Milo had never seen a creature so white and clean. Its fur gleamed as if sunrays clung to each fiber, creating a sparkling coat of light. Emma approached the levathon and stared in awe as it whinnied and stamped its hooves. She reached out to touch its head. Milo lunged forward to stop her.
“Emma, wait!”
“It’s OK,” Ascher said, observing from a distance. “Vastanon won’t bite her.”
“Vastanon,” Milo said, watching as the levathon tilted its head in Emma’s direction so she could stroke its forehead.
A rustling sound came from the tree directly above the creature. Leaves rained down and a few stuck to Emma’s hair. Sevarin, appearing so suddenly that he took everyone by surprise, fell through the air and landed behind Vastanon, his sandals clapping against the tile. Vastanon bucked and kicked his hind legs at the boy, causing Emma and Milo to draw back.
“He’s a rowdy one,” Sevarin said, dancing to avoid the kicks. The commotion caused tiny, colorful birds to dart out of the tree and swim through the air like a school of fish.
“Enough, Sev.” Ascher had turned on a faucet sticking out of a pillar and was filling a bucket with water. “You know he doesn’t like it.”
“You’re making him angry,” Emma said.
Sevarin danced around the levathon, chuckling as it tried to slap him with its wings. Frowning at the boy, Ascher came up to Milo and Emma and placed the bucket at their feet.
“Dip your hands in here,” he said. “It’s almost dinner time.”
Milo looked up at him. “Do you have any soap?”
“Not necessary. You’ll see.”
Milo dipped his hands into the icy water. He didn’t have to scrub off the dirt. The water pulled every particle of it off, leaving the skin spotless. Even his nails were clean. Emma reached down and quickly dunked each hand, then wiped them on her tights. Milo was surprised she had gone through all of this wearing ballet tights, not once showing an ounce of embarrassment. She kept her eyes on Sevarin and Vastanon, her face set in an angry scowl.
“Ready to battle?” Sevarin said.
He leaped onto Vastanon’s back, right on top of its spine and between its wings. The levathon started spinning and bucking, its nostrils shivering in rage. It flapped its wings, casting about currents of air that pushed the twins back a step. The plants in the courtyard trembled. Some of the flowers changed color in fright.
Ascher smiled in cynical amusement.
“Watch this.”
Sevarin stood on the creature’s back, arms outspread in a careful balancing act. He looked at Emma and winked. The levathon bucked and kicked and whinnied, trying to knock the boy off, but Sevarin kept his balance, holding his arms out like a surfer riding a wave. He was able to stay on for a full five seconds before the levathon succeeded in bashing him with one of its wings. He flew off the animal’s back and landed in a bush that sucked its flowers into its stems upon impact.
Ascher placed his hand on the levathon’s snout and whispered in its ear. The animal snorted once and shook its head before settling into a state of calm, though it took a while for its breathing to return to normal. Milo had to admit he was impressed.
“You’re such a show-off,” Emma said, her face pink with rage.
Sevarin picked himself up out of the bush and brushed himself off, still grinning.
“Aw, come on,” he said. “Me and Ol’ Vastanon are good friends. We do this all the time.”
“Oh, really?” Emma lifted the bucket. “Do you do this?”
She swung the bucket upward, causing the water to fly through the air like a warped sheet of glass. It broke over Sevarin with a slap that caused Vastanon to tip his head back and snort with delight.
Ascher howled with laughter. Emma was also laughing, though it was more of a satisfied chuckle. Sevarin wiped his eyes and looked down at his soaked clothes.
“Why, you little, human…”
“Hey!” Ascher said, still laughing. “It serves you right.”
Milo was the only one not laughing, and that was because something else had captured his attention. He was standing next to one of the white pillars supporting the arcade that formed an L-shape above the courtyard. Something had begun to creep up the length of the pillar. At first he feared it was a stinging insect or some kind of snake.
He inspected it as Emma teased Sevarin about his wet clothes. Ascher was fumbling with a heavy lock on a set of double doors meant to allow the levathons in and out of the courtyard. For the moment, no one was watching Milo.
