Keeper of the Lost Cities (7 page)

“Because it’s never happened before.”

The warm, bright room felt suddenly colder. “Never?”

“No.”

It was a tiny word, but the implications it carried were huge.

Why was she living with humans?

Before she could ask, Alden swept back into the room. “Sophie, why
don’t you come with me, and we’ll get you something else to wear.
You’d better change too, Fitz.”

Sophie hesitated. She should probably make them take her home. Her parents
had to know by now that she’d ditched school.

Then again, she was already in trouble—might as well stall the punishment
as long as possible. Plus, she wasn’t ready to go home yet. She needed more
answers.

“Where are we going?” she asked as she followed Alden out of
the room.

Alden smiled. “How would you like to see Atlantis?”

T
HIS
IS ATLANTIS?” SOPHIE COULDN’T
quite hide her disappointment.

They were in the middle of nowhere, on a patch of dark rocks surrounded by white-capped waves. The only signs of life were a few seagulls, and all they did was screech and poop. It was hardly the lost continent she’d expected.

“This is how we get to Atlantis,” Alden corrected as he stepped across a tide pool toward a triangular rock. “Atlantis is underneath us, where light doesn’t reach. We can’t leap there.”

It was hard not to slip on the slick rocks as she followed Fitz, especially in the red shoes Alden insisted she wear to match the long gown. She’d begged to wear pants, but apparently it was a sign of status for a girl to wear a gown, especially in Atlantis, which Alden explained was a
noble city
, which meant members of the nobility had offices there. The empire waist and beaded neckline of her dress made her feel like she was wearing a costume.

It was even stranger seeing Fitz in elvin clothes: a long blue tunic with elaborate embroidery around the edges and slender pockets sewn into the sleeves—the exact same size as his pathfinder. Black pants with pockets at the ankles—so he didn’t have to sit on the stuff he carried, he’d explained—and black boots completed the look. No sign of tights or pointy shoes—thankfully—but he looked more like an elf
now, which made everything more real.

A rock moved under her foot and she fell into Fitz’s arms. “Sorry,” she whispered, knowing her face was as red as her dress.

Fitz shrugged. “I’m used to it. My sister, Biana, is clumsy too.”

She wasn’t sure she liked that comparison. “So, Atlantis really sank?” she asked, changing the subject as she followed him to a ledge high above the water.

“The Ancients engineered the catastrophe,” Alden answered. He opened a secret compartment in the side of the strange rock, revealing hundreds of tiny glass bottles, grabbed one, and joined them on the ledge. “How else would humans think we disappeared?”

Sophie glanced at the label on the bottle.
ONE WHIRLPOOL. OPEN WITH CARE.

“Step back.” Alden uncorked the top and flung the bottle into the ocean. A huge blast of wind whipped against their faces, and the roar of churning water filled the air.

“Ladies first,” Alden shouted, pointing to the edge.

“I’m sorry—
what
?”

“Maybe you should go first, Dad,” Fitz suggested.

Alden nodded, gave a quick wave, and jumped. Sophie screamed.

Fitz laughed beside her. “Your turn.” He dragged her toward the edge.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” she begged as she tried—and failed—to pull away.

“It looks worse than it is,” he promised.

She gulped, staring at the maelstrom swirling beneath her. Cold, salty water sprayed her face. “You seriously expect me to jump?”

“I can push you if you’d prefer.”

“Don’t even think about it!”

“Better jump then. I’ll give you to the count of five.” He stepped toward her. “One.”

“Okay, okay.” She wanted to keep what little dignity she had left.

She took a slow, deep breath, closed her eyes, and stepped off the edge, screaming the whole way down. It took her a second to realize she wasn’t drowning, and another after that to stop flailing around like an idiot. She opened her eyes and gasped.

The whirlpool formed a tunnel of air, dipping and weaving through the dark water like the craziest waterslide ever. She was actually starting to enjoy the ride when she launched out of the vortex onto an enormous sponge. It felt like being licked from head to toe by a pack of kittens—minus the kitten breath—and then the sponge sprang back, leaving her standing on a giant cushion.

