“Joker-grass.” Glissandro played in triplets. “Tomorrow the field will probably be brown and look dead. They go from ocean to desert a lot. I’ve even seen some of the grass grow to look like a cactus.”
“If it ever turned normal green, this would be a great place to have a catch.”
Glissandro gave him a curious look. “What are you trying to catch?”
“A football catch. Toss it back and forth, you know, work on your arm… but I think it’s probably safe to assume you don’t have football here.”
Glissandro shook his head.
Sam shrugged. It didn’t matter. Once he learned how to control the Veil, he would have all the time in the world to have a catch.
He took another sniff and closed his eyes. He pretended he was on the beach and let the gentle ocean breeze wash over him. He and Doug waved to a group of pretty blonde girls going by in their bikinis and—
“How dare you sit around while your room is such a pig sty?”
Sam was pulled from his fantasy by his mother’s voice. It was quiet, but undeniably hers.
Sam looked over at Glissandro. “Did you hear that?”
Glissandro looked down at his horn and then placed a finger behind his ear.
Sam heard his mother grumbling off in the brush. He followed the sound away from the field and into the woods. The sound originated in a small shrub full of silver fruit.
Sam stared. “What the—”
“SAMUEL PETER LOCK! YOU WASH THOSE DISHES THIS INSTANT!”
There could be no mistake; it was his mother’s voice.
Glissandro appeared beside him, his face overflowing with anguish. “It’s the fruit.”
“A fruit that happens to sound exactly like my mother?”
“It’s the defense mechanism.” He stuck a pinky in his ear. “Each person hears the sound that annoys them the most.”
Sam took one step closer to the fruit.
“DON’T THROW THAT THING AROUND INSIDE THE HOUSE!”
Sam covered his ears. “Let’s get out of here!”
Glissandro nodded—he’d placed his horn in its holster and now had both pinkies in his ears.
They ran back across the field to catch up with the rest of the group.
Once they were a safe distance from the nagging fruit, Sam let his hands drop to his sides. “So, what’d you hear?”
Glissandro stopped short. He took a deep breath, and blew the most horrendous note Sam had ever heard. It was obnoxious, out of tune, and really loud.
Sam scrunched his face in disgust, and Glissandro stopped playing.
Sam felt lightheaded. “That was awful!”
“I know,” Glissandro played, a pensive look on his face. “That was the first note I ever played through this thing. I guess it will haunt me forever.”
“Me, too.”
Glissandro laughed silently.
Sam let out a slow breath. “I’m not sure which is worse, hearing my mom’s nagging or Petir’s whining.”
Glissandro moved his hands up and down like a scale.
“I know.” Sam let his head hang. “Either way, I lose.”
They caught up to the others making their way down a dirt path. Daphne was leading the way.
Sam winked at Glissandro and moved to catch up to Daphne. “So,” Sam put his arms back and stretched out his chest, “wanna hear about the time I caught seven for seven?”
Daphne gave him a blank look and continued walking.
“How ‘bout the time I froze a whole crowd of people without knowing it?”
She huffed and elongated her steps.
“What’s your problem?” Sam quickened his pace.
“I have no problems.” Daphne flicked her hair out of her face. “I am perfectly content with everything the Veil has done for me.”
“Fine. Then what’s the problem?”
She made a motion with her second-skin and a few vines moved from their path. “The problem is you.”
“What about me?”
“I don’t think it’s worth my breath. By the time I explain it to you, you’ll probably be back on the football field, far from here. Or worse.”
Sam felt his tone become harsh. “Hey, I’m stuck here. It’s not like I have a choice.”
“You just answered yourself, you know.” Her voice dripped disdain.
“Just come out and say it. I get enough riddles from May.”
She stopped short, and the others gathered round.
“You know what? I will tell you.” She turned and looked him in the eye. “Since your brain is probably full of useless things like sports statistics, I get that you don’t have the capacity to see what the problem is.”
Sam shrugged. “So, tell me.”
“For starters, let’s look at your word choice. You’re stuck here.”
