by Lisa McMann
Mr. Today, who had turned abruptly in his chair toward the blackboards when he saw that Alex’s attention had been diverted, watched the scene. His jaw slacked in surprise. When the picture changed, Mr. Today bounded from his chair as if he were an energetic teenager and ran out of his office, across the hall, and into the kitchenette. “We’ll talk again soon,” he called out to Alex. With a grim look on his face, he stepped into the forbidden tube and disappeared.
Aaron the Streeted
Aaron Stowe, the Wanted, former assistant secretary to the High Priest Justine, former future senior governor, former future high priest of the great land of Quill, stared at the Quillitary soldiers encroaching upon him in the tiny room. And as much as he wanted to boom loudly at them, “Away from me, or the high priest will have your necks!” he knew’and worse, they knew’that he had no authority anymore.
Instead, in as big a voice as he could draw upon, which wasn’t very big at all, he said, “I demand to know what you are doing here.” Something crackled in his throat on the second syllable of “demand,” and the pitch stayed especially high for another two beats, which made two of the Quillitary soldiers snicker and repeat the words exactly as Aaron had said them.
Aaron took a step backward, feeling the heel of his shoe brush against the wall behind him. He had nowhere to go.
“Pack up his things!” the Quillitary leader ordered. “Get him out of here.”
“No,” Aaron whispered. His hands quivered, and he clenched them tight to stop it.
The soldiers pulled Aaron’s change of clothing from the dresser drawer, gathered his washcloth, towel, his few toiletries, and his books, and they stuffed everything into Aaron’s book bag. One soldier shoved the bag into Aaron’s chest as hard as he could, slamming him against the wall and knocking the wind out of him. Aaron gasped and doubled over, trying to breathe, reaching desperately to grasp the bag as it fell, and just managing to slip his fingers around the strap and hang on. Two other soldiers flanked him, grabbed him by the arms, and pulled him back to his feet. They marched him out of his dorm room, down the hall, and out the university entrance. Other students scrambled to get out of their way, and then watched guardedly as one of their own top students was ousted in disgrace.
Once outside, the soldiers gave him a final shove. Aaron tripped and fell to the dirt road. He cowered near the ground for a moment as the soldiers climbed into their Quillitary vehicle and painstakingly brought it to life, screeching and groaning. When it finally put-putted down the road at a snail’s pace, Aaron shakily rose to his feet. He dusted off his pants, picked up his book bag, and dusted that off too. And all the while he was thinking over and over, Where am I to go now?
When he had dusted off everything that could be dusted, he glanced over his shoulder at the people watching him from the university, and notched his chin just slightly higher in an attempt at regaining some dignity. He looked to his right toward the amphitheater and the Necessary housing quadrants where his parents lived, and then to the left, toward the Quillitary Sector and the palace.
Finally, summoning up a bit of courage, he turned to the right and started walking.
Alex the Ponderer
Alex watched the blackboard anxiously as bits of Aaron’s ousting appeared before him. From Aaron’s dormitory room to the lobby to the exterior of the building, Alwex caught much of the story. And while Alex had known for a while that his twin could never be trusted again, he couldn’t help feeling a twinge in his chest when he imagined how Aaron must feel.
When there was nothing more to see, and since Mr. Today didn’t return, Alex eventually peeled his eyes away from the screens and went back to his regular class schedule, troubled though he was. Later that night Clive, Alex’s interactive blackboard, announced that a message had arrived from Mr. Today.
“Well, what is it?” Alex asked.
“All is well,” Clive read.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Clive just stared at Alex. “Well, Alex, I think it means everything has gone completely haywire.”
“You know,” Alex said, “I could do without the sarcasm once in a while.”
“I do indeed know that.” Clive smiled saucily and disappeared.
» » « «
Still puzzled over the pithy report, yet feeling a tiny bit better about things, Alex fell asleep pondering the unusual discussion he’d had with Mr. Today.
