The Unwanteds

by Lisa McMann

  “Good day, Governors.”

  “Well met, Aaron,” they intoned.

  Now that he had an official title tied to the high priest, it bothered Aaron that they continued to call him by his first name as if he were a child. But he said nothing, and instead turned his attention to the driver, a Quillitary lieutenant. “Driver,” he said curtly as the vehicle chugged and squealed along the road.

  “Yes, sir, Assistant Secretary Stowe, sir!”

  That made up for the previous. “What is your top speed?” Aaron asked.

  “Twenty-five posts, sir.”

  “Sustainable?”

  “Not hardly, sir.”

  “How long?”

  “I’d say thirty minutes.”

  “You’d say?” Aaron sneered.

  “Thirty minutes, sir!”

  “What happens at thirty-one?”

  “Engine locks up, Mr. Stowe. You hear the squealing now? Needs water and grease. Soon as we arrive, I’ll rejuice so I can make it back.”

  Aaron’s brow furrowed. “Water? What’s the water allotment for the base? Gentlemen?”

  Governor Strang spoke. “We’ve just increased it to thirty barrels.”

  “A week?”

  “Thirty barrels,” Strang repeated, “a day.”

  Aaron sat back in the seat. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said evenly, even though Senior Governor Haluki hadn’t contributed a word, and even appeared to be nodding off in the front seat.

  Thirty barrels a day. Aaron looked out his window, up through the barbed-wire defense ceiling, and scanned the sky for rain clouds. Seeing none, he feared for the life of his first project, the Favored Farm. With water this scarce and the Quillitary vehicles sucking up a ridiculous amount, something had to be done.

  Haluki, Strang, and Aaron toured the Quillitary base, walking past new Wanted soldiers practicing the traditional Quillitary death chants that would be used in battle should Quill ever come under attack. But Aaron’s focus was on transportation today. He absorbed everything he saw and heard regarding the vehicles. Then the three returned to the vehicle for the short ride to the palace to meet with the High Priest Justine. The car creaked and strained its way up the hill, and Aaron, now feeling the exhaustion from too few hours of sleep the night before, let his thoughts wander once again to the strange episode during the night. It felt distant now, but something tugged at Aaron’s mind. How could it be possible that behind that great fence was an entire world full of Unwanteds? Aaron couldn’t fathom it. There was no way they would fit, for one thing—not according to the accounts he’d overheard from the governors’ inspection about the small plot of land. And where would they hide? It was ridiculous. There was nothing but a building, some weeds, and a—a lake. A Great Lake of Boiling Oil.

  Aaron closed his eyes for a moment, telling himself to stop all thoughts of Alex forever before he did something to jeopardize his standing with the high priest. Even so, he fingered the thin piece of metal in his pocket through the fabric of his trousers, wondering where else something like that could have possibly come from.

  Finally the driver pulled the vehicle up to the palace. After the customary passwords and formal greetings with the high priest, the four sat in the conference room.

  Senior Governor Haluki began the briefing, updating the high priest with a status report from General Blair. Strang continued, speaking of their tour, and then the three turned to Aaron. “And what are your findings?” Justine asked.

  Throughout the briefing, something had niggled at the edge of Aaron’s thoughts. He struggled to come up with something brilliant to say, but he was afraid that his comments would disappoint. He knew this was important. He knew this could prove that his first idea, the Favored Farm, was not a fluke. This could prove his brilliance. And perhaps, just perhaps, it might answer the burning question that had been plaguing him for months.

  The high priest waited patiently for Aaron to answer.

  Haluki and Strang eyed him carefully.

  Aaron straightened his already extreme posture to a state of rigid. “If it pleases the high priest, I wish to offer a solution to the growing problem, not only of the poor quality of the Quillitary vehicles, for indeed they are in a sorry state. But also a solution that will ease Quill’s looming water shortage.”

  Justine’s gaze didn’t waver. “Proceed,” she said.

  Aaron nodded. “I believe there is a method that, to my limited knowledge,” he said humbly, “we have not explored. Perhaps you will consider it worthy.” Aaron took a breath, knowing he couldn’t stall much longer without actually making his suggestion, yet still trying desperately in his mind to figure out exactly how it would work.