Sam gave her the most patronizing look he could. “Yeah, May and Bariv told me I can’t leave. So yes, I’m stuck.”
She poked him hard in the chest. “You’ve been given a gift most people only ever dream of. I’m sure you—like every other kid—grew up wishing magic was real. Well, guess what? It is! We live in a beautiful community where everyone supports each other with love and companionship, where everyone is family and you don’t have to hide what you are from anyone—not like on the outside.” Daphne’s eyes burned and her cheeks turned red. “Here they would accept you with open arms, and you get to explore the wonders of the Veil and learn how to do amazing things. Yet you’re going to give it all up for a—a game.”
Sam stepped back. “You don’t understand. It’s not just a game. Doing magic and stuff isn’t the only thing people wish for, you know. Being a professional football player is something that a lot of people dream of, myself included.”
“And you’ll play for a while, and then what? A game eventually ends. Here, everything is new and exciting. The Veil protects us, nourishes us, entertains us—it is truly a blessing. You stand there with your second-skin and basically mock us all. Your life could mean something. Instead you’re just going to end up being a statistic in another naïve boy’s head.”
Cassiella looked like she wanted to jump in and defend Sam, but she stayed silent.
Sam rubbed his hand over his second-skin. “Even if I leave, it doesn’t mean I can’t come back after my career.”
Daphne’s cheeks were now bright red. “So now we’re so unimportant that you can just postpone your gift?” She imitated Sam’s voice. “‘Thanks a lot, I’ll take that later. No, what you have to offer isn’t good enough for me.’”
“Real smooth,” Petir whispered.
Sam clenched his fists. “No one was talking to you.” He turned back to Daphne. “That’s not it.” Something vibrated under Sam’s feet. “It’s just that I have to take the football opportunity now, because I’ll never have it again.”
She looked at him with fiery scorn. “Who says we’ll even want you back?”
Sam’s temper rose, along with the vibrations. “Hey, I’m doing everything right here. I’m not hurting anybody. I’m doing everything May asks. I’m playing the game.”
“Game?” Daphne’s blue eyes had turned from a serene lake to hurricane waters. “THIS… IS… NOT… A… GAME!”
“It’s an expression!” The tremors intensified. “Why do you even care?”
“I don’t.” She turned her back and continued walking.
Sam watched her stride away, fists clenched at her sides, and he felt something stir. He wasn’t used to girls calling him out on things. The last time it had happened, the necklace he’d bought his ex had ended up on the school linoleum.
“Good,” Sam huffed. The shaking underneath him subsided and he turned to look at the others. Zawadi’s eyebrows were almost intermingled with her hair. The smug smirk on Petir’s face was more potent than when he’d crushed Sam’s hand at gumptius.
Cassiella looked ready to cry.
“Let’s keep moving,” Sam said, as if nothing had happened. “I want t
o get started with that documenting.”
Glissandro came over, gave Sam a strong pat on the back, and followed after Daphne. Sam turned to follow him, leaving the others behind, with Petir cackling to himself at the back of the group.
Sam didn’t feel like talking; a lump had settled into his stomach. Even when they passed a sloth-like creature using the paw on the end of its tail to crush walnut shells, Sam decided to keep his mouth shut. What do I care what she thinks? Just because she’s beautiful doesn’t mean that she can act like a—
“We’re here,” Zawadi declared.
Sam raised his eyes. In front of him hovered thousands of tiny green birds, or… butterflies? The tiny wings fluttered as they clouded the canopy, letting only a small amount of daylight reach the ground. Squinting, Sam realized that they were not, in fact, birds or butterflies, but leaves.
While in the air, they moved so fast and erratically that they were tough to make out, but as they landed, Sam could see them more clearly. The leaves were V-shaped and had a waxy sheen. Once on the branch, it looked to Sam as if they actually attached to their landing strip, becoming part of the tree. On a few branches, some of the leaves rapidly turned gold and then yellow, orange, and finally brown. Once they had gone through the spectrum of colors, they gracefully fell to the ground and crumbled.
