by Kobe Bryant
Rovi watched as rings rose from the bottom of the pool.
Nassos and Cyril slapped hands. “You and me,” Cyril said. Although the boys were from opposite houses, their superiority in the pool had bonded them.
“What about me?” Vera asked.
“I don’t know,” Pretia said, mock-serious. “I heard Eshe crushed it in her heat this morning. Are you as good as she is?”
Rovi wanted to join Pretia in teasing Vera about her first-year doppelgänger. But he was too preoccupied with the task ahead. He didn’t want to embarrass himself. He didn’t want to finish last—or worse, be disqualified.
Lavinia paired them up. Rovi was drawn with Leo—two Sandlanders swimming against each other. They were the last to swim.
When Lavinia blew her whistle, Rovi was fast off the diving block. He felt sleek and swift as he crested through the air, finding the best aerodynamic path into the water. His grana could do that, at least. But when he hit the water, he was at a loss. He counted strokes as he approached the first ring—one, two, three, four. Then he pulled himself out of the water, preparing to clear the ring. But he was too early. The ring was still a stroke ahead of him. He crashed back into the water, but not before seeing Leo easily clear the ring.
It was like he was back in the maze at Ponsit Palace. He couldn’t rely on his grana to help him. Rovi felt blocked—not entirely helpless, but certainly hindered. He made it through the first ring and the second. By the third he’d almost caught Leo. He was working hard. His grana didn’t guide him through the pool, so he had to pay particular attention to where he was and when he needed to arc through a ring. This was costing him time. Leo pulled ahead at the fourth ring. Rovi gritted his teeth. He drove his hands as hard as he could through the water. He kicked his feet. But when he pulled out of the water for the final ring, he’d mistimed it. He dove right in front of it, plunging back into the pool, missing the ring entirely. He was disqualified.
Slowly he swam back to the end where his classmates were gathered on the deck and sat on the edge of the pool. “You lost to Leo,” Virgil snickered.
“It doesn’t matter who he lost to,” Myra added. “His time would have been last anyway.”
Rovi extended his legs in front of him and leaned forward, touching his toes and pressing his nose to his knees, pretending he was stretching instead of hiding his fury.
“Too bad the Star Stealers aren’t allowed their own Junior Epic Squad,” Castor said. “That’s the only way you’ll make the swim team.”
Who says I want to make the swim team? Rovi thought. He preferred to compete on land.
“From what I’ve heard, the Star Stealers aren’t going to be allowed much of anything anymore,” Leo said.
Rovi looked up. “What do you mean?”
Leo, clearly emboldened by having defeated Rovi, cleared his throat. “You haven’t heard? They are trying to expel Star Stealers from the city. All summer, the Phoenician guards were rounding them up.”
Rovi felt his stomach tie into a knot. “Why? What did the Star Stealers do?”
Leo shrugged. “I guess they want to clean up all the riffraff from Phoenis before the Junior Epic Games. Or maybe they’re just tired of having thieves on the street. Anyway, the Star Stealers started rioting.”
“Star Stealers don’t riot,” Rovi protested. “And they aren’t thieves.”
“Then what are they?” Leo asked.
“They—they’re . . .” Rovi couldn’t find the right words. “My friends.”
Leo crossed his arms. “Are you a Dreamer or a Star Stealer?”
“A Dreamer,” Rovi answered without thinking. But that didn’t mean that he’d forgotten his old friends.
“Doesn’t sound like it,” Leo snickered.
Rovi didn’t want to hear any more. He dove back into the pool and let himself sink all the way to the bottom, trying to escape his anxiety about the friends he had left behind in Phoenis. His old gang was closer to family than anything he had in the world. But not even the soothing water of the underground pool eased his mind. He needed to find someone who might know about what was going on back in Phoenis.
* * *
The Halls of Process were cool and dim, as always. Rovi stepped into the quiet corridor. He was overcome with relief to be away from his fellow students and the pressure of competition.
Since the non-sports classes—Visualization and Granology—were canceled until after the Junior Epic trials, Rovi had seen next to nothing of Satis Dario, the Visualization Trainer, during the first weeks of the term. Satis had always been kind to Rovi, ever since he’d scouted him from the streets of Phoenis. He had also been a close friend of Rovi’s father, Pallas Myrios, before Pallas had his grana stolen. But none of these was the reason that Rovi wanted to find Satis after swim practice.
Rovi took a deep breath and exhaled, relaxing into the solitude of the building. There were two classrooms in the Halls of Process. In between them was a small door that most students never noticed. Rovi knew this door well. It led to what had been his father’s office when Pallas Myrios had been Ecrof’s Visualization Trainer.
Rovi paused at the door for a moment, and when he did, he heard a noise from within. Without thinking, he turned the handle and opened the door.
The room had been completely rearranged since he’d been there last year. All the clutter left behind by Pallas had been organized. The shelves were filled with neatly labeled storage boxes. The myriad machines that Pallas had left in disarray were lined up along one wall. The long desk in the center of the room where Rovi’s father used to work late into the night conceiving new methods and gadgets for visualization was free of clutter.
