Part 17 (1/2)

Uncle Press looked uncomfortable. I think he knew exactly where they were, but for some reason he didn't want to say.

”Spader, I'll tell you the same thing I told Bobby when he found out his own family was gone,” he said calmly. ”You were always destined to become a Traveler. Your family was here to raise you and teach you and help you become the person you are today so that you could begin your journey. But they've begun a journey of their own now. Someday you'll see them again, I promise.”

”What about my father?” demanded Spader. ”He didn't go anywhere. He was killed!”

”He was a Traveler,” answered Uncle Press. ”He had other duties. I promise you both, as time goes on you will understand everything, but for right now, you must know that nothing horrible happened to your mother.”

This was bringing up all sorts of old, horrible feelings in me. I was getting frustrated over not knowing all there was to know about being a Traveler. I could only imagine what Spader was feeling. This was still very new to him. We stood in the room for a few moments, then Spader suddenly ran farther into the apartment. We followed him as he ran through the empty home, into what was probably once a bedroom at one time.

He stood in the middle of the room and said, ”This was my room. I lived here from the time I was born until I left to become an aquaneer. I don't believe that my entire childhood can be wiped away as if it never existed.”

He went into a closet. ”Pendragon, help me,” he said. I shrugged and followed.

”Help me up?” he asked.

I clasped my hands together and held them out. Spader put his foot in and I hoisted him up.

”I had a hiding place n.o.body knew about,” he said while running his hands along the wall over the closet door. ”It is where I kept the things that were most important to me.”

I felt bad for him. Spader was doing the same thing I did when I walked onto the empty lot at 2 Linden Place. I looked over every inch of that empty s.p.a.ce, desperate for any sign that proved I had lived there. But there was nothing. Even the scar on the tree that had been made by our swing was gone. I knew that Spader's secret hiding place would be empty.

Over the closet door was a piece of wall that had been neatly cut out and replaced. Spader knew exactly where it was. He pulled away the piece and reached into the compartment. Of course it was empty. I could tell by the pained look on his face.

But then, just as he was about to climb down, his face changed. He had found something after all.

”Let me down,” he ordered.

I awkwardly bent down and dropped his foot. He banged his shoulder against the door frame as he came down, but he was okay.

”What did you find?” I asked. I couldn't believe that some hint of his past life had actually been left behind.

Spader held the treasure in his hand.

I knew instantly that it wasn't something he put there himself. It was a piece of green paper, folded in half. Written on the outside in black letters was: ”For Spader. I'm proud of you and I love you. Hobey-ho!” I could only guess that it was his mum's handwriting.

Spader unfolded the paper and I saw his mum's final gift to him. It was the other half of the map that led to the lost city of Faar.

”She may be gone,” he said softly. ”But I guess her job wasn't finished until I got this.”

”h.e.l.lo? Anyone home?”

The bright voice came from the entrance to the apartment. It was a woman's voice. For a moment I thought Spader's mother had returned. Spader did too. He ran for the entrance. Uncle Press and I were right behind.

But when we got there, we saw that it wasn't Spader's mother after all. It was Po Na.s.si, the agronomer. What was she doing here?

”Here you boys are! Why did you run off like that?” she asked like a scolding but jovial schoolteacher.

”Why aren't you with Yenza and Manoo?” asked Uncle Press.

”Those two are on a futile quest,” she answered with a huff. ”My time is better spent elsewhere.”

This was weird. Had she followed us?

”Now,” she said. ”Young Spader. Did you find what you came for?”

Spader answered her with a confused look. Uncle Press and I did the same. What was she talking about?

”I didn't think it was possible, myself,” she explained. ”Like all you wet little Clorans, I thought the lost city of Faar was a myth. That is, until I saw the symbol your father had drawn for you. He was a resourceful Traveler. I'm guessing he discovered the city was real and knew its location. Now I think you know it too.”

Uh-oh. Uncle Press stiffened beside me. The hair began to stand up on my neck. I was afraid I knew exactly where this was going and it was a very, very bad place.

”How could you know?” Spader asked, dumbfounded. He had no clue what was going on, but he was about to find out.

Na.s.si looked to Uncle Press and gave him a catlike grin.

”Ahh, Press. Don't you just love them when they're young?” she asked. ”Sucha innocence.”

And then it happened. The agronomer Na.s.si began to transform before our eyes. Her face contorted, her body s.h.i.+fted, her whole figure grew watery and unformed. It only took about five seconds, but I guarantee they were five seconds that Spader would replay in his mind for the rest of his life. I probably would too, but I had seen it before. Her hair grew long and gray. Her body rose to a solid seven feet tall. Her clothes changed from Cloral blue to the black suit that was all too familiar. And again, what stood out most were the eyes. They became icy blue and charged with an evil fire.

”Does it make more sense to you now, water boy?” snarled the tall, ominous figure.

Spader looked at me with total confusion.

”It's Saint Dane,” I said with no emotion. ”He's been playing with us all along.”

CLORAL.

You naughty boys, you sank my battles.h.i.+p,” Saint Dane said playfully, as if he really didn't care.

Spader looked to me and to Uncle Press. I think he was in shock. Nothing had prepared him for seeing Saint Dane transform the way he did. I wasn't exactly comfortable with it either, but at least I had seen it before so I didn't go into total mind lock.

”The poison fertilizer?” asked Uncle Press. ”Was it your doing?”

Saint Dane let out an evil laugh. Here we go again. I hate it when the bad guys laugh. It always means they know more than you do.

”You give me too much credit, Press, my friend,” Saint Dane said. ”You know I don't initiate anything.”

”But you don't mind helping it along,” Uncle Press added.

”Of that, I am guilty. That weasel Manoo and his agronomers would have abandoned their experiments years ago if I hadn't convinced them otherwise. It was so easy to feed their egos. I told them they would be heroes for saving Cloral from starvation for generations to come!” He laughed ironically.

”They were too blinded by visions of glory to realize they were brewing up the means to kill every living soul on the territory. Surprise!”

”So youdidkill my father,” Spader spat at Saint Dane.

”Indirectly, I suppose,” Saint Dane said, beginning to sound bored. ”But we're all much better off with one less Traveler, don't you think?”

This pushed Spader over the edge. He lunged at Saint Dane, ready to grab his throat. But Saint Dane pulled a quick draw from under his coat and jammed a silver pistol into Spader's chest, stopping him cold. Spader's eyes were wild with hatred, but there was nothing he could do.

”Talk to Pendragon,” Saint Dane said calmly. ”He knows you can't defeat me.”