Island of Silence

by Lisa McMann

  The Quillitary soldier eyed Aaron suspiciously for a moment, and then he stepped aside. “Limit is four items. Total, not each.”

  “All right.” Aaron stepped into the garden and the smell of fresh fruits and vegetables was the most amazing thing he’d smelled in months. It nearly covered up the rotten stench from alongside the road. He inhaled, and then, trying not to seem too desperate, he quickly scanned the rows of the farm, digging through his memory for the layout he’d designed, wondering where the coconut trees and watermelon plants ended up.

  Finally he found them on opposite ends of the farm. He gathered up one of each and sat down under the coconut tree’a rare shady spot in Quill’but couldn’t get the coconut to crack open, so he pounded his fist into the watermelon, finally breaking it, feeling like he also broke his hand in the process. But it didn’t matter. He dug into the pink flesh and slurped it, seeds and all. It wasn’t as refreshing as water, but it would have to do.

  When finished, he wiped his sticky hands in the grass and his chin on his shirt, and tossed the watermelon rinds into a giant raspberry bush. Then he took two more watermelons and two ears of corn, leaving the useless coconut behind.

  He made sure he had no signs of watermelon juice on his shirt, and then headed out past the guard, obediently showing the food. The soldier patted down Aaron’s book bag and let him pass without a word.

  When Aaron got to the street, he breathed a sigh of relief. As he wandered past the Quillitary housing sector, his arms aching from the weight of the watermelons, he stopped to rest and gaze at the governors’ homes. They were the six best houses in Quill, not counting the high priest’s palace. Aaron burned with anger when he thought about how his hopes to live in one of these one day had been so violently dashed.

  He wondered if Governor Strang might be persuaded to be on Aaron’s side’Strang had liked Aaron before everything fell apart. But Aaron hadn’t seen him in a while. Perhaps he was home today. . . . But then Aaron looked at himself. Dirty. Smelly. Wandering aimlessly. He was sure the governors all knew about him being kicked out of the university. They were probably behind it, along with Haluki.

  Aaron turned his gaze to Haluki’s house as a drop of sweat made a shiny line from his temple to his jaw. Two buckets of water sat on the step by the door, having been delivered recently, no doubt. Tempting him. He swallowed reflexively, but the sticky sweetness of the watermelon had left his mouth drier than before. It was not worth trying to steal from a governor, much less the high priest, no matter how crazy with thirst he was. He’d be put in jail for years for that. Aaron narrowed his eyes, hating everything about that house and its occupants.

  And then his eyes widened, and his hatred for the house trickled away. “Wait a second,” he said softly. If Mrs. Haluki and the two children are in Artimé, and High Priest Haluki is in the palace . . . who is living in the Halukis’ house?

  “Great land of Quill,” Aaron whispered. “That’s it!”

  Home Sweet Home

  It was agony for Aaron, waiting for dark, but he knew that would be the only way to properly sneak into the Haluki home. He wasn’t about to blow it now. When it was quiet in the neighborhood, and all was clear, he went to the rear door to try a little trick he’d learned from Quillitary soldiers back when they liked him. The Quill doors tended to be a bit loose in their jambs during the driest months, and nearly every home had some sort of rot or termite infestation, so things were not as secure as they seemed.

  Aaron lifted up on the door handle, moving the whole door an inch or so, and then wrenched it to the side. He heard the rusted-out bottom hinge break free from the soft wood and clatter to the floor inside the house. One more wrench for the top hinge, and the door opened. Aaron grabbed his watermelons and went inside, setting them on the table. Then he maneuvered the door closed again and leaned against it, breathing hard. He had never been so light-headed in all his life.

  He went to the front door, unlocked and opened it, and peered outside to make sure no one was about. When he was certain he wasn’t being watched, he brought the precious water inside. In the kitchen he took a cup and, with a shaky hand, dipped it in and drank heartily. He dipped the cup in a second time, knowing he should try to preserve the water, but not caring at this particular moment. Two large buckets of water all to himself for an entire week’it was the best possible reward for all the punishment he’d taken recently.

