The Grimjinx Rebellion (6 page)

9

The Purple Prophecy

“Silver gilds the lie that opens the deepest vault.”

—Ancient par-Goblin proverb

A
s a rule, I don't go around blowing up cakes or singeing Aviard eyebrows for fun. It
was
fun, but that's not why I did it.

I did it because I was desperate. Mavra worked the servants from sunup until long after sundown. We cleaned latrines. We cooked meals. We made beds. But we hardly ever saw the seers we were here to serve. And when we did, Aubrin was never with them.

Once everyone had gone to bed, Maloch and I, candles in hand, sneaked out of the boys' barracks and made our way to the seer classroom. The seers spent their mornings in this room with Gobek, who taught them how to use their abilities. The room was far enough away from the servant barracks to keep our midnight meetings private.

“Do you think it's weird?” Maloch asked, while we waited for Callie.

“What?”

“This place. The seers are really valuable to the High Laird. And the staff is made up of criminals. What's to stop anyone from leaving?”

“I dunno,” I said. “The Overlord, maybe?”

We both chuckled. Since our arrival, the other servants enjoyed telling us stories of the Overlord. Allegedly, Gobek
wasn't
the only one in charge of the Creche. Rumor had it that a mysterious figure—the Overlord—resided here as well, keeping an eye on everyone and everything. No one knew who it was or even if he or she really existed. I'd chosen to ignore the stories. Clearly they'd been concocted to keep the servants in line with the threat of an unknown, all-seeing gaoler.

At least, that's what I hoped.

Callie joined us a moment later, sitting at a round table with a sigh.

“I almost didn't make it,” Callie said. “Mavra wouldn't take her eyes off me all night. I think she suspects we're up to something.”

“I don't care about Mavra,” I snapped, and immediately regretted it. “Sorry. I'm just . . .”

Callie squeezed my shoulder. “We'll find Aubrin, Jaxter. I can feel it. We're getting closer.”

We'd seen seven of the eight seers, a group of children as young as ten and as old as sixteen. They rarely spoke to the servants, or each other for that matter. Honestly, they were all a bit . . . weird. Always gave you a look like they knew something you didn't.

We quickly figured out that our best chance of finding Aubrin was to learn everything we could about the Creche. But after almost a week of searching, we were no closer to finding her. Time was running out. Ma and Da were waiting for us in Vesta. If we were to meet them on time, we had to leave the Creche in two days.

“Okay,” Callie said, “what have we learned today?”

Mavra kept us so busy during the day, these midnight meetings were our only chance to share what we'd learned. We were always on alert, noting any clues that might lead us to Aubrin.

I cupped my chin in my hand. “Only thing I learned today is that they're very thorough in collecting all the seers' prophecies. Why is that, do you think?”

“Ah,” Maloch said, “I know that one. I was cleaning the hall outside the classroom when Gobek was teaching the seers and I overheard the lesson.”

He reached to the center of the table where a glass bowl filled with colored marbles sat. He plucked out a bright purple marble. “Okay, pretend this represents a vision of the future. Let's say . . . the High Laird chokes on a bone while eating roast gekbeak.” He set the marble down near the table's edge.

“Now,” Maloch continued, “that event didn't just happen on its own. Before he ate the gekbeak, it was prepared by his cook.” He pulled a blue marble from the bowl and laid it next to the purple one in a line that pointed to the middle of the table. “Before the cook could prepare it, a servant bought the gekbeak from a butcher.” He pulled a green marble out and laid it next to the blue.

“The butcher bought the gekbeak from a huntsman”—next, a yellow marble—“who killed the gekbeak along a ridge”—an orange marble—“all because the huntsman got up at sunrise because he knows that's the best time to hunt gekbeaks.” Finally, Maloch placed a dark red marble in the center of the table. All the marbles lined up perfectly, red to purple. Maloch ran his finger along the line. “All of these
must
happen to get us here,” he said, tapping the purple marble.

“But,” he added quickly, returning his hand to the red marble, “let's say the huntsman didn't wake at dawn like he planned.” He flicked the red marble and it rolled away. “Which means the gekbeak got away”—he flicked the orange marble—“so the butcher had no gekbeak to sell that day”—there went the yellow marble—“and, without any gekbeak at the market, the High Laird's servant decided to buy a cargabeast steak instead”—flick went the green marble—“and the cook prepared a boneless steak”—the blue marble spun off, and Maloch snatched up the purple one—“leaving the High Laird healthy.”

