by Lisa McMann
An authoritative-looking young woman with reddish hair and freckles came forward at the sight of him.
“Greetings,” Liam said. Hadn’t she been the one who rushed past him in the palace a few days ago? He wasn’t sure.
She folded her arms across her chest and glared. “What do you want?”
“I would like to request a meeting with Ms. Claire Morning.”
The first hammer slammed against the wall behind Liam. He ducked, glanced over his shoulder, and took a few tiny steps toward the girl, which he immediately regretted, as she did not move along with him.
“My name is Liam Healy,” he said as another hammer hit. Bits of rubble pattered on his back, and he lifted his shoulders to keep stones from slipping down his shirt collar. “And I am not with them.”
Ms. Morning Stands Her Ground
Oh, I know who you are, Governor Healy,” said Meghan, “and if I remember correctly, the last time you came here, my friend Samheed warned you never to come back or he’d kill you. Do you remember that?”
“I-I-I—ah, yes,” said Liam, beginning to stutter and sweat profusely, both of which he did frequently when nervous. “Actually, I do recall that. Is he,” he said, his eyes darting all around the crowd, “ah, is he here?”
Meghan glared. “Maybe he is and maybe he isn’t. I guess you’ll find out eventually.”
Liam swallowed hard. This wasn’t going at all how he’d planned it. “I s-s-suppose I shall. And—and what about Claire? Ms. Morning?”
“Do you really think she’d want to see you? Really?” Meghan asked. “You are quite an idiot, aren’t you?”
“I—yes. Yes, I am.” More rubble, including a large hunk of rock, showered onto Liam. He stood there, completely miserable, but not ready to give up.
Meghan laughed. “Well, at least you admit it. That’s certainly something.” She looked around him to the Quillitary. “What in the world are they doing?”
“Oh!” said Liam, glad for the change of subject. “Aaron has—that is, the High Priest Aaron—has ordered the entire wall to come down.”
Meghan stared. “You’re joking.”
“No, no, he’s done it. We Quillens don’t joke, you may recall. And it’s, ah, as you can see, coming down. Quite explosively, I might add.” He looked down at his feet. The rubble was beginning to gather around his shoes. “If I stand here long enough,” he said brightly, “your friend Samheed might not have to go through the effort of killing me. Or, ah, burying me, either.”
Meghan’s face twisted with delight and puzzlement at the man before her. But she quickly remembered what he had done to Ms. Morning, and her expression soured. “I’ll see if Ms. Morning wants to see you.” She turned to the girrinos. “Don’t let him move a single step.”
“Oh, we won’t,” sang the three ladies. They lumbered over and made a triangular cage around him with their bodies.
Meghan darted through the crowd and disappeared.
A moment later Simber appeared from the mansion and walked regally toward Liam. The governor hadn’t expected to find the creature here today. Eva had told him the cheetah had accompanied Alex on his journey, but perhaps she’d been mistaken. Or perhaps they’d returned home. He began to perspire even more heavily now, but the enormous creature sat down a good bit away. Liam wiped his brow and hoped he didn’t faint here in his girrino prison. That would look very bad. The Quillitary would no doubt report that to Aaron.
More rubble.
Soon Meghan returned, and the girrinos moved away to offer them privacy to speak. Liam lifted his chin and searched the young woman’s face.
“Will she see me?” he asked, his head swimming.
Meghan looked at him. He was pitiful, really. The back of him was covered from head to toe in gray dust and pebbles, and his shirt was soaked through with sweat. “Sorry,” she said, and as she said it, she actually did feel a little bit sorry for the man. “She told me to tell you to go away and never come back.”
Liam’s face fell, and his heart sank. He closed his eyes, letting the sweat drip in and sting them, and he wavered a moment on his feet. He should have expected this, he knew.
“Oh,” he said. He opened his eyes and found the girl looking curiously at him. “Did she . . . did she say anything else?”
“Actually, yes, but I chose to edit out some of the unsavory words.” Meghan offered a cool smile.