Sitting behind this desk was the squat Visualization Trainer, Satis Dario, his bald head shining in the sunlight streaming in from one of the freshly washed windows.
A broad smile broke over his face when he saw Rovi standing in the doorway. “Rovi! You’ve grown tired of all that training and decided to take a break with some visualization?”
“I—um—no,” Rovi sputtered. He suddenly felt terribly guilty for completely ignoring the practice of visualization. Had he offended Satis? Had he done a disservice to his father?
Satis’s face fell. “Are you upset about the office?”
“Upset?”
“That I took over your father’s laboratory?”
“Not at all,” Rovi said. He looked around some more. “It looks great in here. Maybe some of this stuff can help me train for the Junior Epic Games.”
Satis stepped out from behind the desk. “I like the way you’re thinking, Rovi. Imagining that something is going to happen is the first step toward ensuring that it will happen. What sort of visualization do you want help with?”
“I—er—I’m not here about visualization, actually.” For the second time in less than two minutes, he felt he’d let Satis down. “I mean, I know I need to practice it, but I have a question about something else.”
“Well, take a seat, then,” Satis said, pulling out a stool for Rovi.
Rovi did as instructed.
“What can I help you with?” the Visualization Trainer asked.
“Did you scout the new recruits this year?” Rovi said.
Each year the ceremonial Scrolls of Ecrof were opened to find the names of the new students. Then Ecrof scouts were dispatched all over Epoca to determine whether these students were a true fit for the academy.
“Yes,” Satis said. “But I can’t tell you anything about the scrolls or the scouting process.” The scrolls were a mystery even the Trainers didn’t understand.
“I know,” Rovi said. “But did you scout in the Sandlands again?”
“I did.”
“Did you—” Rovi began. “Did you see any Star Stealers?”
“Well,” Satis said. He drummed his fingers on his knee. “I wasn
’t looking for them. As you know, it’s unprecedented for a recruit to come from a gang of Star Stealers or from any of the other Orphic People. You are the one and only in the history of Ecrof.”
“But did you see any Star Stealers? They’re always around.”
“Rovi—”
Rovi didn’t let the Trainer finish. “At the Alexandrine Plaza. By the river Durna. That’s where my group hung out. Or other places, like the catacombs. The desert fountains. You must have seen them.”
“I didn’t,” Satis said slowly.
“So it’s true what Castor and Leo have been saying?”
“I can’t imagine that anything Castor and Leo have been saying is one hundred percent true,” Satis said.
“They say the Star Stealers have been doing something bad and that they are being rounded up.”
Satis looked concerned. “I admit there may be some truth to that, but I’m not sure exactly what it is. I’ve heard rumors of some sort of dispute between the Star Stealers and the Phoenician officials. I don’t know the circumstances. But it does seem as if the Star Stealers have been gathering in large numbers.”
“More than one gang together?”
“I don’t know the details,” Satis said.
“But that never happens. They wouldn’t do that.” Star Stealer gangs kept their distance from one another in public out of a sense of mutual self-preservation. Too many Star Stealers in one place attracted attention and made life difficult for all of them.
“All I can tell you is what I heard.”
“I just . . . I can’t stop thinking about my old gang. My Star Stealer brother Issa, especially. He’s the toughest, smartest kid I know. And he saved me when my dad died. If anything happened to him—” Rovi stopped talking abruptly, swallowing the lump in his throat and wiping the tears away from his eyes.
“I remember Issa,” Satis said. “I watched you two together for several days while I scouted you. He seemed to love you very much.”
Rovi could only nod.
“And he took great care of you.”
“He was—he is the best Star Stealer leader,” Rovi said.
“Which is why,” Satis said kindly, “unless you have specific knowledge that something bad happened to Issa, you shouldn’t worry about him. He seemed to me like someone very capable of taking care of himself.”
“Okay.” Rovi nodded. Issa was resourceful and strong.
Satis’s hands flew to his desk, and he began to fiddle with some fabric strips strung together with copper wire. “There is something I should tell you, though. I have heard that the Star Stealers are afraid to be seen in the open on the streets of Phoenis, so they travel underground as much as possible.”
“Underground?”
“They use the tunnels left behind by the River of Sand.”
Like everyone else, Rovi knew that the River of Sand was one of the Four Marvels of Epoca. It was once a mighty flow of quicksand that the gods used to travel across the Sandlands to mainland Epoca. The river originated deep below the streets of Phoenis and emerged into the desert, connecting the Sandlands to the rest of the country. But when the time of the gods ended and they left for Mount Aoin, the people of Phoenis dammed the river because it was thought to be too powerful for humans to control in the gods’ absence. There were other rumors, too—ones that were only spoken of in whispers. Some said that the River of Sand had been a creation of Hurell when he was still one of the blessed gods.
