The Tree of Ecrof

by Kobe Bryant

  “Rovi,” Satis cautioned, “that is a story that you’ve been told, but I knew your father. I don’t believe he’d have done such a thing.”

  “But people saw him on campus with an ax.”

  Satis looked out the window where the sky was turning from gray to pink. “Kill the tree. I wonder what tree he meant.” Before Rovi had time to think about this, the Visualization Trainer continued. “What do you remember about those last days before you left Cora?”

  Rovi paused. “Let’s see. We were here for three days before Janos sent us away. My father didn’t teach. He wasn’t well enough. But I don’t remember being in our rooms the whole time. We were somewhere else.” He screwed up his face and tried to think. He hadn’t wanted to let his father out of his sight. He’d followed him everywhere, clinging to his father even more than usual. Suddenly it hit Rovi. “We were in his lab,” he said. Rovi had gone with his father, of course. He remembered now. He’d hidden in his spot under the long worktable—his secret cabinet. He’d almost outgrown it and his knees had knocked against the metal door.

  “What was he doing?” Satis asked.

  “I don’t know,” Rovi said. “I never really knew what he was doing. I think he was writing. Writing and muttering about trees.”

  “Do you remember if he took the writings when you left?”

  Rovi thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. We only had one small bag. Janos made him leave most of his stuff here.”

  Satis was rubbing his bald head as if it were a crystal ball. “The only thing I found after he left was your Grana Book. There weren’t any writings. And I’ve checked the lab.”

  Me too, Rovi almost said. But he stopped himself. He didn’t want to admit that he’d been in the lab. And the truth was, he hadn’t looked for any writings. He’d just marveled at his father’s old equipment.

  “Rovi,” Satis said, “the easy way out is to believe what other people say without thinking about it. And since you’re not a Tree Killer, don’t you think it’s possible that your father wasn’t, either?”

  Rovi sighed. “I don’t know what to believe,” he said. “My dad lost his mind, that’s all I’m certain of.”

  “That is true,” Satis said sadly. “But the question is why.”

  Suddenly the breakfast horn blasted across campus.

  “You need to get back to your own temple,” Satis said. “But we can continue this conversation later.”

  Rovi took a piece of bread and stood. “I have one more question,” he said. “Why did my father leave my Grana Book? Do you think it was a mistake?”

  “I’ve often wondered about that,” Satis said. “He wasn’t very lucid when you left, so it’s possible that he simply forgot it. But part of me thinks it was intentional. Maybe he feared he wasn’t going to live to see your tenth birthday and he worried about what would happen to the book if he died. I think he knew that he was changed for good.” Satis lowered his voice. “I think he knew something bad had happened to him.”

  “Something besides the experiment?”

  “I believe so, yes,” Satis said. “I think he sensed he was never coming back. Ever.”

  Rovi opened his mouth to ask another question, but Satis put his hand on Rovi’s shoulder. “I don’t have the answers, Rovi. All I know is that your father was an exceptional man and something terrible and tragic befell him. I don’t fully understand it myself. Maybe one day.”

  Satis held the door open for Rovi.

  “Rovi, the best way to honor your father’s legacy is by being the best student and athlete you can be. Apply yourself. Don’t give up. He believed in you.”

  And before Satis could see the tears in Rovi’s eyes, Rovi darted down the steps and out of the Trainers Towers.

  The sky was the color of rose petals when Rovi got outside. He took the long way back to the Temple of Dreams, behind the Halls of Process and the TheraCenter, where it was less likely to seem as if he’d been anywhere near the Panathletic Stadium and tree. Even though Satis had told him to ignore Castor and his taunts, Rovi didn’t want to give him any more ammunition.

  As he approached the TheraCenter, he heard footsteps ahead of him. But he didn’t stop. At dawn it wasn’t unusual to see overly eager students out for additional training.

