by Lisa McMann
After several days of watching Aaron work on the tube, Ishibashi called Sato and Ito together to discuss it while Aaron was outside.
“The boy is very mechanically minded,” Ishibashi said. “I am afraid he will succeed in fixing the tube. Which would be a wonderful thing in any other instance except the one we face with Aaron. I do not think he is ready to go back to Artimé. We must keep him here a little longer, at least, and do the best we can with him before we let him out into the world. One day he will discover the secret of his extended life, and if he has returned to his selfish, evil ways, it will mean a certain end to Alex and our friends.”
“We may have to sabotage his efforts,” Sato said, but he sounded reluctant to do so.
“Perhaps we can simply find other things for him to do during the hour of calm,” Ito suggested.
“If he is mechanically inclined,” said Sato, “I suppose we could have him take apart the rest of the large instruments in the ship and carry them inside piece by piece.”
The three men looked at each other. Ishibashi nodded. “That is what we will do.”
Ishibashi hurried out to redirect Aaron, and as soon as Aaron was busily working in the ship, Ishibashi went back to the tube and studied Aaron’s work. The young man had made great strides in repairing it. He’d gone much deeper in his attempt than Alex had. Aaron really did have a gift for understanding the way things worked.
“Maybe he can fix our telescope,” Ishibashi muttered. He reached for a tiny spring, unhooked it from the tube controls, and slid it into his pocket, cringing all the while, but knowing he had to do it to stop Aaron from jeopardizing Artimé. He would keep it safe. And hopefully feel comfortable returning it someday.
After the hour of calm, Ishibashi went in search of Aaron. He found him at the entrance of the shelter, staring at the maze of rock slabs.
“Is something amiss, Aaron?” asked Ishibashi.
Aaron roused from his study. “No. I was just noticing how perfectly designed this entrance is. Every slab of rock is exactly where it needs to be to minimize the wind and rain that gets in through the doorway.”
“Yes,” Ishibashi said. “Whoever built it was very clever.”
Aaron nodded. “I like it,” he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at Ishibashi. “Did you need me to sweep the floors today since Sato is chef?”
Ishibashi gave Aaron a rare toothless smile, for he had earned it. “Yes, please. When you are finished, would you like to try your hand at putting together the telescope? We have still not found the problem, and Sato is frustrated. It would please him very much if you could solve this.”
Aaron didn’t have to be asked twice. He’d wanted to have a look at that instrument since the day they’d brought it into the shelter. “Yes, of course!” he said. “I promise not to break it. I’m really . . .” He stopped.
“You’re what?” asked Ishibashi.
Aaron blushed. “Never mind. I was about to brag, but that seems like something that would disappoint you.”
Ishibashi put a hand on Aaron’s arm. “You are making good choices. Perhaps your brag can be told in a different way, modestly. Think about it while you sweep.”
Later, when Aaron had taken a long look at the telescope, he asked Ishibashi if he could take the entire telescope apart.
Ishibashi gave him a skeptical look. “We tried that already,” said the old man. “What basis do you have for suggesting it?”
“Something has been put together wrong deep inside,” Aaron said. “And I think I will be able to figure it out if all of the pieces are laid out. It’s easier to build a machine than fix it. For me, at least. That’s—that’s part of my applecorn, I guess.”
Ishibashi gave Aaron a discerning look. “Have you successfully built a machine before?”
Aaron looked down. “Yes, I have.”
“Please tell me about it,” said Ishibashi, “so I may determine your skill level and decide if you are capable of working with such a delicate instrument in the same way.”
Aaron told Ishibashi about the oil press he’d made using bits and pieces of cast-off scrap metal. He explained how he could see the design in his mind, and that’s what made him able to put it together.
Ishibashi seemed satisfied. “Was this your brag?” he asked.
Aaron nodded.
“You found a way to tell it, then, didn’t you.”
Aaron nodded seriously. “I guess I did.”
Ishibashi stood up. “Very well, Aaron. You may take the telescope apart. All of the tools are at your disposal—there’s no need to ask this time. I wish you well.”
Aaron nodded. He was already trying to figure out where to start. As Ishibashi walked away, Aaron paused in his excitement to look at the man. And he realized that as harsh as Ishibashi had been with him at first, Aaron was really growing to like him, and more than that, to respect him. Respect was something Aaron rarely had for anyone. Even the feelings he’d had about Justine were based on fear.
What he felt for Ishibashi had perhaps started out with fear, because Aaron hadn’t understood what was expected of him. But once Aaron had learned to change, the fear was taken away. Now Aaron found himself thinking of ways to make the scientists respect him. It was a quest that never got old, for there was always something new to work on.
Part of Aaron had no desire to ever leave them. And today, when Ishibashi had called him away from his work on the tube, Aaron secretly felt a little bit glad. Because if he succeeded in fixing the tube . . . he might actually have to go back to Quill.
The thought of that turned him cold.
Maybe that was important to his applecorn.
Taking a Different Path
Word had spread quickly through the leadership body of Artimé about Alex’s failed attempt to take out Gondoleery, and when they’d heard that Alex hadn’t taken the opportunity to kill her when he’d had a chance to, some of them couldn’t understand why. Now, because of Alex’s mistakes, some former Unwanteds were dead.
