student of … something or other.”
“How do we find it?” Danny asked.
“It is a Kingdom of Unreliable Location,” Devoy said, “and therefore moves from mountain range to mountain range. At the moment it is in the Carpathians, but we expect it to move soon. We’ll keep you informed.
“Now, that is enough for the time being. We will have more detailed instructions for you in the following days. In the meantime, I hope I do not have to tell you not to speak of this to anyone.”
Danny stared at the dark buildings of Morne. Part of him feared its stone walls and high narrow windows; part of him longed to learn its secrets. Vandra had to pull him away.
* * *
T hat day the Unknown Spy had been allowed back into his room for the first time since the murder. Valant had cleaned it thoroughly, but it wasn’t the same. The spy sat behind his desk in the darkness. He had forgotten many things, but he had not forgotten his wife’s face. He sat there until darkness fell, his eyes unseeing. He had often sat like this, feeling that there was a great secret just out of grasp, if he could only reach back into his memory. Now there was nothing but his sorrow.
He heard a careful click. He had not forgotten the sound of a lock being picked and stealthy feet entering a room. He reached for the drawer where he kept his revolver, but when it slid silently open he felt in vain in the empty space. Valant had removed it. A voice spoke in the darkness, a high-pitched, hissing voice—he could not tell if it was male or female.
“You do not need your pistol; I do not intend to harm you.”
“Who are you?” the Unknown Spy said. His voice was calm. He had been in a thousand dangerous situations in his career.
“That is of no consequence. I have information for you about the death of your wife.”
“What information?” The Unknown Spy’s voice was cold. Was the creature in the dark responsible for his wife’s murder?
“I did not kill her, but I can identify the killer for you.”
“Why would you do that?” There was a curious whining sound in the darkness—his intruder was laughing.
“A belief in justice, perhaps?”
“I don’t think so.”
“No. You are right. A belief in revenge, then.” The wheezing laugh had stopped.
“Let me have my revenge. Tell me,” the Unknown Spy cried, “and then leave me to it!”
“Very well,” the voice said. “The boy with the wings, the Messenger Les Knutt, killed your wife.”
There was a shuffling sound in the unlit room. The door clicked again. The Unknown Spy was alone in the darkness.
“W ow,” Vandra said, “easy!”
“Yes,” Danny said, “get into a kingdom that moves about without warning, steal the Treaty Stone while pretending to be students and get out alive, presumably chased by the kingdom’s army. Dead easy.”
“Lay off the snarky tone,” Dixie said.
“Sorry,” Danny said, looking contrite. “Every time I meet Brunholm he puts my teeth on edge.”
“I can’t wait to see the Upper World,” Dixie said excitedly, disappearing and reappearing in the corridor ten feet ahead of them.
“Hey,” Danny said, pointing out the window. They were looking down onto a hidden inner courtyard that was rarely used and only visible from that window. Four elderly Messengers stood in the courtyard. The winged Messengers had flown between the Two Worlds carrying information before war had broken out. Once the treatyhad been signed and the Two Worlds divided, the Messengers were no longer needed. Some had gone over to the enemy and had become the Seraphim. The others had fled to Wilsons, and rather than face the fact that they were no longer needed, they had decided to treat their old life as something to be ashamed of. So much so that unless it was absolutely necessary, they never flew; flying was regarded as vulgar and their wings as burdensome.
“How come Les is the only young Messenger?” Dixie asked, the thought suddenly popping into her
“How do we find it?” Danny asked.
“It is a Kingdom of Unreliable Location,” Devoy said, “and therefore moves from mountain range to mountain range. At the moment it is in the Carpathians, but we expect it to move soon. We’ll keep you informed.
“Now, that is enough for the time being. We will have more detailed instructions for you in the following days. In the meantime, I hope I do not have to tell you not to speak of this to anyone.”
Danny stared at the dark buildings of Morne. Part of him feared its stone walls and high narrow windows; part of him longed to learn its secrets. Vandra had to pull him away.
* * *
T hat day the Unknown Spy had been allowed back into his room for the first time since the murder. Valant had cleaned it thoroughly, but it wasn’t the same. The spy sat behind his desk in the darkness. He had forgotten many things, but he had not forgotten his wife’s face. He sat there until darkness fell, his eyes unseeing. He had often sat like this, feeling that there was a great secret just out of grasp, if he could only reach back into his memory. Now there was nothing but his sorrow.
He heard a careful click. He had not forgotten the sound of a lock being picked and stealthy feet entering a room. He reached for the drawer where he kept his revolver, but when it slid silently open he felt in vain in the empty space. Valant had removed it. A voice spoke in the darkness, a high-pitched, hissing voice—he could not tell if it was male or female.
“You do not need your pistol; I do not intend to harm you.”
“Who are you?” the Unknown Spy said. His voice was calm. He had been in a thousand dangerous situations in his career.
“That is of no consequence. I have information for you about the death of your wife.”
“What information?” The Unknown Spy’s voice was cold. Was the creature in the dark responsible for his wife’s murder?
“I did not kill her, but I can identify the killer for you.”
“Why would you do that?” There was a curious whining sound in the darkness—his intruder was laughing.
“A belief in justice, perhaps?”
“I don’t think so.”
“No. You are right. A belief in revenge, then.” The wheezing laugh had stopped.
“Let me have my revenge. Tell me,” the Unknown Spy cried, “and then leave me to it!”
“Very well,” the voice said. “The boy with the wings, the Messenger Les Knutt, killed your wife.”
There was a shuffling sound in the unlit room. The door clicked again. The Unknown Spy was alone in the darkness.
“W ow,” Vandra said, “easy!”
“Yes,” Danny said, “get into a kingdom that moves about without warning, steal the Treaty Stone while pretending to be students and get out alive, presumably chased by the kingdom’s army. Dead easy.”
“Lay off the snarky tone,” Dixie said.
“Sorry,” Danny said, looking contrite. “Every time I meet Brunholm he puts my teeth on edge.”
“I can’t wait to see the Upper World,” Dixie said excitedly, disappearing and reappearing in the corridor ten feet ahead of them.
“Hey,” Danny said, pointing out the window. They were looking down onto a hidden inner courtyard that was rarely used and only visible from that window. Four elderly Messengers stood in the courtyard. The winged Messengers had flown between the Two Worlds carrying information before war had broken out. Once the treatyhad been signed and the Two Worlds divided, the Messengers were no longer needed. Some had gone over to the enemy and had become the Seraphim. The others had fled to Wilsons, and rather than face the fact that they were no longer needed, they had decided to treat their old life as something to be ashamed of. So much so that unless it was absolutely necessary, they never flew; flying was regarded as vulgar and their wings as burdensome.
“How come Les is the only young Messenger?” Dixie asked, the thought suddenly popping into her
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