  He had crossed from the TheraCenter toward the entrance to the Halls of Process when the person in front of him stopped walking. Rovi quickly overtook him and was surprised to see Iskander Dracos, the fourth-year Dreamer who Janos had said had gone to Epic Elite intensive training.

  “Hey,” Rovi said, “are the Epic Elites back on campus?”

  Iskander stared as if he were looking straight through Rovi.

  “Iskander?”

  Maybe it was the strange dawn light, but Iskander looked pale. Not just pale but transparent.

  “Are you okay?” Rovi asked.

  Finally, Iskander nodded. He was breathing strangely, like he had something caught in his throat.

  “So are you guys back from secret training?”

  Iskander nodded again.

  “Weird,” Rovi said. “The new Epic Elites were just sent to join you.”

  “Yes,” Iskander said. His voice was hoarse, like one of the old men in Phoenis who spent all day smoking sweet fruit vapor.

  “Well, it’ll be cool to have you back on campus for Dreamer Field Day.” Rovi meant it. After all, Iskander was the one who had suggested Cassandra choose Rovi for the Dreamers’ squad.

  “Field Day,” Iskander said, like he couldn’t quite place what the words meant.

  “Yeah, Field Day,” Rovi said. He stared at Iskander before asking, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Iskander nodded again, slowly. It looked like it took a great deal of effort to move his head up and down.

  “Man,” Rovi said. “They must really work you hard at secret training.” If this was how students emerged after months on the eastern side of Cora, he wanted none of it.

  “Yes,” Iskander said. Then, still in a daze, he wandered away, leaving Rovi standing by the Halls of Process.

  Rovi watched him go. Except for his father in his final days, he had never seen anyone look so exhausted in his entire life.

  19

  PRETIA

  THE MIND SHARERS

  Rovi had shoveled his breakfast down faster than usual and raced back to his room, clearly distracted by something, which left Pretia to eat with Vera. Vera was still steaming after what had happened at Epic Elite trials. She shoved food into her mouth like it was the food’s fault she was still stuck on this part of the island and not training with the rest of the Epic Elite. She pierced sausages and buttered toast like she wanted to hurt them. When she bused her tray, it seemed like she was trying to break everything on it. It didn’t matter to her that she’d be chosen next year and that she’d be guaranteed a spot on the Junior Epic Team. She’d been cheated out of her place this year—and she couldn’t stop talking about it.

  Pretia took a final look around the Temple of Dreams for Rovi before heading down to Visualization. She found him already seated in the class, early for a change.

  When the recruits were settled in the classroom, Satis broke them into pairs and handed each pair a set of short batons, like the ones used in track relays. “These are Mind Sharers,” he explained. “When you master them, you can share visualizations with a partner. You can even enter each other’s visualization.”

  Hector had his hand in the air instantly. “What’s the point of that?”

  “Well, first of all, if you are able to let someone into your visualization, it shows the strength of your own concentration. But more than that, it’s an important tool for various partner sports: ice-skating, synchronized diving, doubles tennis, beach volleyball.”

  “So, girls’ sports,” Hector grumbled.

  “That will be three
penalty laps after class, Hector,” Satis said. “As you know, there are no girls’ or boys’ sports. There are only sports.”

  “Yeah, Hector,” Adira said. “I’d like to see you try diving.”

  “Or ice-skating,” Virgil added.

  “All right,” Satis said, waving a hand to settle the class. “Now, these look like the batons in a track relay for a reason. The handoff in a relay is the hardest part of the race. It requires both runners to be in perfect sync. As you know, hold on too long, you’re disqualified. Race ahead of the pass, you’re also done. Just like in the relay, you will use the batons to work together, almost as a single organism.”

  Virgil and Adira pulled their chairs closer together, obviously eager to get going.

  “Now, I don’t expect any of you to master this right off the bat,” Satis continued. “In fact, there’s no shame in never being able to share visualization with a partner. All I can ask is that you try, and in trying, produce the best visualization you can, regardless of whether your partner can see it.” He held up two batons. “The process is deceptively simple. You hold one in each hand and your partner takes the other end. Use a loose grip. You don’t want to suffocate the mental transmission. Then let your mind go.”

