Free Frozen by Erin Bowman Page B

can learn if they only listen.”
    “Um . . . guys?” Bree waves a hand to get everyone’s attention. When I see what she’s pointing at, my stomach lurches.
    Plastered against the walls of the back alley we’re walking through is a series of posters. Most threaten arrest for anyone caught harboring, trading with, or even conversing with an AmWest citizen. Several announce the recent capture and execution of Harvey. But one is larger than the rest, hung dead center, overlapping a curfew warning.
     
WANTED ALIVE FOR CRIMES AGAINST AMEAST INCLUDING LARCENY, SEDITION, ESPIONAGE, AND HIGH TREASON.
     
    And above the crimes is my name, and above that, my face, staring out into the street with the gray eyes for which I was named. It’s a recent picture, probably taken by Frank’s cameras when I returned to Taem for the vaccine. I will most certainly be recognized in Bone Harbor.
    “Oh hell,” Sammy says. I think he’s reacting to the poster, but I follow his gaze and just when I think things can’t get any worse, they do.
    The Franconian Order. Two of them, ahead in the alley, questioning an older woman who’s wiping her hands nervously on her apron.
    Xavier turns on Jackson. “The damn Forgery sold us out.”
    “Me?” he says, startled. “How? Telepathy? Magic?”
    “You got ahold of our gear! Radioed someone!”
    “We had a deal: You keep me alive and I get you into the Outer Ring. I still don’t have what I was sent for—your headquarters’ location—so why would I risk my own life to call the Order, who may or may not be able to get me out of this mess?”
    Xavier looks furious. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe to—”
    “Clipper and Xavier, stay with me and the horses,” my father orders harshly. “Everyone else, split up. I don’t care how you do it; just do it now. We’ll meet at the docks. After sundown, if we can manage.”
    “But the Forgery,” Xavier says. “He—”
    “Not now,” Owen snaps. “There isn’t time.”
    We scatter not a second too soon. I somehow get stuck with Jackson after Xavier shoves him at me. The two of us run for the nearest side street—or rather, I run and Jackson refuses to cooperate, so I have to drag him behind me. I shoulder my way into the first building we come to. It is a single-level home, set on the corner of the side street and the alley we just fled. It’s currently vacant, but there are clothes hanging on a drying rack and a few dishes set out on a table that also holds a bowl of fruit. Someone will be back eventually.
    I move into the kitchen, where a window looks onto the alley. My father is just coming into view.
    “You’re going to get caught,” Jackson says, a note of humor in his voice.
    “Shut up.”
    “I’m just stating the facts.”
    I shove him against the wall. “I mean it. Not another word.”
    Outside, my father has pulled his hat back on even in the comfortable weather, but I know he’s done it to cover his hair. Between the hat, and his blue eyes and full beard, he no longer looks like an obvious father to the boy on the wanted posters. Xavier holds the reins of the two horses at his side and Clipper has his hands on the straps of his backpack, gripping them so tightly his knuckles have gone white.
    The Order members flag them down as they approach. The red triangles on their chests are screaming danger, and I want my father to turn and run. Nothing good can come of these people.
    “Morning, folks,” one of them says. His words are murky through the glass window, but I can hear well enough.
    “Morning,” Owen echoes.
    “What brings you to Bone Harbor?” the second asks. A female. Her face is square and angular, her neck so thick she almost appears not to have one.
    “What makes you think we are only visiting?”
    “There’s not much need for horses around here,” the woman says, eyeing the reins in Xavier’s hands.
    “We plan to trade them,” my father answers. “They were necessary to get here, but we need a boat