The Tree of Ecrof

by Kobe Bryant

  He lay at the base of the tree gasping for air, staring into the towering canopy of leaves. When Rovi got his breath back, he rolled over. His face was pressed against one of the enormous tree roots that rose from the earth and ran toward the surrounding track. From where Rovi was lying, the roots seemed oddly black. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. No, he wasn’t imagining things—the roots were black. Dark, inky black. It wasn’t just the roots in front of him, either—all the tree’s roots were the same unnatural color. They crawled from the earth like sick black tentacles.

  Rovi rubbed his eyes one more time. Was he hallucinating? Was he—?

  No. The tree roots were black. There was no mistaking it.

  Rovi jumped to his feet and raced out of the stadium. He dashed past the Visualization class and headed for the Granology classroom. As he was about to enter, the narrow door between the two classrooms caught Rovi’s eye for the second time—his father’s lab. He reached out for the doorknob. But he stopped. He couldn’t risk being even later than he already was to Granology.

  The classroom was dark and cool. The rest of the first-year recruits were sitting with their Grana Books in front of them when Rovi burst in, interrupting the teacher, who was standing at the front of the room.

  “Sorry,” Rovi muttered. “I couldn’t find my book.”

  “You misplaced your Grana Book?” The teacher was a slender Realist with pale, almost silver hair tied back with a blue silk scarf.

  “No,” Rovi said. “It was just buried somewhere.”

  “Take a seat . . .”

  “Rovi. Rovi Myrios.”

  A curious look passed across the teacher’s face. “Rovi Myrios,” she said. “Rovi Myrios. I’m Saana Theradon. Please take your seat and keep your Grana Book closed in front of you.”

  She consulted a chart on her desk. “Your chair is next to Castor Praxis.”

  Rovi hesitated.

  “Take your seat, Rovi,” Saana said again.

  Reluctantly, Rovi sat down next to Castor. The minute he took his seat, Castor leaned over. “Hey, Rovi. How come you were running out of the stadium?”

  Rovi stared at the cover of his book. “I wasn’t.”

  “Come on,” Castor continued. “I saw you.”

  Rovi took a quick glance out the window. To his horror, the entrance to the Panathletic Stadium directly faced the Granology classroom.

  “You weren’t messing with the Tree of Ecrof, were you?” Castor said.

  Rovi looked back at his book and refused to acknowledge Castor.

  Castor tipped sideways in his chair and leaned over toward Rovi. “I can’t remember,” Castor said. “Wasn’t your father fired because of something to do with that tree?”

  Rovi could feel the blood rush to his cheeks.

  Their exchange had attracted the instructor’s attention. “Excuse me, Castor,” Saana said in her soft but forceful voice. “Is there something you want to share with us?”

  “No, I was just catching Rovi up on what he’s missed.” Castor gave Rovi a wicked smile, then turned his attention to the large, stately Grana Book lying on his desk.

  Rovi dragged his desk as far away from Castor as he could. Then he craned his neck and looked out the window, trying to get a clearer look at the Tree of Ecrof rising out of the stadium. Maybe he had imagined it. Maybe the fall had made him see things. But the tree hadn’t seemed as majestic as usual. In fact, it had seemed sick.

  “All right,” Saana said, “now that we are all settled, let’s return to the principles of Granology. As you know, your books are made on the island of Docen. There are many theories as to how the Guardians of the Book select the images. What is known, however, is that the images are said to be a combination of the way your parents see the world and the way they hope you will see it. What we will learn here is how to interpret your books. Interpretation is a personal process. To each of you it will come differently. The only thing that is universal is that you will know when you have arrived at the right interpretation.”

  “How?” Virgil asked.

  “You will feel it,” Saana said. “It will be different for each of you. But soon you will come to recognize that sensation of realization that arrives from properly interpreting your images.”

  “But the images don’t say anything,” Leo said.

  “Is that so?” Saana said. “Now, what’s a question that all of you want answered?”

  Vera raised her hand. “I want to know why I became a Replacement.”

  “Unfortunately the books only provide a key to your future, not your past. But I’m sure if you look through the book, you will see it with the eyes of a Dreamer, not a Realist.”

  “What does that mean?” Vera asked.

  “A Realist sees what is on the page, a Dreamer sees what is behind the page.”

  Vera rolled her eyes. “But I see what’s on the page,” she said.

  “All that means is that you haven’t really looked yet. At least not with open eyes.”

  “My eyes are open,” Vera grumbled.

  “No one is saying the Dreamer method is better than the Realist one,” Saana explained. “That is the most important lesson that I can teach you. There are no wrong ways to approach your books. There are only lazy interpretations,” Saana said. “Now let’s think up a question that’s universal to all of you.”

  Leo’s hand shot into the air. “How about, What will our first year at Ecrof be like?”

  “Well, you’re not going to be chosen for Epic Elite,” Nassos teased.

  “How do you know?” Leo said.

  “All right,” Saana said. “Let’s see what the books say. Who would like to go first?”

  Adira and Virgil were out of their chairs in an instant.