  “Sounds easy,” Adira said.

  “Totally,” Virgil replied, slapping her hand. “Synchronized diving, here we come!”

  “We’re going to nail that,” Adira said.

  Satis clapped his hands for quiet. “One more thing—choose something simple, something you can easily see yourself doing. Perhaps even something you’ve done before. That way you will be able to hold on to the image longer and more clearly. And remember, the Mind Sharers are only a tool. When you are truly in sync with one another, you will be able to share your visualizations without using any sort of device. All you will need to do is hold hands. Now you may scatter around the room as you wish.”

  Pretia and Rovi hurried to a cool corner in the back of the room where the light was dimmest.

  Rovi was staring at the batons with fascination.

  “What?” Pretia asked.

  “My father invented these,” he whispered.

  “Don’t let Castor know,” Pretia teased.

  Rovi hid a small smile. “I’ve always wanted to try them,” he said.

  “What are you going to visualize?” Pretia asked Rovi.

  “Hurdles,” Rovi said. “You?”

  Pretia shrugged.

  “Come on,” Rovi said, “don’t tell me you’re not going to try today.”

  Pretia gritted her teeth. “I do try,” she said. “It’s complicated.” She thought for a moment. She was able to visualize strong, clear images of herself doing all the sports and games that she didn’t allow herself to do on the playing field. “Satis said choose something simple, so maybe, I don’t know, the hundred-meter dash.”

  “Sounds simple enough,” Rovi said.

  Pretia glanced around the room. Adira and Virgil were holding their batons between them, a shared look of concentration on their faces. Vera was frowning furiously as she gripped the batons with Satis. Castor and Nassos were playing tug-of-war.

  “You want to go first?” Pretia asked Rovi.

  “Sure,” he said. “I don’t quite understand what to do. But here goes.”

  He gripped one side of each baton and Pretia took the other sides. They both closed their eyes as they held on in silence. Nothing. Through the batons, Pretia could feel the tension in Rovi’s hands. After a few minutes, he let go. They both opened their eyes.

  “Did you see it?” Rovi asked.

  Pretia shook her head. “Maybe you should relax a little.”

  “How can I relax at the same time I’m trying to force a vision into your head?” Rovi asked.

  “I think you’re not supposed to force it,” Pretia suggested.

  “Fine,” Rovi said, slamming his eyes shut again.

  After ten minutes of feeling Rovi’s tension through the other end of the batons, Pretia let go. She opened her eyes and saw that Rovi was sweating. “Let’s switch,” she suggested.

  “Phew,” Rovi said. He wiped his brow.

  Pretia grabbed her end of the batons and closed her eyes. Bringing up the image of running along the track was simple. In no time, Pretia was imagining herself running the 100-meter dash. Three, four, five times she crossed the finish line. Then she started adding in competitors. First Vera, then Rovi. After a while, she was able to perfectly imagine a race with six other runners. She could conjure each of her competitors precisely—every detail of their face, hair, clothes, and running style. But she never allowed herself to win. Finally, she opened her eyes.

  Rovi was staring at her with an exasperated look on his face. “So you don’t push yourself in your mind, either?”

  “You could see my visualization?” Pretia gasped.

  “Clearly,” Rovi said. “But you weren’t trying.”

  “I was,” she said.

  “Race me,” Rovi said. “Race me and win.”

  Pretia rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said. She closed her eyes. If Rovi wanted her to try, she’d try. She’d show him. It was only a visualization. She couldn’t injure him—it wasn’t real.

  She saw herself get into the starting blocks. She imagined Rovi next to her. She heard the starter’s gun explode. And then she watched herself take off. But wait—she watched herself take off in her visualization. Pretia remained in the starting blocks while a shadow Pretia sprinted toward the finish faster than she had ever thought possible.