“They are divvy trees.” Zawadi gestured, and a leaf flew down and landed on her second-skin. She touched it with a gentle breath and it flew away. “But they are not what we came here for.”
Sam stared up at the trees; the air above him was a chaotic mess of green. When his eyes relaxed, the scene shifted, making it seem as if the leaves were actually dancing. “What did we come for?”
Zawadi pointed to Sam’s left.
About twenty feet away from him was a devious-looking plant. It had more thorn, spike, and needle than anything green. The height of a medium-sized dog, the main body was black and pulsed with a sappy discharge, and Sam could feel its radiating anger. Two pods protruded from the trunk like mutated eyes.
Sam peered closer at it. “Doesn’t look very useful to me.”
“We found it yesterday,” Cassiella said. “It’s new to the world, or at least, it’s new to Atlas Crown.”
Sam scratched the back of his neck. “So I guess now we have to figure out what it does.”
“You catch on so quick.” Petir’s voice pitched higher with sarcasm.
Sam ignored him, turning back to Zawadi. “So, what do you know so far?”
“Not much, but we do know it does not like us.”
“How do you know?”
Zawadi approached the plant, stopping at a line of stones on the grass about ten feet from it. The plant’s eye-like extensions whizzed in her direction and some unknown orifice made a hissing sound, like water trapped in a burning log. When Zawadi moved closer, the plant’s spikes extended.
Sam joined her behind the stones. “You’re right. It doesn’t seem to like you.”
“No,” Zawadi agreed. “We haven’t tried getting closer than that, in case its spines can be projected.”
“I still say we lift it out of the ground and examine it that way.” Petir tossed a stone up and down in his second-skin.
“And I still say that if we do, it might die,” Daphne answered. “You know how delicate these plants can be.”
“Doesn’t look too delicate to me,” Sam immediately regretted saying it, as he realized he was making Petir’s point.
“Actually,” Zawadi gently removed a divvy leaf from her hair, releasing it into the air with a kiss, “some of the Veil’s most fragile plants have the toughest exteriors.”
“Makes sense.” Sam licked his lips. “I know a few girls like that. Have you tried to use the Veil?”
“Yes,” Zawadi flourished her second-skin—the same tiger’s-eye color as Rona’s. “However, anytime we try to use Her, the plant knows. The more we grip, the angrier it gets.”
“We haven’t come across anything like this before,” Cassiella said in a hushed voice.
“We’d like to get some spines, or a sample of the sap, but we need to figure out how.” Daphne kept her voice empty of inflection.
The others stood around looking pensive, all except Glissandro, who had a little smile on his face.
“So,” Sam nudged one of the stones with his foot, “the closer we get physically, or through the Veil, the more defensive it becomes.”
Zawadi confirmed with a nod.
Sam thought for a moment, and then turned toward the group. “It’s like a lineman.”
They stared at him, not understanding.
“Pardon my ignorance,” Zawadi said. “But what’s a lineman?”
“It’s a position in football.” He stressed the last word for Daphne’s benefit. “To get to the quarterback, the spines or sap, you have to first get through the linemen, the big scary shield.”
More blank stares.
“Well, usually the linemen look impenetrable,” Sam puffed out his chest to comic proportions. “That’s why you have to throw them off their guard.”
“And what do you propose?” Petir taunted. “You don’t know anything about our world.”
Sam smiled and tapped a finger against his head. “But I do know strategy.”
“What do you suggest?” Zawadi asked.
Sam surveyed his surroundings and came up with a plan.
“One person can’t get to a quarterback. You have to work as a team.” Sam sized up their opponent. “I think we have to go at it from different fronts.”
Cassiella was almost jumping up and down. “So, go at it from different sides?”
Sam bobbed his head from side to side. “In a way.”
Though the plant had no visible ears, Sam still thought it was best to get into a huddle to discuss the strategy. They gathered round, and Sam spoke in a hushed tone.
Petir hovered a few feet outside of the circle with his arms folded over his chest. “That won’t work.”
