The Blade of Shattered Hope
Page 52He expected everyone to repeat the word or start asking questions before he could continue. Instead, they all just stared at him, waiting.
“Once she had the fangen all figured out and perfected, she moved on to other creatures. And from the sound of it, always nasty and terrifying creatures. No big surprise there. But she always works with a purpose. The Sleeks are what she created to guard the Factory. And, um, we’re getting really close to the place where they’ll be hunting through the woods.”
Tick saw fear flash across his friends’ faces, and seeing that made him feel even more scared. “The Sleeks sound really, really awful. The whole purpose of their existence is to hunt down anything that’s not supposed to be in these forests. They’re tall and thin when seen straight on, but most of the time they’re impossible to see clearly. They have ten times the strength of a fangen, and they have almost magic abilities using Chi’karda. The Haunce said they’re wispy and fast, almost like living smoke mixed with wind. And once they catch sight of you, forget escaping. No way, according to the Haunce. But don’t worry—there is some good news.”
“I’m having quite a hard time seeing the good news in any of this,” Master George said.
Tick looked at him. “Well, there is. Kind of. The Sleeks aren’t allowed to kill what they hunt down. Mistress Jane wants to interrogate any intruders.”
“Oh, no,” Sofia said. “Don’t tell me . . .”
“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Paul added.
Tick was relieved they’d gotten it before he had to say it, but he did so anyway. “You guessed it. The Haunce wants us to find them. We have to let the Sleeks capture us.”
The Speech
Sato sat alone, his heart like a dying filament inside a light bulb, about to burst and flame out at any second. What Mothball had said—about Jane planning to use human kids for her creations—horrified him like nothing ever had before. He knew a lot of bad things had happened in the history of the world, but this had to top it.
Killing was bad enough, but . . . what was the word Mothball had used? Melding. Jane was melding animals together . . .
He slammed the door on that thought. His mind had already slipped close to an edge overhanging a dark and awful abyss from which he didn’t know if he could escape. He needed to keep it together. Hold onto the anger, sure. Let it fester and boil inside him until he had no choice but to go forward in a rage and do what he had to do to stop what the witch was doing. But he couldn’t allow himself to sink back into that dark place which had once haunted him every day after seeing his parents murdered, burned alive by Jane herself.
He shook his head, slammed another door in his mind. Looking around, he saw that the people of the Fifth were gathering around him again, though a bit more timidly than before. They must have seen the anguish on his face, enough to scare them a little.
But that look of awe still clung to their expressions, their eyes filled with something he could only describe as hope. Which was good. Ever since reading the note from Tick—and especially since Mothball’s revelation about the Factory—he’d been heading down a path toward a decision. He didn’t even quite know if he consciously controlled this path, but every part of him walked along it.
He was going to do exactly what Tick asked. Somehow.
Mothball and Rutger had told them about the note—all of it. Now wasn’t the time to hide anything from anybody. Sato knew that the Higginbottoms also had mixed feelings, and more reason than ever to worry over their son. Just another twist of the path Sato traveled. Just another reason to make things happen, no matter what.
“Excuse me, good sir,” a soft female voice said close to his ear. Closer than he felt comfortable allowing—he wasn’t ready yet!
He looked up, ready to snap at whoever had invaded his space. But it was an old woman, as tall as Mothball and just as gangly, leaning over him like a wind-broken tree. She had a gentle, pretty face, and Sato’s anger quickly slipped away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You all keep asking me the same thing, and I can’t answer it any differently. I’m not the guy you think I am.” He returned his chin to his fists, his eyes to the floor. How was he going to do this?
“We don’t rightly think that anymore,” the woman answered. “We’re not a bunch of dumb lugs, ya know. But there’s somethin’ right special about you, there is. And we want to ’ear from ya, that’s all. Not too much to be askin’, now is it?”
Sato took a long, deep breath. He had to do something, get the ball rolling. Sitting there with all of them gawking like kids at a zoo would drive him crazy if it went on for another minute.
“Fine,” he said, sighing as he forced himself to stand. The old woman smiled, her grin revealing that she only had about half her teeth, and those remaining were dark yellow. But still, she had a pretty face, despite its age and wear and tear. Somehow, she was keeping him polite and level-headed.
Sato looked away from her and around at the crowd. Many had taken a seat—especially the ones closest to him. Those farther back stood, arms folded, staring at him expectantly. There had to be at least three or four hundred people packed all around him. He slowly turned in a circle, taking it all in as he tried to think of something to say. The whole lot of them grew quiet.
You can do this, he thought to himself.
“I know why you guys are so fascinated by me,” he said, wondering if he could’ve possibly started his speech with anything more stupid. He doubted it. “I know I look a lot like the kid who was your ruler until those crazy Bug soldiers assassinated him.”
This caused an uproar, people shouting and yelling things all at once, many of them throwing their arms up and shaking their clenched fists in anger.