The River of Sand

by Kobe Bryant

  “Wait,” Pretia said. “You think I should go to Ecrof even though my parents forbid it? And then . . . then try to qualify for the Junior Epic Games?”

  “I think you should do what your grana guides you to do.”

  “But—but—” Pretia stammered. Too many thoughts were crowding her head at once.

  “Favorite niece, once you are selected as a Junior Epic Athlete and your name is on the team roster, it becomes your duty to represent your house. There’s nothing anyone can do to keep you from the team—not even your parents.”

  “But they told me I can’t go to Ecrof in the first place.”

  “And I’m telling you to be your own guide. You are a girl of many strengths. I don’t think your parents quite understand that. You might not even understand it yourself yet. Follow your grana, Pretia. It will show you the right thing to do.”

  “How?” Pretia asked.

  “That is up to you. I have my methods. You need to discover yours.”

  “I mean how would I get to Ecrof without my parents knowing?”

  “Aha,” Janos said, a spark in his emerald eyes. “The van leaves quite early tomorrow in order to make the long overland journey to the harbor back in Helios. I think there might be a little space in the back where you could sleep until it sets off.”

  Pretia opened her mouth. But Janos held up a hand to silence her.

  “I’m not telling you what to do. Only you can decide for yourself.” He wrapped his hand around hers. “If you stay, I will know it was what your grana led you to do. All I ask is that you think about my question.”

  “I will,” Pretia assured him. Then she flung her arms around her uncle. There was no one on earth whom she loved more at that moment.

  * * *

  When her uncle had left, Pretia remained on the floor of the High Sanctuary. She lay back and stared at the gap in the ceiling through which paper lanterns would eventually carry her relatives’ ceremonial flames up to the gods on Mount Aoin.

  How in the world was she meant to search within herself? Where was she supposed to look for answers? Was that what Janos was doing when she thought she had seen him praying to Hurell? Was that his form of turning inward? If so, what was hers?

  She closed her eyes and tried to decide what to do.

  Could she disobey her parents?

  Could she run away to Ecrof?

  Could she compete in the Junior Epic Games without their blessing?

  If she did those things, how mad would her parents be? Would they ever forgive her?

  Even more confusing was her uncle’s question—what was best for Epoca? Staying or going? Being a princess . . . or a princess and an athlete? Or maybe just an athlete! That last one was impossible. She would always be the princess, no matter what. But how could her parents, of all people, forbid her from competing? How could they forbid sports? It was so unfair.

  Pretia tried to grab each question as it flew past. But her mind was churning with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. She tried to search deep within herself. All she found was chaos and confusion.

  She took a deep breath and stood up, facing the ceremonial flames. “What should I do?” she asked aloud.

  The flames simply flickered in response.

  Pretia shook her head. The flames couldn’t give her the answer. But there was something that might.

  She raced down the stairs from the High Sanctuary and rushed down the twisting corridors. She made it to her room without getting lost. She closed the door quietly so no one would hear her return. Then Pretia began to dig through her official Ecrof duffel for her Grana Book.

  Pretia sat on her bed. The moon cast a silver light through the window. She clutched her Grana Book in both hands and said aloud, “Should I go to Ecrof so that I might represent my house at the Junior Epic Games, or should I obey my parents and stay home?”

  Last year, at Ecrof, she’d struggled to learn how to interpret the images in the book. Pretia had always figured that part of this difficulty stemmed from the fact that she was half Dreamer, half Realist. Dreamers were open to a wide range of interpretations, while Realists often demanded literal answers. She could always feel the two inclinations warring within her when she considered the images in her book.

  Now she kept her eyes closed and cracked the book slowly. Her fingers brushed across a few pages until one felt right. She opened the book wide and laid it flat on the bed.

  By the light of the moon she could see that the image was of a road that twisted and turned dramatically between two mountains. At the road’s vanishing point there was a golden flame. The mountain on the left side of the page was lit by pale daylight—it sat under the pastel-blue sky of early morning. The mountain on the right was shrouded in darkness and had a deeper purple hue. At the vanishing point, the flame lit up the sky in an explosion of golds and oranges.

  The interpretation hit her like a punch in the stomach. Pretia slammed the book shut. It couldn’t be right.

  Go to Ecrof. That’s what the picture told her.

  She opened it again and stared at the picture. She looked for an alternative way to read the image, but she knew what it implied. The feeling inside her was strong. Her mind was clear. She felt exactly as her Granology teacher, Saana Theradon, had told her she would when she understood an image in her book perfectly—the same feeling Janos had said she would experience when she learned to consult her grana in matters of state.

  But Pretia wanted to be sure. So she did what Saana had taught her to do in class—she broke down the image into its components and interpreted them one by one and then all together.

  The mountains were easy. They were her parents—the purple mountain, her Dreamer father and the blue, her Realist mother. And the road was leading away from her parents to a golden fire. She traced her finger along the road. She could see it now. She was the road. She was movement. She should move. And if she did, victory would be hers.

  But Saana had cautioned her to consult the entire picture, not just the parts that seemed relevant or interesting or easy. And the road itself posed a problem.

