The Grimjinx Rebellion Read online

Callie eyed my family cautiously. Ma and Da gave the sofa a pat, inviting her to sit next to them.

  Callie joined my parents and blew her nose on a handkerchief. “It started this morning. Every day, as part of my magical studies, I have to read several history books and report back to Talian on what I learned.”

  She pointed to a very old leather book on the table. The cover said A History of Seers in green-tarnished copper letters. “I was reading about the history of prognostication in the Five Provinces. The book says that seers are very rare, only a handful are born every generation. Even still, they all share some unique traits. For example, all seers have green eyes. And all seers are left-handed. And . . . and . . . all seers are silent for the first ten years of their lives.”

  The room fell quiet but for the ticking of the nearby clock. Ma and Da joined hands and I knew we were all thinking the same thing. Aubrin had green eyes. Aubrin was left-handed. And Aubrin . . .

  “No,” Ma said quietly. Her lips pulled back into a pained smile. “No.”

  By now, Callie was sobbing again. “And . . . and I just casually mentioned to Talian that Aubrin had only started speaking about eight months ago. And that none of you knew why she had been silent for ten years . . .”

  Da was on his feet, pacing behind the sofa and breathing heavily. Ma wrung her hands. All this nervous activity got to Callie and she started wailing.

  “I’m so sorry!” she said. “I didn’t realize this would happen. As soon as I told Talian, he contacted the Palatinate Lordcourt. I ran as fast as I could to tell you. I didn’t know they’d come so quickly.”

  “Way to go, Strom,” Maloch barked. “You’d turn in your own uncle, wouldn’t you?”

  Callie shot him a hate-filled look but didn’t say a word.

  I stared straight ahead, letting it all sink in. This had nothing to do with my investigation into the Uprisings and the Palatinate. This was about . . . my sister? A seer? She was a lot of things. A con artist. A pickpocket. But a seer? How could I not have known that?

  It seemed obvious now. The night before, when she’d tried to warn me about the widow Bellatin. And when she’d known Kolo’s last words to me.

  The Dowager wandered over to the glass cabinet again, her back to the room. I could have sworn she was trying not to look at us.

  A pair of twin doors leading into the study slid open. Talian stepped through, hands folded at his waist.

  “I apologize for the delay,” Talian said softly, sharing a humble smile with everyone. “I needed to contact the Lordcourt.”

  Talian had changed since he’d helped me and Callie thwart Edilman Jaxter and fend off the balanx attack in Vengekeep. He looked thinner, his scarlet-and-black robes clinging to his lithe frame. And he seemed much older than twenty. In these past few months, he’d become so reserved, so measured . . .

  So adult. It was frightening.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Grimjinx,” Talian said, “I must apologize. I’m sure this was incredibly stressful. Please let me assure you the Palatinate doesn’t make a practice of seizing children from their parents without any warning.”

  Da exhaled loudly, expelling enough air that he almost doubled over. Ma blinked twice and her smile widened. “I knew this was a mistake,” she said. “Thank you, Talian. Yes, we’ve had quite a scare. But if you can just see that Aubrin is brought back to us safely, we’ll say ‘No harm, no foul’ about the whole matter.”

  Ma and Da stood as if to leave. But Talian made no move to see them to the door.

  The mage frowned. “I’m afraid I haven’t made myself clear. We apologize for the abrupt way your daughter was taken. But—”

  “She won’t be returning to Vengekeep.”

  At the sound of this new voice, we all turned to the open study doors to find a tall woman wearing the majestic robes of the Palatinate Lordcourt. A gold-rimmed monocle covered her left eye. The smile on her lips could have frosted the windows with ice. We all stood. Not to be respectful but because of what my great-great-uncle Gellimore Grimjinx always said: Sit with your enemy, never stand again.

  “My name is Nalia,” she said. But we knew who she was. It’s hard to forget someone who, just two months ago, tried to have your entire family imprisoned as part of a plot to destroy the Palatinate.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  Nalia ignored me and swept across the room to address my parents. “I came as soon as Master Talian told me there was a problem. The Palatinate deeply regrets this inconvenience.”

