“Uh, yes. I do. I’d like to see Phlix. Do you know where she is?”
“Her lodgings are in Victory. Would you like me to escort you there?”
“Oh, you know . . . that’s okay . . . maybe you can just point me in the right direction?”
He frowns. “I have to follow you anyway.”
“Well then, please lead the way.”
He steps aside, gesturing for me to precede him down a grand corridor. Floating orbs illuminate ribbed ceilings and etched columns. It’s clear when he indicates an overup concealed behind an arched doorframe that it will take me more than just a few days to figure this place out.
Once inside the elevatorlike compartment, he waves his hand over holographic buttons. The door closes. The silence in the lift is deafening. I stare at the door. He stares at the door. We stare at the door. Seconds drag by.
I mutter, “I’m sorry I had to tranquilize you—before—on the Ship of Skye. I needed to get away.”
“You think you’re very smart.” It’s not a question.
“No,” I disagree. “I think sometimes I’m very desperate.”
“Kyon’s not the monster that everyone thinks he is.”
“Yes. He is. He’s just not that way to you or me.”
The door opens. I leave the overup and find that we’re at the top of the tower. A short corridor takes us to a copper-and-green-patina, bell-shaped door. “Is this it?” I ask. Keenan nods. I raise my hand to knock on it when it’s torn open and I’m engulfed in a huge Phlix hug. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Keenan has raised his freston, maybe with the thought that I might be in danger. I raise my hand to stay him. He lowers his weapon without Phlix ever noticing because her face is turned away from him.
“I was so worried about you,” Phlix says, her cheek on my shoulder. “Are you well?”
I nod and cast my eyes upward; it helps me not to cry. I’m not used to this kind of heartfelt welcome. Phlix bounces back from me with the exuberance of a puppy and hauls me over the threshold and into a bell-shaped room with her hand in mine. Curved ceilings of tarnished green and copper bleed into ochre-colored walls. Everywhere black furniture accented with amber- and bronze-colored pillows give her sitting room an elegant-cave appearance. The sun shines through a window-wall on the far side of the room. With the glass partially open, the cool, mountain air enters in soft soughs.
“How are you?” I ask.
“I’m Pike-free at the moment, so life couldn’t be better.”
“Liberating?”
“To the extreme. I haven’t had to hide once this rotation. It’s been unreal.”
“We need to talk,” I whisper without looking over my shoulder at Keenan. “Privately.”
She smiles brightly and links her arm with mine. “Can I show you my view of the Doedash Mountains?” She bounces with enthusiasm.
“I’d like that.”
She takes me out onto the balcony, leaving Keenan in the sitting room. We’re in one of the tallest towers of the estate. The graphite-colored slate roof comes down to meet the terrace. The view is incredible. The terrace runs all the way around the tower, just below the eave of the peaked roofline. A large, red, pennant-shaped flag flies atop the spire. It’s a dragon emerging from a rune. Just beneath the pennant is a mounted gun. It whirls and tracks all the nearby aircraft that it detects on the other side of the dome shield covering the estate. It reminds me that we’re really not as safe as I’d like to believe.
I glance into the interior of Phlix’s apartment. Keenan is nearby, watching us through the glass. Taking Phlix’s arm, I begin to stroll along the round track of gray stone that circles the tower. “We need more privacy. Can you shadow us?” I ask as I place my hand on the wrought-iron railing, running my palm over it as we walk. I lift my hand every time it comes upon a dragon-headed newel.
She doesn’t respond for a moment, but closes her kohl-lined eyes and concentrates. Opening them, her blue eyes sparkle as she turns to smile at me. “There. We are no longer visible to anyone. We’re in my shadow land. No one can hear us.”
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“I am.”
“Good. How long can you keep this up?”
“My shadow land?” she asks.
I nod.
“The longest I’ve gone is a part and a half, but it left me unable to function well for an entire rotation afterward. It works best for a half a part.”
An hour and a half at most—that’s not as much time as I’d hoped. I lift my chin. “You said you could get things—things we need.”
“I’m good at getting things. My gift of obscurity makes it ridiculously easy.”
“That’s perfect. We have to collect everything we need for the journey to Earth.”
“So, we’re still leaving,” she says, her shoulders round in relief.
“Yes. We’re leaving. It will be really dangerous, though. I’ll be hunted. If you’re with me, you’ll be hunted too. If you don’t think you can handle it, tell me now and I’ll come up with a different plan that doesn’t include you.”
“I’ll handle it. I want out too, maybe more than you.”
“Why?” I ask.
“I’ve never been free. This little time I’ve spent here is the freest I’ve ever been and you seem to think it’s a prison. I want to know what it’s like to really be free—to answer to nothing and no one.”
“I can give you that”—I lean my head to the side—“sort of. Earth has its own rules. It’s not easy there either.”
“Nothing worth having is easy,” she replies.
“So you’re in?”
“I’m in.”
“Let’s brainstorm then. What do we need?” I ask myself, thinking of traversing the Forest of Omnicron and all that that entails. “We need a way to travel without detection. Everyone will be looking for us.”
“Every vehicle I know of has a heat signature. They’re easy to track.”
“Think of something that has the smallest heat signature.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Keenan walks out onto the terrace and looks around with mild concern. “A flipcart,” Phlix murmurs. “They leave almost no trail. I can get them easily.”
“Can you teach me how to ride one?”
She smiles. “You mean you haven’t ridden a flipcart?”
“I know. Shocking.”
“Kricket,” Keenan calls out, turning in circles on the balcony, looking for me. I ignore him.
I tell Phlix, “We need food that we can carry, some medical supplies, water, one outfit—versatile—shoes that we can run in, not these torture devices.” I lift my skirt hem up to show her the intricate footwear that makes me have to almost point my toes.
“They’re so lovely, though,” she says. “Are they Gurtrone?”
“I—who cares?” I reply. “We each need one of those things that Strikers use to breathe underwater.” I mime shoving a breathing apparatus in my mouth. “Something that will help us survive the portal to Earth.”
Her forehead furrows in concentration. “You want a tankoid?”