  “One at a time,” Saana said, beckoning Adira forward. While Adira was approaching the front of the room, Saana switched on a projector. “Now think hard about the question, Adira. And when you are ready, open your book to the page that you believe will give you the answer.”

  “How do I know what page to choose?” Adira asked.

  “You don’t,” Saana said.

  Adira looked nervous. “But what if I pick the wrong one?”

  “The page you pick becomes the right page.”

  “But what if it’s a bad page?” Adira asked.

  “There are no good or bad pages,” Saana said. “The only thing that matters is how focused your interpretation is.”

  Adira opened her book, peering carefully at the pages. The whole room was silent as they watched her flip through her book. Finally, Adira chose her page. She put the book facedown on the projector, and the image of a golden turret rising from a stormy sea toward a puff of white clouds appeared. On one side was a capsized ship, on the other a giant, glimmering leaping fish. At the bottom of the page, below the stormy waters, were the skeletons of large sea animals.

  “All right,” Saana said. “What do you see?”

  “A tower,” Adira said.

  “And what does that mean?”

  “It means . . . diving. Like a high diving board. And that means it’s going to be difficult at first. That’s what the stormy water means. But it will get better.”

  “Okay,” Saana said slowly. “Fair enough. But what about the fish? What about the capsized boat? What about the whale or dolphin skeletons? Do those forecast good things or bad things?”

  Adira bit her lip nervously.

  “You must interpret the whole picture, not just the parts that jump out at you,” Saana said. “You chose the page. This entire page is your Ecrof story. Now go back to your seat and think quietly.”

  Adira screwed up her face in irritation as she returned to her chair.

  “Now,” Saana said in her distant manner, “I’m not here to make examples of anyone. But let that be a lesson to you not to look fo
r a picture to match the image of the answer you want to your question. As I said before, none of the pictures in your book are good or bad. Just like your entire time at Ecrof will neither be all good or all bad. There are elements of both on every page. You need to be open to everything you see in front of you.”

  One by one the students stepped forward. Some of them, mostly Realists, opened their books quickly and randomly to whatever page. Their interpretations were quick and literal. I will run many races. At first I will lose. Then I will win. The Dreamers took more time finding their pages and when they did, they took a roundabout way of explaining what they saw. But none of the interpretations were precise. Success is possible but slippery. My friends will be like waves, my sports will be like mountains.

  Rovi’s hands trembled as he opened his book. He had yet to look inside it. He was worried about what he would find. After all, his father had lost his mind. What if that was reflected in the pages? What if the book prophesied his own madness?

  “Rovi?” Saana said. “Are you joining us for this assignment?”

  Reluctantly, he opened the book. The page Rovi turned to had an image of two snowy mountains and a smaller green hill. A bouquet of dead flowers was on one side of the page and a trio of birds stood opposite. He wasn’t sure why he’d chosen this page except that something inside of him told Rovi that it contained the answer to Leo’s question.

  “And what do you see, Rovi?” Saana asked.

  “I don’t know,” Rovi said.

  “Is that it?” Saana asked.

  He didn’t really think too much of the picture. Why did he need a book to tell his future? Wasn’t his future just going to happen? What was the point in knowing about it?

  “Rovi,” Saana said. “I’m waiting on your interpretation.”

  Rovi stared down at the image, thinking how strange it was that this one incomprehensible thing was the only object he had that his parents had held, that they’d meant for him to have. It was the last remaining connection to his father and mother.

  His father! His mother!

  “Maybe the big mountains are my parents and I’m the little one,” he said.

  Saana was looking at him with interest. “And?”

  “And that’s it,” Rovi said.

  “Rovi,” Saana said, “that’s an impressive start. Can you take it any further?”

  Rovi glanced up and saw Castor whispering to Hector. Suddenly he wished he hadn’t mentioned his father. But it had just come to him. The idea had flown into his mind unbidden. He snatched his book from the projector and returned to his seat. When he sat down, he saw that Saana was still looking at him as if he’d done something impressive. “You know, Rovi, I believe your mother was a Granologist, am I right?”

  Rovi nodded.

  “I think I’ve come across her name in some professional books on the study of grana. Perhaps you have inherited her talents.”

  “Maybe,” Rovi muttered. He stared down at his book, trying to hide his pride that he’d impressed the teacher.

  Now it was Pretia’s turn.

  “Can she do it if she doesn’t have grana?” Castor asked as his cousin came forward.

  Saana ignored the question.

  Pretia flipped through the pages blindly, like one of the card magicians in the plaza at Phoenis. Then, without looking, she placed the book on the projector. Up came a dark picture. It took Rovi a moment to see what he was looking at. The image showed a forest in the moonlight at the edge of a large lake at night. The trees were reflected in the water, except their reflection made them look sickly, like firewood or something that had been burned. The moon was also reflected in the water, but it was dull, almost muddy.

  “Is that the Decision Woods?” Pretia asked.

  “It is if that’s what you see,” Saana said.

  Pretia was squinting up at the projection, a baffled look on her face. “I have no idea what I’m seeing,” she said. “Trees. Upside-down ones. Sticks. Maybe it’s all one tree with a lot of roots. I really don’t know.”

  “What else?” Saana asked.

