Seeker (Riders #2)(104)

"Orchards. Houses. Animal pens. Gardens. But no security. There's nothing. I mean, the wall keeps the Harrows out. That's all we ever worried about."

"Why would you worry if you were Samrael when every threat in this place is under your command?" Jode says.

"Every threat until now," Marcus says with quiet menace.

I look from him to Jode, and then to Bas.

There's no time to absorb that we're together, the four of us. But on some soul-deep level, I feel restored. Now I just need Daryn and a ticket out of this hellhole.

We create a breaching plan and go over contingencies, reviewing everything a few times. By the time we're prepared, there are still a couple of hours before it's time to head out.

Bas offers to take over on lookout in the loft so Jode can take a break. In five minutes, both Jode and Marcus have wedged themselves into empty corners of the room to grab some sleep. I doubt they'll be very successful.

Riot and the other horses have lined up, pressed close. They're resting their heads on the horse beside them, kind of braided together that way. Also in the zone between being asleep and awake.

I sit by the front door. Scratch my jaw. Draw my knees up. For a second, I just appreciate being out of the cell. Away from the bucket and the straw mat I lived with for days.

I look at Riot. He's here. He's all right.

We haven't gotten out of the Rift yet, but we've had some victories.

"I know you don't want to hear regrets," Bas says from above. "But I can't stop thinking  …  how did I miss it? Why couldn't I see what he really is?"

I don't know how to answer him. But I do know what it's like to get fooled.

"Do you know anything about the Gold Rush?" I ask him.

Bas looks down from the loft. "The Gold Rush?" He looks back through the broken shutters. "Yeah. I auditioned for a Western once. I didn't get it. But I learned about it a little. Gold miners. Prospecting. Everyone moving out West in search of riches."

"Yep. That's about it. But, being from California, I had to learn a lot more. In third grade we spent a ton of time on it, learning all about the history. Then we went on a field trip to an old mining town to pan for gold. 

"Everybody was pumped up. We wanted to actually find gold. Real gold. We were nine, and believed anything was possible. Anyway, I must've panned for an hour under the hot sun, but it felt like I'd been there all day. I got nothing. Rocks. Dirt. I didn't even get interesting trash like some of the other kids. I didn't like that.

"This kid in my class, Luke Miller. He was my best friend, so of course we competed at everything. Luke had pulled a rock from his pan that looked kind of shiny. Slightly shiny. But he was going around telling everyone he'd found the mother lode. And I had nothing, so. I got pretty mad."

Bas smiles, still looking outside.

Marcus's laugh is a quiet rumble. He already knows this story.

"But then I went to the gift shop and things turned around for me. There, I saw that, for a mere five bucks, I could get a little glass jar full of gold shavings. I slapped my five bucks of spending money on the counter and walked away a much richer man. I thought I'd scored big time. It seemed like such a good deal.

"I ran right over to tell Luke that I was a better prospector than him. I was bragging right back at him, right. Just shamelessly gloating. He took the jar, turned it upside down, and showed me what it said on the bottom.

"'Made in China.' He laughed and explained global commerce to me in this super condescending way. Like, how was it possible I hadn't known any better?"

Bas grins. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. I stood by my counterfeit gold. I acted like I was proud of it. I told him it was better than his stupid rock. Then I went home and cried my heart out."

Bas laughs. "That's so sad."

"Yeah."

"He still has the jar in his room," Marcus says.

I nod. "I do. Right on my dresser."

"You've kept it for ten years?" Jode asks.

"I'd spent five bucks on it. Some of us don't have jars of real gold sitting around."

Jode laughs. "Yes, that's right. I keep my bars stacked by my bedside."

"Anyway, after I was done crying, I told my dad everything. He listened to my story, then he left the room and came back with gold cuff links. He gave one to me and said, 'Here's something that's made of real gold. But one day you'll realize that's only a pretty piece of metal. Real gold is the value of truth. It's friends you respect who respect you back. It's what we have-you and me. That's real gold.'

"He was right. I had all the riches in the world when he was alive. And I still have the cuff link, too. One of them. The other one is buried with him."