The mustached man swallows hard, but some of the tension leaves his shoulders.
“I promise he won’t harm you.”
Rook limps in front of me. “Would you be so kind as to let us into your great city? We are road-weary travelers looking for a place to rest. Food, drink, and perhaps a doctor?”
A silent conversation passes between the guards.
I send up a prayer to whatever gods might inhabit this land. I’m exhausted, cold, and starving.Please,pleasegive me a warm, comfy bed.
The woman whispers into the ear of the mustached man. He listens intently, then nods.
Finally, “It would be our honor to host the great sorceress and her friend. But is the…dog… tame?”
He saysdogwith a longO,like he’s never heard the word a single day in his life.
“Yes. He’ll behave. Won’t you, Toto?” Toto growls in my arms as if to contradict me, and I cover his muzzle with my hand, urging him to keep quiet. If his Napoleon complex gets us thrown out of this city, I’ll never forgive him.
The woman removes a key from a chain around her neck. In her hands, it seems to double in size, the jagged end longer than her longest finger. Embedded in the stone wall to the left of the gate is an alcove just big enough for the woman to reach her hand inside. She must hit a button or lever, because a second later, a hidden door pops open, revealing a lock.
“Permission to open!” the mustached man calls.
“Permission granted,” a voice shouts back from the other side.
The woman inserts the key into the lock, then gives it a hard turn. Gears clank to life and the gate cracks open, bright golden light spilling out into the night.
“Welcome to Glimming Hollow,” the guard says.
EIGHTEEN
Scarecrow
We are swarmed the moment we enter Glimming Hollow.
I am of no consequence to the people on the other side of the gate.
It’s Kansas they’re here to see and, analyzing her reaction, she is unaccustomed to the attention. She makes herself small in the crowd, clutching the dog to her chest, her shoulders hunched forward. Her eyes dart back and forth as the crowd cheers for her, those closest to her squeezing her arm, patting her back.
I step away and into the shadow cast by the striped awning of a nearby shop.
Should I save her?
I watch.
Others join the crowd until the streets are clogged with Enders.
Her breathing quickens. The dog yips in her grip.
“Rook,” she says, her voice trembling. “Rook!”
I shove the crowd aside. They move easily. I’m twice their size in measure and weight.
When my hand wraps around her wrist, Kansas meets my eyes and exhales.
There are tears brimming beneath her lids.
“I’ve got you, Kansas.” I pull her out. She stumbles into my chest. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, tucking her into my side. My wounds are forgotten, my pain gone.
“This is… a lot,” she whispers.