  Inconvenience? Prison was inconvenient. This was inexcusable.

  Da looked ready to explode, but Ma put a steadying hand on his shoulder and did what she always did when facing down an adversary: she smiled. “And why won’t my daughter be coming home?”

  Nalia took a chair across from the sofa and motioned for my parents to sit. They didn’t. “You know, of course, that we believe your daughter is a seer. Even as we speak, the Palatinate is testing Aubrin. The tests are safe and harmless. If it proves true, she’ll be taken to the Creche.”

  “The Creche?” I asked. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a special facility,” Talian explained. “All seers live there from the moment their abilities are discovered. It’s secure and nurturing, a place for them to learn more about what they can do. It’s all done in the interest of security.”

  “Whose security?” I asked. “Aubrin’s or yours?”

  The more hostile we got, the calmer Nalia became. “The security of the Five Provinces, of course. Seers are wondrous people . . . but we can’t allow their talents to be abused. Suppose a seer was kidnapped by an enemy of the High Laird. That seer’s prophecies could reveal information about the Provinces’ defenses. The Creche was built hundreds of years ago as a safe house and, by royal decree, all seers must live there.”

  At the words royal decree, all eyes moved to the Dowager. She looked down, almost guiltily. “It’s a very old law,” she said meekly. “Not many people know about it.”

  Ma’s smile didn’t fade but her harsh tone showed she was growing less patient. “This is all very fascinating but we can’t allow our daughter to be taken away and raised elsewhere.”

  “Mrs. Grimjinx,” Talian said gently, “this isn’t done to be cruel. The Creche really is the best place for her. Dealing with visions of the future can be very upsetting. It’s why seers don’t speak for years. At the Creche, she’ll receive the very best care. She’ll be taught how to make sense of her visions.”

  “More important,” Nalia continued, “your daughter will receive the very best of everything: food, clothing, education. Every need will be addressed. And when she turns eighteen, she’ll be appointed to a position of respect in the High Laird’s service. She’ll want for absolutely nothing the rest of her life.”

  If there was anything Nalia could have said to take the fight out of my parents, she’d just said it. Ma and Da had always claimed that, no matter what, they wanted me and Aubrin to be happy and content. That was why they let me turn my back on thieving and do research with the Dowager. In the Creche, Aubrin would have the best life possible.

  I could see defeat in Ma’s eyes. She turned to the Dowager. “Is there anything you can do, Annestra?”

  The Dowager shook her head. “I can’t go against royal law. But you have my assurances that what Nalia says is true. Aubrin will be happy and safe at the Creche.”

  Ma nodded sadly. “Yes. I can see it now. You’re right. Ona and I only want what’s best for Aubrin.”

  Nalia folded her arms and looked smugly triumphant. “Very wise, Mrs. Grimjinx. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”

  She stood and walked back to the study doors. Before exiting, Nalia turned back and threw us her most wicked smile yet. “Enjoy the Jubilee.”

  Talian followed her into the study, asking Callie to show us out. Ma and Da shuffled to the door, heads bowed. As we filed out of the house, I brought up the rear. I felt a tug at my elbow.

  “You know I didn’
t mean this to happen, Jaxter,” Callie said. “You understand, right?”

  “Sure, Cal,” I said. But I didn’t really.

  Heading home, I helped Maloch along on his injured leg. Ma and Da slowed down to allow the Dowager and her guards to pull ahead.

  “All right, boys,” Ma said softly. “I think they bought it. Now, let’s go get our little seer.”

  5

  Dark Times

  “Time tames the wary heart.”

  —Ancient par-Goblin proverb

  Stealing Aubrin from the Creche. Those words alone would inspire pages and pages in the Grimjinx family album, detailing what might possibly be one of the most daring heists in our family’s history.

  It was a pity we wouldn’t be around to write it.

  Rescuing Aubrin wasn’t just about returning my sister to her family. In this instance, it was also about treason. We’d be defying royal decree. And everyone knew the punishment for treason was death. Granted, our family album was overflowing with stories of Grimjinxes who’d beaten death sentences. But that seemed unlikely this time, especially with the Palatinate involved. We had no choice but to leave the Five Provinces. Forever.