He didn’t tell his friends or anyone else about Mr. Today’s sudden insistence that Alex would one day become Artimé’s leader. But over the next days Alex began to notice something strange: an occasional toothy smile from Ms. Octavia; an encouraging glance from Mr. Appleblossom; a rare nod from Simber as Alex walked with his friends to the dining room one day.
“What was that about?” Lani asked Alex. Simber rarely acknowledged students when he was sitting at his post by the front door, for he was often quite occupied with sampling the air for anything unusual, listening for things that might indicate an attack was imminent. He took his job as Mr. Today’s primary mansion guard very seriously.
Alex shrugged. “Maybe he has an itch. Could be fleas.” He glanced back fearfully at Simber after he said it, remembering too late the statue’s incredible sense of hearing. Simber narrowed his eyes at Alex. “Sorry,” he mouthed at the giant beast. And he was sorry. He just didn’t know how to handle Lani’s question, or how to explain.
He also didn’t know how to explain to Mr. Today that he would be happy to help in whatever way he could, but that Mr. Today had definitely made a grave mistake, and Alex would not be taking over any magely leadership roles now or in the future.
Later Alex and Lani headed to the somewhat accidentally hidden third floor of the library, which both Alex and Samheed had discovered last year. Lani and Meghan now knew about it as well, and the four often did their homework together there quite undisturbed but for the occasionally yawning tiki statue that had once saved Alex, and the blackboard with a rare announcement.
While Lani worked on history and literature, Alex created a list of reasons why he’d be absolutely, positively no good as the next leader of Artimé.
1. Just not great in all the various branches of the arts. Strong in painting/drawing/writing but weak in singing and only so-so in acting and performance.
2. Kind of a pathetic weakling. No muscles.
3. Almost ruined the world when the governors came last year. Would probably accidentally destroy it all singlehandedly.
4. Not really into the lifelong family fight thing. Would rather ignore problems like Aaron because they will probably go away.
5. Not exactly fond of having to deal with any other problems, either.
6. Lack of confidence … after what happened last time.
Alex stared at the last one, remembering the pain of Aaron sending that deadly scatterclip at him. He rubbed the tiny scar on his chest, near his heart. It was still pink, and his skin was sensitive there. He’d been confident back then, almost cocky about his abilities. To be injured so badly by someone who did magic accidentally’it was a blow all right. And, actually, still a little bit too hard to talk about. He turned his pencil around to erase number six.
Lani looked up from her work and watched Alex wiping tiny bits of eraser off his notebook page. She reached across the table and tapped his hand. “What are you working on?”
He lifted his head and couldn’t help but smile at the earnest look on her face. “Wow. Did you know that in the light from this table, your eyes are seriously bright blue?” he asked. “I wish paint came in that color.”
Lani blushed. She pulled her hand back self-consciously. “Well, if anybody can make that color, it’s you,” she said. “Maybe you should work on that.”
“Maybe I will,” Alex said. He held her eyes for a moment longer, remembering the time he kissed her cheek during Magical Warrior Training. He smiled impishly and looked down at his notebook again, sobering as he read over his reasons. It didn’t take much for h
im to realize that Lani or even Meghan or Samheed would make a much better ruler of Artimé than he.
After a moment he asked, still staring at his list, “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Sure.”
“You have to promise not to say anything to anybody.”
Lani hesitated. “Okay. I promise.” She put her pencil down and folded her arms in front of her, ready to listen.
Alex looked up at her. He bit his lip.
“Well?” Lani prompted.
“I … well, you see, Mr. Today …” He couldn’t say it. It sounded so insane. “Crud. Never mind. I’m sorry.”
Lani frowned. “Okaaay.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just dumb anyway.”
Lani shrugged. “Whatever.” She pulled her book toward her and focused on it, and then’quite ceremoniously’turned her chair to the side so she wasn’t facing Alex anymore.
Alex squeezed his eyes shut and muttered under his breath. And then he looked at her profile for a long moment. The way her hair parted at her shoulder, her olive skin tanned by the sun. Her perfect nose and lips. He flipped the page of his notebook and sketched her.