  “Everything is doubled. Maybe I’ll have to do everything twice,” Pretia said.

  “Since she’ll fail the first time,” Rovi heard Castor whisper to Hector.

  “Perhaps you should forget about what you see and think about how you feel,” Saana said.

  A queasy look crossed Pretia’s face. “I don’t feel anything. Just confused.”

  “Relax into the image,” Saana urged.

  Pretia contorted her face and stared down at the book. “There will be a hard side and an easy side to everything. Everything I do will have two sides to it—easy and hard?” She didn’t sound too certain. In fact, it sounded to Rovi as if Pretia was simply making something up.

  Her answer, however, seemed to satisfy Saana, who told her to return to her seat.

  For the rest of the class, Saana told the recruits to sit quietly with their books and contemplate their chosen image. Then she asked them to write out their interpretations—because some things are better not spoken aloud, she added.

  When Rovi turned in his paper at the end of class, he noticed that Pretia’s was blank.

  “Hey,” he said, grabbing her arm on the way out of the room. “How come you didn’t write anything?”

  “Because my page made no sense.” Then Pretia lowered her voice. “And it made me a little bit sick to look at it. What do you think that means?”

  “Probably nothing,” Rovi said. But he wasn’t so sure.

  11

  PRETIA

  THE BRANCH

  After a few months it became easy for Pretia to pretend that she didn’t have grana. It was sort of like making your mind go blank so it felt as if you didn’t know the answer even when you did. When she was asked to run faster or jump higher or throw farther, Pretia made her body and mind go numb, so she did whatever she was asked to do mindlessly, halfheartedly, with no effort or grana. It didn’t matter that she was always on the bottom. It didn’t matter that she was usually assigned penalty laps. At least she had hidden her cursed grana.

  All day, every day, Pretia was aware of all her grana building up inside her. It was like her body was full of electricity. She felt jumpy, twitchy, and sometimes unable to sleep at night. She had to restrain the urge to go for a run, to explore the Decision Woods, to sprint along the Infinity Track or around the Panathletic Stadium.

  One day, Saana let the recruits out of Granology early to study their books in the field behind the three residential temples. Pretia was happy for the early dismissal because she could be alone with her book instead of being forced to explain it to her classmates. She loved turning the pages, trying to figure out why the Guardians of the Book had chosen the images that they did and which images, if any, reflected her parents’ worldview. But mostly she returned to the image that she had opened to the first day in class—the page that showed the trees reflected in the water. Where had this come from? Which of her parents had chosen it? And what in the world did it have to do with her time at Ecrof?

  She wondered if the mirror images had to do with her heritage—half Dreamer and half Realist. But how was that specific to her time at Ecrof in particular as opposed to her life anywhere else? Or maybe it had to do with her cursed grana. Maybe that’s why the trees in the water looked sick or burned—half of her was poisoned. Maybe the image was yet another warning not to use her grana.

  While she was staring at the image for the hundredth time, the rest of the recruits had put down their books and split into teams—Dreamers and Realists, of course—for a game of capture the flag. She looked up in time to see her classmates heading to opposite sides of the small woods at the edge of the field behind two of the residential temples.

  “Wait up,” Rovi said, calling to Cyril. “What about Pretia?”

  “I mean, if she wa
nts to play,” Cyril said. “But it’s not like she’ll add anything.”

  “Come on, Pretia,” Rovi called. “You don’t want to stare at a book all day, do you?”

  Pretia hesitated. Of course she wanted to play. More than anything. And what could the harm be in a game of capture the flag? She could hover on the sidelines, protecting her team’s flag while mostly staying out of the way.

  “Okay,” she said, leaping to her feet.

  “Show us what you got, Star Stealer,” Castor taunted from his side of the woods.

  “I’m going to steal your flag before you know what’s happened,” Rovi said.

  Cyril quickly appointed himself Dreamer captain. “Okay,” he said. “Adira and Virgil, you are the guards. You protect the flag. Rovi, Vera, and I will be the runners. Zoe, you protect our jail so that no captured Realists can be tagged by their teammates and escape. Xenia and Jason are on general offense—distract the Realist guards while Rovi and I try to get their flag.”

  “I don’t need anyone to run interference for me,” Rovi said. “I’m just getting the flag.”

  “Not if I get it first,” Vera said.

  Cyril gave both of them a funny look. “Listen, this is a team sport. We are going to work together.”

  “What should I do?” Pretia asked.

  “Just help out,” Cyril said. “I mean, do whatever you can.”

  Hector clapped his hands to signal the start of the game.

  “Race you to the flag,” Vera called to Rovi. And the two of them sprinted away into Realist territory.

  The game was underway. Quickly, Leo made a pointless dash into the Dreamers’ defense and was tagged by Zoe and put in jail. Then Cyril got captured on the Realists’ side. Jason and Virgil managed to lure the Realist guards away from their base so Vera could grab the flag. But just as she was about to cross to the Dreamers’ side, Nassos tagged her and sent her to jail.

  Hector made it through the Dreamers’ defense and grabbed the flag. He slipped past Adira and Virgil and passed close to Pretia.