  With Luda just outside the bedroom door, Maloch and I quietly started packing the few belongings we’d be taking on the trip.

  “Exciting, isn’t it?” I asked. “Breaking into the Creche. I mean, you and me breaking into the Palatinate Palace was pretty exciting too. But I don’t think that was nearly as illegal as this.”

  Maloch was unusually quiet. He kept eyeing the magic crystal on the nightstand. I could tell he really wanted to talk to Reena.

  “You want me to leave so you can—?”

  “I’m not going with you.”

  I stopped packing. “What?”

  Frowning, Maloch sank down on the bed. “You can’t tell your parents. Once we get Aubrin back, I’m staying behind.”

  “Mal . . .”

  “My da is still a prisoner in the Palatinate Palace. I can’t leave as long as he’s there. You’d do the same for your da.”

  It really was a momentous day. Maloch was making sense.

  “I have an aunt in Merriton I can stay with. I’m trusting you with this, Jaxter. You can’t say anything.”

  I nodded. “Not a word.”

  We’d started out as friends, then we were enemies, and now we were . . . I didn’t know what. I didn’t want Maloch to stay behind. But I knew I couldn’t stop him either.

  Maloch stood and started packing again. “This must be hard on you. Leaving the Dowager and all.”

  I’d been so worried about Aubrin that I hadn’t even thought about the Dowager. My chest tightened. I was supposed to be her intellectual heir, take over research at Redvalor Castle someday. That couldn’t happen now.

  The choice was clear: if I stayed, the Palatinate could use me to get to Aubrin. I had to go with my family. But the more I thought about leaving the Dowager, the harder it was to think about anything else.

  How do you say good-bye and thank you to the person who completely changed your life without letting her know that’s what you’re doing?

  “I feel bad for Aubrin,” Maloch said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “Hmm?”

  “She’s been having visions for years. Must be confusing. She knew all along that the Sentinels were coming for her. That’s why she didn’t try to fight it. Scary, really. To know exactly when it’s time for someone to take you.”

  I shuddered. In a way, it was like knowing exactly when you’d die. She must have felt doomed. From the moment we woke up that morning, she knew—

  A spark went off in my head. “Maloch, what did you just say?”

  “I said it must have been scary for her to know it’s time for—”

  “‘It’s time . . . ,’” I repeated. “That’s what she said, right before the Sentinels appeared.”

  “Right,” Maloch agreed. “She can predict the future. She knew it was time for the Sentinels to appear.”

  I paced, thoughts firing off faster than words. “No, no, no. Aubrin kept a journal. She never let me read it.”

  Maloch nodded. “Yeah. She wouldn’t let me look at it either. So what?”

  “And what did she say when anyone tried to look at the book?”

  “She’d snatch it away and say it wasn’t . . . time.” Maloch stiffened. I could practically see the gears in his tiny little brain starting to smoke and spark the faster they churned. “When she said ‘It’s time,’ she didn’t mean that it’s time for the Sentinels to take her. She meant—”

  “—it’s time to read the book!” I shouted.

  Aubrin had visions. She knew she was going to be taken to the Creche. And maybe she left us a clue about how to rescue her!

  We charged down the hall to Aubrin’s room. The black book I’d given her almost a year ago sat conspicuously on the table near her bed. Usually, she hid it. This was the first time she’d left it out in the open.

  She wanted us to find it, I thought.

  I closed the door and snatched up the journal. Maloch and I sat on the edge of her bed, holding the book between us. Inside, I instantly recognized Aubrin’s delicate handwriting on the first page. Maloch scanned the scrawls and shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. It’s gibberish.”

  I grinned. “Not at all. It’s in our family code.” Every thieving family had a unique alphabet only its members could decipher. This was meant for Grimjinx eyes only. “Pretty sneaky, Jinxface.”

  “So what does it say? Does it tell us how to get into the Creche?”

