by McMann, Lisa
“Seems to be.” Alex frowned. “Wait—not quite. I almost forgot! I’ll be right back.” He rushed over to the Museum of Large, where the door was still open a crack. He went in and looked around, spying Meghan sitting near the enormous restored pirate ship, surrounded by stacks of books. Alex walked over to her and looked at them. The book closest to him looked quite new, though some of its pages were wavy, as if they’d gotten wet. It was the strangest title he’d seen yet: Yodeling Groceries: 100 Awesome Slang Words for Vomit.
“Any luck?” Alex leaned against the bow of the ship. It whispered unintelligibly as it had done in the past.
Meghan looked up and smiled sadly. Then shook her head.
“Well,” Alex said with a grin, “the good news is that we’ve found another way out. Come on.”
Meghan’s eyes lit up.
Alex pulled her to her feet. Meghan grabbed the vomit book, grinned, and showed Alex a page, making him laugh out loud for the first time in a long time. “What are groceries, anyway?” he asked.
Meghan shrugged. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter. She tucked the book inside her vest to read later.
As they walked out of the museum, Alex grew serious again. “So, um, do you want us to try to get that thing off your neck? I mean, if the medical people think it’s safe to do?”
Meghan looked at him. She nodded and her mouth opened to say a silent yes. Her face was desperate.
“Even if there’s a chance your voice never comes back?”
Meghan hesitated, closing her eyes for a second and taking a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she nodded again.
“You go it,” Alex said. “I promise we’ll do everything we can to hear you sing again.”
Meghan teared up and grabbed Alex’s arm. Together they left the museum, Alex sealing it magically once again. They moved down the hallway.
“I’ll walk with Meg through the door,” Alex said to his instructor, who waited patiently to take the door down and store it away safely once again.
Ms. Octavia, who hadn’t seen Meghan since before Artimé disappeared, startled at the sight of the girl’s necklace of thorns. “Oh dear,” she said, reaching out to give Meghan a hug, while looking vastly puzzled all the same. “I can’t begin to imagine the depths of heartache I missed.”
Alex gave her and Simber a grim smile. I can’t begin to tell you, he thought, but he didn’t say it. Instead he said, “Now that everything seems to have settled, I’d like to meet with you two and Florence as soon as possible.” He looked down at his clothes, still partially covered by Mr. Today’s oversized robe. “But I have a feeling I should probably clean up first,” he said, realizing he must smell pretty bad by now. He looked from Ms. Octavia to Simber. “Mr. Today’s office in an hour, then?”
The cat regarded the dirty, disheveled new leader of Artimé, who had grown considerably more confident and decisive in the time Simber had been at the bottom of the ocean. He tipped his head in solemn agreement. “An hourrr,” he agreed. “But it’s yourrr office now.”
At those words, Alex felt his lungs turn to ice. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to comprehend it. When he looked up once more, he gave Simber and Ms. Octavia a grim nod. He turned to Meghan, who gave him a reassuring smile as they stepped through the door to the theater.
After Ms. Octavia had closed the door and pulled the 3-D drawing from the wall, she rolled it up and tucked it under an appendage. She and Simber left to check on tasks below, while Charlie the gargoyle wandered into the secret hallway unnoticed. He tottered to the end and peered into the office, then turned, crossed the hallway, and peeked into the kitchenette. A moment later he retreated from there as well and went back down the hallway the way he’d come, a puzzled look on his face. He stopped at the door of Mr. Today’s private living quarters and pressed his ear against it. And then he knocked.
When no one answered, Charlie turned around and sat down in front of the door, drew his knees close to his chest, tilted his head to lean it against the molding, and waited for his master to return.
Alone
Lani kicked and wriggled until she was exhausted, but the large man carrying her only squeezed the breath out of her. She stopped fighting and started trying to focus her limited sight on where they were going, but she was soon totally turned around in the maze of tunnels, all lit by candle sconces attached to the walls. Every now and then, when the man walked close enough to the wall, Lani kicked out, hoping she was making a mark of some sort. Her sight wasn’t quite good enough to tell at this point, but the low lighting certainly helped her see a little bit better.
