contains thousands, even millions, of citizens. If there is no voice, anarchy and death would reign. The voice of the city is a guiding light for all. But she doesn’t speak to just anyone. Huron will speak only to her steward, and you, Nikolas, are that steward.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Tim laughed. “Steward? As in concerned for the well-being of other life forms?”
“Could there be any doubt?” said Grand.
“Ha,” Tim shook his head. “Yes. There could be.”
“He’s like me in so many ways,” said Grand, “if that be an indication of his care for the well-being of others.”
In his mind, Nick saw Grand fling an inocudrone across the room and lift up two bodies out of a casket.
Really not helping, Grand.
“Yes,” Grand said. “He is just like me, right down to name and place in the family order. The voice is passed down from grandfather to grandson. Always the youngest. You are the youngest, right?”
“Yeah,” said Tim. “By 28 minutes, though.”
“Always the youngest grandson,” said Grand. “And you are named Nikolas Lyons. Every Steward of Huron is given the name, so she might find him. I am Nikolas Lyons, the Eleventh.”
“Well, that’s a problem, then,” said Tim. “His name is Nick. It’s on the birth certificate.”
“Are you my translator, Tim?” said Nick. “Shut it, already. I can speak just fine.”
“It should be Nikolas,” said Grand. “Your father named you so before we came here. Anyway, that can be rectified. I will take you to the Hall of Pickings so that you might be given your true name.” Grand’s voice lowered. “It is to you the stewardship passes. And with it, the voice of Huron. She will speak only to you, Nikolas. For the Merrows’ sake, she must speak to you . . .” Grand’s brow sunk, but he snapped out of it and marched to the truck. He lifted the seat, revealing a dozen strange oddities.
“There you are.” Grand held a small copper box in both hands, with a cone-shaped tube pointing upward. Clutching the device, he moved back to Nick. “Ask her what she would have us do next.”
“It’s a gramophone,” said Daniel. “One of the first record players.”
“Yes. The gramophone was inspired by the steward’s horn.” Grand raised the device to Nick. “She speaks to her steward through the horn. Nikolas, please.”
“So.” Nick pulled his hands out of his back pockets. “What do you want me to do?”
“Rub your finger over the surface, like this.” Grand glided his fingers over the small rubber pad.
Nick slowly reached out with his index finger. Small bits of static leapt out to his finger as he pressed down. Then, just like Grand, he rubbed the pad in a circular motion. Garbled murmurs crept from the horn. Nick pressed harder with more speed. The murmurs shaped into voices, but fell away again.
“Try again,” Grand’s tone a little more determined.
Nick repeated the motion with more pressure and speed.
Nothing.
Grand raised the gramophone. “Troubling—it appears functional.”
“You don’t expect us to buy all thi—” said Tim.
“I don’t need that horn thing, anyway,” Nick cut Tim off. “She talks to me, in my—head.” He tried to stop that last word, but it got away from him.
“Pardon me?” Grand lowered the steward’s horn to his waist.
“Yeah. I, um,” Nick swallowed. “I can hear her—she talks to me in my head. Something about peril and intent and, you know, stuff.”
“That is unheard of, Nikolas,” Grand said. “Huron speaks to her steward only through the horn. She has never spoken directly to the steward.”
Nick looked around the forest clearing. You could cut the awkwardness with a chainsaw. Even Xanthus stopped taking notes.
“She doesn’t really, like, talk with me,” said Nick. “Just a sentence. Two sentences.”
Grand put the gramophone on the ground and stood full length. “Very well, Nikolas. What were her words to you?”
“Well, um . . .” Nick looked around. He could hear pressers still sucking up their cargo, but now offbeat. Each press seemed to meter out doubt from the onlookers.
“The—the Rones lie about their true intent. They enter the city of Huron at the peril of us all.”
“The Rones?” Grand raised both fists to his hips. “Are you sure, Nikolas?”
“Yeah,” said Nick. “Why?”
“That,” Grand said, “that would contradict our entire quest?”
“I don’t know. I can’t help it,” Nick’s tone grew defensive. “The voice just keeps saying the Rones are lying to everyone.”
“What’s a Rone?” Brandy leaned to Xanthus.
“Don’t know. I’ve never heard of them,” Xanthus said.
Grand’s green eyes investigated him. Nick could almost hear the unhinging of his own