by Kobe Bryant
But . . . wait. Where was Rovi?
The second the singing ended, Pretia jumped from the podium and tugged on Vera’s arm. “Was Rovi here?”
“He must have been in the stands somewhere,” Vera said as they headed for the Epic Coaches.
“But wouldn’t he have come to find us?” Pretia said.
“Well, you did miss his first event the day after the tribunal,” Vera reminded her. “Maybe something important came up for him.”
“So he’s paying me back?” Pretia asked. “I didn’t even know he was mad at me.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m sure he’s here somewhere.”
Pretia wasn’t so sure. There was no way Rovi wouldn’t congratulate her after her first Junior Epic Victory, especially after all she’d risked to achieve it.
The Epic Coach had hardly stopped when it arrived back at the village before Pretia was racing toward the boys’ residential tower. Rovi wasn’t in his room. And he wasn’t hanging around the fountains or on the training track.
She figured if she was going to find him anywhere, it would be in one of the two cafeterias, but he wasn’t in either. She checked all the food kiosks. No Rovi.
She checked the grana temple and the media center. She was about to give up and return to her room when she heard someone call her name.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Rovi said, rushing toward her. He glanced at the gold medal hanging around her neck. “I wanted to congratulate you in person.”
“You were there?”
“Of course. You were amazing. It must feel incredible!”
“Standing up on the podium was so unreal,” Pretia said.
“And it must have been amazing to finally use all your grana.”
Pretia eyed him curiously. “How so?”
Rovi shook his head slightly and shifted from foot to foot. “You know, to split yourself.”
Pretia could feel the anger rising up inside her. “What do you mean, split myself?”
The friends stared at each other. Then Rovi looked down at his feet.
“You weren’t there, were you?” Pretia said. “You missed the race.”
“I—I—kinda,” Rovi muttered.
“You kind of missed it?” Pretia tried to control her voice. “And then you lied to me?” She could have forgiven him for missing her event if he hadn’t lied. But the lying was too much.
Rovi took a deep breath. “There was something I had to do.”
“What in the world did you need to do in the middle of the Junior Epic Games?” Pretia snapped.
“Not everything revolves around the Junior Epic Games,” Rovi said.
“Right now it does.”
“No, Pretia. There are other things.”
Pretia put her hands on her hips. “Like what?”
“Like family,” Rovi said defiantly.
“What family? You don’t have family.” She regretted the words almost immediately. But she was too mad to take them back.
“I do,” Rovi said. “Just not in the same way you do.”
Pretia eyed him. “You mean the Star Stealers.”
Rovi nodded.
“You missed my event because you were with the Star Stealers?” she asked incredulously. “You left the village?”
“Last night.”
For a moment, Pretia was speechless. “You spent the entire night off-site? What if you’d been caught?”
“I wasn’t,” Rovi said, a little too proudly. “I know this city. And I wanted to spend the night with my friends.”
Pretia bit her lip to keep from screaming at her friend. “Rovi, first of all, you could get in so much trouble I don’t even want to think about it. But more important, you know the Star Stealers are the whole reason I wasn’t supposed to come to Phoenis in the first place. They’re dangerous.”
“You don’t actually think that, do you?” Rovi sounded shocked.
“I do,” Pretia barked. It was only partially true. She knew what her parents had told her—that the Star Stealers had somehow threatened her safety and the rule of Epoca. She didn’t quite believe it herself. But she was so mad at Rovi for skipping her event and lying about it that she wanted to wound him.
Now Rovi’s eyes flashed with anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t even understand them. No one does. Ever since the Junior Epic Games were announced for Phoenis, their lives have been ruined.”
“Because they were trying to ruin the games.”
“No. Because they were trying to survive. And now they need my help.”
Pretia was stunned. “Rovi, you’re not serious? You can’t do anything here besides compete. That’s the Junior Epic Code.”
“We’ll see,” Rovi said.
“What are you planning?”
“Nothing. You wouldn’t understand.”
Pretia lowered her voice to a stern, furious whisper. “You’ll get disqualified. They’ll take away your medal if they find you sneaking away. You could be the reason the Dreamers lose the games. If they take your medal and we lose, it’s on you.”
Rovi looked shocked by her tone. “Pretia, that’s not going to happen. You really wouldn’t understand. You have everything. They—we—have nothing.”
“We? Since when are you a Star Stealer again? Last I checked, you were Rovi Myrios of House Somni.”
Rovi looked at her sadly. “Pretia Praxis-Onera, I thought you of all people would understand being two things at once. I guess you don’t.”
And with that, Rovi marched toward his residential tower. Pretia remained outside, trying to calm herself down. She could hear a marching band approaching through the Dreamer Village, playing their fight song. Purple sparklers shot into the air, celebrating the day’s victors. She was one of those, but she didn’t feel like celebrating anymore. Her victory was soured by Rovi’s accusations.
She looked down at the medal hanging on her neck. The purple ribbon told her she was now a Dreamer hero, but she didn’t feel like one. Instead, she felt as if she was always letting someone down.
18
ROVI
A TOMB
Today Rovi wasn’t a Dreamer. Today he wasn’t an Ecrof student. Today he wasn’t a Junior Epic Medalist.
