But Finn simply turned away and, under his breath, said something only Meilin could hear. “Trust must be practiced.”
Meilin wanted to roll her eyes and ignore him, but his words — and his quiet disapproval — rankled her. Somewhere along the way, she had started wanting to impress him. This annoyed her for reasons she couldn’t quite find words for. Why should she care for the respect of a man who wouldn’t even lift a sword to save himself at that forest battle?
But he had led them across the Giant’s Chessboard and the moor, and had pulled her from the waste. And without his advice in the Moon Tower, she would have never learned about Jhi’s problem-solving abilities.
What is a warrior’s heart? she wondered. Does it always carry a sword?
Grudgingly, she said out loud, “Abeke, I’m sorry if . . . my words seemed harsh. I didn’t mean them that way.”
Abeke’s eyebrows shot up. She appeared so surprised by this miserly kindness. Was it possible Meilin had been a little too uncaring the past several days? Just because she sometimes doubted Abeke’s loyalties didn’t mean she had to be so cruel about it.
Finn looked over his shoulder.
He didn’t say anything. Not a word. But he nodded, and Meilin’s heart felt lighter.
They climbed over the bank, down toward Trunswick, keeping enough distance to avoid attracting any unwanted attention. Meilin searched the town’s appearance for any clues as to what kind of place this could be and what their friends could be up to inside it. The town’s structure was straightforward: castle crowning the hill, buildings huddled around it. It stank of beeswax smoke, coal, and the peculiar scent of horse hooves, so Meilin could tell already that it had more than its fair share of blacksmiths. The blue flags that flew from nearly every roof flapped listlessly, made of heavy wool rather than the silk and linen flags that Meilin had grown up under. The entire town seemed crude and disheveled in comparison to Zhong’s elegant cities, and Meilin felt a pang in her heart.
She pushed it down.
No time for weakness or second-guessing her decision to stay now.
“Ah, Trunswick,” said Finn. His voice had gone a little flat. It was a bit like his face had gone when the Hawker had brandished the knife.
“What is that over there?” Meilin asked. Over a nearby knot of trees, a patch of sky was dark with smoke.
Lifting her chin, Abeke sniffed the air. “I think it’s a bonfire. It’s not just wood they are burning, anyway. Do you smell it?”
Abeke was right. There was something a little off about the odor of the fire. Something a little unpleasant that made her feel anxious.
Zhong, burning . . . She pushed the thought away as her eyes stung.
Finn interrupted her thoughts by saying, “It doesn’t feel like a good sign.”
“Finn . . . I think Essix is trying to tell us something,” Abeke said. She pointed in the other direction, toward Trunswick. Or rather, since she was holding the cat with both hands, she pointed with the cat to where Essix circled over a large building partway up the hill. “Do you think the others are in that building?”
“It would be bad luck if they were,” Finn said. “That’s the Howling House. It’s where they keep people and animals who bonded without Nectar, and developed the bonding sickness. Well, one sort of bonding sickness — it’s for those who went mad. It’s part hospital and part prison.”
Meilin’s mind turned over his words: those who went mad. She had heard of the bonding sickness, of course. Everyone learned about the dangers of bonding without the Nectar. In the days before Nectar, some bonds went well, and other bonds didn’t. Human and animal were tied to each other, and yet couldn’t connect. Sleepless nights piled one upon the other. Some were able to work through it on their own, or learned to live with the difficult bond. But others, as Finn noted, went mad.
This was why even the most remote village in Zhong had a designated authority to notify the Greencloaks when a child came of age. It was hard to imagine anyone bonding without Nectar these days — harder still to imagine enough difficult bonds to warrant an entire prison.
Meilin asked, “You think they’re being kept prisoner there?”
“It is the only place that would hold them and their spirit animals, yes. Everything inside that building is reinforced to prevent spirit animals from escaping.”
Meilin said, “How do you know so much about that place?”
Finn didn’t answer. He’d gone all quiet and faraway again. Suddenly she remembered what he had said in the Moon Tower. He had bonded to Donn without the Nectar. What had he called his bond? Difficult.
Difficult enough to be locked up in the Earl of Trunswick’s house for insane humans and animals?
Difficult enough that the Earl of Trunswick might have tried to kill him?
“So now what?” Abeke demanded.
All three of them looked toward the sun in the sky.
Finn said, “We wait.”
He held out his arm, and Essix coasted smoothly down to land heavily on it. Abeke settled to the ground, opened her bag, and pulled out some jerky to munch on. They all seemed content to wait.
Waiting was Meilin’s least favorite thing.
Trunswick was a silent place after dark. When night fell, Abeke, Meilin, and Finn crept closer to town. Unlike the cities of Zhong, which were lit and beautiful even at night, Trunswick was nearly as black as the moor. Only a few lanterns illuminated the main street up to the castle. There were no candles in any of the windows. No voices rose from the bars and no stragglers moved through the streets. Even Trunswick’s famous and industrious blacksmiths completely disappeared as night fell, leaving behind only a few glowing embers in their forges. Guards stood in vigilant silence at each of the gates.
Finn whispered, “There’s something very wrong with this town.”
Meilin, Finn, and Abeke crouched around the back of the wall. There were no gates here; no one to see them. But that meant there were no easy entrances either. In a low voice, Abeke asked Uraza, “Can you find us a weakness in the wall?”
The leopard galloped away, low and silky. She returned a few minutes later to lead them to a bricked-up gate. Some of the barrier had crumbled, leaving an opening just large enough for a person to crawl through.
Meilin kept Jhi in passive form. The gap was not large enough for a giant panda.
On the inside of the wall, the soundless nature of the town was even more pronounced. Meilin was very aware of their footfalls on the uneven cobblestones as Finn led the way up the narrow roads toward the Howling House. Uraza trailed behind, ears swiveling as she listened for threats. Overhead, Essix’s dark form flitted from roof to roof, confirming they were headed in the right direction.