For years, Rovi had heard stories about the maze of tunnels left behind by the river—about thieves and criminals who camped in them. He’d heard rumors about kids getting lost down there and never being seen again. He’d even darted into them to escape the Phoenician guards once or twice, and each time he had, the tunnels had terrified him. He knew that somewhere a small portion of the River of Sand still flowed. There were rumors that the Phoenician guards had the power to turn it loose to clear the tunnels. He also knew that there was a siren that would warn the city’s residents if the river broke free on its own. He’d heard this siren tested before, and it made his blood run cold.
Rovi opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Satis held up his hand. “I am sorry that I don’t have more answers for you, Rovi. I hope your friends are all right.”
The thought of Issa and the rest of his gang of Star Stealers, whom Rovi had left behind without a goodbye, made him choke up a little.
“And speaking of the Junior Epic Games,” Satis said, “I have something for you.”
The Trainer went to one of the well-organized shelves and opened a box. He took out a strip of thick fabric cut like a headband and handed it to Rovi. The fabric was black on one side and gold on the other.
“Is that a new kind of Mensa Crown?” Rovi had learned to master Mensa Crowns in Visualization the previous year, and had become pretty good at projecting an image of himself playing a sport into the air above his head.
“No, it’s a Memory Master.”
“Did my dad invent it?” Rovi asked, taking the fabric from Satis.
“He did.”
“What does it do?”
“If you wear it when you train, it records your movements so you can play them back in your head later and study them. You put it on with the gold side touching your forehead to record and flip to black to replay.”
“Thanks,” Rovi said, taking the headband.
“Give it a try,” Satis said. “The competition for the Junior Epic Squad is going to be fierce.”
“I will,” Rovi replied, although he didn’t like using gadgets for visualization, preferring instead to rely on his natural talents. He turned the band around in his hands. “Promise,” he added, more to himself than to Satis. He vowed once more to do anything possible to get to Phoenis and return a hometown hero.
He’d make Issa proud—and show him just how far he’d come.
7
PRETIA
A WARNING
The night before the Junior Epic swim trials, the Dreamers’ cafeteria was filled with nervous electricity. Even Adira and Virgil, who were normally thick as thieves, seemed to be keeping their distance from one another.
“You’re not diving, are you, Pretia?” Adira said as Pretia passed by on her way to sit with Rovi.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Pretia replied.
“Are you sure?” Adira asked. She sounded incredibly anxious. She was fiddling with the edge of her headscarf, twisting it around her fingers.
“Have you ever even seen me dive?” Pretia asked. She figured that was enough of an answer. Not once had she participated in diving practice.
She found a seat next to Rovi. The only other occupant of his table was Virgil. As soon as she sat down, Virgil said, “You’re not diving, right? Or anything like that?”
“Anything like what?”
“Like, you know, doing things that aren’t your thing, just because.”
“Just because what?” Pretia tried to hide the irritation in her voice.
“Because you can,” Virgil snipped.
“Are there things I should and shouldn’t do?” Pretia asked.
“Yes.” Virgil stood and grabbed his tray, knocking into Rovi. “Diving.” Together Pretia and Rovi watched Virgil march over to Adira’s table and slam down his tray.
“I’ve never even attended a single diving practice,” Pretia said. “Do they actually think I’m suddenly going to start diving?” She had signed up for swim trials, but diving didn’t interest her at all.
Rovi looked at her strangely. “Well, they think you can do anything you want.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“But it’s sort of true.”
“It’s not like I can magically do everything just because I can split myself. It’s not like that at all.” Her talent was causing more and more trouble each and every d
ay. No one understood it. In fact, there were times when Pretia herself barely understood it.
“What do you think will happen if one of those two makes the diving team and the other doesn’t?” Pretia said, glancing at Adira and Virgil, who were making a big show of not talking to each other.
“It’s going to be ugly.” Rovi stuffed a huge spoonful of rice into his mouth. When he was finished chewing, he put down his spoon and looked at Pretia. “So are you going to try out for the team?”
“The diving team?” Pretia threw down her fork. “You think I’m going to get up on a diving board for the first time and just hope my grana helps me execute some kind of miraculous somersault? It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just do whatever I want, whenever.”
As far as she could tell, splitting herself required a very specific balance of things—confidence, desire, calm, and focus. Sometimes when her motivation was low, she couldn’t manage to step outside herself. Sometimes when she was distracted, it didn’t happen either. The times she could do it, of course, were the crucial ones, when winning was essential both to her personally and for a greater good. “I’m going out for swimming and that’s all.”
“All I’m saying is that every time you’ve split yourself, you’ve beaten me,” Rovi said. “It doesn’t bother me. But I understand why they’re worried.”
“I don’t always split myself.” Did everyone think she could win medals just by turning up? Pretia’s heart sank. No matter what she did or what happened to her, she was always different, singled out for either the accident of her mixed heritage or her royal birth or her intense grana. “They must hate me,” she said glumly. Maybe she should have stayed home. Maybe ruling Epoca would have been easier than dealing with her classmates.
“I think they’re more afraid of you than anything else.”