Her hands froze as she smoothed her dress. “I’m not wet.”

“The sponge absorbs the water when you land
.
Incoming!” Alden yanked her out of the way as Fitz rocketed onto the sponge, right where she’d been standing.

She jumped off the sponge to the slightly squishy ground. It felt like packed wet sand.

“Now,
this
is Atlantis.” Alden gestured to the gleaming metropolis ahead of them.

Sophie’s eyes felt like they had to stretch to take it all in. The city was wrapped in a dome of air, which faded into the ocean beyond. Twisted crystal towers soared into the skyline, bathing the silver city in the soft blue glow radiating from their pointed spires. The buildings lined an intricate network of canals, interconnected by arched bridges. It reminded her of pictures she’d seen of Venice, but everything was sleek and modern and clean. Despite being at the bottom of the ocean, the air was crisp and fresh. The only clue that they were underwater was a muted hum in the background, like the sound she’d heard when she put a seashell to her ear.

“You guys build with crystal a lot,” Sophie observed as she followed Alden into the city.

Alden smiled. “Crystal stores the energy we use to power everything, and it’s cut to let precisely the right amount of light in. Of course, we had to make some changes when we moved Atlantis underwater. We plated the buildings with silver so they’d reflect the firelight we created in the spires and help illuminate the city.”

“Why did you sink Atlantis, and not the other cities?”

“We built Atlantis for humans. That’s why you know the real name of the city. A long time ago humans walked these very streets.”

Sophie looked around. Elves wandered the shops looking young and elegant. The men wore heavy velvet capes, like they belonged at a Renaissance fair, and some of the women’s gowns shifted color as they moved. Signs advertised two-for-one specials on bottled lightning or fast approval on Spyball applications. A child strolled past with some sort of hybrid chicken-lizard on a leash. No wonder humans invented crazy myths after the elves disappeared.

They reached the main canal, and Alden hailed one of the carriages floating along the water—a silver, almond-shaped boat with two rows of high-backed benches. A driver in an elbow-length green cape steered from the front bench, drawing the reins of some sort of brown creature skimming the surface of the waves.

Sophie shrieked as the eight-foot-long scorpion with deadly pincers reared against the reins. Its tail curled up, looking ready to sting. “What is that thing?”

“An eurypterid,” Alden explained. “A sea scorpion.”

“You’re not afraid, are you?” Fitz asked.

She moved farther away.

“What is it with girls?” Fitz leaned down and stroked the shiny brown shell along the eurypterid’s back. Sophie waited for the pincers to slice him in half, but the creature held still, emitting a low hissing sound, like it enjoyed being petted. “See? Harmless.”

Fitz jumped into the carriage.

Alden followed, holding the door open for her. “Quinlin’s waiting, Sophie. It’s time to find out what’s in that impenetrable mind of yours.”

E
VERY FIBER OF SOPHIE’S BEING WANTED
to run far, far away from the mutant insect of doom, especially since it would take her to get
probed
. But she gritted her teeth and ran into the carriage, pressing her back against the bench to be as far as possible from the hideous sea scorpion.

“Where to?” the driver asked Alden with a laugh.

“Quinlin Sonden’s office, please.”

The driver shook the reins, and the giant scorpion thrashed its tail against the water, pulling them along.

“So who is this Quinlin guy anyway?” Sophie asked.

Alden smiled. “He’s the best probe I know. If anyone can slip into your brain, it’s him.”

Something about the words “slip in” gave her the heebie-jeebies. She tried to think about something else to stay calm. “Why does he work down here?” Atlantis wasn’t a bad place, but she imagined the commute would get annoying after a while.

“Atlantis is our most secure city. Anyone and anything that needs added protection is here. Including your file.”

“I have a file
?”

“A highly classified one.”

“What’s in it?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Alden shook his head and pointed to the driver. She’d have to wait till they were alone.

The carriage entered some sort of business district. The streets were packed with elves, all in long black capes, and the silver buildings stood taller than the others, with round windows tracing down the sides and glowing signs bearing their names.
TREASURY. REGISTRY. INTERSPECIESIAL SERVICES.
But half the signs were unreadable.

