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Authors: Jody Lynne Nye
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recrimination and accusations of overprotective chauvinism when he returned, but he couldn’t let the one he loved so dearly risk her life on a rash venture. He was expendable, and she was not. She had no experience in tracking, combat, or indeed, sleeping rough. If there had been time, and if he had dared think such an icon would want to acquire rude skills like those, he would have been honored to teach her. In the meantime, the kingdom had to be preserved, even at the cost of his personal happiness. The king met his eyes, and gave him a sympathetic look. He understood his daughter and her suitor’s dilemma.
“With your permission, I had better go now,” Roan said, grateful for the king’s kindness, but his mind was already back on the problem at hand. Inspiration struck him, and he made his way through to the fountain. Scooping up handfuls of the small colored stones that lined the bottom, he filled his pockets.
“I’ll leave these as I go,” Roan called out. “Anyone who is willing to come along, follow my trail as soon as you are ready.” The crowd closed in on itself behind him, shouting plans to one another. Roan hurried toward the door. He could imagine the land itself urging him forward.
Chapter 6
Roan began to reexamine the courtyard with more care. He doubted Brom and his minions had set off underground, because no one had sensed any seismic disturbance, neither in the midst of the crucible’s demonstration, nor in the uproar that followed. Carrying the Alarm Clock, they had to have taken the train, flown, or walked. If they went by train, it would be no trouble to send a message ahead and have the locomotive stopped at once, so Roan knew Brom would never risk that mode of transportation. If the scientists had chosen air, he should be able to find the spot where their trail ended as they boarded their craft. Signs of their departure must be here for him to discover. All he had to do was put the clues together. They had to pull reality around themselves to hide, but he was sure they hadn’t thought to hide their footprints. As soon as their clouding influence had passed, such things would emerge. He walked, bent over, scanning the expanse of crushed stone.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a deeper depression than most in the gravel. Roan guessed, by digging his own foot into the gravel beside it, that it must have been made when one of the bearers of the Alarm Clock slipped, twisting his heel. The tracks around that single print were a jumble, but it gave him a direction in which to search. Carefully, he followed the pointing foot outward, toward the palace gardens. He kept the colored stones in his pocket. Within the grounds, he would call for help if he managed to corner the scientists. He was no coward, but the prospect of trying to handle Brom and his crucible alone was daunting. Such seemingly limitless power! Roan was the equal of some of the most powerful minds in the Dreamland, but how could he withstand the combined strength of a group? Such a thing had never been known, in all of history.
The path Roan was following stopped at a chest-high hedge that formed a T-junction to the left and right. The left led to the ornamental rose gardens and to the kitchen garden beyond. The right went only to the Royal Maze. But it was possible they hadn’t taken either path at all. Two people bearing a heavy load between them couldn’t possibly step over the hedge and keep their balance unless they lengthened their legs accordingly. That was something Roan himself was incapable of doing, but he could alter his surroundings to an extent to achieve the same end. With an act of will, he hardened the top of the hedge so it would bear his weight, and vaulted over.
The ornamental flower beds on the other side showed no other footprints than the ones he made upon landing. Roan had thought it unlikely his quarry had come this way, but it was best to be thorough. He leaped back, and returned the hedge
“With your permission, I had better go now,” Roan said, grateful for the king’s kindness, but his mind was already back on the problem at hand. Inspiration struck him, and he made his way through to the fountain. Scooping up handfuls of the small colored stones that lined the bottom, he filled his pockets.
“I’ll leave these as I go,” Roan called out. “Anyone who is willing to come along, follow my trail as soon as you are ready.” The crowd closed in on itself behind him, shouting plans to one another. Roan hurried toward the door. He could imagine the land itself urging him forward.
Chapter 6
Roan began to reexamine the courtyard with more care. He doubted Brom and his minions had set off underground, because no one had sensed any seismic disturbance, neither in the midst of the crucible’s demonstration, nor in the uproar that followed. Carrying the Alarm Clock, they had to have taken the train, flown, or walked. If they went by train, it would be no trouble to send a message ahead and have the locomotive stopped at once, so Roan knew Brom would never risk that mode of transportation. If the scientists had chosen air, he should be able to find the spot where their trail ended as they boarded their craft. Signs of their departure must be here for him to discover. All he had to do was put the clues together. They had to pull reality around themselves to hide, but he was sure they hadn’t thought to hide their footprints. As soon as their clouding influence had passed, such things would emerge. He walked, bent over, scanning the expanse of crushed stone.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a deeper depression than most in the gravel. Roan guessed, by digging his own foot into the gravel beside it, that it must have been made when one of the bearers of the Alarm Clock slipped, twisting his heel. The tracks around that single print were a jumble, but it gave him a direction in which to search. Carefully, he followed the pointing foot outward, toward the palace gardens. He kept the colored stones in his pocket. Within the grounds, he would call for help if he managed to corner the scientists. He was no coward, but the prospect of trying to handle Brom and his crucible alone was daunting. Such seemingly limitless power! Roan was the equal of some of the most powerful minds in the Dreamland, but how could he withstand the combined strength of a group? Such a thing had never been known, in all of history.
The path Roan was following stopped at a chest-high hedge that formed a T-junction to the left and right. The left led to the ornamental rose gardens and to the kitchen garden beyond. The right went only to the Royal Maze. But it was possible they hadn’t taken either path at all. Two people bearing a heavy load between them couldn’t possibly step over the hedge and keep their balance unless they lengthened their legs accordingly. That was something Roan himself was incapable of doing, but he could alter his surroundings to an extent to achieve the same end. With an act of will, he hardened the top of the hedge so it would bear his weight, and vaulted over.
The ornamental flower beds on the other side showed no other footprints than the ones he made upon landing. Roan had thought it unlikely his quarry had come this way, but it was best to be thorough. He leaped back, and returned the hedge
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