He turned his attention back to the twining thing on the pillar. It was a vine with velvety purple flowers that puckered open like kissing mouths before Milo’s eyes. The petals moved as if yearning to grab something. Milo reached forward and let his hand hover above one of the flowers. Just as he had expected, the petals reached for his fingers.
At the center of each flower was a coin-shaped bud that was light pink in color. It looked like a button. Milo reached out and pressed one, careful not to let the petals touch him in case they were poisonous. As soon as he touched it, the flower began to spin. It spun fast enough to become a blur and possibly cut off someone’s finger.
The bud went from light pink to a deep shade of red, the color of blood. A moment later, it stopped spinning.
“So it’s true.” Ascher came up behind Milo, startling him. “It’s as I feared, then.”
Milo turned and hid the flower with his body.
“What’s true?”
The look on Ascher’s face made Milo feel a dropping sensation in his gut, like when the carriage had first taken off back on Earth. The old man’s heavy white brows were low over his eyes, and his voice came out deep and hesitant. He was looking at the flower.
“Inadurazna flowers were first discovered in the northernmost reaches of Astros. Savant botanists modified them to grow in any climate. Pretty things they are, and very special. They’re sensitive to luminether and seek it the way a normal plant seeks the light of the sun.”
“Luminether?” Milo said.
“It’s an essence, like oxygen. I guess you could say it’s a type of fuel. Savants use it to connect their thoughts to the world and then manipulate it. What you call magic. Ferals use it to phase into animal forms. Sargonauts and Acolytes use it to power their muscles and wings. Handy stuff, if you’re Godkin.”
Emma and Sevarin had stopped teasing each other and came up behind Ascher. They watched Milo with concern.
“What happened?” Emma said.
Milo moved aside so they could all see the flower. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just touched it and—and it…”
“It matured.” Ascher bent over to inspect the flower. “You brought it to its next stage of development. Only a high concentration of luminether can do that. In other words, a strong magical presence.”
Emma touched one of the flowers in its center as Milo had done. The flower reddened but not nearly as much as Milo’s.
“Come with me,” Ascher said. “Let’s sit outside and talk. Dinner’s almost ready, and in the meanwhile, Sevarin will get us tea and biscuits and those little zanzibun sandwiches I like. Crispy, not soggy.”
Ascher stood glaring down at Sevarin, who got up with a dramatic sigh and went to the sliding doors.
“Could this day get any worse?” he said, slapping a tree branch along the way.
Chapter 19
The mountain’s jagged teeth were radiant in the light of the setting sun.
Ascher led them away from the ranch and down a path cut into the side of the hill. They were going toward the small pond Milo had seen before, during the carriage ride. He could already smell the water. When they arrived, both he and Emma gaped at the beauty of it.
The water was as clear as glass, and they could see the swaying plant life at the bottom, and the fish that moved like streaks of color among them. Blue-white swans drifted along the surface like painted crystal figurines, now and then shaking their heads and making a strange sound like
a cross between a croak and a whistle.
“Beautiful,” Emma said in a breathy whisper.
Their shoes clapped against the white stone path, which stretched all the way from the ranch to the pond.
“Sevarin made this path,” Ascher said. “Used his bare hands. Punishment for not coming home one night. I love that boy like my own son, but it hasn’t been easy.”
“So Sevarin was born down below,” Milo said, “like us.”
“That’s right. He’s American like you, too. Born in a city called Baltimore, in the state of Maryland.”
“I don’t like the way he treated that levathon,” Emma said, picking up a small stone and flinging it aside.
Ascher shrugged. “He had a rough childhood, practically grew up on the streets. I think he just puts up a mean face to keep people from getting close to him. Physically, though, he’s one of the strongest Sargonauts I’ve ever seen.”
They reached the edge of the pond. Ascher whistled and the birds changed course and swam in his direction. Unlike swans, they had pointed beaks and dark blue feathers that fanned out along the backs of their necks.