He was a Star Stealer.
And to do what he had to do, Rovi needed to keep the games at a distance. He didn’t attend any events. He stayed out of sight all day. He didn’t train. He hid in his room from dawn until dusk, dressed in his everyday clothes: no sports kit, no Ecrof insignia. He slipped his Memory Master into his pocket for good luck. When darkness fell, he snuck back to the wall behind the village, and just like before, he slipped away.
The Temple of Arsama was behind the Crescent Stadium. To avoid passing too close to the stadium, Rovi would have to take the long way around the Upper City. And he had to move quickly. According to the plan he, Issa, and Fortunus had worked out when he’d spent the night with the Star Stealers, Fortunus would be waiting for him behind the temple in thirty minutes. Rovi would make it if he didn’t dawdle or run into trouble.
The streets were busier than the last time he’d snuck out. Stragglers hurried to the stadium, waving banners. Restaurants overflowed into the plazas. Vendors dismantled their stalls.
Rovi glanced at the sky toward the triangular top of the temple that was pointing directly at the moon. He paused for a second. The temple seemed imposing and forbidding—a relic from another time. It didn’t seem like a place a little Star Stealer could invade. He shook off these thoughts. He had to keep his mind on the imprisoned Star Stealers. He couldn’t afford to second-guess what he was about to do.
He moved like mercury, keeping his head down and sticking to the shadows. Just another young Phoenician going about his business in the Upper City. From a distance, he could h
ear the roar from the stadium as first the Dreamer anthem, then the Realist anthem rose into the air. The decathlon finals were about to start.
He ducked into a narrow side street. Was someone following him? Was someone watching? Or was his mind playing tricks?
Rovi headed away from the stadium, toward the outermost edge of the Upper City. He used the shadow of the wall as cover as he approached the temple.
The Temple of Arsama, an imposing silhouette against the night sky, loomed even larger than in daylight. The dark mass of towering brick blocked out the entire Upper City of Phoenis behind it.
It was far and away the largest building Rovi had encountered in his life. And somewhere deep inside the temple was a key—an impossibly tiny object in comparison to the building that housed it—that would free the Star Stealers.
He’d never find it.
He’d get lost.
He’d—
“Rovi!” He heard his name whispered in the dark. Then he saw a flash of gold from Fortunus’s rings as a hand reached out and pulled him away from the wall. He exhaled, happy to see a familiar face.
“Hurry. The guards have just finished their patrol.” Before Rovi knew what was happening, they were heading toward the Temple of Arsama.
“I was worried you wouldn’t come,” Fortunus said. “I knew you would try, but I was concerned you’d be prevented.”
“No one can stop me,” Rovi said, sounding a lot more confident than he felt.
“I’m glad,” Fortunus whispered. “If I were your age and still had your agility, I’d do this myself. But like all Star Stealers, I’ve aged out of the trade.”
“I’m still Swiftfoot,” Rovi said.
“I know you are. That’s why you are perfect for this assignment.”
Perfect. No one had ever called Rovi “perfect” before.
Fortunus patted the brick. “This temple is a relic. But it’s also a vault. There are treasures and secrets everywhere. You just need to know where to look and how to find them. As I said, you were made for this task because of your talents both as a Star Stealer and as an athlete.”
Fortunus leaned against the wall. “Now, this temple was built for the last Phoenician ruler before the Age of Grana: Queen Arsama. The pyramid has three main chambers: the Grand Gallery, the king’s chamber, and the queen’s chamber.”
“So I need Arsama’s chamber?”
“Yes,” Fortunus said. “It’s the third chamber down. You will enter the Grand Gallery first, a museum to the glory of ancient Phoenis. Below that is the king’s chamber. And below that, the queen’s. If the legends bear out, she will be holding the Key to Phoenis in her hands.”
“You’ve been inside? You’ve seen all this?”
“No one has actually seen Arsama’s chamber since ancient times. The only place open to the public is the Grand Gallery, and the noble vaults just outside where important Phoenicians continue to be buried. But I’ve seen the layout of other similar temples up close. If this one follows the same pattern, you just need to work your way down from the Grand Gallery. The chambers open into one another as you descend.”
“How do I get to the Grand Gallery? The temple is closed.”
“There is the main entrance for tourists and so forth. But that is closely guarded day and night.”
“Is there another entrance?”
“There is indeed. Which is why this is your mission, Rovi Myrios, the swift-footed Dreamer.” Fortunus looked up at the temple admiringly. “These things are masterfully built. You would think that the interiors would be stuffy and stale, but they are cool. That’s why everything is perfectly preserved. The ancient Phoenicians did this by letting in no light and only a very precise amount of air to preserve all the artifacts, paintings, and bodies perfectly. You’ll get in the same way the air does.”
Together they gazed upward. The temple’s wall rose up into the night at a treacherous incline. “Up there,” Fortunus said, pointing toward the top of the pyramid, “is an air shaft. There’s one on the north side and one on the south. You can access the Grand Gallery through the shaft. You will have to find your way down to the rest.”
