Not good.

“I hate your father,” Tips said, the words harsh and clipped. “I hate him to the very depths of whatever soul I have. We all do. But…”

“But…” I pressed, even though I knew what he was going to say.

His shoulders lifted and fell with an apologetic slump. “He’s given us everything we asked for. Better treatment. The plans for the stone tree and the gold to build it.” Tips lifted his face, meeting my gaze with steady eyes. “He’s delivered everything you offered us, everything you failed to give. We’d be mad to side with you against him.” The corner of his mouth turned up and he snorted angrily. “It makes me sick to say it, but it’s the truth.”

I bit the insides of my cheeks. I’d expected this, but that didn’t make me any less angry. Every which way I turned, my father had schemes designed to make me and everyone else dance to his tune. Even this… he’d known I’d see that the structure the half-bloods were building was doomed to fail. He’d known that I’d feel compelled to do something about it. I was walking down a path he’d laid for me with no idea of where I’d end up. Part of me wanted to keep the information between Marc and me until I’d figured out what my father was up to, but that strategy had served me poorly in the recent past.

“He’s given you nothing,” I said. “The plans my father provided are not mine – they are false. Even if he allows you to complete the structure, it won’t hold for more than an instant. Take away the magic, and Forsaken Mountain will finish the destruction it started five hundred years past.”

Tips’s mouth dropped open, and his crew exchanged horrified glances.

The dullness fled from Vincent’s eyes. “That bastard!” he swore, voice loud enough to make dust rain down. “He’s a blasted sly old fox.”

I could think of a few more choice words to describe my father than that, but now wasn’t the time.

“But…” Tips’s mouth moved, forming words, but no sound came out. “They’re detailed,” he finally blurted out. “They’ve got calculations… lists of materials. They’re in your hand!”

I shrugged. “I’ve no doubt he was meticulous in ensuring that the plans he gave you appeared authentic. But I assure you, they are not.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’ve seen them – they replicate the magic structure perfectly.”

“Which is precisely the problem. Stone and steel aren’t strong enough,” I replied, trying to think of a way to explain it to them. Spying a large boulder in a pile of rubble, I gestured for Vincent to retrieve it, then I created a narrow column of magic. “Balance the rock on the column.” He did so, and everyone stared at the combination without comprehension. I sighed. “Now balance it on Tip’s crutch.”

Vincent picked up the rock, then hesitated. “It’ll break.”

“Indeed it will,” I agreed. “But what if you had three crutches, and arrayed them so that the weight would be evenly dispersed?”