“Astrican swans,” Ascher said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small bag. He opened the bag and took out what appeared to be fruit seeds and tossed them into the water. The seeds swelled into fluffy balls the color of bread. The swans croaked and whistled and fought over them. “Look closely,” Ascher said, “they turn invisible in water.”
Milo studied the blue creatures. The lower part of each swan was indeed invisible, no bellies or legs to be seen. Then one of the swans rolled over and exposed its belly and its orange, webbed feet. Its head and neck, however, disappeared in the clear water.
“Whoa.” Milo’s mouth hung open in wonder.
Ascher slipped the bag of seeds into his robe and motioned for Emma and Milo to follow him.
They went down a ways and sat on a bench facing the pond. Sevarin appeared along the path, balancing a metal tray on one finger. The tray carried a teakettle, a bowl of biscuits, and a plate of tiny sandwiches. He was whistling a joyful tune and didn’t seem to be having any trouble keeping the tray balanced. Milo was again impressed by the boy’s skill, though he found himself disliking him more and more as he kept showing off.
“Here’s your stuff,” Sevarin said in a monotone, giving Ascher a look of utter boredom. “Can I go?”
“You can go clean the stables,” Ascher said. “And I don’t want you leaving the ranch again until I say so. You’re grounded, remember.”
“Pop, come on, that ain’t fair!”
“What’s not fair,” Ascher said, “is you disobeying house rules so you can go out and drink nectarwine with your friends. It’s not safe out there. You could’ve been arrested.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Is that right? What would you do faced with one of the emperor’s Berserkers? Tell him one of your jokes and hope he laughs himself to death?”
“I could take on a Berserker.”
“Maybe one,” Ascher said. “But what about five? Now get going, sonny boy. You have chores to finish.”
Sevarin flashed Milo a dangerous look and turned toward the house. Milo watched the boy sulk his way up the path, the lines of his muscles visible in the pouring sunlight.
Great. Now he had an enemy at the ranch. And a Sargonaut, no less…
Emma put her hand on his arm. “I don’t think he’ll bother you much. Now that he knows about the fireball, he’s afraid of you.”
Milo squinted one eye in a look of distrust. “Let’s hope so. I wouldn’t want to get into a fist fight with a Sargonaut.”
He looked back at Ascher, who had the tray on his lap and was pouring tea into three cups with one hand and stuffing little triangular sandwiches into his mouth with the other.
“Ascher, you wanted to tell me something back at the ranch.” Milo gripped the metal armrest and took a deep breath. “I think I’m ready to hear it.”
Ascher opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, a woman’s scream tore across the pond. Ascher jumped to his feet, spilling the teacups, biscuits, and sandwiches everywhere.
“It’s my wife.” He surveyed the forest. “Coral!”
A few of the swans, upon hearing the scream, lifted off the water and flapped toward the trees.
“Follow me,” Ascher said and waved them along.
He had to pick up the front of his robe with both hands as he skipped past the trees—but he was fast. His sandals crunched against twigs and green spiky things resembling pinecones that sprouted thin, leaf-like wings and flapped away.
After a full minute of sprinting at top speed, Milo saw a big woman wearing a country-style dress with her hair gathered in a tight bun. She was almost as big as Ascher and had thick forearms and a pleasant, pillowy face. Her eyes, Milo saw as he came closer, were open all the way in fright.
Two baskets lay overturned by her feet, the vegetables and fruits having spilled out all over the ground. She wasn’t moving. Her eyes were locked on a tree a few feet away.
“Coral,” Ascher said, gathering his wife into his arms. “Dearest, what happened?”
He kissed the woman’s face many times, and still she didn’t flinch. She stared at the tree as if it had been dancing a moment earlier.
“He was watching you,” Coral said. “From across the pond. He was so dirty and—and his clothes were ragged—and he had a boy with him. A boy with a tail.”
“Say that again. Did you say a boy with a tail?”
