“Fiona!”
Moth slid down the bank to reach her. The current snatched her, dragging her fast. She screamed, gurgling his name, her red hair whipped by the swirling water.
“Fiona!”
He caught a glimpse of her thrashing arm. The wind swallowed her screams.
Moth ran. He fell, got up again, and stumbled over the rocks. The dragonfly closed in on him, the racket of its wings drowning his cries. He was trapped now but didn’t care.
“Help!” he cried. He waved his arms to signal the pilot. The dragonfly roared overhead, then jerked back around again. “Stop!”
Rain pelted Moth’s face as he stared skyward. The dragonfly descended loudly, beating the storm into a froth. There wasn’t time to explain anything. All Moth wanted was to find Fiona. The craft came down hard, nearly crashing. Moth didn’t recognize the pilot until the canopy popped open.
“Moth!”
Skyhigh vaulted from the cockpit.
“Skyhigh…”
Out of breath, too horrified to speak, Moth nearly collapsed. Skyhigh dashed over to him, grabbing his shoulders.
“Where’s Fiona?” he demanded. Moth pointed toward the river. Skyhigh’s eyes went wide when he realized what had happened. He shook Moth in a rage. “Why the hell did you run? I was coming to help!”
Moth couldn’t answer. All the emotions he’d pent up for days burst like a dam. “She’s gone!” he sobbed. Hot tears streaked his ruddy face. “Skyhigh… Fiona’s gone!”
TWO THINGS
MOTH STARED BLANKLY through the dragonfly’s canopy, watching the rain smash against the glass as Skyhigh piloted the vessel through the storm. The dragonfly pitched in the winds, straining to stay aloft. Ahead of them glowed the spotlight of the Avatar, the only visible cue they could see through the clouds. Below them the world had vanished, and Fiona with it.
They’d searched for her as long as possible, flying low over the rocks until the rain and darkness overwhelmed them. Finally, with the Avatar circling impatiently overhead, Skyhigh called off their search.
“Skyhigh?”
Skyhigh kept his eyes on the Avatar’s beacon. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry we ran,” said Moth. “I’m sorry for everything.”
Skyhigh worked the controls as though ignoring him. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I know. It’s not your fault, Moth.”
It was the kind of thing adults tell little children after they’d spilled some milk or broken a window.
“Fiona crossed the Reach because of me,” said Moth. “It is my fault. None of this would have happened if—”
“Stop,” said Skyhigh. “I know what you’re thinking, but maybe she’s okay. If she’s a good swimmer she might still be alive. In the morning we’ll look for her again.”
Moth tried to remember if Fiona had ever mentioned swimming in Capital City. Her pastimes were horses mostly. And museums.
“Skyhigh?”
“Yeah?”
“What are you gonna tell Rendor?”
“I’m not sure. The truth, I guess. Fiona saw us coming, so she ran.”
“She ran because she didn’t want to go back to him.”
“Was that a good decision or a stupid one?”
Moth leaned back, feeling woozy. “He doesn’t care about her. All he cares about is the Starfinder.”
“What is that thing anyway?” asked Skyhigh. “I still don’t know.”
“It’s the gift Leroux wanted to give me,” said Moth. “Esme brought it to me before we left.”
“Esme! Where is she?”
Moth hesitated. How much should he really tell Skyhigh?
“She’s safe.”
Skyhigh’s head turned a little. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s private, Skyhigh. I can’t tell you.”
“For crying sakes, Moth…”
“I’m sorry,” said Moth. “I can’t tell you because I can’t let Rendor get the Starfinder!”
“Starfinder, Starfinder! What’s the big deal? Let me see it.”
“I can’t,” said Moth. “I don’t have it anymore.”
“You mean you lost it?”
Moth shook his head. “No.”
“Fiona has it?”
“No.”
“Who then? Merceron? He’s a dragon, right?”
“Huh?” Moth sat up. “Who told you about Merceron?”
“No one. No one tells me anything! It’s just something I overheard. Does he have the Starfinder?”
“Skyhigh…”
“I know, you can’t tell me! Listen, Moth—I don’t care about the Starfinder. All I want is to get you home safe. Fiona, too. If you think I’m in cahoots with Rendor, then you just go ahead and believe that. I’m still your friend, no matter what you think.”
Moth leaned his head against the glass. “Everything’s gotten so messed up. But I have to protect them—Esme, Fiona, everyone. I can’t tell you any more.”
“You have to,” said Skyhigh. “If we’re going to find Fiona we need to know where you were heading.”
Moth looked away.
“Moth, c’mon…”
“Fiona doesn’t want him to find her,” said Moth.
“He’s her grandfather! He’s got a right to know what’s happened to her!”
“If she’s alive, she’s safe,” said Moth, hoping Fiona had somehow made it to the centaurs.
“That’s all you’re going to tell me?” Skyhigh shook his head in annoyance. “That won’t cut it with Rendor.”
Up ahead, the Avatar hung in the sky like a big, black moon.
An hour later Moth found himself in Rendor’s quarters, staring out a small, round porthole. The rain had stopped, and the wind had blown away most of the clouds. In the moonlight he could see the mountains again. The Avatar floated somewhere between the towering peaks and the rushing river far below.
Crewmen had brought Moth new clothes. Like the coat he’d stolen back in Calio, the plain shirt and trousers were too big for him, swimming on him like mismatched sheets. There was food, too, laid out on a table bolted to the floor. Otherwise the chamber was bare, the walls little more than metal struts and panels. A cot waited in the corner, fitted with clean, crisp linen.
Moth wasn’t hungry and he didn’t want to sleep. He just wanted morning to come, so they could look for Fiona again.
“Even if we had wings, some of us would be pigeons.”
Moth turned abruptly, startled to see Rendor stepping through the narrow doorway.
“Huh?”
The governor closed the door behind him. “It’s a joke someone told me once. Looking at you made me think of it.” He took a step closer, raising an eyebrow when he noticed the untouched food. “Not hungry?”
Moth shook his head. Rendor glanced at the cot.
“Did you rest at least?”
“This is all just a bribe,” said Moth. “It’s not gonna work. I won’t help you.”
Rendor hovered over the table. “Your friend Coralin warned me you’d be tart,” he said. He selected a piece of cheese, considering Moth while he chewed. “Leroux didn’t do you any favors. Did he at least warn you that I’d be coming after you?”
Moth crossed his arms. “You’re wasting your time asking questions.”
“Fine. Then just listen. You’ve made a right mess of things. You stole the Starfinder, made me come looking for you, and now my granddaughter is missing. She might even be dead.”
“I didn’t steal the Starfinder,” sneered Moth. “Leroux wanted me to have it.”
“Leroux was my friend long before you ever met him, boy. He was a good man but a great fool. All he ever cared about was getting Esme back to normal. And you’ve lost her too, haven’t you?” Rendor’s smile was caustic. “Like I said—a right mess you’ve made.”