Bad Apple (The Warner Grimoire) (32 page)

“I don’t think so,” Simon said. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? There’s old rivalries there, and Boeman preys on anger.”

“It’s unlikely,” Penny said sharply.

Simon tugged on his socks. “Well, I don’t have anything else.”

They stared at each other, a long moment dying between them under the moon. Her eyes were watery emeralds.

“I’m too young to have an escort,” she said abruptly.

“Huh?”

“You have to be eighteen to have an escort.” She stood. “A
date
,” she added, crossing her arms firmly.

Simon squirmed, his feet squishing in his socks as he stood. “What? I--No, I didn’t--”

“Don’t worry,” she added quickly. Her blush was volcanic even at night. “I think I know how we can still get you in.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE MASQUERADE

Simon stood in the bushes, tugging at the starched servant’s shirt. “Are you sure about this?”

“It’s the best I got.” Penny said. She was wearing a blue dress and a small mask with pointed ears. It was painted to resemble a cat, and delicate silver whiskers shined as she helped him through the window. “It’s either do this or sneak around without being seen. At least this way people will actively ignore you.” She fidgeted with her dress again. Her mask kept trying to fall off. “Just don’t look anyone in the eye for too long.” She straightened her dress one final time. “The Majesties will be too busy watching out for each other, so odds are you won’t turn any heads.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, I have to go find my father and Jo. The kitchen is through the last door on the left.” He nodded, and she disappeared down the hall and into the crowd of people.

Simon made his way to the kitchen. Other uniformed people hurried in and out of the swinging doors, most of them carrying large trays piled high with all kinds of food. Simon could identify most of what he saw, but some servants carried oddities--a young man not much older than Simon hurried by with a large tray of raw steaks. “For the wolves,” he said as he disappeared through another door. “Take the Bottled Sandstorm out to the Majesties from the Frontier Order?” he asked before going completely out of sight.

Simon grabbed an empty tray and made his way out into the dining room, his eyes constantly darting through the crowd, not even sure what or who to look for. The room was almost unrecognizable--it had been completely transformed from a rustic decor to that of a stately ballroom. Only the buffalo head gave any clue of how the room had looked the day before. Under the buffalo head, the Verde sisters were moving excitedly through the crowd, completely identifiable despite their masks. All around him people moved, almost all in masks. The man from the flying wheel was making his way systematically through the crowd, his silver automaton following him, clumsily mimicking his master as much as he could. On the other side of the room, the cowboy leaned against a pillar and stared menacingly at anyone who came his way. Near the fireplace was a luxurious woman dressed in resplendent golds and greens which almost glowed against her caramel skin. She spoke to Junior Councilman Churl, who seemed both captivated and unnerved by her attention. He nodded rapidly, trying to back away from her, but the woman kept moving in, closer and closer, never letting him escape as her eyes glowed a honey golden color. He was clearly uncomfortable, and Simon
almost
felt bad for him.

“Simon!” a loud and bombastic voice boomed behind him. “I say my boy, by the blue stars themselves! Is that you, lad?”

Simon spun around to see an older man emerging from the crowd--Simon recognized him by the fluttering white mustache as he approached. “I say, it is you!” Hannibal was not even bothering with a mask, and his wild hair swayed as he talked. “I can’t believe we’re running into each other again so soon. I say, have you heard the Archmancer is missing? Either that or he simply
opted
to forgo his
obligation
to the Freemancers and the Seven Orders at large!” Hannibal spoke louder than necessary, obviously wanting to be overheard.

“Good evening Mr. Hewn,” Simon said, lowering his head, trying to direct the old man to a whisper.

“Now now, my boy, it’s
Hannibal
to you!” the man shouted, slapping Simon hard on the back. His voice boomed off everyone around them. “Tell me, what has become of your traveling companion, the young Tamerlane fellow?”

“I--he...he’s around, somewhere.” Simon kept his voice down, not wanting to draw any more attention to them. “We’re--I mean I’m--I’m here to, to...” Simon realized he did not have any kind of real explanation for himself, let alone why he was wearing servant’s clothing. He could only say one thing with any certainty. “I’m working.”

“That I can see!” Hannibal said, laughing. “The question here is, why? Certainly, I expected if you’re here under the auspices of the great Tamerlane family they would do better than to put you to work!” His voice was sour with indignation. “It was that Alan Tamerlane put you up to this, wasn’t it? Why is it I am
never
surprised by the depths that man will plunge his...
amorality
towards the basic tenets of decorum!” He eyed the crowd, who had all utterly failed to notice his outburst.

“Mr. Hewn, please, I’m here by myself. I
want
to be.” Simon held the tray close to his head to hide his face. “Nathan doesn’t know I’m here.”

“That so?” Hannibal puffed out his chest. “I’m proud of you, my boy! Wanting to earn your way! Nathan must be proud of you, too, to have such an industrious young apprentice.”

“I’m
not
his apprentice.” Simon was starting to grow frantic. A few guests had paused their conversation to look their way, whispering to themselves without breaking eye contact on Simon and the old man. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Hannibal, is that you?” Kate broke through the crowd. She was wearing a dark blue dress with a matching mask with detail work in gold. It made Simon think of an owl. “I knew I heard you thundering over all this commotion.” She glanced at Simon and smiled. “We’re good, young man. Thank you. It looks like you need to head back to the kitchen anyway to fill your tray,” she added, winking at Simon.