  When he had cleaned himself up, he made his way to a bedroom and collapsed on a mattress not unlike the kind he’d had at university, and fell asleep.

  » » « «

  In the morning, when the sunlight streamed in through the dusty windows and the heat of the day was not yet upon the land of Quill, Aaron rose. He took stock of the Halukis’ provisions, which were shockingly plentiful. They had an entire shelf of cooking and baking materials, a shelf containing large sacks of rice, beans, and peanuts, and a shelf of dried herbs and oils. Aaron stared at the abundance. Growing up in a Necessary house and then going straight to the university where his meals were served in a cafeteria, he’d had none of these extras just lying around.

  Aaron glanced over his shoulder even though he knew no one was in the house. It was more out of habit, or perhaps because he knew he was doing something terribly against the law. Just being here made him worthy of a life in jail . . . or worse.

  But he also felt strangely confident about not getting caught. It was clear from looking around that the Halukis had closed up the house as if leaving permanently’which rarely happened in the past before Artimé, except when the last of a family had been sent to the Ancients Sector. And even then, there was another family eagerly waiting to move in. But now with people vacating daily and moving to Artimé, and with all the added confusion in Quill these days, Aaron felt that if he were careful to come and go through the back door and limit his outdoor movement to after dark, he could get away with living here for quite some time.

  He took a handful of peanuts and ate them as he surveyed his new living quarters. The kitchen and gathering space was twice as large as the entire home Aaron’s parents lived in. There was a table with four sturdy chairs, and a sofa and two lounge chairs in the gathering area with soft cushions. Who needs so many chairs? he wondered as he tested them out. A family of four needs four chairs at most. Aaron furrowed his brow at the waste.

  He wondered about all the homes that stood empty now in the Necessary quadrants. “All those extra furniture items just sitting there,” he mused. “Beds, chairs, nonperishables, cooking equipment, waste-burying shovels . . .” Aaron moved through the house, noticing all the unnecessary things that the Halukis had, and he burned with anger once more.

  “High Priest Haluki,” Aaron said matter-of-factly, “one day you will beg me for your life.” He moved down the short hallway. “And I will not give it back to you.” He paused, a little surprised by the cold words that had just come out of his mouth. But he cleared his head and continued on, entering a closed room that contained a desk and a large double-door closet. Aaron peered at the desk, noting a few books and papers. He stepped behind it to the closet and put his hands on the doorknobs.

  When he pulled them open wide, he could only stare at the contents, completely baffled. His forehead wrinkled as he puzzled over the giant glass cylinder before him. He reached out tentatively to touch its surface, murmuring, “What in the name of Quill is this?”

  A Skirmish

  Coming toward the gate’everyone in Artimé still called it “the gate” out of habit even though the gate was no longer there’were two hulking, serious types from Quill. “Fresh out of the university?” Arija guessed to Tina, one of her companion girrinos, as the young men approached.

  “Not wearing Quillitary garb, no book bags, a bit tired around the eyes but pale . . . ,” Tina murmured. “Definitely indoor workers. Not old enough to have children in here, though.” She and Arija stood, snorting a few times for effect.

  The two stepped closer uneasily. “We’re her
e to see our brothers,” one said.

  “What are your names?” Tina asked politely enough.

  “Dred Crandall,” said the taller one.

  “Crawledge Prize,” said the other, whose hair curled around his ears and dripped with sweat.

  “And you’re here to see . . . ?” Arija was skeptical. Crandall and Prize? They had the same last names as two of the governors. As far as she knew, the Halukis were the only governor’s family here. But Arija certainly didn’t know everyone in Artimé.

  “Our brothers,” Crandall said again, impatiently this time. He scratched a small scab on his neck.

  Arija and Tina stood aside. “Do you know where to find them?”

  “We’ll find them,” Prize said. He and Crandall passed through the opening and strode quickly to the footpath, looking a bit startled by the bright colors as they gazed left and right at the people milling around munching on breakfast pastries and strolling across the grass.

  “Keep an eye on them,” Arija said to the other two girrinos, whose names were Opal and Penelope. “Be ready to call for help if necessary.”

