Keeper of the Lost Cities (17 page)

“It’s Grady and Edaline—everything about them is weird. I still can’t believe you’re living with them. Are they adopting you?”

“I . . . don’t know. What exactly is a Mesmer?” she asked, changing the subject to something that didn’t make her nauseated.

“Wow, you really don’t know anything, do you?”

“Never mind.”

“I’m just teasing—sheesh. A Mesmer can put you in a trance and make you do anything they want while you’re in it. It’s rare. Not as rare as inflicting, but close.”

She
really
didn’t want to have to ask another stupid question, but curiosity won out. “And inflicting is . . . ?”

“When someone makes you feel things. Makes you laugh, makes you cry, causes you incredible pain—whatever they want. It’s extremely
rare. I only know of one, and he’s on the Council. But there might be another. Your history Mentor would know.”

Sophie cringed at the word “history.” She’d had her first session with Lady Dara that morning, and it was . . . strange.

Impossible pictures flashed across the walls during the entire lecture: elves using telekinesis to help the humans build the pyramids, a tidal wave swallowing Atlantis, an army of hairy, brown dwarves hollowing out the Himalayas to build the Sanctuary. But the strangest part was Lady Dara. She kept losing her train of thought every time her eyes met Sophie’s. Then she’d mumble something about “history in the making” and return to the lecture. It had totally creeped Sophie out.

“Hey, did you hear?” Marella interrupted. “Sir Tiergan’s back.”

“Who’s he?” she asked, relieved she’d remembered to lie.

“Only like the most famous telepathy Mentor ever. He retired when his friend Prentice ended up in exile—it was like a protest or something.”

“Prentice?” She tried not to sound too interested, but she’d been dying to know more about him since Alden had told her the information was classified.

“Yeah. He was this supertalented Telepath, but he got exiled like twelve years ago.”

“How do you get exiled?”

“You have to break a fundamental law. The Council holds a tribunal, and if you’re found guilty, they lock you away deep underground for the rest of eternity.” Marella shrugged. “I don’t know what he did, but I think it had to do with him being a Keeper. It had to be pretty bad for the Council to ruin his life. Especially since it ruined his family’s life too. His wife died in a fluke leaping accident not long after, and his son, Wylie, was adopted by Tiergan.”

Sophie’s lunch churned in her stomach as Quinlin’s words flashed through her mind.

So this is why Prentice sacrificed everything.

Quinlin had also implied she was a Keeper. So if Prentice was a Keeper, could that mean they were . . . related?

Could he be her father?

The pieces fit. Abandoning a child was illegal for humans—she doubted it was any less of a crime here. And if Prentice was a talented Telepath, maybe he was a Washer. Maybe he could alter the minds of two human parents and make them believe the child was theirs.

But why? He didn’t get rid of Wylie—so why dump her? Was there something
that
wrong with her?

Unless it had something to do with her eye color. Or the way her brain worked . . .

“Do you know Wylie?” Sophie asked quietly. She doubted she’d be brave enough to meet someone who could be her brother, but she was still curious.

Marella shook her head. “He’s in the elite levels, so he’s secluded from the rest of us, in the elite towers. We’re not allowed to go over there and interrupt their studies.”

Sophie couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or relieved. Most likely he didn’t know anything. No one else seemed to. Except Alden—and he wasn’t telling. She’d have to figure it out on her own.

She sorted through the scrambled bits of information in her head. Searching for the clue that would finally put the pieces together.

“You okay?” Marella asked, reminding her that she wasn’t alone.

“Yeah. Sorry.” She tried to sound casual when she asked her next question. “Have you ever heard of something called Project Moonlark?”

Marella frowned. “Is that a Sanctuary effort to rescue moonlarks?”

“I have no idea. I heard it somewhere and didn’t know what it was. I thought you might know.” She’d tried to find out more, but Grady never brought the scrolls out again—and she was too afraid to search the house. What if they caught her and kicked her out?

“Nope, never heard of it. But I doubt it’s anything interesting. I know everything cool that goes on around here.” Marella opened a can of strawberry flavored air and took a deep breath of the pink flumes that spritzed around her. She licked her lips. “Want some?”

