The Blade of Shattered Hope (Page 49)

Windasill laughed, a sound that held nothing but kindness—no hint of mockery or condescension. “Reckon I ruddy agree with me love on that one. Can’t you just pretend to lead a bit? Give ’em all a good talkin’ to? Bring ’em straight out of the doldrums, you would. I’d bet me own two ears on that.”

Sato knew he had to quit whining. Their problems were piling up by the minute, and—

An object appeared in front of his face—instantly, one second not there, the next second there—a small, elongated stretch of shining silver. He barely had time to see it or register what it was before the tube of metal fell. He reached out to catch it, but he didn’t move in time. The tube smacked onto the weird marble floor and bounced with a couple of clings and clangs before rolling several inches and coming to a rest next to Rutger’s foot.

No one moved for a couple of seconds. Sato could tell they were all staring at the mysterious—and magical—visitor just as he was. He finally gained his wits and leaned over to pick up the tube, turning it this way and that for the others to take a look.

Sato was about to ask what it was when Mothball blurted out, “That there’s one of them fancy message tubes from Master George.”

“Open it!” Rutger yelled, jumping up and down in excitement—maybe reaching a grand height of three millimeters off the ground. “I knew he’d find us! I knew it! Don’t you worry, we’ll be out of here . . .”

He trailed off, a troubled look coming over his face.

Sato had been relieved to get the tube, but now worry swept over him. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, I just . . . It’s . . . well.” Rutger cleared his throat. “It’s just that if he could send us this message, why didn’t he just wink us out of here?”

“Got plenty of worries without lookin’ for fresh ones,” Mothball said. “Open the ruddy thing, Sato, and see what the old man has to say.”

“How do you do it?” Sato asked. He knew George often sent message tubes like these out before, but Sato had never helped him with them or even seen one up close.

“Just pull the ends apart,” Rutger said with an annoyed huff.

“Well, excuse me for not being a message-tube wizard,” Sato griped. Shaking his head, he gripped the two rounded ends of the tube and pulled in opposite directions. A seam appeared and expanded until he held two separate pieces. A rolled up piece of paper slipped out and dropped to the floor.

He snatched it up and unrolled it, so eager his hands were shaking. The tightly coiled note sprung closed twice before he finally got it under control enough that he could open it and read its hand-written contents. He’d barely started before Rutger yelled at him to read it out loud.

“Okay,” Sato said, surprisingly not annoyed at the interruption. He cleared his throat and started from the beginning. “‘Dear Sato. This is Tick. Mistress Jane did something really bad, and every last Reality is going to roll over and die unless we do something about it. You were taken to that place you’re in by, well, I can explain all that later. You’re safe for now. But a few hours after you get this, you’re gonna be winked to the Thirteenth Reality. All of you. I need you to convince everyone there to come help me.’”

Sato paused for a big breath and looked around at his friends, all of whom stared back with wide eyes.

“Keep going!” Rutger snapped.

Sato did. “‘There’s a place called the Factory. Mothball should know about it. It’s where Jane creates her fangen and some new things that are worse. I’ll be there in a little bit with Master George, Paul, and Sofia. With any luck, we’ll be working with Jane to fix the Realities. Yeah, long story, but we’ll need her help. Anyway, once we’re done, there’s no way Jane will let us go. That’s where you guys come in.’”

Sato saw Mothball shake her head back and forth, but he chose to ignore her for now and kept reading. “‘The people of the Fifth are known as warriors—even those who don’t do it as a profession. Somehow you and Mothball need to organize them and convince them to come rescue us. The Haunce—don’t ask—also says there are lots of children we’ll need to save while we’re at it. Sato, you have to come! Be ready so when the Haunce thinks the time is right, it can wink all of you to the Thirteenth.’”

Mothball was quietly groaning now—almost wailing—but the note only had a few more sentences. Sato finished up quickly. “‘I know you have a ton of questions, but there’s no way I can explain everything in a stupid note. I hope you can trust me. The Factory, Sato. The Factory. Come and get us. And just so you know it’s me: remember how mad you were that I saved you twice? Well, it’s payback time. Tick out.’”

Sato stared at those last couple of lines for a few seconds. A trickle of doubt had entered his mind upon first reading the note—anybody could’ve sent the note. But now he knew it really was Tick. The tone, the phrasing, the reference to their exchange after Sato had been freed from Chu’s Dark Infinity device—it was Tick, all right.

Mothball let out a sound like a bear with its foot caught in a trap.

Sato looked at her and saw something awful and afraid in her expression. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

“The Factory,” she replied in a whisper. “Master Tick’s spot on when he says I should know all about it. Know far too much, I do. Sorry to be a pu**ycat, but if that’s where we’re goin’, then I’m a might scared, that’s all.”

Rutger nodded, his face a full shade paler than it had been before Sato had read the note. “She’s right. Our spies in the Thirteenth have told us all about that nightmare place. I can’t imagine what Tick’s gotten himself into, but if he really is headed for that place of horrors, then we have no choice but to go after him. Just like he asked for. Even though it terrifies me just as much as it does Mothball.” He leaned back to look up at his friend, a ball tilting on a pivot. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you scared before.”

“Hogwash,” she mumbled back.

Sato hadn’t known her nearly as long as Rutger had, but he’d definitely never seen her so afraid—at least nothing even approaching the way she looked now, pallid and sweaty with dead eyes. “Well, what is the Factory?” he finally asked. “Why is it so awful?”