“I see.” Liam stood there another minute, lost in his thoughts, and then he turned to go. “All right,” he said, pausing and looking back at Meghan. “I do understand. Thank you, and I’m sorry for the intrusion.”
A spray of rubble peppered his front side and he put his arm up to shield his face. He took a step toward Quill.
“She also said she knows you were friends with Eva,” Meghan called after him. “But you should still go away. So if that’s what you came for, she already knows.”
Liam stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly, oblivious to the pelting rocks now. He returned to Meghan, slipping a little over the gravel, and whispered harshly under the pounding noise, “Please don’t shout that information, miss, I beg you. But tell me, how in Quill could she possibly know that?”
Meghan shrugged and lowered her voice. “Sean told us.”
“Sean—Sean’s . . . here? Has the ship returned?”
“No, just him and Carina. He broke his leg, so Simber brought him back.”
Liam glanced at the cheetah, who was coming closer now. He turned back to Meghan. “Sean’s here,” he said, thinking very hard. “Sean’s here.”
“I think the rocks may be affecting you.”
Liam didn’t hear her. “That’s it,” he said under his breath. “Sean’s here.”
“Yes,” Meghan said, rolling her eyes. “I know.”
“May I . . . may I speak to him, perhaps?”
Meghan frowned. She looked at Simber, who shrugged. It was her call.
She sighed loudly. “I’ll go ask.” She ran back to the mansion, leaving Liam once more to think through his assignment. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to do this. And if he succeeded, and saved Artimé . . . perhaps Claire would speak to him again.
A few minutes later Meghan returned, slightly out of breath.
“He says sure, come on in.”
Liam blinked.
Meghan turned to lead the way. Liam stared for a moment, then he shook the rubble out of his shoes and followed.
Liam Finally Finds a Friend
Sean was alone in the hospital ward when Meghan led Liam into the mansion, trailing pebbles behind him as he walked. A young Unwanted descending the stairs frowned at the mess, pulled a tiny broom component from her vest, threw it, and muttered, “Sweep.” Immediately the pebbles bounded to one spot on the floor. The component grew to a dustpan, scooped the pebbles up, and closed inward upon itself several times until it disappeared.
Liam watched over his shoulder, eyes wide. Everything he saw here was so incredible and foreign, and so colorful. He didn’t know how to handle it. But he knew he had to stay focused.
Meghan pulled two chairs to Sean’s bedside.
Sean, who was propped up on his pillows, reached out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Liam,” he said, but his voice held a hint of reserve. He only had Eva’s word on Liam’s character, and the man very likely could have been conning the old woman—though he didn’t think so. Eva was one of the smartest people he’d ever known, and he was still in shock over the news of her tragic death.
Liam quickly wiped his grimy hands on his pants, sending a fresh shower of pebbles to the floor, and reached out to shake Sean’s hand. “I’m pleased as well,” he said, though the phrase was foreign to him—people didn’t talk like that in Quill. “And, ah, I’m glad you were willing to see me. Eva spoke so highly of you.”
Sean gave a grim smile. “That’s actually nice to hear after the day I’ve had.”
Liam nodded, and though he had no idea what Sean was referring to, he didn’t feel right about
asking.
There was a moment of awkward silence as Liam looked at Meghan. She narrowed her eyes, and then her face cleared. “Oh, I’m Meghan. Sean’s sister. You don’t mind if I sit in on your little chat, do you?”
Liam shot Sean a fearful glance. He was already taking such a risk, and the young woman didn’t seem to understand the enormity of situation he was in, nor the secrecy of it.
“She’s smarter than both of us, Liam,” Sean said. “She’s staying.”
Liam let out a small, shuddering breath, and nodded. “All right, then.” He bit his bottom lip, searching for words, and then he said, “Aaron has ordered me to bring him as many spell components as possible, along with the . . . the, ah, incantations that go with them.”
Sean chuckled. “Has he, now? How interesting. And what does he expect to do with these items?”
