The First Book of Ore: The Foundry's Edge Read Online Free Page B
Author: Cameron Baity, Benny Zelkowicz
improvements to their quality of life. But most importantly, Meridian became the most powerful country in the world. Now, can anyone tell meâ¦â
There were only a few minutes left until the bell would free her from Vondell torture. She had to act fast.
Soft as a whisper, Phoebe eased the window sash closed on Candiceâs golden hair. She withdrew a paper clip from one of her skirt pockets, wedged it in the window mechanism, and twisted the wire around the knob to jam it. Candice was too engrossed in gossip to notice.
Phoebe wouldnât be the only one with an uneven haircut.
Satisfied, she prepared to bolt at the sound of the bell and glanced out the window to see if Tennyson had arrived.
Her breath lodged in her throat.
Beyond the workersâ scaffolding and construction tarps wafting in the sea breeze, she saw the stranger in the bowler hat. His tailored black suit hugged his broad barrel chest, and he wore crisp white gloves on large hands. Gleaming steel trim lined his lapels and the soles of his shoes. He stood eerily still, the waxy tint of his skin making him look like a statue that might melt in the sun. His stout, gently curled mustache looked like a joyless smile, which made his appearance all the more disturbing.
Even through his impenetrable black spectacles, she could feel his stare.
The sudden clang of the school bell propelled Phoebe from her seat. She snatched her book bag and was halfway down the hall before she heard Candice squawk behind her. Phoebe imagined Mrs. Vondell being forced to cut the girl loose with a pair of dull scissors.
Gotcha.
She slowed as a swarm of students poured out of classrooms and toward the front doors. Normally, she would have escaped Fort Beatrice at full speed to avoid the mob, but seeing the stranger out front made her hesitate. That morning, she had felt certain that he was a bodyguard hired to protect her. Now she was not so sure.
If he was an ally, why did his glare feel so invasive, like he was impaling her with a mere look?
Phoebe flattened up against the lockers to avoid students storming past and considered another route out of the building. She slipped down a stuffy side hall that was shrouded in drop cloths and loud with the screech of power tools. A custodian shuffled out of a classroom hauling a heavy trash bag to the incinerator. The moment his back was to her, she dashed through the door he had left open.
A humid breeze drifted in from an open window that overlooked the athletic fields behind the Academyâaway from the waiting stranger. She heard the shouts of kids playing outside and scanned the grounds to make sure no one was watching. Content that the coast was clear, she hopped up on the windowsill, swung her legs over, and dropped into the bushes below.
It was farther than Phoebe anticipated, but the hedge cushioned her fall. The mellow hush of ocean breeze tempered the brutal heat of the afternoon. It was such a relief to escape that stuffy old building.
From the bushes, Phoebe watched her classmates frolic, their lively Trinkas dancing in a colorful stir. Boys from the nearby prep school had gathered as well, pretending to ignore the girls but showing off nonetheless. Six of them were playing a frantic game of Springchuck, bouncing the coconut-sized copper gyroscope. You were supposed to catch the thing, perform some feat of agility, and then hurl it back into the circle of players. The gadget shot out at random, so it was impossible to predict where it would go, which was supposed to be half of the fun.
The older boys raced their Cable Bikes across the lawn toward a nearby hub. At the umbrella-shaped brass booth, they latched their Bikes on to the ascension line and zipped off overhead. The boys chased each other along the crisscrossed Link-Way high above, doing dangerous stunts as they switched their Bikes from wire to wire, to the giggling delight of the girls below.
Phoebe crept through the shrubs and made her way around
There were only a few minutes left until the bell would free her from Vondell torture. She had to act fast.
Soft as a whisper, Phoebe eased the window sash closed on Candiceâs golden hair. She withdrew a paper clip from one of her skirt pockets, wedged it in the window mechanism, and twisted the wire around the knob to jam it. Candice was too engrossed in gossip to notice.
Phoebe wouldnât be the only one with an uneven haircut.
Satisfied, she prepared to bolt at the sound of the bell and glanced out the window to see if Tennyson had arrived.
Her breath lodged in her throat.
Beyond the workersâ scaffolding and construction tarps wafting in the sea breeze, she saw the stranger in the bowler hat. His tailored black suit hugged his broad barrel chest, and he wore crisp white gloves on large hands. Gleaming steel trim lined his lapels and the soles of his shoes. He stood eerily still, the waxy tint of his skin making him look like a statue that might melt in the sun. His stout, gently curled mustache looked like a joyless smile, which made his appearance all the more disturbing.
Even through his impenetrable black spectacles, she could feel his stare.
The sudden clang of the school bell propelled Phoebe from her seat. She snatched her book bag and was halfway down the hall before she heard Candice squawk behind her. Phoebe imagined Mrs. Vondell being forced to cut the girl loose with a pair of dull scissors.
Gotcha.
She slowed as a swarm of students poured out of classrooms and toward the front doors. Normally, she would have escaped Fort Beatrice at full speed to avoid the mob, but seeing the stranger out front made her hesitate. That morning, she had felt certain that he was a bodyguard hired to protect her. Now she was not so sure.
If he was an ally, why did his glare feel so invasive, like he was impaling her with a mere look?
Phoebe flattened up against the lockers to avoid students storming past and considered another route out of the building. She slipped down a stuffy side hall that was shrouded in drop cloths and loud with the screech of power tools. A custodian shuffled out of a classroom hauling a heavy trash bag to the incinerator. The moment his back was to her, she dashed through the door he had left open.
A humid breeze drifted in from an open window that overlooked the athletic fields behind the Academyâaway from the waiting stranger. She heard the shouts of kids playing outside and scanned the grounds to make sure no one was watching. Content that the coast was clear, she hopped up on the windowsill, swung her legs over, and dropped into the bushes below.
It was farther than Phoebe anticipated, but the hedge cushioned her fall. The mellow hush of ocean breeze tempered the brutal heat of the afternoon. It was such a relief to escape that stuffy old building.
From the bushes, Phoebe watched her classmates frolic, their lively Trinkas dancing in a colorful stir. Boys from the nearby prep school had gathered as well, pretending to ignore the girls but showing off nonetheless. Six of them were playing a frantic game of Springchuck, bouncing the coconut-sized copper gyroscope. You were supposed to catch the thing, perform some feat of agility, and then hurl it back into the circle of players. The gadget shot out at random, so it was impossible to predict where it would go, which was supposed to be half of the fun.
The older boys raced their Cable Bikes across the lawn toward a nearby hub. At the umbrella-shaped brass booth, they latched their Bikes on to the ascension line and zipped off overhead. The boys chased each other along the crisscrossed Link-Way high above, doing dangerous stunts as they switched their Bikes from wire to wire, to the giggling delight of the girls below.
Phoebe crept through the shrubs and made her way around
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