When he was finished, he wrote in tiny letters in the bottom right corner:
For Lani, for always.
Alexander Stowe
He pulled the page out of the notebook, took a tiny piece of translucent rubber from his pocket, dropped it on the center of the drawing, and said, “Preserve.” The rubber melted and spread quickly to the edges, and the paper developed a glossy sheen that made it virtually indestructible.
Lani looked up when she heard Alex’s magical utterance.
Alex slid the drawing over to her and watched as her eyes flitted over it, coming to rest on the words. She smiled then, studied it a moment longer, folded it carefully, and put it in her pocket.
Aimless
It didn’t take long for Aaron to realize that he could never go home to his parents’not if he wanted to retain a shred of class distinction. A Wanted going back to a Necessary family? It stank of defeat and mistaken classification. And while his feet carried him in the direction of the Necessary quadrants, Aaron knew that he would not stop there, nor would he indicate in any way that he was doing anything more than taking a walk for his own pleasure … in the odoriferous, scorching heat.
As night fell Aaron’s feet grew tired. He approached the Necessary housing, unable to stop himself from stealing a glimpse of number 54-43 as he passed by his family’s row. It felt so familiar after years of walking home from school this way, yet that place was no longer home, nor could it ever be called home again. He increased his pace along the road and flipped up his shirt collar to partially shield his face, hoping none of his former neighbors would recognize him. But soon he discovered that the neighborhoods were all eerily quiet. Everyone is in Artimé, Aaron realized after a while.
Soon he left the housing quadrants behind and the land grew desolate. Late that evening he neared the well-lit entrance to the magical world and slowed his pace. Two stone gargoyles sat together on one side of the entrance, startling Aaron when they stood up and walked away.
Looking in, Aaron saw people and creatures on the lawn, laughing and having a good time. Eating and drinking and resting. A cool breeze blew through the opening, and Aaron closed his eyes, letting it wash over him. He swallowed hard, his throat parched. It would be so easy to sneak in and get something to eat and drink, he thought. Except for one minor problem.
He heard a snort and felt a hot, moist blast of air on his face. He opened his eyes and stumbled backward, knowing from experience what it was.
Arija, one of four enormous, silky-furred, long-necked creatures called girrinos, whose duty it was to guard the entrance, knew Aaron by smell now and had smelled him coming. “You again,” she said.
“What of it? I thought everyone was welcome here.”
“If you meant us no harm, you’d be welcome. But we’ve seen no sign of that. What do you want?”
Aaron shrugged. “I’m just taking a walk.”
“Looks like you’re just standing.”
“You have something against me standing in Quill now?”
“Not at all. Stand there all you like. Enjoy the fresh air.” Arija sat down facing him, the ground shaking slightly when she did so. Her face was still at eye level with the boy. “You want to talk? Let’s talk. What’s new at the university? How are things going for you now? Are you enjoying the stench as much as the others who have decided to come here to stay?”
Aaron scowled. “Be quiet.” He could see High Priest Haluki’s family sitting on a blanket, eating and drinking, and a wave of fury swept through him.
“Ooh, such a mouth on you. Do you speak to your mother that way? I should hope not.”
“Silence!” Aaron said.
Arija laughed merrily. “Such a demanding tone. I’m sure everyone pays great attention to you when you do that’all your minions. Where are they, by the way?” She tilted her head. “Didn’t you travel with guards once upon a time?”
Without a word, Aaron cast a final furtive glance at the food and water inside the gate, and then he turned away from Arija and began walking once again.
“Sweet dreams,” Arija called out.
Aaron clenched his fists and shoved them into his pockets, scratching his knuckles on the harsh fabric. He walked until he was out of sight of Artimé, cursing Haluki and Mr. Today and his own brother for being the cause of all the bad that had happened to him.
When there were no more lights to guide him in this remotest part of Quill, he moved off the road and sank to the ground against the wall to sleep. He stayed there in the shadow of the wall for two days.