Liam looked puzzled. “Use them, sir. Against Artimé. I believe so, anyway.”
Sean and Meghan exchanged near-identical frowns. They were silent for a moment, considering the information.
“But—” Sean said, and stopped.
“Do you think—?” Meghan said, and she stopped too. They looked at each other again, and then Meghan turned to Liam. “Do you think he can actually do magic? I mean . . . he got lucky a few times. . . .” She trailed off, remembering. “A few very important times. And if so, can anyone else in Quill? Do magic, I mean?” She knew of at least one other, that was certain. She touched her shoulder, where the burn from Gondoleery’s fireball still smarted.
Sean shook his head. “I don’t think so. When Quill attacked us the day Aaron killed Mr. Today, some of them cast spell components at us and they didn’t work. They just bounced off us.”
“But did your spells work?” asked Meghan, who hadn’t been present during that attack. “Or did you all start fighting after Artimé disappeared?”
Sean closed his eyes, remembering the horrible day. “Oh, you’re right. It was after. Our spells didn’t work, either.” He shook his head. “Sorry. My mind is a bit fuzzy from the medicine.”
Liam waited politely until he was sure the siblings’ conversation was done. “I do think Aaron can do magic, and not just by accident,” he ventured. “For he’s obviously done it more than once. And as for anyone else, well . . .” His face clouded as he remembered the time he and Eva had stopped by Gondoleery’s house and were greeted by a wave of heat. “Yes. I think there are others.”
Meghan wondered if Liam knew about Gondoleery too. But she hadn’t told anyone of her visit to the palace, or what had taken place there—it hadn’t been smart to go there alone, and she knew Ms. Morning would be furious to know she’d taken such a risk. She didn’t know if she could trust Liam enough to say what she’d seen, so she continued to keep quiet about it. “Liam’s right about that,” she said simply. “There are others to be wary of in Quill.” She looked at Liam. “So why are you here? Did you think we would just give you a bunch of spell components or something?” She laughed.
Liam’s face paled. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. “I’m here to see if you would consider a-a plan. Of mine, that is.”
Sean’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of plan?”
Liam swallowed hard. “Ah, well, I was thinking maybe you could give me . . . some spell components . . .”
Meghan’s lips parted.
Sean raised an eyebrow.
“And . . . ,” Liam continued quickly. “And, ah, I would show them to Aaron, so he would see I did my job, and he’d trust me more, and then I could return them to you. And I’d just . . . I’d tell him that I was keeping them safe, you see. For when he needed them.” He dropped his eyes and mumbled, “But obviously I wouldn’t be, because you’d have them back.”
Sean and Meghan stared.
“It’s kind of a trick,” he added. The idea didn’t sound nearly as good out loud as it had seemed in Liam’s head earlier. In fact, he was embarrassed by it, sitting here with two very intelligent people. How did they get to be Unwanted if they were so smart? he wondered.
And then it dawned on him. One more crack in Quill’s philosophy. Eva could do magic. She was creative and intelligent. Sean and Meghan were too. And Claire, of course . . . Justine’s words haunted him. “The strong, intelligent Wanteds go to university. The creative Unwanteds are sent to their deaths.” Not even Justine herself had said that the creative children were unintelligent. It was just something the Wanteds assumed. Now, thinking about it, it didn’t seem very intelligent of the Wanteds to assume such a thing as that. What a land of fools.
Liam sighed weakly and slumped in his chair. “I realize now how this sounds. I’m not, ah, not very practiced when it comes to ideas. Not yet, anyway. I’m sorry for wasting your time. Forgive me.” He pushed back his chair and stood up, unable to look either Sean or Meghan in the eye, and hurried out of the hospital ward to the sound of their incredulous silence.
Now what was he going to do? He thought about the options as he left the mansion and strode, head down, across the lawn and through the ever-widening opening into Quill. He’d have to admit to Aaron sooner or later that he wasn’t able to complete the task. Maybe he could drag it out for a few days before Aaron sent him back to the Ancients Sector.