I peered at the scattered marbles. “So,” I said slowly, “a vision is just
one possible future
. And the more marbles—I mean visions—you can record that lead up to the purple prophecy, the more likely it is to occur.”

Callie nodded. “And that means, if you know everything that leads up to the big event before it happens, you could knock out one of the marbles to make sure the purple prophecy doesn't happen. You don't just have to stop the red marble. Affecting any event in the chain disrupts the pattern, right?”

Maloch shrugged. “Maybe. I think that's why they gather every prediction, no matter how small. You never know what role it might play in future events.”

Another thought occurred to me but I kept it to myself. Gathering
all
the predictions was also a good way of making sure no one else knew of all the small events that led to a big one.

Callie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “That explains . . . ,” she whispered softly.

“What?” I asked.

“I overheard two seers say that Aubrin is an augur. That's the most powerful kind of seer. Their visions give the most accurate view of things to come. Maybe that's why they keep her separate. She can be used to verify the other predictions.”

“Did they say where she's kept?” I asked.

“We
know
where she is,” Maloch said. He held up the key he'd stolen. “Your diversion was all about getting this.”

There were three places in the Creche that servants were forbidden to go. The seer dormitory was one. But it didn't make sense for them to keep Aubrin somewhere so obvious. That left . . .

“This will get us into the Athenaeum?” Callie asked.

The Athenaeum was behind a locked, golden door. The seers spent their afternoons in there, doing who knew what. Servants weren't even allowed in to clean. Since we knew the seers spent a lot of time behind the door, it made sense we'd find Aubrin there. The only other option was . . .

“Unless you want to see what's behind the Black Door,” Maloch said gravely.

We knew a little about the Athenaeum. We knew absolutely nothing about the Black Door. It stood at the dead end of a corridor near the seer dormitory. Some servants believed the mysterious Overlord lived there. Others thought it was a place they tortured servants who misbehaved. The only thing all the servants agreed on: it was a place to fear.

Sometimes, late at night, you could hear screaming behind it. Inhuman, pain-filled wailing. If Aubrin was as important as Callie said, chances were she wasn't back there. Checking behind the Black Door was our very
last
option.

I snatched the key from Maloch. “All right, then. What are we waiting for? Let's go to the Athenaeum.”

10

Into the Athenaeum

“Secrets buried in a six-foot hole are seven feet from discovery.”

—The Lymmaris Creed

A
s we made our way through the shadowy halls of the Creche, I couldn't stop thinking about the warning in Aubrin's journal and what Maloch had said about the marbles. If it was true, the future wasn't set. Things could change. I just had to figure out how to flick away the marbles that led to me dying.

Which sounded right. The more I thought about it all, the more convinced I was that I was losing my marbles anyway.

“Here we are,” Maloch announced as we arrived at the Athenaeum door.

“Okay,” I said, “if we find Aubrin, we leave tonight.” I gave Tree Bag a pat. “I packed some supplies for the trip. Ready?”

Everybody nodded. I turned the key in the lock and slid the door open.

We stepped through and found ourselves in a forest. A huge, dense, moonlit forest.

“Didn't see this coming,” I admitted.

We padded softly across the grassy ground, ducking under low-hanging branches covered in leaves as big as my body. At the top of the Creche, a glass dome let in light from both moons hovering high overhead.

“I'm just going to ask,” Maloch said, “why is there a forest
inside
the Creche?”

“I think the Creche was built
around
the forest,” Callie said. “These trees seem very old. Maybe hundreds of years. Now we know why the building is so big. It could take us hours to search the whole thing. Or days.”

“Fine. Next question: why build the Creche around a forest?”

I ran my fingers across the rough bark of the nearest tree. “They must be special somehow.” Reaching up, I took one of the mammoth leaves in hand and held it up to the moonlight. The leaf appeared to glow, revealing a map of veins under the leaf's surface. “Maybe the Palatinate wanted to protect—”

I stopped. The dark veins within the leaf began to shift. The leaf wriggled gently between my fingers. Within seconds, the veins had repositioned. Instead of reaching out in random directions, they now spelled out near the top of the leaf:

“Whisperoak!”

“Huh?” Maloch asked.

“It's whisperoak. An entire forest of whisperoak trees. They were supposed to have died out a long time ago. Look . . .” I took another leaf in hand and said softly, “Jaxter was here.”

I held the leaf to the light and the veins read:

“The Dowager told me that Aviards used these centuries ago to record family histories,” I said.

“That doesn't explain why the Creche is built around an entire forest,” Maloch mumbled.