“A Feral,” the woman said, pointing at the foot of the tree, where a patch of ground looked more trodden than the rest. “He was dressed in rags and had a filthy face, all stained and—and he was so dark! When he heard me scream, he—he turned and ran. He took the boy with him.”
Coral blinked a few times. Then, as if waking from a dream, she looked at Milo and Emma.
“Oh my,” she said, lifting her hand to her cheek. “Are you new here? Look at you, you must be so hungry!”
Chapter 20
No one spoke about the man and the Feral boy.
As the servants prepared for dinner, Coral led Emma upstairs to a bedroom she would share with a girl named Liliara Breezewater—“Lily” for short. Lily wasn’t there when Emma first saw the room. Coral explained that she was probably in the bathroom getting ready for dinner.
Her first sight of the room left Emma speechless. The walls had been painted a vibrant yellow and were covered in red and orange symbols, and pictures of suns and warriors with spears chasing big horned animals. The pictures dominated entire sections of the wall and were so complex and intricate that they must have taken months to draw.
Three handwoven dream catchers hung from the ceiling, two small ones and a third as big as a basketball hoop. They were made from wood and had strings that crossed in the center. Colorful feathers hung by beaded string and spun lazily in the air.
“Who did all this?” Emma said.
“Your roommate. Lily is quite the artist, in addition to being a Savant summoner. Fifteen years ago, when she was only a baby, Ascher rescued her from a massacre that killed her entire family. She was part of a North American tribe called the Sacawas that lived on a reservation. You see, a mean old magician named Kovax received a tip that her mother was a Savant demigoddess and sent some of his men down there to look for her. They killed everyone, including her parents. Now Lily’s all that’s left of her tribe.”
“That’s so sad,” Emma said, reaching up to stroke a feather hanging from the dream catcher.
Coral busied herself with the room, opening and shutting drawers on Emma’s side to make sure she had everything she needed.
“Her ancestor was Valcyona, which makes her a direct descendant of a mother-god. Not quite a demigoddess, but close. She’ll live to be thousands of years old just like you and your brother.”
Emma spun around to face Coral, her breath catching in her throat. Coral saw the look on Emma’s face and smiled
.
“A thousand years seems like a long time, but you’ll get used to it. After four or five hundred years, your senses will expand and you’ll begin to notice the smallest things. You might spend a whole day admiring a beautiful flower or three days reading a single poem. Time will stretch and years will go by like months—a pleasant way to live, so I hear. Never a dull moment.”
“I don’t believe it,” Emma said. “Milo and I will live to be a thousand years old?” She jumped and twisted in mid-air, landing with a flourish. “That’s like living forever!”
Then all at once, Emma’s joyful mood fell away. A look of pure sorrow came over her face.
“What is it, nectar?” Coral said.
Emma examined the wall drawings as she spoke. “It’s my mother. If we don’t rescue her, how many years will she have to spend with that wizard? Centuries?”
“Oh, nectar.” Coral took Emma into her arms and hugged her.
The bedroom door opened and Emma looked over to see a slender, brown-haired girl standing in the doorway, a girl who was obviously older than Emma by a few years and whose body had already begun to take on the shape and poise of a woman’s.
“Lily,” Coral said. “This is Emma Banks.”
Lily Breezewater walked into the room, barefoot and wearing a simple sundress that looked as though it had been sewn together from multicolored fabrics. She wore bracelets of all different colors, some made of beads and others made of string and what appeared to be tiny seashells. Her hair was the color of cinnamon, and her skin looked tanned, as if she had just returned from a sunny vacation.
And her eyes! Emma was stunned by how pretty the girl was. Her eyes were deep brown with flecks of green, like soil on which someone had scattered bits of grass. They were set above high, shapely cheekbones that hinted at her Native American ancestry.
“Hi there,” Lily said. She skipped across the room, her bare feet making pat pat pat sounds against the carpet. She threw her arms around Emma and giggled. “This is so exciting! I’ll teach you everything you need to know about this place and which boys to stay away from.” She cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered, “Pretty much all of them.”
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