After a ten-minute walk through a warren of underground passageways, the man finally ducked into a room with elaborate decorations. At the far end was a low, round platform upon which a jeweled gold throne stood. Sitting on the throne was a stately woman with long silver hair and thin, wrinkled lips. She wore a cloth band around her head, from which strings of tiny, bright sparkling stones fell all around her shoulders. She had a stern look on her face.
The man carrying Lani flipped the girl around, setting her on her feet. He pulled a chain from his pocket and clipped one end to her thorny necklace and locked it in place. The other end had a clasp, which he snapped onto to a thin wire above their heads, well out of Lani’s reach. He locked that end as well.
Lani squinted at the woman sitting on the throne. Her clothes were simple enough—light-colored linen, like the clothes worn by the other people Lani had seen before they put the painful acid in her eyes. But the one thing that was different about this woman was that she didn’t wear a necklace of thorns like nearly everyone else.
“Still causing trouble, I see.”
Lani almost fell over—there was no other sound anywhere on this strange, creepy island, and she hadn’t heard a single thing in weeks. It was almost with relief that she discovered she wasn’t deaf. So it took her a few moments to recover enough to realize that the woman’s voice seemed eerily familiar.
Squinting even more as her eyes adjusted to the light, Lani took in the woman’s features. Her erect stature, her long silver hair, her pale, wrinkled skin … and that voice. It gave Lani chills, and not the good kind.
“I wonder where you came from.” The queen, or whoever she was, tapped her lips with her forefinger. Her fingernails were several inches long, and they curled around in various fascinating ways.
Lani’s eyes widened.
“Tch. Shame you can’t speak. You’ll learn the sign language soon enough, and then we’ll have a chat about your friend who got away. Guards!” she called.
Lani sucked in a gasp, but it made no sound. Meghan got away! As two more hulking men came out of nowhere to grab her by the elbows, she realized this queen bore a striking resemblance to the woman Lani had destroyed—the High Priest Justine.
» » « «
Back in the cave, Samheed lay still for a long time. When he awoke, he was alone and his hands were empty. He blinked a few times before he remembered what had happened. His head pounded and ached, and when he reached back to the source of the pain, his fingers came away sticky with blood.
But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the blood, or about his aching head, or about his sore body from being slammed to the ground. All he cared about was Lani, and Lani was gone.
He covered his face. His hand felt so empty without hers. And for the first time in Samheed’s life, he felt like giving up. He’d faced death before, twice. But this abandonment felt worse somehow. Maybe it was because at the Purge he wasn’t alone, and when his father had tried to kill him during the battle, he wasn’t alone then, either, and he was able to use his anger to stand up against fear. As long as he had people on his side, he gathered strength and courage from them.
But the people of this island had apparently found Samheed’s ultimate weakness. He rolled to his side and curled up, hoping to become small enough to disappear. As he lay there, a very subtle change began to take place. It
was so slight that he didn’t notice it at first, but after a time, he blinked. And then he sat up. He craned his neck and squinted. And then he crawled on his hands and knees in a straight line and reached out.
His fingers grasped the water bucket on the first try.
Samheed could see.
Empty Chairs and Empty Tables
Alex took the theater tube directly to his room, avoiding the excited Artiméans who roamed the hallways and staircase. He put his hand up to shush Clive and went straight into his private quarters, drew a steamy, soapy bath, and scrubbed and soaked in it. He even had to drain it once and refill it because he was so dirty after weeks of not showering at all.
“You should burn those clothes. They’re practically rancid,” he heard Clive point out from the other room.
“Shove a sock in it, Clive!” Alex called back, before sinking deep into the fresh water such that only his nose and mouth remained above it. His body ached terribly, and he was exhausted. Now that he had a few moments alone, he never wanted to go back out there again. But he had so much more to do before things got back to normal. As he soaked, he made a mental list.