Sophie shook her head, deciding to shove the disturbing questions to the dark corner of her mind, where she’d pushed everything else that was too painful to think about. She had enough to deal with already.

“Worried about your next session?” Marella asked.

Sophie nodded. Dex’s warning about Lady Galvin failing prodigies had her terrified. It didn’t help when Marella smirked and said, “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“That
bad?”

“Uh, yeah. Lady Galvin only Mentors for the title. Being good at alchemy isn’t the same as having a special ability, so unless she wanted to run some crazy apothecary like the Dizznees, it was Mentor or nothing. She hates it—and she takes it out on her prodigies. But who knows? Maybe you’ll become her new star pupil.”

The words would have been encouraging—if Marella hadn’t burst into a hysterical fit of giggles right after. She was still cracking up when the bells chimed their intricate melody.

Maybe Sophie imagined it, but the tone sounded ominous.

THE WIDE, ROUND ALCHEMY ROOM
smelled like burning hair, and the walls were lined with curved shelves. Half were filled with tiny pots of ingredients, and the other half were filled with what Sophie thought were trophies, but up close she realized they were just random gilded items. Hats. Books. Pieces of fruit. A pair of curved, pointy-toed shoes that looked suspiciously like the ones she’d grown up believing elves wore. It was like King Midas had come through and turned everything he touched to gold.

The center of the room held two empty lab tables—one gleaming silver, the other sleek and black—and the strangest experiment Sophie had ever seen. Lady Galvin wasn’t there, so she dropped her stuff on a table and took a closer look at the giant bubble hovering over a ring of fire on the floor. Milky liquid filled the bubble, dancing up and down to the rhythm of the flames.

“Step back!” Lady Galvin shouted, rushing over in a rustle of fabric. She yanked Sophie away. “Do you have any idea what that is?” She looked Sophie up and down and rolled her eyes. “No, I suppose you don’t.”

Lady Galvin was slender and wore her red-brown hair in an updo so tight and full of twists it gave Sophie a headache just looking at it. Her cape was hunter green, made of silky fabric decorated with emeralds sewn in elaborate patterns. It swished with the slightest movement.

“It’s
alkahest
,” she announced. “The universal solvent. It can only be stored in a bubble of itself because it dissolves everything else. Wood. Steel. Flesh.”

Sophie backed another step away. “Is that what we’re making today?”

Lady Galvin sighed the way Sophie’s dad used to while doing his taxes. “It’s the second hardest substance for an alchemist to make. Don’t you know anything about alchemy?”

“I guess not,” she admitted. And it probably wouldn’t be wise to ask what the hardest substance to make was—even though she was curious.

“All I ask for is a decent prodigy—and what do I get?” Lady Galvin stalked across the room to one of the shelves. “I should be teaching masters to turn living matter into gold, not little girls who don’t know the difference between a tincture and a poultice. Dame Alina probably thinks this is funny, forcing me to teach basic serums. Well, I won’t have it.”

She removed a yellowed card from a small box, grabbed an empty flask, a few jars of ingredients, and a long twisted silver spoon from the shelves and returned to Sophie. “This serum is the first step to turn glass into iron. I’ll have you transmuting metals if I have to walk you through it. Step. By. Step.”

Sophie glanced at the recipe. The chemical formula didn’t look too hard. The ingredients weren’t familiar, but the jars were labeled, and there were only two simple instructions.

Lady Galvin fiddled with her cape and rolled her eyes as Sophie checked and rechecked each amount to be sure she wasn’t making any mistakes. When she felt confident that she had it right, she poured everything into the flask. Then she plunged the spoon in and whipped the liquid the same way she’d learned to whip cream.

“Don’t!” Lady Galvin shouted, rushing forward to stop her—a second too late.

The liquid fizzed and rumbled.

Sophie jumped out of the way just as sticky gray jelly exploded all over Lady Galvin’s exquisite cape.

Sophie watched in horror while the sludge dissolved the luxurious fabric. “I’m so sorry.” She reached for the damaged cape to see if there was anything she could do to salvage it, but Lady Galvin grabbed her hand to stop her. That’s when she noticed the red welt on the back of Sophie’s wrist, where some of the slime caught her.