  Haluki, who sat opposite Aaron, shifted in his chair, his narrowed eyes not leaving the boy’s face.

  Strang nodded encouragingly, for he had an appreciation for the boy’s mind.

  The High Priest Justine’s mouth twitched, as if she were growing impatient. “Out with it, then.”

  Aaron nodded again and pressed his lips together. “Very well,” he said, his esophagus feeling tight enough to stop his breath. “I believe the solution to making the vehicles run more efficiently, and to freeing up the thirty barrels of water used by the Quillitary base each day, is …” Aaron swallowed, and continued. “The Great Lake of Boiling Oil.”

  The High Priest Justine knitted her brows, the look on her face growing even more intense. “And?” she prompted sharply.

  “And …” Aaron’s voice cracked, making him cringe and clear his throat. “And,” he continued, “therefore, as I have never seen the Great Lake of Boiling Oil, I’d like your permission to pay a visit to the Death Farm so I might gather a sample for study and testing.”

  Haluki’s eyes flickered for an instant before they returned to their cold steel-blue color. He shifted in his chair as the high priest and Strang grew thoughtful.

  “No. It’s out of the question,” Haluki said.

  The high priest offered Haluki a rare look of disdain. “What?” she said, her voice raised slightly as fire rose in her eyes.

  “It’s contaminated,” Haluki said forcefully. “Polluted. Perhaps you’ve forgotten what goes in there.”

  Aaron and the young Governor Strang exchanged an uncomfortable look.

  The high priest glared at Haluki. “I’ll thank you to leave that decision up to me.” She turned to the palace guards at the door. “Guards! Fetch a vehicle immediately, suitably large enough for the four of us.”

  Aaron’s stomach flipped.

  Haluki hesitated, and then stood abruptly and made for the door. “Make that three. I’ve another appointment. Good day, madam.”

  The three remaining at the table watched him go, and then looked at each other, none of them bothering to hide the shock on their faces at this strange behavior. Finally the high priest had the wherewithal to call out, “Oh, for Quill’s sake, Haluki. Come back here immediately!”

  But the man was already gone.

  Visitors

  And so it was that while Mr. Today was holding a meeting on the lawn to give the most recent developments to all humans, statues, and domesticated creatures, and while Arija called to order a similar meeting of all the wild creatures in the jungle, the squeaky Quillitary vehicle containing the High Priest Justine, Governor Strang, and Assistant Secretary Stowe came to a stop outside the vast iron gate. And because no one had ever come through the gate without six months’ notice, and because only one person in all of Quill had a key to the gate, and because the remaining three girrinos had trickled to the fringe of the crowd on the lawn so that they could hear just a little more clearly, there was no one there to notice it.

  Except for Simber, whose keen senses were the best of anyone’s. But by the time the great winged cheetah had bounded over a row of Artiméans and thundered toward the gate, growling out a warning to Mr. Today that set the entire land of Artimé on their feet and reaching into their component vests for their magical weapons, it was too l
ate. The gate was swinging open.

  A look passed between the great old mage and the stately cheetah; it was a look only two friends who have known each other for many, many years could understand. So while Mr. Today held up his hand to silence the Artiméans, the stone cheetah stood solid, his enormous wings outstretched to their full span of twenty feet or more, and acted as a shield between the visitors and the crowd to keep the enthusiastic folk from descending on the three Quillens like a thousand Unwanted ghosts on the Eliminator.

  And just as the three stepped around the iron door, an enormous gray wolf burst from the seaside entrance of the mansion and bounded toward Mr. Today, until he saw that he was already too late. But he was hardly noticed, since all eyes strained to see around or above or below the great expanse of Simber’s wings.

  With a soft word and a gentle hand, Mr. Today motioned to the enormous crowd to be seated, and because they trusted him, they did so, most of them realizing, after thinking about it for a moment, that the visitors would be so overwhelmed at the sight of Artimé that they would likely need no containment.