1. Get the thorn necklace off Meghan.
2. See if Sky and Crow want theirs off too.
3. Figure out how to find Lani and Samheed.
4. Find them.
5. Rescue them.
6. Sleep.
7. Do something about the …
He drifted off. Half an hour later, he jerked awake. The water was cold. “You’d think there’d be a spell to keep bathwater warm,” he grumbled.
After another ten minutes his hair was combed, his body was clean, his clothes were fresh, and he felt like a new mage. He smiled at Clive as he headed for the door, and then he stopped and turned. “Do you know, uh, what happened?” he asked the blackboard.
Clive’s eyes darted around the room. “When? Where? What?”
Alex sighed and added a note to his mental list. “Never mind.”
“Come on, tell me. I won’t tell anybody. I don’t even know anybody.”
Alex flashed a grim smile. “Not yet. I don’t have time. Soon.” He opened the door and slipped out.
He made his way out of the boys’ hallway and into the not-very-secret-anymore-but-still-mostly-hidden hallway. It was quiet there. Alex walked toward Mr. Today’s office, his footsteps echoing, and then he stopped in front of Mr. Today’s private quarters.
“Charlie!” he exclaimed.
The gargoyle approached and began speaking with hand signals.
“I don’t understand,” Alex said. “I— There’s a book somewhere, I’m sure … ”
Charlie pointed to Mr. Today’s door and then lifted his shoulders in question.
“Oh no,” Alex muttered, his heart sinking. Is it ever going to end? “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go in here. I’m going to explain everything.”
Charlie loped alongside Alex, snapping his finger and thumbs.
Alex had avoided the office so far, but now he took a few tentative steps inside. It was painful going in and seeing all of Mr. Today’s things. He glanced at the wall behind him, and there, as always, were the crazy, stupid dot pictures that were the answer to the riddle that had driven him nuts for the past month. If only he’d been more observant, he might have figured out the clue much faster.
Alex took off Mr. Today’s robe and hung it next to a spare one on the rack in the corner. He ran his fingers along the fabric and let the sleeve drop, and then he turned away. The blackboards were in order as usual. Alex had no idea how they worked. Or how anything worked, really. He had a lot of books to read, for sure. And hopefully, once Ms. Morning was feeling better, she’d be able to help.
Alex looked at Mr. Today’s chair. He’d sat in it before once or twice, during his nightly visits alone or with Sam. But now it seemed too big to fill. Instead he sat in the armchair on the other side of the desk, which was his usual spot. It felt more comfortable for now.
One by one the others trickled in—Florence, Octavia, and Simber—and they sat down in their usual spots as well. Claire Morning’s chair remained empty, and so did Mr. Today’s.
For a few moments, no one said a word. And during those minutes, Alex finally accepted the truth—that from this point forward, he would lead the meetings. He would be the caretaker of Artimé. He would have to protect, provide for, and serve the people here. He would be in charge of everything, and he would be responsible. He would make decisions that could save lives, or cost lives. It was he who would take the wheel and keep Artimé going in the same direction, or change it. He, young Alexander Stowe, Unwanted, was the new mage of Artimé. Like it or not.
There was no time to look back. Only to move forward, to the dots on the horizon, and steer for them.
Life on Warbler Island
When the next breeze came, Samheed opened his eyes and sat up, hoping it was Lani. He peered around the dimly lit cave, and his newly seeing eyes alighted on a hulk of a man. Samheed stared at him and swallowed hard, trying not to react. But the man was staring at Samheed as well, as if he expected the boy could see.
The man’s orange eyes glowed faintly, and he took three or four rapid steps toward the boy.
Samheed couldn’t help it. He cowered and drew back.
The man gave a sinister smile, reached out as Samheed scrambled to get away, and scooped up the boy with little effort.
Samheed fought, but not as hard as he could—there was really nothing to fight for. He didn’t want to stay in the cave alone. He’d rather die than be stuck there forever. So after a time, he stopped struggling and just watched as the man opened the secret door and took him through a maze of tunnels.
