WANTED ALIVE FOR CRIMES AGAINST AMEAST INCLUDING LARCENY, SEDITION, ESPIONAGE, AND HIGH TREASON.
And above the crimes is my name, and above that, my face, staring out into the street with the gray eyes for which I was named. It’s a recent picture, probably taken by Frank’s cameras when I returned to Taem for the vaccine. I will most certainly be recognized in Bone Harbor.
“Oh hell,” Sammy says. I think he’s reacting to the poster, but I follow his gaze and just when I think things can’t get any worse, they do.
The Franconian Order. Two of them, ahead in the alley, questioning an older woman who’s wiping her hands nervously on her apron.
Xavier turns on Jackson. “The damn Forgery sold us out.”
“Me?” he says, startled. “How? Telepathy? Magic?”
“You got ahold of our gear! Radioed someone!”
“We had a deaclass="underline" You keep me alive and I get you into the Outer Ring. I still don’t have what I was sent for—your headquarters’ location—so why would I risk my own life to call the Order, who may or may not be able to get me out of this mess?”
Xavier looks furious. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe to—”
“Clipper and Xavier, stay with me and the horses,” my father orders harshly. “Everyone else, split up. I don’t care how you do it; just do it now. We’ll meet at the docks. After sundown, if we can manage.”
“But the Forgery,” Xavier says. “He—”
“Not now,” Owen snaps. “There isn’t time.”
We scatter not a second too soon. I somehow get stuck with Jackson after Xavier shoves him at me. The two of us run for the nearest side street—or rather, I run and Jackson refuses to cooperate, so I have to drag him behind me. I shoulder my way into the first building we come to. It is a single-level home, set on the corner of the side street and the alley we just fled. It’s currently vacant, but there are clothes hanging on a drying rack and a few dishes set out on a table that also holds a bowl of fruit. Someone will be back eventually.
I move into the kitchen, where a window looks onto the alley. My father is just coming into view.
“You’re going to get caught,” Jackson says, a note of humor in his voice.
“Shut up.”
“I’m just stating the facts.”
I shove him against the wall. “I mean it. Not another word.”
Outside, my father has pulled his hat back on even in the comfortable weather, but I know he’s done it to cover his hair. Between the hat, and his blue eyes and full beard, he no longer looks like an obvious father to the boy on the wanted posters. Xavier holds the reins of the two horses at his side and Clipper has his hands on the straps of his backpack, gripping them so tightly his knuckles have gone white.
The Order members flag them down as they approach. The red triangles on their chests are screaming danger, and I want my father to turn and run. Nothing good can come of these people.
“Morning, folks,” one of them says. His words are murky through the glass window, but I can hear well enough.
“Morning,” Owen echoes.
“What brings you to Bone Harbor?” the second asks. A female. Her face is square and angular, her neck so thick she almost appears not to have one.
“What makes you think we are only visiting?”
“There’s not much need for horses around here,” the woman says, eyeing the reins in Xavier’s hands.
“We plan to trade them,” my father answers. “They were necessary to get here, but we need a boat now, not horses.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Haven,” Clipper says.
“You’re pretty far south of home. Where are you coming from?”
“Even farther south, ma’am,” Clipper continues. “A small town in the Southern Sector. We have family there.”
“So you’re all related?” the male asks.
“My son and nephew,” Owen says of Clipper and Xavier, which is believable enough.
“And you chose to travel by boat and horse from Haven all the way to the Southern Sector?”
“Not everyone living under a dome can afford to power a car. And a trip through the Wastes is desolate, too easy to get stranded without fuel. I don’t mean to pry, but was there a point to this questioning?”
The stocky woman frowns. “Yes, there is.” She holds out a copy of the wanted poster. “We’re looking for this boy. We have reason to suspect he was heading west, possibly through this town or one of the others along the New Gulf.”
Owen takes a moment to examine the photo. “I haven’t seen him.”
“You’re positive?” the woman says, folding her arms across her chest. “This boy can be quite persuasive when necessary. If he promised you anything in exchange for silence, you should know he won’t keep his side of the bargain.”
“I assure you we have never seen him,” my father says, “but if that changes, we’ll alert someone immediately. It’s no good, having a criminal like that running around.”
“Too true,” she responds.
“Are we free to go now? I’d hoped to trade these horses by midday.”
“Yes. Thank you for your time.”
They pass by, horses in tow, and I feel like air is finally returning to my lungs. Not a second later the door of the house is thrown open and Emma and Aiden stumble inside.
“What are you doing?” I hiss at her as she closes the door.
“We were one house over, but the owner came home and we had to sneak out a window.”
I peer back onto the main street. The Order members are turning the corner, pointing at houses as they head up our side street.
Emma reads my face. “They’re coming, aren’t they? This way?”
We hear footsteps, boots against the hard-packed earth. Then a knock on our door.
Jackson looks momentarily amused. He sold us out after all, just like Xavier suspected. But then the Forgery notices Aiden shaking in fear and his demeanor changes to something so close to worry that I reconsider the theory. Maybe the Order is simply doing what Jackson and Blaine were sent to do: intercept us.
Another knock.
“Don’t say anything,” I whisper. “They’ll leave eventually.”
“Franconian Order!” the woman shouts from outside. “We’re sweeping all houses in this alley. You have twenty seconds to open your door or we will assume no one is home and open it ourselves.”
“Let me talk to them,” Emma offers.
“What? No!”
“I’ll tell them I saw you across town or something. I can do this. It will be easy.”
She looks so sure of herself, so confident. It’s her eyes: brilliant with hope, so steady she seems unstoppable. But I can’t have Emma risking herself like this for us. Frank might suspect she followed me back to Crevice Valley last fall, and just because I’ve only seen posters with my face on them doesn’t mean Frank didn’t create additional signage featuring hers.
“Take Aiden into the back room,” I tell Emma. “Find a closet or something and stay put until I call for you.”
“Let me do this.” Her voice is hard. Almost desperate.
The door trembles under another pounding.
“Emma, please don’t make me ask again.”
She exhales sharply and takes Aiden into a side room just as the Order woman starts counting backward.
Ten . . . Nine . . .
The quarters are too tight to fire an arrow, so I grab a knife from the kitchen and face Jackson. “Open that door and tell them you saw me on the other side of town.”