Sam wondered if he’d even heard the plan at all. “Well,” Sam flipped his palms up, “from what Daphne said, your plan would kill it. So why don’t we just give it a shot?”
“It sounds like a great plan!” Cassiella looked at Sam with wide eyes. “You’re so brave!”
“It sounds like a dangerous plan,” Daphne said, although Sam thought she sounded a little impressed.
“Only dangerous for me.” Sam shrugged. “I’m willing to take the risk.”
“And if you get hurt? What about your football?” Daphne spit the word.
“If I get hurt, then May can heal me. She’s done it before.”
“Actually, I can heal you.” Zawadi gave Sam a coy smile. “I’m getting quite good at it. I plan to become an Allu Shaman one day. They’re the healers who deal with the worst injuries and ailments. Rona started teaching me how to heal when I was young, even though we’re not technically supposed to know how until after Omani.”
“I don’t know if this is the best idea.” Daphne turned to Zawadi. “I know you’re getting better, but if he got really hurt, then—”
“It’s perfect!” Sam clapped his hands together, eliciting a loud hiss from the demon-plant behind them. “How ‘bout we do this thing?”
All eyes turned to Daphne.
“Fine.” She huffed a sigh. “But if anyone gets seriously hurt—”
Sam cut her off. “You all just keep your distance and we’ll be fine. Besides, I bet Zawadi can handle anything that comes our way.”
Daphne sighed again, and then shrugged.
“Thank you for your confidence, Sam.” Zawadi gave a slight bow. “Let us begin.”
Cassiella ran back the way they’d come as the group took their positions. After a few minutes, she returned, looking petrified.
Glissandro was in charge of their first point of attack. He whipped out his horn and started playing as loud as physically possible. Sam had no idea so much noise could come from such a little instrument. He clapped his hands
over his ears and moved into position.
Just like he’d asked him to, Sam could feel Glissandro attempting to speak to the plant. Words cluttered the air like divvy leaves. Sam couldn’t make them out, but he could feel them rushing all around. It was like he heard the words, then instantly forgot what they were. The plant swiveled its spines toward Glissandro and opened its eye-pouches as wide as they could go. The crisscrossed bristles on the pods looked uncannily like eyelashes, while the center of each pod held a blood-red circle glossed over by a syrupy substance.
A foul stench smacked Sam’s nostrils, making it necessary to take a hand off one of his ears to plug his nose.
Ugh! Compared to this, the pouch Bariv gave me was like potpourri.
The others also pinched their noses. Sam hoped they’d still be able to perform one-handed.
Cassiella and Zawadi were next.
With a look of great relief, Cassiella took out two silver fruit from her pocket, and Sam heard his coach screaming about pansies. Sam’s original plan had been for them to levitate some dirt or rocks into the plant’s pods, but Glissandro had suggested they use the annoying fruit instead. His thought was that, sometimes, other plants would bend toward a symflower while it played. He hoped that the opposite might also be true.
Sam thought it was worth a shot.
The silver fruit whirred past and landed in each pod. Bristles snapped together, and then opened wide, trying to heave the fruit out. Just as Sam had hoped, the fruit stuck to the sticky substance inside. The plant thrashed about, but couldn’t get the fruit off. Any sympathy Sam might’ve felt for the demon-plant died when another wave of the nasty stench hit him.
Next was Daphne. When Sam had suggested her task, he wasn’t sure if it was possible. But he figured if she was able to call that bird to help her search for the amorberry—which he wasn’t entirely sure they hadn’t found—maybe she could do something similar again.
Sam was now in position and looking up. Above him the flock of flying leaves blocked his view of the sky. All of a sudden the leaves changed course, bombarding downward. They swarmed Sam like bees around their queen, gravitating toward his body.
Daphne was actually pulling it off.
The leaves closed in around him, forming a tight cyclone of flashing green. Then they started landing on his body. Sam waited until he had an entire outfit made of green camouflage, and then started inching toward the demon-plant. The leaves didn’t have any weight behind them, but they still felt funny—like he was less aerodynamic—and he moved slowly so as not to shake any of them off.
Masters of the Veil Page 18