“What’s with the random strings of letters?” she asked, pointing to a building with gibberish for a sign.

Alden tried to follow her gaze. “The runes?”

“Is that what these are?” She held out her wrist, running her fingers along the nonsense writing on the nexus.

Alden nodded. “That’s our ancient alphabet.”

“You can’t read it?” Fitz sounded more surprised than she would have liked. Being the clueless one was getting old—fast.

Alden stroked his chin. “But you can tell they’re letters?”

“Yeah, but it’s just a big jumble. Is that going to be a problem for school?” She held her breath. What would the other kids think if she couldn’t even
read
?

“Nah, it’s rarely used,” Fitz said, and she could breathe again. “Only when they want to be fancy or something.”

She hesitated, hating that she had to ask her next question again
.
“Is it wrong that I can’t read them?”

“Reading should be instinctive,” Alden admitted. “But maybe your human education affected you somehow. We’ve never had anyone with your upbringing, so it’s hard to say.”

There was that word again. “Upbringing.” This giant gap between her and everyone else.

How was she ever supposed to fit in if she was the only kid who went home to her human parents every night? But what other option did she have? No way her parents would let her move here. They wouldn’t even let her move across the country to go to college.

“How—” she started to ask, but Alden cut her off.

“No reason to worry, Sophie. I’m sure we’ll figure it out with further testing.”

That wasn’t what she was going to ask, but the idea of more weird elf tests made her forget her other problems. She hoped she’d get through the next one without dropping a member of the Council.

They turned down a narrow, quiet canal lined with purple trees with thick, broad leaves like kelp. The water dead-ended at a single silver building, a square tower with no windows or ornamentation, other than a small sign with precise white letters that read:
QUINLIN SONDEN: CHIEF MENTALIST.
All signs of life had vanished, and the small black door was closed tight. But the sea scorpion slowed to a stop, and Alden took a small green cube from his pocket. The driver swiped it across the cuff above his elbow and handed it back to Alden after it made a tiny
ping
.

Sophie’s legs wobbled as she followed Alden toward the door. Despite Fitz’s earlier assurances, she couldn’t help wondering if the probe would hurt. Or worse—what humiliating memories Quinlin would find.

Alden bypassed the receptionist in the dim foyer and headed to the only office in back. The small square room smelled damp, and half the space was filled with a massive stone desk. A tall, dark-skinned elf with chin-length black hair jumped from his seat and gave an elegant bow.

“Please, there’s no need for ceremony, my friend,” Alden said with a wink.

“Of course.” Quinlin’s gaze settled on Sophie. “Brown eyes?”

“Definitely unique,” Alden agreed.

“That’s an understatement.” He stared at Sophie long enough to make her squirm. “You really found her—after all these years?”

And they still hadn’t explained why they’d been looking for her.

“You tell me,” Alden told Quinlin. “Do you have her file?”

“Right here.” Quinlin held up a small silver square before handing it to Sophie.

“You lick it,” Fitz explained. “They need your DNA.”

She tried not to think about how unsanitary that was as she gave the square the tiniest lick. The metal grew warm, and Sophie nearly dropped it when a hologram flashed out of the center: two strands of DNA—rotating in the air with an unearthly glow. The word
MATCH
flashed across them in bright green.

It took Sophie a second to realize she’d stopped breathing.

She was a
match
. She really did belong.

“So this is why Prentice sacrificed everything,” Quinlin breathed, staring at the glowing double helixes as though seeing a long-lost child.

Prentice?
Was that a name?

And what did he sacrifice?

Alden answered before she could ask. “He definitely had his reasons. You’ll see when you try the probe.”

Sophie jumped as Alden squeezed her shoulders. He probably meant to reassure her, but it didn’t help as Quinlin reached toward her.

“It’s no big deal, Sophie,” Fitz promised.

“I’ll be done in less than a minute,” Quinlin added.

She swallowed her fears and nodded.

Two cold, slender fingers pressed against her temples, and Quinlin closed his eyes. Sophie counted the seconds as they ticked by. Two hundred seventy-eight passed before he pulled away—so much for less than a minute.