Thorn-necked, orange-eyed people walked about, a few of them chained to the wire above Samheed’s head, but most roamed independently. Some of them carried things like buckets of gold coins, baskets of bread, or armloads of clothing or firewood. Others walked with purpose as if they were in a hurry to get somewhere. He saw one woman with scars around her neck, but no thorns.
Samheed took in everything he could, trying to understand why anyone who had gone through the process of the thorns and the eye colorization would not try to run away. He didn’t understand it.
Then again, he’d been a big supporter of Quill even after he’d been Purged—for a short time, anyway. He wondered what kinds of lies this island’s ruler was telling these people to make them want to stay here.
After a few minutes, the man turned into a cave where a woman sat on a throne watching them. The man set Samheed down and hooked a wire around the boy’s thorny necklace. He locked it with a tiny key, and then connected the other end to the wire above their heads and did the same.
“Well, well, well.” The woman’s voice boomed like a cannon in the silence, startling Samheed. “Your healing period has ended. Time to put a strong young person like you to work.”
Samheed stared. He tried to respond, thinking maybe if the woman could speak, then he might be able to as well, but no sound came out. He wanted to know where Lani was, and if she was okay.
The stately woman narrowed her eyes. “There’s a reason we don’t allow you to speak, you know. I trust you’re smart enough to figure out why eventually.” She rose from the throne to her full height. “Follow your orders and you’ll be treated fairly. If you don’t? It’s back to the dark cave. Simple enough.” She descended from the throne’s platform with languid strides and walked in a slow circle around Samheed.
He stared straight ahead, some of the old anger beginning to stir inside him once again. But he’d follow the rules. For now.
“Oh, your friend,” the woman said, drawing a ridiculously long, curled fingernail across her lips so that it almost disguised a cold smile. “I nearly forgot. She’s fitting in just fine in the women’s compound. Very obedient now, that one. I’m sure you, dear boy, will do just as well in the men’s compound.” She stopped circling when she reached the throne platform once again, and held Samheed�
�s gaze. “If you wish to see her again, that is.”
Samheed’s face betrayed him. He turned away, glaring at the floor as his stomach clenched for Lani. Did this mean he wouldn’t see her? How long would they be separated? In the absence of Lani’s cool fingers entwined in his, he folded his hands together in front of him and sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He knew what this woman was saying. Obey or else. It was exactly like Quill here, only there were no walls—instead the “safety” came from living underground.
Is every island in the world like this? he wondered.
The brute led Samheed to the men’s compound. He pointed to the wire along the ceiling that Sam was connected to. It was purple. There was another wire next to it that was green. Both wires had elaborate roundabout intersections every twenty feet or so, which would allow two people on the same wire to pass each other.
After walking for a few minutes, they came to a circular cavern with hallways branching off in multiple directions. The purple and green lines split up.
Samheed peered down the green hallways to see if there was any sign of Lani, but there was no long black hair to be seen anywhere. The man pointed to the hallway that he wanted Samheed to take, and they walked down it to a large room filled with cots in neat rows. The man brought him to an empty cot that had a book lying on top of it, titled Handbook for Vagabonds. Samheed sat down on the bed. He picked up the book and looked at the man.
The man nodded, and then he turned and left.
Samheed opened the book and read the first page.
Welcome, wanderer, and congratulations. By setting foot on our shores, you have become the sole property of Warbler Island and Queen Eagala. As you have likely discovered in your travels, there is no way to leave the sea that surrounds Warbler and the other six islands contained within.
We wish to inform you that Warbler has a growing fleet of ships. Escapees will be hunted and killed. Your orange eyes will forevermore be proof that you are the branded property of Warbler.
Your golden thorns are for your protection and the protection of Warbler. As travelers land on our shores, they are removed of the burden of speech in favor of a simple, quiet life of quality without distraction. Indeed, a spell of silence has been cast over the entire island, quieting all incidental sounds except for human voices, allowing Warblerians to work in the most optimal conditions. As a possibly unwilling newcomer, you will learn to appreciate that we’ve removed the temptation to speak ill of Warbler or its leader to anyone passing by our shores. It was a necessary move to keep Warbler strong and loyal after the recent revolt.