“WE NEED TO SEND MEN INTO ALL THE TERRITORIES TO question everyone and search every house, every nook and cranny, every mountain cave, every hole in the ground! That girl has to be somewhere!”
Looking out of the window of the apartment he’d claimed for himself on the top floor of the Glass Column, Ocious turned his back on his sons and allies. They didn’t need to see his face, though—they could appreciate how angry he was from the set of his tense shoulders under his dark grey linen shirt.
“We’ll find her, Father!” soothed Andreas, his voice hypnotic. “Edefia isn’t that big…”
Orthon couldn’t help sighing. Either his half-brother was blinded by optimism or he was just trying to avoid angering their father.
“How many men did you say we have?” he asked, an edge of mockery to his voice, thinking of Edefia’s 75,000 square miles.
Andreas glared challengingly at his half-brother.
“I didn’t,” he replied, refusing to let Orthon rile him.
As if he would let himself be upset by such crude baiting. His lips curled slightly in satisfaction as he gazed again at the assembled men and women, who looked drawn with fatigue after the past few days. A woman with red hair and a grim expression turned to the Felons who’d returned from exile on the Outside.
“There are few towns left,” she explained. “When our land was made barren by drought, people rallied together, forming new communities to help each other: it was simply a matter of survival. Besides Thousandeye City, there are now five towns, spread across Green Mantle, the territory of the Sylvabuls, and the Peak Ridge Mountains, which belong to the Firmhands.”
“We have to be strategic,” continued Andreas. “We need to take people by surprise so that no one sheltering the Young Gracious stands a chance.”
Ocious finally turned round, rubbing his bald head absent-mindedly. He nodded silently before asking:
“What do our informers say?”
A stout man with a bushy beard and hard eyes began speaking.
“Our spies have closed the net they cast a few months ago. This major initiative has allowed us to flush out the agitator who was wreaking havoc in Thousandeye City.”
Ocious straightened in his seat and his eyes brightened.
“Who is it?”
“Achilles, Arvo’s son.”
The Felons exclaimed in shock as Ocious stifled a curse. Orthon, one of the few who didn’t understand the implications of this revelation, remained stony-faced.
“Arvo?” exclaimed Agafon, the former Memorarian who’d returned to Edefia. “Wasn’t he the Servant for Irrigation in Malorane’s High Enclave?”
“You have an excellent memory,” replied Andreas. “Arvo rallied to our cause a few months before the Great Chaos. When my father appointed his High Enclave, Arvo was named Servant for Farming, because he was a brilliant agronomist—the best there was. He was the one who created new varieties of fruit and vegetables that could adapt to our land’s decline, buying us a little more time before our world ground to a halt. Although he remained on our side for years, he became increasingly hostile to our notion of order and the way we ruled Edefia, until his views proved incompatible with ours.”
“He contaminated his whole circle with his revolutionary ideas!” thundered Ocious, banging his fist on the table. “I’ve put my trust in men and women who’ve had no qualms about betraying me.”
They all looked down, except Orthon and Andreas.
“Where is that traitor, Achilles?” continued Ocious.
“We neutralized him,” replied the bearded man tersely.
“What about Arvo?”
“Arvo is being kept under close surveillance by our men.”
“Good work!” congratulated Ocious. “I’ll deal with his case later. What’s the state of play in the rest of the territory?”
“Peace has been restored in Leafhold, the capital of Green Mantle. Sending in our most enthusiastic supporters seems to have quelled all traces of rebellion. It doesn’t look like the protesters were particularly ambitious, so to speak. The inhabitants have gone to ground like rats and are just happy to survive.”
“That’s all we want them to do!” said Ocious.
Edefia’s ruler looked both furious and scornful. No trace remained of the doubt that had shadowed his eyes a moment earlier and his expression was once more full of authority.
“What do you suggest?” he asked, addressing Andreas.
“I think we should form six commando units and launch simultaneous initiatives in each of the towns,” he replied, revelling in his father’s utter confidence in him. “There aren’t that many places to hide and the people know they’d lose more by opposing you than they’d gain. They still fear you, Father. We’ll soon flush out that…”
Andreas cast around to find the right words.
“… little pest!” he concluded finally.
With narrowed eyes, Ocious gave a savage bark of laughter that didn’t bode well for the Runaways.