“And how do I get to the air shaft?” Rovi asked, eyeing the steep wall uncertainly.
“You climb!” Fortunus said with a confident laugh.
“You want me to climb this?” Rovi indicated the slope of the temple.
“You are a Dreamer and a Star Stealer. You can do anything. I have faith in you. Now go,” Fortunus said. He handed Rovi a rope and a small hand lamp the size of a relay baton. “Tie this rope to the top of the air shaft before you drop into the Grand Gallery. You can shinny up it to escape.”
Rovi took the hand lamp and tucked it into his pocket.
“When you have the key, bring it directly to your brother Issa and me. We will be waiting in the tunnels exactly where you found us last time.” Fortunus gave Rovi a firm handshake. “Here’s to stars that can be stolen. Do us proud, Swiftfoot.” And with that, he slipped away in the dark so quickly that Rovi didn’t have time to say goodbye.
In an instant, Rovi was climbing up the side of the pyramid. His feet found footholds, his hands did the same. The ancient, crumbling brick made his progress easier than he had imagined. In a few minutes he was up so high that he was afraid to look down. In a few more minutes he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to make out the ground below.
He had to keep climbing. Rovi glanced ahead. He could make out the pyramid’s point drawing closer. Where was the air shaft? In fact, what was an air shaft? A hole, right? A hole in the building to let the air in. Something darker than the dark wall he was scaling.
Then he saw it—slightly above him to the left. A few more feet. He scrambled sideways and hauled himself into the opening. His legs dangled down into the nothing below. He felt around with his hands, trying to get a sense of the air shaft. It seemed solid, rounded with a downward slope, and not much larger than Rovi himself. A small brick jutted up at the lip of the air shaft. It wasn’t much to secure the rope to, but he’d have to try. Rovi tied the best knot he could, then let the rope unfurl. He listened to it descend into the depths below.
Now he had no choice—he had to descend. Down he went, gripping the rope as he slid through the air shaft.
When he thought he couldn’t slide any further, the shaft ended six feet above the floor. Rovi let go of the rope and hit the ground with a loud, echoing thud. He hurried toward the closest wall in case his graceless entrance had made enough noise to attract the attention of the guards Fortunus told him were stationed somewhere outside this very room.
When there was no movement besides the rapid fluttering of his own heart, he began to take stock of his surroundings. He could see the Grand Gallery, a museum of ancient Phoenician treasures, by the glow of the small hand lamp. There were golden statues, masks, and treasures too numerous to count—goblets, crowns, and all sorts of fancy-looking knickknacks. Coffins bearing murals of the long-dead rulers of the Sandlands were propped up against the walls—dozens of unblinking faces staring out at him, watching the young Star Stealer trespassing in their temple.
Rovi ignored these faces. He needed to find the way down. He made a tour of the gallery, checking the walls for a passageway or a door. It took him three rounds before he saw it—an opening between two coffins that an adult would have to slip through sideways. He stepped in. Immediately the closeness of the walls made his pulse race and his chest constrict. He had to move quickly.
The narrow passage twisted as it descended before it opened into a wider hall that let him into a room slightly smaller than the Grand Gallery. In this room there was only a single coffin displayed horizontally on a pedestal in the center of the room—the king. The sight raised the hair on his neck. The room was lined with shelves, all filled with the king’s relics. Rovi peered closely at a golden platter. It was too beautiful not to touc
h. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It would be easy to take it with him. But that’s not why he was here. He replaced the platter carefully. Even so, the sound of the metal hitting the shelf summoned an echo that bounced back and forth in the chamber like a scream from the dead.
Rovi jumped and stifled a cry. He needed to get out of here. He spun around, looking for the door. Where was it?
There, diagonally opposite the door he’d entered through. Rovi hurried into the passage. Like before, it was narrow, twisting and turning as it led him deeper into the temple. Around and around. He stumbled a few times, banging into walls until he finally reached the queen’s chamber.
This room was smaller than the king’s but more ornate. A large gilded statue of Arsama stood in the center of the room. Her black hair was sculpted into an impressive tower. She was depicted with her hands pressed together in front of her in the old prayer style, her eyes slightly downcast. Her statue stood at the foot of her coffin as if watching over it, daring anyone to defile it.
Like the king’s room, the walls were lined with shelves. Here the treasures were even more impressive—more gold and jewels than Rovi had ever seen. As Rovi surveyed the treasure, he heard a creaking noise—or did he imagine it? He glanced over his shoulder at the statue. Arsama’s eyes had moved. They had been staring straight ahead. He was certain of it. And now they had shifted to the side, tracking him.
Rovi darted to the opposite side of the room. The eyes followed. He could feel them tracking him like a hunter. He shivered, beginning to sweat. He needed to open that coffin, although it was the last thing he wanted to do.
He took a deep breath and put his hands on the lid. He closed his eyes, uttering a pointless prayer, asking to be forgiven for what he was about to do. Then he slid the coffin open. Inside was a mummified woman dressed in the remains of what looked to be a simple flaxen robe. There were no riches, no ornaments, no treasures alongside her. Rovi took a closer look. There was nothing between her wrapped hands.