Cloak of Night (Circle of Shadows #2) - Evelyn Skye Page 0,70
called to a boy, probably five or six years old, who must have given himself the adorable, if awkward, taiga name. “Let them in.”
The boy hurried to unroll a rope ladder. After tugging to make sure it was securely tied above, Sora climbed up.
“Well?” Sharp Ax asked, tapping his little foot as he scowled at Broomstick. “Are you coming up? Or are you chicken?”
Broomstick flushed. But he couldn’t resist the boy, who looked a lot like the tenderfoots in the Citadel mentoring program. Broomstick climbed up the rope ladder. Still, when he reached the top, he kept his distance from everyone.
In the meantime, the soul pearl seemed to stir in the hidden pocket in Sora’s collar, and she flinched. It was as if the pearl had been asleep but had now awakened, if that were possible. It strained against the thick cloth of the tunic, like an iron pellet attracted to a magnet. The movement was faint enough that it wasn’t visible, but it was alarming, and Sora pressed her hand against her chest in an attempt to stop it.
Why was it moving now, when it had been dormant before?
The little commander strode up to Sora and Broomstick, brandishing a switchblade. “Both of you, lift the backs of your tunics.”
“Excuse me?” Sora, surprised at the child’s brashness, momentarily forgot about the pearl.
“If you’re really a taiga,” the girl said, “the mark of the silver triplicate whorls will be there on the small of your back. If not, I’ll slice your throat from ear to ear.”
Sora didn’t know what to say. First off, there was a child threatening her with a knife, which was both amusing and alarming, because some of the most dangerous people were the ones who thought they knew how to use weapons but didn’t. And second of all, Sora couldn’t let the kids undress her just because they wanted proof of who she and Broomstick were. That was not how this power dynamic was supposed to work, even if Sora was playing along that Whiplash was in charge.
“How about this instead?” Sora pulled a throwing star off the leather strap on her chest, twirled it in her fingers a few times, then sent it flying into a nearby tree.
Whiplash screwed up her face. “Any normal person could do that.”
But Sora wasn’t dissuaded. “Do normal people walk around with cases full of explosives?” She gestured at Broomstick.
He hesitated, but eventually he opened one of his bags and slid out a slim metal box. He flipped the lid open to reveal almost a dozen small bombs nestled in individually cushioned pockets.
“Whoooa,” Whiplash said, suddenly an awestruck child. “Okay, you’re good.” She put away her switchblade. “We’re excited to have you here. We can show you all the progress we’re making, and when you go back north, you can report on our work to His Majesty.”
Broomstick’s forehead wrinkled at the mention of the Dragon Prince. “Your progress?”
Whiplash marched ahead as if she really were a commander. “When the emperor was here, he asked everyone in Paro Village to begin preparations not only for his coronation but also for pursuing the Evermore.” She checked to make sure Sora and Broomstick were following, then continued down the hall.
The pearl in Sora’s collar strained in the same direction. Is it attracted to Whiplash for some reason?
Meanwhile, the little commander kept talking. “The grown-ups are busy chopping down the forest for wood so Emperor Gin can build ships to cross the ocean. Obviously, we kids aren’t big enough to do that, so we’ve been working nonstop on other things, like stitching together sails.” They arrived at a large room, probably the taiga warriors’ main gathering hall. There were two dozen children spread across the floor, huddled over large swaths of canvas, needles and thread in hand, sewing edges of fabric together.
The soul pearl started rolling in the small space of Sora’s collar pocket, pulling to the right, then switching to the left, then forward, as if it wanted to go in all directions and couldn’t decide.
It’s the kids, Sora realized. Not just Whiplash in particular—she’d just happened to be the closest at first. But what was it about the Little Ferals that the pearl was attracted to?
Sora watched them for only a few seconds before she noticed something besides how diligently they worked. She leaned over to Broomstick. “They’re scrawny. And filthy.”
“It’s like they’re literally working nonstop, without breaks for food or baths,” he said. “Why would they do that?”