  I turned a page and skimmed. The more I read, the deeper I frowned. “No. It’s pieces of par-Goblin nursery rhymes and Aviard fairy tales. But all the fairy tales I know are set in made-up places. Aubrin’s stories are set in real cities. Bejina, Vesta . . . even Vengekeep.”

  “What are the stories about?”

  I looked at him grimly. “They’re all about monsters.”

  But these weren’t the stories that children across the Five Provinces had been brought up on. Aubrin had changed them. Made them more real. And scarier.

  She described monsters attacking town-states and villages. As if it had all really happened. The last quarter of the book was blank. But the final two pages she’d written on were very distinct.

  A series of strange symbols I’d never seen covered the right-hand page. It was like no language I’d ever seen. She’d stopped writing in our family code.

  The writing on the left-hand page was much more telling. It read:

  JAXTER, IF YOU’RE READING THIS, THEN THE SENTINELS HAVE TAKEN ME. DON’T WORRY. I AM SAFE. DO NOT TRY TO FIND ME. YOU HAVE SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT TO DO. YOU MUST TAKE THIS BOOK TO EAJ. YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN. THE MESSAGE MUST BE TRANSLATED. DARK TIMES ARE COMING. ONCE YOU KNOW WHAT THE MESSAGE READS, YOU MUST LEAVE THE PROVINCES.

  I had no idea what Eaj was. A village? A person? A landmark? I’d never heard of it. How could I take the book there if I had no idea who/what/where Eaj was? And why leave a message that needed to be translated? Why not just tell me what it said?

  “Have you heard of Eaj?” I asked Maloch, reading my sister’s note again. “And what do you think she means by ‘dark times’?”

  “Uh, Jaxter,” Maloch said, soft and low, “did you read the whole message?”

  Of course I’d read the whole message. I was just practicing a time-honored Grimjinx tradition of ignoring bad news and pretending it didn’t exist.

  The last part of the message—five words—ran along the bottom of the page. The letters were just a bit bigger than the rest and each word was underlined twice. It said:

  YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!

  6

  The Rescue Mission

  “When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, is probably worth stealing.”

  —Krinilla Grimjinx, leader of the raid on the Soulship stockyards

  Timing was critical.

  It would
be much easier to snatch Aubrin and leave the Provinces if the Palatinate and the Provincial Guard were otherwise engaged. Thankfully, the Jubilee gave us the perfect distraction. If we did this right, we could pull it off while the whole of the Provinces was busy celebrating.

  We spent the next few days preparing. It would take a week to travel northwest to the Creche, and another week to go to the capital city, Vesta, where we could hire a ship to take us away. That left us with a week to find Aubrin and get her out.

  The night before our trip to the Creche, my family sat around the kitchen table. The Provincial Guards stood at their posts, watching vigilantly. Luda waited near the fireplace, her eyes never leaving me.

  The Dowager sat in our living room, trying to enjoy a pot of singetea while the Castellan went on and on about how the Vengekeep Jubilee celebration would be talked about for centuries to come. He asked the Dowager what she knew of her brother’s plans to celebrate in Vesta.

  “I know very little,” the Dowager conceded. “He plans to honor the Palatinate for their service. He’ll be presenting Nalia and the Lordcourt with some magical relics that have been locked away for hundreds of years.”

  Which, I thought, was exactly what they wanted. The Palatinate had tried to steal those relics. Now the High Laird was just handing them over.

  A black-and-white striped candle burned in the center of the kitchen table next to a map of the Five Provinces. We each had a small dab of melted wax from the candle stuck to our earlobes.

  “Are you sure this will work?” Maloch asked, nodding at the candle. “I mean, Luda is standing right there.”

  Ma and Da touched their temples—the family sign for everything’s okay—and turned their attention to Aubrin’s journal.

  Da squinted at the curious symbols. “I used to study ancient languages. Thought it would come in handy when raiding old tombs. But I’ve never seen anything like this. Translating it could be tricky.”

  “We could see if the scholars at the Great Library of Thorosar know it,” Maloch suggested.

  “Maybe,” Ma said, “but if we want experts in long-lost languages, we want the assassin-monks of Blackvesper Abbey.”