  But Alex didn’t notice everyone sitting. He didn’t notice Lani tugging at his hand, and he didn’t notice that when she was unable to pull him down, she stood back up and simply held his arm, and he didn’t notice Mr. Today offering a slight nod of approval to Lani before he turned and walked slowly across the lawn to approach the guests. Alex merely stood and stared. And as he stood there, he thought that he should be feeling all sorts of emotional somethings inside his heart and his gut. But all he felt was a chilled emptiness, as if by their entrance, by their mere presence, the three Quillens had sucked all the emotion from the entire place into their cold veins and it had stuck and frozen there. Alex stared into his brother’s eyes and watched Aaron stare back, until Aaron could not help but look away.

  By this time Claire Morning had weaved her way through the maze of Artiméans, and she walked in step with Mr. Today. Florence joined Simber and stood with her back to him, facing the crowd and training her eye on Samheed, who looked like he wanted to disappear, and on Will Blair, who looked beyond eager to stand face-to-face with Aaron Stowe and blast him to tiny bits. But even Will saw that he would not win this challenge. Not now. He would have to save his venom for a new day, which now seemed nearer than ever.

  Of the three it was Strang who was most shocked. But to say that the High Priest Justine and Aaron were not flabbergasted would be a fantastic lie, because they were quite beyond their capacities to speak. Their glances darted from the army of Unwanteds and strange creatures before them to the enormous mansion, to the sparkling blue-green sea, to the lush landscape and the forest in the distance.

  The High Priest Justine, her eyes shooting fiery bits of anger and betrayal after the initial shock of it all, drew herself up to her full height and pressed her thin lips together so tightly that they seemed to be a single white line painted on her rigid face.

  Governor Strang looked as if he might pass out at the sight of Simber, whose keen eyes moved from one Quillen to the next, and whose body was tensed and ready to strike should the need arise.

  And Aaron Stowe stared and stared, and inched backward, as all his nightmares came true before his very eyes. Simber caught the boy’s eye and growled such a deep, low warning that it sounded more like a roll of thunder from somewhere beyond the border wall. Aaron stopped his inching and stood still as a—well, still as a statue. Mr. Today, with Claire at his side, approached the visitors.

  “Greetings, Justine,” said Mr. Today. He stood equally as tall but scores less rigid than the ruler of Quill. “Hello again, Aaron.”

  Aaron’s face grew pale.

  Justine’s eyes flashed surprise as she glanced at Aaron, and then she turned her fury back on Mr. Today. Her voice, dripping with contempt, hissed, “Marcus.”

  And while Marcus Today had been preparing himself for this moment for many years, it felt surreal. It felt beyond even the mage’s own ability to imagine. It felt almost, not quite but nearly, pleasant—to finally be at this spot so that he could soon put it behind him. And while he was a gracious man, he knew that now was not the time to say another word.

  The High Priest Justine stood just as still, and the two faced each other for several long, uncomfortable seconds, both their minds whirring, deciding how best to continue this conversation in the presence of the menagerie.

  It was Justine who, by necessity as the time ticked, made the first move. She knew Marcus would take it as a sign of weakness, yet she saw no other way around it other than to stand there until the end of time. And in the fashion of rulers throughout history, she said in a deathly voice, “I request a meeting in private.”

  Mr. Today nodded curtly. “That can be arranged.”

  “At the palace. Eight o’clock.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Justine’s face flushed hotly, but she kept her voice even. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Here and now will do.” The old mage turned to Simber. “Clear the lawn, please. Everyone inside so that I might have a word with the high priest and her comrades alone.”

  Claire glanced at Mr. Today, concerned. He nodded. She hesitated, and then left him alone with the three Quillens and began helping Simber funnel the Unwanteds into the mansion.

  Within minutes nearly all of the Artiméans had streamed inside. Alex paused to cast one last cool glance at his brother. They locked eyes for a moment; volumes of things unsaid passed between them. For the first time since the incident in the mud Alex sensed his brother’s true fear.

  “Alex,” Simber growled softly.

  Alex broke the stare and slowly rounded the corner of the mansion along with the dregs of the crowd, in step with Ms. Morning, as Simber waited patiently and then followed them inside.