» » « «
On the third morning Aaron ignored the few travelers passing by and staring at him. He got up and continued walking, quite weak for lack of water in this heat, but what else could he do? He began to search the ditches for anything that could be considered edible or drinkable, but he knew his chances of finding anything were terrible since it was against the law to throw away food, and there wasn’t enough to eat or drink in Quill to make anyone wish to throw it away in the first place.
Aaron pondered it all from his new perspective of homeless and hungry’and he began to wonder why anyone would wish to stay in Quill when life looked so good in Artimé. If he were high priest, he knew what he’d do. He’d make Quill better than Artimé. He’d create more food’an abundance of food. And he’d utilize the ocean he never knew existed until a few months ago. Indeed, he had to question ( but only slightly) the sanity of the High Priest Justine to keep such a thing a secret when it held so much potential. It was puzzling.
If Aaron were high priest, he’d create a way to make that nasty seawater drinkable. And he’d open up a passage to the water on this side of Quill and figure out if there was anything in the ocean’like some sort of chicken of the sea’that people could actually eat. Wouldn’t that be something? he thought. An endless supply of food. He grew nearly delirious at the thought.
As the day wore on, Aaron found himself on exactly the opposite side of the island from the university’near the Ancients Sector and burial area. There were a few people around, and Aaron wondered briefly if his father might be out digging graves today, but then realized it was late and all the Necessaries who’d stayed in Quill would have headed home by now, or out to do the jobs of the traitors who’d left.
Aaron stopped at the death post, a tall, branchless, dead tree trunk that had been anchored into the dirt and was leaning against the burial shed. On it were posted the most recent deaths. He took a long look at the list of names of the recently departed, though it wasn’t very up-to-date since only teachers were allowed to write, and they didn’t have time to stop at the Ancients Sector very often to update the list. Only the Wanteds got their names listed, but this list was longer than usual due to the battle with Artimé.
His eyes moved to General Blair’s name, and then to the
High Priest Justine. Aaron stared at it reverently. His throat was scorched from thirst, but now it ached even more from the sorrow he knew he shouldn’t feel. With significant effort in his weak state, he touched the letters of her name and closed his eyes. Using his well-trained mind and all the effort he had in him, he willed his sorrow to turn into bitterness, knowing that his bitterness would soon grow into a most unhealthy desire for revenge. And revenge was necessary now. After all that had happened in recent weeks, Aaron knew the truth: Revenge was the only thing that would keep him alive.
Meghan Rules
Meghan called the Necessaries to order on the lawn, clapping her hands to get their attention. The other nineteen Unwanteds from Alex’s year stood in line nearby, feeling fairly important as the crowd gazed upon them with a certain amount of awe.
“Welcome,” Meghan said. “We are delighted to have you here!”
Samheed poked Alex. “She sounds just like Mr. Today.”
Alex grinned. “Definitely.”
Lani shushed them.
“I’d like to start by introducing your group leaders,” Meghan went on. She began calling the names alphabetically, and everyone stepped forward when their names were called. Alex glanced at Lani, whose face was hard.
“What’s wrong?” Alex whispered.
“It reminds me of our Purge. Same names, same order,” she said. “I don’t like it.”
“You’re right,” Alex said. And it did feel ominous.
Samheed, who overheard the conversation, said nothing, but his eyes were troubled. “Don’t say anything to Meg,” he said. “She’d feel bad. I’m sure she didn’t mean it to be like that.”
Alex and Lani nodded. When Samheed turned his attention to Meghan, who was assigning him his group, Lani elbowed Alex in the ribs. “See?”
“Ouch,” Alex said, rubbing his side. “Why are you always doing that?”
“He likes her, you dolt. Can’t you tell?”
“He does not,” Alex said. He watched Samheed for a minute. “Does he?”
“Totally. Watch him glare at Cole Wickett. He’s furious that Meg’s spending so much time with him.”