Carefully, I climbed up to the lowest branch of the nearest tree and grabbed some leaves. Words covered the surface. I checked leaf after leaf—each carried comments more cryptic than the last. Many detailed commonplace events at the Jubilee, which was just a week away.

“This must be how they record prophecies,” I said. “Safer than writing them in books, which could get stolen.”

“Jaxter . . . ,” Callie said softly.

“But if the prophecies are so valuable,” I continued, “you'd think they'd be better protected.”

“Jaxter . . . ,” she said again.

“I mean, building the Creche around the forest was effective but if someone really wanted to get in here—like we did—it wouldn't take very much. Didn't Talian's book say this place was enchanted? Where are the magical protections—?”

Callie reached up and slapped my foot. “Jaxter!”

“What?”

She nodded toward the heart of the forest. Maloch and I followed her fear-stricken gaze. In the distance, a pale blue sphere of light floated between the trees. A moment later, a second and third appeared. Each pulsed and flickered . . . and moved in our direction.

“Ah,” I said, “that would be the protection.”

“What are they?” Maloch asked.

“Gaolglobes,” Callie whispered as she consulted the page she'd stolen from Talian's library. “Magical sentries. They zero in on movement and sound. Nobody move.”

We held our breath as the radiance from the gaolglobes lit the trees around us. The globes were twice our size. We waited as they floated past and disappeared into the forest behind us.

“All right then,” I said, shimmying down the tree carefully. “We know to avoid the big floaty glow balls. Let's spread out and look for Aubrin.”

We split up, each creeping carefully into the darkness. With every step, I felt more confident that we'd find her. If Callie's theory was correct, they probably kept Aubrin here where she could easily read and verify the other predictions. I just hoped they'd given her a decent bed.

An hour flew past as I searched. It seemed like the forest would never end. I carefully scaled the biggest tree I could find so I could get my bearings.

A faint humming below told me the gaolglobes were patrolling again. I held my breath, waiting for them to pass. The moons above lit the leaves all around me. My eyes passed over the tiny words spelled out in the veins.

Kleptocracy . . . Aviard Nestvault plunder . . . Sanguibeasts . . .

I reached out for the nearest leaf and raised it to the light.

War . . . Sourcefire . . . Par-dwarves . . .

These trees were ancient. The Creche had been built around a grove of whisperoak trees that had been used to record the prophecies of seers for hundreds and hundreds of years. The forest was one giant history book.

I grabbed a handful of leaves and read as fast as I could. A lot of it was rubbish. Some leaves held mundane prophecies, discussing what blacksmiths had for breakfast centuries ago. Others described visions of children dressing up in Grundilus Day costumes. They really did chronicle
every
prophecy, no matter how small.

I returned to the ground and moved deeper into the forest, scanning leaves all the way. The farther I went, the older the history. The story of the creation of the Sourcefire, a ball of eternal magical energy from which the land was supposedly created. A detailed account of the fall of the par-Goblin Rogue Triumvirate two hundred years ago. Blow-by-blow details of the Satyran Civil War.

The history of the Uprisings
had
to be here. Somewhere.

I thought of how Aubrin had told me to remember Kolo's last words. It's like they were
both
telling me I needed to learn about the Uprisings.

Then I found the tree I was looking for.

Mannis Soranna . . . Scions . . . Uprisings . . .

I nestled with my back to the whisperoak's trunk and started reading.

“Jaxter?”

I sat on a high branch. My eyes ached. I had no idea how long I'd been reading. Glancing up through the glass dome, I spied hints of daybreak turning the sky deep purple.

We'd been in here all night.

“Jaxter?” Callie's whisper broke my concentration. I could just make out her and Maloch at the base of the tree, looking around.

“Be right down!” I slid gingerly down the trunk and joined them on the ground.

Callie grinned. “If you'd told me a year ago that I'd see Jaxter Grimjinx climb out of a tree instead of fall out of it—”

“Listen,” I said. “We have to find Aubrin.
Now
.”

My mind raced. I knew now why Kolo had wanted me to learn about the past. I needed to find Aubrin, not just to get her out but to ask her if what I read was true.

Callie grabbed me by the shoulders, her eyes narrowing. “Jaxter, what's wrong? You're white as a snowsloth.”

My stomach ached. I could feel sweat beading my brow.

“We're in terrible danger,” I said.

“When aren't we?” Maloch asked.

I whirled on him. “You don't get it. I'm not talking about us. I'm not talking about Aubrin. I mean
everyone
. If we don't get Aubrin out of here tonight, the Five Provinces will fall.”