  Alex found his friends in the lounge, where hushed conversations had taken the place of the usual music and laughter. He slumped down on the couch next to Meghan, feeling like all the wind had been knocked out of him. He buried his head in his hands, rubbed the guilt from his eyes, and then looked up and started telling Meghan and Lani the story. Soon Sean joined them, and then Samheed approached and sat down tentatively, exchanging a glance with Alex. Alex shrugged and nodded. It didn’t matter now what Samheed knew, or what he could do. Artimé was exposed, and it was Alex’s fault. And then he shared what had happened the night before, from the archives floor of the library to the 3-D door to the wolf—except that instead of Will Blair, Alex said “someone.” He wasn’t sure why, only that he thought that it might cause more problems if word got out.

  “Maybe they won’t want to fight,” Lani said when Alex had finished.

  “Are you stupid?” Samheed said. He looked uncharacteristically anxious, and kept glancing at Alex, wondering if Alex had turned him in but not daring to ask in front of everyone. “Can you imagine how furious the high priest must be, knowing that Mr. Today has betrayed her all these years? She’s got to feel like the biggest fool ever. If she doesn’t want to fight and word of us gets out to the Quillitary, they’ll take her down and come after us!”

  Sean nodded. “No doubt,” he said.

  Meghan chewed her fingernail. “I hope Mr. Today is all right out there.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sean said. “There’s nothing they can do to him. He could kill them all in an instant. They didn’t appear to have any weapons. But I am surprised Justine didn’t arrive with her guards. She must have great confidence in Governor Strang and Aaron—or else she’s grown so confident in her power that she no longer feels she needs protection.”

  “That won’t last long,” Lani said.

  The five sat in silence, waiting for news. When Earl announced that everyone was to return to the lawn, they all jumped up anxiously and headed for the tubes.

  Exposed

  As the Unwanteds filed out to the lawn, one by one their faces reacted to the new scene in front of them. In place of the enormous iron gate was, well, nothing. Nothing but a gapin
g hole that exposed the most desolate part of Quill. Beside the hole stood three of the girrinos, peering curiously around the edge of the wall into Quill. Arija had gone back to the jungle to give an update.

  “Hideous view, isn’t it?” Mr. Today said when they had all come to order. “As it turns out, Governor Strang had a bit of a dizzy spell, and when he fainted, he pushed the gate closed with his head. It locks upon latching, of course. Tch. Such a pity.” When the crowd offered quizzical looks, he explained. “There’s no other traditional way back into Quill. And with the only key to the gate in Justine’s hand and no way to get over the wall, they were stuck, which put them into a bit of a panic.” He chuckled quietly at the memory and went on. “So I gave Justine three options: to stay here forever, to be eliminated, or to go back to Quill through magical means. And, as I didn’t think Strang’s gentle heart would be able to handle the magical means I intended to use on him, I decided instead to use magic to remove the gate entirely and allow them out that way.”

  “But—but—” Several voices sputtered and erupted into a melee of questions. “Aren’t you going to put it back?” “Can they come in here?”

  Mr. Today held up his hands for silence. “I understand your concerns. Yes, they can see in, just as we can see out.” After the next round of murmurs Mr. Today nodded seriously. “And yes. You may come and go as you please, now, just as the people of Quill will be able to enter and leave here. Though I doubt we’ll see anyone but the Quillitary coming in. The Necessaries won’t even be told about it, I’m sure.”

  This brought an outcry, and several Unwanteds jumped to their feet in protest. Patiently Mr. Today waited for silence, and then he waited a moment longer, as if the decision had weighed heavily on his mind. Finally he spoke.

  “Friends. Hear me out, won’t you?” He paused, gathered his words, and went on. “Now that we have been discovered, I loathe the idea of continuing to hide Artimé. Be assured that the Quillitary is finding out about us right now, and they will soon be on their way to attack. They wanted all of you dead once, remember? Now they want me dead most of all. Do you think they will simply say, ‘What? You’ve been tricking us all these years? Oh, that’s all right,’ and leave us be?” He shook his head. “No, and I’ve never led you to believe that. This is the big opportunity they have been saving all their rage for. The removal of the gate gives us, the people of Artimé, more options. It allows for easy exit. And it allows us to see them coming.”