Like a saber-toothed tiger but smaller, Jake thought. Perhaps an early ancestor of the larger saber-toothed cats. Something like Rhabdofelix.
“Get back from there, boy!” a guard warned.
The commotion drew the centurion’s attention. The soldier at his side explained. “A patrol trapped it in the Sacred Woods. Thought maybe we could train it. Can’t be more than a year old. Maybe as young as nine moons.”
Gaius hunched down. “Nine? She’s going to be big.”
The soldier next to Gaius sighed. “But she’s too wild, too dangerous. Almost took a chunk out of Huntmaster Rullus. So we’re saving it to use as bait during a practice hunt.”
Jake tensed. During the discussion, he had moved closer to the crate again and stared inside. They planned to kill her.
Jake couldn’t say why he did what he did next. With a glance over his shoulder, he reached toward the latch that secured the cage. Kady noticed him and mouthed, No.
He stared hard at her with his eyebrows high. Kady might sometimes be a self-centered, stuck-up brat, but she had a soft spot for animals in need. Last year, she even got her cheering squad to sponsor a walkathon for the local animal shelter.
Kady rolled her eyes and turned her back on Jake. She pointed off across the yard and yelled quite sharply, striking a pose of terror. “What’s that over there?”
As usual with Kady, everyone turned and stared.
Using her distraction, Jake flipped open the latch, then hurried a few steps away. He checked around. No one saw what he did. Not even the cat. It remained crouched in the back of the cage.
Jake risked a hushed “Go,” willing it to move.
The Rhabdofelix finally slinked toward the bars and creaked the door wider with a nose. As it swung open, she slipped out, low to the ground, her long tail curled into a question mark, her posture all suspicion and wariness. Her eyes were fixed on Jake. Her nostrils flared, taking in his scent. Her ears, high and alert, swiveled like radar dishes.
“Run,” he urged under his breath, and waved toward the open castle gates.
With a surge of muscle, she suddenly shot away. The only mark of her passage was a panicked burst of wings as the flock of the dartwings took off in fright from the tree branches.
Their squawking drew the attention of the soldiers upward—then down to the cage with its open door. A flurry of commotion and yelling erupted, but it was too late.
The cat swept out the gate and vanished into the tangle and tumble of the city. Soldiers took off on foot, but Jake suspected the cat would never be caught.
Trying his best, Jake kept his face innocent. He caught a spark in Marika’s eyes. She stared at him a few seconds before she turned away. If she suspected anything, she stayed quiet.
Centurion Gaius spoke sharply and pointed toward the castle. “Enough. We should not keep the Elders waiting.”
The castle of Kalakryss filled the back half of the courtyard. Jake studied the fortification as they approached the main gateway. As he craned his neck, he spotted something shining atop the right tower. The slanting sunlight sparked brightly off a domed structure made of beaten bronze. It looked like an observatory used to study stars.
Before he could examine it further, they passed under the archway and through a set of huge doors. Jake had expected the inside of the castle to be dark and gloomy. Instead he found the entryway warmed by colorful tapestries on the walls and rugs underfoot. The air was refreshingly cooler, well insulated against the heat of the sun. A massive bronze chandelier lit the space—but not with flickering candle flames. The light shone steadily.
Jake thought there were lightbulbs up there, but the shape of each bulb was jagged and angular. They looked like chunks of raw crystal—only each shone with a brilliance that stung the eye.
Jake looked away with a frown. What was powering the crystals?
Gaius led them down the center aisle of a long and narrow hall. Wooden benches, like church pews, lined both sides, all facing toward the hall’s far end. The walls were hung with banners, a dozen to a side. Each was emblazoned with symbols, like a collection of knights’ coats of arms.
Flags.
Marika saw his interest and said, “The banners represent each of the Lost Tribes.”
They stopped at the front of the hall under a set of high, narrow windows, flanked by archways. Beneath the windows stood an upper and lower set of judicial benches with three tall chairs on each level.
Three people marched out of the left archway, each wearing matching expressions of concern. But they couldn’t have been more different. One wore clothes like Pindor and Heronidus, but a crown of laurel leaves marked his brow.
He was flanked by an old man with Asian features, bald except for a long white mustache that draped below his chin and a thin beard. On his other side strode a long-limbed middle-aged woman with braided red hair, dressed in a green tunic and pants. A helmet with two curled horns sat atop her head.
“Calypsos’s high Council,” Marika whispered.
Pindor hung back with the spear, trying to hide behind Gaius.
Under the heavy gaze of the Council, Kady moved closer to Jake.
Before anyone could speak, a sharp voice rang out from the right archway. “Newcomers! Surely that isn’t possible. But if true…can you imagine?”
The speaker appeared. He was short, and his gray hair stuck out a bit, like he had just woken up. He was clearly Mayan from the square of cloth tied around his shoulders, called a pati, adorned with feathers at the sleeves.
Another man waddled alongside him. He was as wide as he was tall. This rotund man wore a long robe with a hood, though the hood was down, revealing a head of bushy brown hair that was shaved on top. He looked like an English monk out of the Middle Ages. The monk pointed toward their group, and the Mayan man turned. His eyes widened, and he took a step toward them.
“Mari?” he said. “What are you doing here, my dear? Why aren’t you at school?”
“Papa, it was Pindor and I who—”
Papa? Jake glanced over to her.
She was cut off by a deep voice booming from the upper bench. “Pindor?”
The man with the crown of laurel leaves stood up from his chair. His eyes searched the floor below. Pindor reluctantly showed himself.
“What is this all about? What mischief have you and your friend conjured up? If this is some hoax?…If you’re wasting the Council’s valuable time…”
“No, Father.” Pindor spoke to the floor. “It is no hoax.”
Before anyone could explain, a third man appeared in the archway behind the monk. He moved silently, as thin as the shadow of a sundial. He wore a solid black robe that brushed the floor. Shaved-headed, his skin was dark, and his manner darker. His black eyes were cold and stony. His gaze swept the group without any flicker of emotion. What made his appearance even more disturbing were the tattoos across his forehead, inked in blood red. They were Egyptian hieroglyphics.