  The road was twisty rather than straight, which Pretia understood to mean difficulty and challenges. Hadn’t her parents just thrown up a challenge? Then there was the golden fire at the end of the road. The color signaled to Pretia that Junior Epic Victory would be hers. But the fire told her that it would be hard-won and come at a serious price.

  Pretia squinted at the page. She was fairly confident in what she saw. But she was also aware of something else. More than anything, she wanted to go to Ecrof and later to Phoenis. Regardless of what her book said, regardless of what Janos had suggested might be good for Epoca, she wanted to go.

  Pretia shuddered at the thought. Maybe she shouldn’t go. Maybe the price was too high. Perhaps her parents were right. Her safety was at stake. Maybe she should just suck it up and face her boring destiny of Epocan history and statecraft.

  She closed the book. But the image remained in her mind. It was emblazoned on the backs of her eyelids if she blinked. She had her answer. The book said go. The question now was would she, could she, do what it said?

  4

  ROVI

  A REUNION

  Rovi skipped breakfast, which was a difficult decision. But he had no interest in running into Pretia or her parents. He didn’t need anyone reminding him about his old life as a Star Stealer or hinting that Star Stealers were the problem with Phoenis—and he didn’t want to think about the fact that if he were chosen as a Junior Epic Athlete, his past would probably be hidden from the public.

  He was the first to arrive at the van. It was early and the sky was still dark. He had to wait nearly an hour before Castor and Janos appeared. To Rovi’s surprise, Janos held out a bag filled with pastries.

  “An Ecrof student cannot skip meals,” the Head Trainer said.

  �
��Thanks,” Rovi said, stunned by the Head Trainer’s kindness. His stomach was growling.

  Before Rovi took the food, he reached for his duffel to lift it into the back of the van.

  “Allow me,” Janos said, swooping in to lift Rovi’s bag.

  Rovi gave him a startled look. Janos wasn’t in the habit of helping students.

  “You’ll have to work enough when you get to Ecrof,” Janos explained with a small smile. “Get settled and enjoy your breakfast. I understand you have the appetite of two boys.”

  “Okay,” Rovi said uncertainly, climbing into the van.

  Castor followed as Janos took a seat next to the driver, and they were off.

  Dawn was only a suggestion at the horizon as the van rolled away from the palace. Rovi didn’t bother to glance over his shoulder. He wasn’t sorry to leave the palace behind. Pretia, on the other hand, was a different story. Their last exchange had been ugly. One day she’d probably regret her words. At least he hoped she would. Despite their argument, he missed her. He couldn’t imagine being told he couldn’t go to Ecrof. And he couldn’t even begin to think about explaining to Vera why Pretia was missing. He knew Vera would be as devastated and angry as he was.

  Rovi settled back in the seat. It was a ten-hour journey to the port—ten hours that he’d have to play nice with Castor or risk Janos’s anger.

  When the van passed the gates, Castor looked back. “I can’t believe my uncle and aunt actually forbade Pretia from coming,” he said. “I mean, something serious must be going on.”

  “Why are you looking at me?” Rovi asked.

  “I’m not,” Castor said. “All I’m saying is that if it’s dangerous for Pretia, maybe it’s dangerous for me, too.”

  Janos turned around and looked his son directly in the eye. “It will only be dangerous for you if you make the team.”

  Rovi tried not to laugh.

  Castor quickly shook off his dad’s rebuke. “It really is too bad, though,” he said to Rovi.

  “What?” Rovi asked.

  “Pretia might be a total weirdo, but she was a winner. House Somni really needs her at the Junior Epics.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Rovi said.

  Castor laughed. “Dream on. Get it?”

  “Yeah, I get it. I’m not laughing.”

  “Of course, what she can do isn’t exactly natural,” Castor continued. “Doesn’t that worry you?”

  Rovi shut his eyes and yawned, hoping Castor would take the hint.

  “That’s what everyone’s been saying all summer. Do you know anyone else who can split himself?”

  “You mean, split herself?” Rovi asked. “No.”

  “And you don’t think that’s weird?”

  “I don’t,” Rovi replied. “I think it’s special.”

  “So you think it’s fair that Pretia can always beat you? That she can use this talent to win no matter what?”

  “Yeah, I do. She’s not cheating. It’s her grana. We’re supposed to use our grana for sports. And she doesn’t always beat me. But when she does, I don’t mind.”

  Castor looked at Rovi as if he were the stupidest kid in Epoca. “There’s the spirit,” he said. “It’s fine to lose, right?”

  “I care about my team winning,” Rovi said. “That’s what matters.”

  “Well, that won’t happen now,” Castor said.

  Rovi balled his hands into fists, then sat on them. It was promising to be a long drive. In fact, it was promising to be a long year at Ecrof if Castor continued like this, especially without Pretia around. Pretia always had the right words to stand up to Castor—Rovi only had anger.

  He could think of one way to escape Castor’s taunts, though. If Rovi was selected for Junior Epics and Castor was not, they would be separated for a good part of the year. Well, two ways: if Castor was selected and Rovi wasn’t, that would work, too. But that was a far less appealing solution.