Simon leapt at the opportunity. “Yes, ma’am,” he offered quietly, backing away. In his haste to escape he bumped into a sticky man, who was very tall, and very green. He appeared to be made out of slime and muck, and smelled like a swamp. The creature stared at Simon with its large, yellow eyes until Simon backed away, this time slower, and looking over his shoulder to see where he was going.

Kate led Hannibal into the crowd. Before she disappeared, she looked over her shoulder at Simon. “Nathan?” he mouthed at her. Her smiled faded and she shook her head. Simon’s heart fell.

He made his way further into the crowd. He slid past the woman in golds and greens, and she stared at him as he brushed past her. He did his best to make his way to the fireplace, hoping to overhear any mention of the Archmancer and where he was. If Boeman had any accomplice at the Masquerade, Simon figured it would be him.

Then he saw Sam.

For a moment Simon swore his eyes were simply playing a cruel trick--but it was Sam. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, looking right at Simon. He stayed only a moment, then he slipped through the door and was gone.

“Sam!” Simon handed the plate to the cowboy and began to shove his way through the crowd, barreling past a startled Junior Officer Churl into the kitchen. Sam was nowhere to be found, but the back door was open. Simon hurriedly stripped off his servant’s apron and made his way through the commotion of the kitchen, hoping against everything to catch Sam before he was gone for good.

He burst through the door. Up ahead a figure was moving quickly, heading straight towards the gardens. Simon bolted down the stairs, rushing down the path until he reached the garden, where Sam stood, silhouetted by the moonlight.

“Sam?” Simon stood next to the butterfly bushes, as still as one of the statues. He could not believe his eyes. “How?”

Sam turned around. “Hey, Simon.”

“How did you get away?” Simon asked. “Boeman--”

“It wasn’t easy,” he said. “Fellis was keeping me locked up, somewhere dark and deep. I only made it out tonight.”

“Where has he been keeping you?”

Sam’s face darkened. “Under the manor. There are caves. He and Archmancer Sterling have been keeping me under there.”

“The Archmancer?” Simon said. “So he is the one working with Boeman.”

“Yes,” Sam spoke slowly. “The two of them are trying to take over. The Archmancer is power hungry. Silverwood isn’t enough for him.” Sam’s hands shook while he talked. “You can help, Simon.” His shoulders slumped. “I need you to come with me.”

“Where?” Simon asked.

“Not far,” Sam said. “We need to go, now. If we hurry we can disrupt what they’re doing. Simon,
please
. Come with me.”

Simon felt sick to his stomach. “We’re going to stop them?”

“Yes,” Sam said, his voice growing impatient. “That is what I am
trying
to tell you. Now come with me,” he said, and then Simon saw it--a flash of green in his eyes.

Green.

“I can get help,” Simon said, trying to stall. “I’ve made friends, I can get them, we can go together--”

“No!” Sam shouted. His hands were shaking worse than before. “No. Simon...we don’t have time, and Fellis is dangerous. He and the Archmancer are dangerous. You don’t want to get your friends hurt, do you?”

Simon was struck silent. “No,” he said, his stomach beginning to churn. “We can go alone.”

“Good,” Sam said. “We need to hurry.”

“What are they doing?” Simon said, trying to keep them in the garden. “What are they trying to do?”

“Sacrifice,” Sam said coldly. “Nothing’s ever free, Simon. I’m sure you’ve learned that by now. Great power demands even greater sacrifice, and Fellis seeks to unleash that power, channel it for his master.”

“Darrow?” Simon said quietly.

“Yes,” Sam whispered. “There are forces beyond the Moat that want
to return
. They have anointed their acolyte--Darrow--to open the way. In return for this they offer power, as they have offered before, countless times. Power beyond what you could ever expect. This is what Darrow seeks, what drives his every action, every thought. Tonight is the night he will sacrifice
everything
he can for that power. All of Silverwood, gone in an instant, and he will bring a horror into this world that hasn’t been seen since the days of the First Secrets. Then, his war will begin.”

“How can we even stop them?”

“Are you doubting me?” Sam snapped.

“I didn’t mean that,” Simon said quickly. “Just, you’ve been locked up, they’ve been hurting you--”

“Quiet!” Sam snapped again. “Don’t you dare
ever
doubt me, Simon Theodore Warner. Don’t you dare.”

“I--” Simon swallowed, his stomach, twisting in knots. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“We need to get going.” Sam moved across the garden. “Follow me, Simon. Now.”

Simon tentatively followed Sam across the garden. “Wait,” he said. “We’re moving away from the manor. Isn’t that where we need to be heading?”

Sam ignored him, moving quickly off the path into the nearby trees, barely slowing down as he smacked through the branches. Simon reluctantly followed. As they approached the tree line, a whisper broke through the silence. “Simon!” the whisper said. “Simon! What
are
you doing?”

Simon glanced over his shoulder. Penny leaned out from behind a butterfly bush. “Hey!” she hissed. “Where are you going?”

“It’s him,” Simon whispered. “It’s Sam.”

Penny’s eyes widened. “What?”

“He’s been here the whole time.” He snuck back towards the garden. “He’s been trapped. Boeman and Sterling have been keeping him under the house.”

“In the caves?” Penny shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. Those have been sealed off for a hundred years or more. No one ever goes down there.”

Simon scanned the tree line. Sam’s figure was moving slowly into the dark. “I’m worried something has happened to him.”

“Do you think he’s a thrall?”

“I don’t want to believe that,” Simon said. “I want to believe he escaped.”

“Or they let him go! Simon,
please
. I’ll go and get help. I can get Kate and they’ll
have
to let Nathan go if Sam really is out here. He can prove Nathan didn’t take him.”