  This other Pretia charged down the track, knocking the imaginary Rovi over on her way to the finish.

  Pretia was snapped out of her visualization by Rovi dropping the batons. She opened her eyes and saw him lying on the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” she cried, dropping to her knees. “What did I do?”

  Rovi was staring at her, wide-eyed.

  Pretia’s heart was racing. She wanted to cry. “I hurt you,” she said.

  “You split yourself,” Rovi gasped. He was staring at her as if she were one of the Gods of Granity returned to earth.

  “Are—are you okay?” she stammered.

  “Me?” Rovi said. “Yeah, I’m fine. But you . . . you . . . can you really do that?”

  “Shh.” Pretia put her finger to her lips. “It was just in my head.”

  Rovi was nodding slowly. He looked as if he was in shock. “No. It was more than that.” He lowered his voice. “You can do it for real, can’t you?”

  “No,” Pretia snapped. “I can’t.”

  “Come on,” Rovi said. Now his eyes were flooded with something like knowledge or recognition. “You have grana,” he gasped.

  Pretia reached out and clamped a hand over Rovi’s mouth. “Be quiet,” she said.

  “That’s your secret,” Rovi said through the muzzle of her hand. “You have grana.”

  “Please, Rovi. Shh.”

  “Okay, okay,” Rovi said. “Just move your hand.”

  “Hey,” Vera called from across the room, “it’s hard enough to concentrate without you guys making a lot of noise.”

  Rovi raised his hand. “Satis, can Pretia and I go outside to work? I think the sunlight will help me focus.”

  Before Pretia could object, Satis had granted permission and Rovi was dragging her out the door. Overhead was the Infinity Track, higher than Pretia had ever seen it.

  “Do it again,” Rovi said.

  “Do what?”

  “Step outside yourself.”

  Pretia shook her head.

  “But you’ve done it before?” Rovi asked. “For real, not just in a visualization exercise?”

  Pretia nodded reluctantly. She didn’t want to tell him any more. She couldn’t.

  “Can I see?”

  “No,” Pr
etia said. “No way.”

  “Why not?” Rovi urged.

  Pretia bit her lip. “Because my grana is bad.” Her stomach flipped and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Her pulse was racing. Her stomach felt knotted. Her palms started to sweat. She couldn’t believe she had actually said it aloud. She glanced around, panicked that someone besides Rovi might have heard her. But they were alone. Now that the truth was out in the world, it made her feel even more sick.

  “What do you mean, bad?”

  “It’s cursed.”

  Rovi rolled his eyes and laughed. “It’s not cursed. It’s powerful. Self-splitting is supposed to be impossible,” Rovi said. “Only someone with perfect grana can do it. That’s what my dad always said. Please, can I see you do it again?”

  From the stadium, Pretia could hear older students playing a game, soccer or football. “No,” she said firmly.

  “Please.” There was a desperate note in Rovi’s voice.

  “Why does it matter so much?”

  Rovi took a deep breath. “The last thing my father did before he started raving was an experiment to step out of himself. He invented a machine called the Self-Splitter. He made it work, but something went wrong.”

  “Because it’s not something you are supposed to do,” Pretia said. “It’s not normal.”

  “But you can do it,” Rovi said. “And you haven’t lost your mind. I want to see you do it. Maybe it will help me realize what went wrong with my dad.”

  “Sorry,” Pretia said. “You saw what happened. I knocked you over.”

  “You only visualized that.”

  “But you fell!”

  “Pretia, you’re the best at visualization in the entire class. If you can visualize knocking me over, you can also visualize running without knocking me over. All you have to do is try.”

  Rovi didn’t know. He didn’t understand—he couldn’t understand—what she was capable of. She’d nearly killed Davos back at Castle Airim. Then she’d almost made Vera fall from the rigging. And then Castor during the game of capture the flag—she’d injured him, too. Rovi didn’t know about any of that. And he didn’t know that she’d lit the flame to Hurell.