  Rovi figured he had a decent shot at the squad. Members of Ecrof’s Epic Elite Squad were automatically taken to the Junior Epic Games, but many of them had graduated, which meant there was plenty of space for newcomers.

  Last year, he’d been selected for his house team for both Dreamer and Realist Field Days, so he was already ahead of his classmates. Vera would be his biggest rival without Pretia there. Rovi was sure Vera had spent her entire summer doing nothing besides training for the team.

  This should have made him happy, but instead it filled Rovi with a feeling of loss. He, Vera, and Pretia had grown into a tight trio, their friendship sealed by their incredible adventure in the sunken temple of Hurell at the end of last school year. How could Pretia miss out on all the fun this year? She was the glue that held him and Vera together. What’s more, she was the one who’d saved the school from the strangler fig tree that had been stealing the students’ grana. This year, Pretia would have finally been able to openly use her remarkable talent for splitting herself and lead the Dreamers to victory.

  That was his and Vera’s job now, he figured.

  He heard Castor give a smug sigh. “I guess it will be up to a Star Stealer and a Replacement to help Team Somni,” he said, reading Rovi’s mind but putting his own snarky spin on it.

  Rovi opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, he heard a loud rustling from the back of the van. Several of Castor’s bags came flying forward. A small duffel knocked him on the head. The bag exploded, showering Castor with clothes.

  “Why don’t you think I’m making the Dreamers’ team, Castor?”

  Rovi turned. “Pretia!” he exclaimed.

  Castor frantically pawed away the clothes covering his face while at the same time trying to turn and see what was happening at the back of the van.

  More bags flew forward as Pretia sat up. Her black hair was messy and her face was creased with sleep. “Packed enough, Castor?” She plucked an undershirt off his head.

  “What are you doing here?” Rovi asked.

  “Going to Ecrof,” Pretia replied. “Isn’t that what we’re all doing?”

  “But—but—but . . .” Rovi stammered, unable to complete his thought.

  Castor was staring at his cousin openmouthed. “You stowed away,” he said. “The Child of Hope stowed away?”

  “Looks like it,” Pretia said.

  Then both boys turned to Janos. Rovi expected to see the Head Trainer’s trademark glower. But to his surprise, Janos was laughing.

  “Well done, Princess,” Janos said. “Very well done.”

  “Wait,” Castor said. “You knew about this?”

  “No,” Janos said. “Not exactly. But I am glad to see you, Pretia.” He lowered his voice, making it stern. “Although, now that you are aboard my van, I must remind you that you are no longer a princess, but an Ecrof second year. And I expect that from now on you will begin to obey all rules your elders set out for you.” This last admonishment was delivered with a smile. “You will not run away on my watch!”

  “Of course not, Uncle. Why would I do that?” Pretia said, climbing over the seats to settle next to Rovi.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said when she’d gotten comfortable.

  “I had to come,” she replied. “I just couldn’t miss out on a chance at the Junior Epic Games. And I couldn’t imagine you at Ecrof without me. I’d miss you too much.” She looked down at her lap. “Rovi—I’m sorry for what I said back at the palace. You know, about Star Stealers. Whatever is happening in Phoenis isn’t your fault.”

  “I don’t believe anything is happening,” Rovi said. He simply couldn’t imagine the Star Stealers causing the kind of trouble the king and queen had described. If anything was happening, someone was causing trouble for the Star Stealers and not the other way around.

  “My parents definitely think so,” Pretia said. “I hope they’re wrong.”

 
“You’ll see,” Rovi said defiantly. Then he shot a meaningful look at Castor. “Star Stealers are the last people you need to worry about.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Pretia agreed.

  Rovi found that it was impossible to be mad at Pretia when she had risked everything to return to Ecrof and to support House Somni. “You’ll see when we get to Phoenis,” Rovi said. They slapped hands.

  “Here’s to dreams that never die,” they chorused.

  “Great,” Castor grumbled. “Now I have to listen to two Dreamers talk about their stupid house all day.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Pretia asked. “Dreamers are the best.” She grinned. “Everyone knows that.”

  * * *

  With Pretia next to him, Rovi felt like the ten hours to the harbor flew past. It was late afternoon when they arrived at port. The ship was waiting, having just returned from dropping the third-year students at the academy. The green-and-gold Ecrof flags flapped in the wind.

  By the time they stepped off the van, Janos had slipped from his unusually jocular and kind mood into his customary stern persona as Head Trainer of Ecrof.

  “Hurry and join your class,” he said. “We’re late as it is.”

  They were the last to board the ship. The minute Rovi, Pretia, Castor, and Janos climbed aboard, the ropes were untied and they pushed out to sea.

  Pretia stared back at the land. “For a while there, I really thought I wasn’t coming.”

  “Not coming?”

  Rovi felt a hand slap his back. He turned and saw Vera standing behind them.

  “You guys were late, obviously,” she said, “but I didn’t think there was a possibility of you not coming at all.”

  Vera was sweating as if she’d been exercising. Her long, puffy waves of hair blew out behind her in the wind. She looked even fitter and stronger than she had three months ago. Her dark skin was tanned and glossy, presumably from extensive, hard workouts under the strong sun of Alkebulan, the distant land where her family lived.