As he slipped over the shifting gravel below his feet and ducked to avoid the largest chunks of the wall that sailed through the air, he realized what a total failure he was. How ridiculous of him to think Claire would ever consider being his friend again. It was impossible. Especially once she got wind of his visit and his stupid request. “Oh, Liam,” he chided as he walked the dusty road of Quill back toward the palace, leaving the noise behind, “Liam, you are a fool.”
“Liam!” came a voice behind him.
He stopped.
“Liam!” the voice called again.
He turned. It was Meghan, running toward him.
“Wait,” she called, slightly out of breath.
“Yes?” Liam asked. “Have I forgotten something? My hat, perhaps?” His hand went to his head and he absently brushed pebbles from his hair. He hadn’t been wearing a hat, but in his embarrassment he could think of nothing else to say.
“You are a strange man,” Meghan declared. “Very strange. But I wanted to thank you for telling us what Aaron was planning. That’s helpful.”
Liam looked up. “You’re welcome. I’m on your side. I want you to know that. Just as Eva was. I don’t know if you believe me, but there it is. I’m also very sorry—so incredibly sorry, for what I did to Claire, and if you could pass that information along, I would appreciate it very much.”
Meghan regarded him for a long moment. “I will,” she said.
“Thank you.” He turned to go once more.
“Just a moment,” Meghan said. “I wasn’t finished.”
“My vast apologies, Meghan.” He waited.
“You see,” she went on thoughtfully, “I think I have an idea to help you with your little problem. And I must say, it’s a very good one—the idea, I mean. I think you’ll like it.” With that, she grinned impishly and started back toward Artimé. “Come on, then!” she called out over her shoulder.
Liam watched her for a moment, a puzzled look on his face, and shuffled after her.
» » « «
An hour or so later, Liam Healy, Governor to the High Priest Aaron of Quill, walked out of Artimé with his shoulders set, his head held high, and a large sack under one arm. He very nearly started to whistle as he walked, but then he remembered—just in time—where he was.
Aaron Builds a Machine
When Liam returned to the palace with the sack of spell components under his arm, the door to Aaron’s office was open. He peeked in.
Taking up nearly all the space on Aaron’s desk was a sparse contraption made up of rusty metal pieces. Gears were strewn all about along with other pieces of metal of every size and shape. Leaning over the contraption was Aaron. His priestly robe lay on the floor in a heap and the sleeves
of his shirt were pushed up. There was a streak of dirt near his jaw. Surrounding the desk were several large burlap sacks overflowing with various nuts from the Favored Farm.
Aaron didn’t notice Liam, for he was incredibly intent on the task before him. He muttered to himself now and then. Things like “If this goes here, then I need . . . ah yes” and “Where in Quill did I put my wrench?”
“It’s in your back pocket, sir,” Liam offered.
Aaron looked up, startled. “Oh, it’s you, is it?”
“Yes.”
Aaron reached for the wrench and almost grinned before he stopped himself. He was having more fun than he’d had in a very long time, but no one needed to know that.
Liam took a step inside the room. “What are you making, if I may ask?”
“None of your business,” Aaron snapped out, without thinking. It was second nature to him to respond like that, even when he didn’t mean to or need to. He didn’t even realize he said it, and continued, “It’s an oil press.”
“Very nice,” Liam said. He was intrigued by Aaron’s ability to think of such a thing. “You seem to be very good at putting it together.” He came closer and spoke in a low voice, as if he were doing something wrong by asking, “Tell me—how did you come to, ah, to create such a thing? How did you know what to do with all the metal pieces and such?” He realized he didn’t know the names of any of the instruments or parts that Aaron was working with. Most people in Quill didn’t have access to such things.
Aaron frowned and didn’t answer. He turned his attention to Liam, looking him over. “Where have you been? What’s that in your hair?”
“Oh!” Liam said, rubbing his free hand through his hair and dusting off his shoulders. “While I was out getting the spell components, I spent a bit of time, ah, overseeing the wall destruction. It’s coming along quite well.”
