned forward and clasped her gnarled hands together like she was about to deliver the most exciting of news. “Well, dear, I've got a quest for you,” she said.

Caden perked up. A quest? Elite Paladins were often sent on quests. Technically, he wasn't fully an Elite Paladin, and he was already on a quest to slay a dragon, but he was confident he could handle another quest. “What type of quest?”

“One to unmask a saboteur. Find out who released the gas. If you succeed, I'll grant your brother's life, regardless of that temper of his. Don't get me wrong, he'll still have to work at the school. He'll serve me, but I'll overlook his disrespectful attitude.”

When she next spoke, her words had a guttural sound. The room seemed to vibrate. Each syllable felt like a physical blow, like something hard and unyielding striking his temple. When Caden heard a new language, sometimes, fleetingly, the words had a strange cadence. Then his gift of speech would fix the foreign words into something familiar.

She spoke another language now. It wasn't a regular language, though. It was a forgotten tongue, a language of power. It took a moment for the meaning to register.

Her sentences started to unscramble in his mind.