She sighed. “Better head to the Healing Center.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sophie was hardly eager to see another doctor, but Lady Galvin looked ready to murder someone. She rushed to retrieve her satchel. “Should I come back here afterward?”

“No!”

Sophie slunk toward the door. “Okay. See you next week?”

Lady Galvin’s face darkened, and she turned away muttering under her breath about incompetence.

SOPHIE STUMBLED THROUGH THE HALLS,
the panic making it hard to think straight. Would Lady Galvin flunk her? Should she use the Imparter to call Alden and see if he could help?

“You must be lost.”

The boy’s deep voice brought her out of her trance. He wore a green Level Four uniform, and was sprawled across a bench, watching her with curious, ice blue eyes.

She blinked, noticing the hallways were stark white now. “How did you know?”

He smirked. “It’s the middle of session. Either you’re lost, or you’re ditching—and clearly you’re not ditching.”

“Why couldn’t I be ditching?” she asked, not exactly sure why she was arguing.

“Are you?”

“No,” she admitted.

His lips twisted into a crooked grin. “You’re the new girl, aren’t you?”

She sighed and nodded.

“I’m Keefe.”

“Sophie—but I’m sure you already know that.”

He laughed. “You may be the biggest news to hit the academy since the Great Gulon Incident three years ago—which, by the way, I had nothing to do with.” He flashed a slightly wicked smile. “But that’s not a bad thing. Personally, I’ve always enjoyed being the center of attention.”

She didn’t doubt that. From his disheveled blond hair to the way he’d rolled up his sleeves and left his shirt untucked, she could tell—he was cool. Probably popular, too. So why was he talking to her? She almost asked him but stopped herself at the last second.

“Where are you supposed to be?” she asked instead.

“The Universe. I ditch whenever I can. Lady Belva has the worst crush on me. I mean, I can’t really blame her”—he gestured to himself—“but still, it’s awkward, you know?”

She was 90 percent certain he was joking, but he was also
very
good looking. She was sure at least half the girls in school had a crush on him.

“And now I get to meet the mysterious new girl,” he added. “So I’d say ditching paid off pretty well.”

She felt herself blush, and hoped he didn’t notice. “I’m hardly mysterious.”

“I don’t know. You won’t tell me why you’re not in session. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

She stared at her feet. “That’s because it’s too embarrassing.”

“I love embarrassing!” He laughed when she stayed silent. “Will you at least tell me where you’re supposed to be?”

She sighed. “Alchemy with Lady Galvin.”

“Ugh, she’s the worst. I had her as a Level Three—and she hated me, probably because I turned the lab table to silver. But she said she wanted me to impress her.” He winked. “Still, I wouldn’t mention that we’re friends if I were you.”

Friends?

Since when did cool, cute boys want to be her friend? Not that she was complaining. . . .

“So, what, did Lady Galvin kick you out or something?” he asked.

“Kind of.”

“Now this I have to hear.”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Probably,” he agreed.

He clearly wasn’t going to let it go, so she kept her eyes glued to the floor. “I accidentally exploded the serum I was making.”

Right on cue, he burst into laughter. “Did you do any damage?”

“Only to her cape—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Do you have any idea how epic that is? That cape is her pride and joy! Did she send you to Dame Alina’s office?”

“No, she sent me to the Healing Center. A little of it got on my hand.” She glared at the ugly red welt.

He studied her for a second, then shook his head. “Wow, most girls would be crying about a wound like that—most guys too. Even I’d be playing it up for sympathy and stuff.”

“It must look worse than it is.”

“Still, don’t you think you should get it treated?”

“I guess.”

He laughed again. “You just turned whiter than these walls. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” There was no
way she was telling him about her doctor phobia—she’d never hear the end of it.

“Come on, then. I’m taking you to the Healing Center so you don’t get lost again.” He hooked his arm through hers and dragged her away before she could resist.

THE HEALING CENTER CONSISTED OF
three rooms: a treatment area with four empty beds, a huge laboratory where strange alchemy experiments were brewing, and the physician’s personal office, where a familiar face sat at an enormous desk covered in paperwork.

“Sophie?” Elwin asked. “I figured I’d have to drag you back here to check up on you.”

“I know,” she said, very aware of the way Keefe had cocked his head toward her. “I have a tiny burn I need you to treat—no big deal.”