  Moments later, angry shouts rang out from the lawn near the mansion. Crandall and Prize had approached a group of Necessaries and were attempting to yank two of them away.

  “Come on,” Prize said, trying to get the Necessary to be quiet. “Your little vacation is over. You are required in Quadrant One.”

  “No! Stop! Help me!” the Necessary shouted, catching the attention of two teachers, Mr. Appleblossom and Ms. Claire Morning, who were enjoying a rather spirited discussion of musicals versus plays nearby.

  Mr. Appleblossom bounded over and Ms. Morning kept up easily with her long strides.

  “What’s going on?” Ms. Morning asked, her normally kind voice quite curt this morning.

  The Necessary tried to yank his arm away. “They’re trying to force us back to work in Quill,” he said, breathless.

  “They have duties,” said Crandall. He glared at the two teachers, who looked fairly harmless to him. He took a better grip of the arm he was holding and turned toward the gate. “Come on,” he growled.

  Mr. Appleblossom spoke up. “Your pompousness and attitude is boor. Now kindly take yourselves right out the door.”

  Prize stared at the theater instructor. “What?” he asked, for Mr. Appleblossom’s manner of speaking in rhyme took some getting used to.

  “Out and out! Away, away, away! Do not return again another day!” Mr. Appleblossom gestured impatiently toward the gate and even stomped his foot.

  Crandall, face turning red, let go of the Necessary and turned toward Mr. Appleblossom. He hovered over the little instructor, his hands balling into fists.

  Mr. Appleblossom’s eyes narrowed. A small smile played on Ms. Morning’s lips as she watched.

  Crandall glanced at Prize, and then they both looked at Mr. Appleblossom. Just as Crandall pulled his arm back to take a swing, he jumped back in surprise. “Ouch!” he cried out, spinning around. “Ow!” He looked this way and that, his eyes wild, his hands swatting at his body.

  Soon Crawledge Prize was hopping and exclaiming in pain as well.

  Ms. Morning’s smile turned into a look of surprise, for she had not released a spell, and neither had Mr. Appleblossom as far as she could tell. As the two Wanteds gave up and ran for the gate, Ms. Morning spied the instigators, Cole Wicket and Meghan Ranger, who had been meeting on the lawn a short distance away, and now came running toward them.

  “Are you all right?” Meghan asked.

  Mr. Appleblossom watched the two governors’ sons until they were out of sight in Quill. He lifted his hand to his forehead and patted away any sweat that might have formed, though everyone suspected it was more of an act than a necessary gesture. “I’m well,” he said, finally turning to the students. “The ruffians have fled to Quill.” He turned to the Necessaries. “Now, you two friends are shaken quite, perhaps. A fizzy drink may calm you, if you will. Please, Claire? I must to class with these two chaps.”

  Meghan raised an eyebrow at being called a chap, but she knew Mr. Appleblossom often overlooked minor details in his quest for perfect rhymes, and like most students, she was okay with it.

  “Of course, Siggy,” Ms. Morning said. “Interesting choice of spells, Meghan. What did you use?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t me,” Meghan said. “It was Cole’s quick thinking.”

  Cole’s face turned red. “Fire ants,” he said. “It’ll wear off in fifteen minutes or so.”

  “I doubt they’ll try that again,” Meghan said.

  Ms. Morning nodded, but her face was troubled. “I’m glad it wasn’t a permanent spell, or we might be in for more than we wished for.” She led the Necessaries toward the mansion’s kitchen while Mr. Appleblossom, Cole, and Meghan headed for the tubes to the theater.

  A Mostly Normal Day

  On rare occasions Alex was late for class, and this was one of those times. While Cole sent fire ants upon ruffians, Alex scrubbed his face and tried to run a comb through his tangled wet hair, but gave up as Clive chided him from the living area of his room.

  “Late,” Clive said every thirty seconds.

  “Stuff it. I know.” Alex shoved his books and notebook into his backpack and searched frantically for his component vest. He was presenting a new spell today in Actors’ Studio so he needed it.

  “Late.”

  “Seriously, Clive!” he said through clenched teeth. “I am aware of that.”

  Clive tilted his head. “What rhymes with Appleblossom?” he asked. “Not much. But I know what would be worse.”

  Alex ignored him.

  “Orangeblossom,” Clive said. He chuckled to himself. “Orangeblossom. Get it? Nothing rhymes with orange, so it would be . . .” Clive glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen. “Late,” he said again.

  Alex found his component vest and slipped it on. He grabbed his backpack and stepped into the tube. “Bye,” he said sarcastically.

  “Don’t die,” Clive said. He’d been saying that since the day of the battle with Quill, and since it had worked, Clive said it daily.

  Alex didn’t mind. He knew that deep down Clive was rather fond of him, and while normally quite annoying, the blackboard generally did whatever he could for the boy.

  A moment later Alex stepped from the tube into the theater, where Mr. Appleblossom was already addressing the class. Alex slid into a seat next to Meghan.

  “Shush,” she said.

  “I didn’t say anyth’” Alex said, but Meghan glared at him. He sighed and set his backpack on the floor in front of him, pulling out his notebook and a pencil as quietly as he could.

  Mr. Appleblossom, blind to Alex’s lateness, waxed on. “In times like these I do despair this place, kerfuffles and commotion follow me. But one must hurly-burly through the race, for flicker, flap, and ruction ever be.”

  Alex blinked. He raised an eyebrow at Meghan but dared not speak.

  She scribbled in his notebook, “There was a skirmish on the lawn this morning.” She turned her attention back to the instructor.

  Alex’s eyes widened. He scribbled back. “Who’s Flickerflap and Ruction?” He poked the corner of the notebook into Meghan’s leg to get her attention.

  Meghan let out a frustrated breath and read the note. “Shh!” she said, and pushed it away.

  Alex, who hadn’t said a word, wrote, “I AM NOT MAKING ANY NOISE, SO STOP SHUSHING ME!” He poked it into her leg again.

  Meghan ignored him.

  Alex gave up and listened as Mr. Appleblossom talked about their next production, And Then Everyone Dies, The End, another Appleblossom original’a musical comedy this time based loosely on the Purge, which sounded . . . kind of weird. Samheed, leaning forward in his seat, was nearly drooling over the lead part already.

  After the announcement came “spells” time, wherein a few students introduced their latest theater spells to Mr. Appleblossom and the class. A few were fairly useless, but Alex
and Lani tended to offer a decent lot that were sometimes practical for everyday life in theater, and sometimes potentially lethal, should Artimé be forced to fight again.

  Today Lani’s spell was a practical one. She said it was a seek spell, and explained that if an actor missed his cue and was unable to be found, Mr. Appleblossom only needed to touch something that the actor had created and say “seek” silently, and a ball of light would fetch the missing student. When the actor caught the ball of light it would explode, briefly displaying’like a picture’the created element that Mr. Appleblossom had touched. The wayward actor would then be able to decipher who was summoning, and simply follow the direction from whence the light came.

  To demonstrate, Lani picked up one of Mr. Appleblossom’s older scripts that he’d lent her. She closed her eyes, imagined the silent verbal component, and a bright ball of light shot out directly from the script to Mr. Appleblossom. It hovered until the instructor reached out for it, and then it exploded, and a lighted picture of The Astonishing Adventures of Breakfast and Pearflower appeared in the air. It melted away a moment later.

  Mr. Appleblossom applauded. “A silent, lighted spell is all the rage,” he cried out, “for it can be so dark behind the stage.”

  Lani grinned and sat down.

  Alex’s spell was a practical one, too, and not really one of his best, but he thought it would be quite popular in the right niche. He called it the prompter. It was a tiny intuitive earpiece that would whisper the words one needed when performing, in case of stage fright or confusion. “You only have to rehearse with it in place in your ear, and it will memorize the lines you say out loud, in the proper order. When you try to repeat the words later during a performance, it recognizes the context. If you get stuck, just touch the earpiece to signal that you need a prompt and it immediately whispers the next line into your ear.” He demonstrated and offered others a try. “I’ve only made one so far. It took a while, but now that I have it figured out, I can make more when I have time.”