It was a serious story. Once the shock wore off, Alex expected people to become even angrier with him. He was angry with himself—why hadn’t he at least used a permanent freeze spell? It was a terrible mistake made under duress, but one a seasoned leader shouldn’t have made. He didn’t blame his friends for being mad. But to Alex’s surprise, instead of people’s anger toward him increasing, their negative feelings turned to deeply thoughtful concern for their world. They took responsibility too. Most of Alex’s friends rallied around him, and they offered to help however they could in this time of need.
Samheed wasn’t one of them, though. He remained upset and wouldn’t speak to Alex. But Simber, who hadn’t said much since the debacle, stood by the head mage. The cat let go of his previous strange behavior and once again began to offer a word of advice to Alex whenever a situation called for it, just as a faithful companion should do when times are tough. And Sky was there by Alex’s side, like she’d been time and again.
Day in and day out for many weeks, Alex consulted with the people, creatures, and statues he trusted the most, trying to come up with a new plan—one that would actually work this time. And while Alex was anxious to stop Gondoleery as soon as possible, he didn’t want to be sloppy about it or rush through anything again. Not this time. That could be a fatal mistake. But Alex’s real problem was that there was no plan to rush through. He didn’t have anything in place. And he was certain that Gondoleery did.
The leaders reconsidered isolating the palace and attacking within its walls, but once more nixed that idea at Gunnar Haluki’s urging. There were so many innocent workers inside whose lives would surely be in danger, he said. So while Alex didn’t completely rule that idea out, he considered it a last resort.
As the days passed, a strange wind began blowing over the entire island, causing dust from Quill to fly up in squalls. At first the Artiméans didn’t think anything of it. But after several days of it, they began to get suspicious.
> “It’s Gondoleery, no doubt,” Liam informed Alex. “That’s what Sully said, anyway.”
Sean agreed. “Eva Fathom told me in one of our secret meetings that this could be next. Gondoleery is probably just beginning to figure it out. I bet it’ll get worse. Is there anything you can do?”
“I’ve been reading a lot,” Alex said. “I found Mr. Today’s journal from when he created Artimé, and I think the sound barrier spell that he used to keep Artimé hidden can be reinforced to block the elements as well. I’m putting it in place this afternoon.”
» » « «
Luckily, Alex’s plan worked, and Artimé was cut off from the squalls, though the people of Artimé could see the occasional dust devil swirling just beyond the invisible barrier. And if they stepped through the barrier, of course, they’d be shading their eyes from the blowing sand like the Quillens were already doing.
Amid conversations about protecting Artimé and ending Gondoleery’s reign, Alex continued tinkering with spells, trying to batten down the hatches of Artimé to protect it as much as possible from Gondoleery’s wrath. But he didn’t like having to do it. It reminded him of when he first came to Artimé and had to hide in the magical world, fearing the people in Quill. Would there ever be peace throughout their world? Or was Alex just too idealistic for thinking it was possible?
One afternoon Alex sat on the lawn not far from Henry’s garden boxes—his greenhouse, Henry called it—which the young healer had constructed to hold the plants he’d received from Ishibashi. Alex wondered what all the plants were for. He’d have to ask Henry sometime. The sun shone and the sea sparkled, and the wash of waves on the shore was deceivingly peaceful if Alex didn’t look toward Quill, where an occasional burst of brown swirling dust was visible.
He kept waiting for Necessaries and Wanteds to grow concerned enough about the dust storm to seek shelter in Artimé, but they didn’t come. Clearly, as Sully had told them, Governor Strang and Gondoleery had done an excellent job of scaring the Quillens into thinking Artimé was more dangerous than their own crumbling world. Alex shook his head, deep in thought. He had to come up with a plan—and soon. Gondoleery was growing stronger every day.
Simber, Lani, and Ms. Octavia approached the greenhouse garden area and joined Alex to brainstorm once more and see if anyone had come up with a good idea. They were in the midst of discussing Gondoleery’s growing abilities in elemental magic, trying to predict what else she might be able to do, when Samheed walked up.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and said, somewhat gruffly, “Mind if I sit in?”
Simber, who knew that the two young men were in a long-standing argument, looked pointedly at Alex.
Alex’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Samheed,” he said in earnest. “I mean, I get that you’re still angry, and if you want to talk more about that, fine, but not right now. We’re trying to solve problems here, not rehash old ones.”
Samheed looked at the garden box on the ground, where a meandering iridescent vine had curled its way outside of its designated box and was beginning to wrap around Samheed’s shoe. “I don’t plan to bring that up,” he said, shaking the vine off his foot and stepping away from its path. “I’ve got an idea, though, if you’ll listen.” He looked up at Alex. “You’ll probably think I’ve lost my mind once you hear it.”
Doubtful, Alex held his old friend’s gaze. They’d been through a lot together since the Purge, both good and bad, and it had been really hard for Alex to hear Samheed say he didn’t know if he could trust him as a leader anymore. But Samheed surely knew how to pique Alex’s interest. “All right, sure,” Alex said, relenting. “Have a seat. What’s your idea?”
The group made room, and Samheed sat down. “Well, I got to thinking. Since Gondoleery is starting to kill off Necessaries, maybe we could get them to join us and revolt against her.”
Alex shrugged, a bit disappointed that was the best Samheed had come up with. “Yeah, we thought of that already. But the people of Quill are dead inside, and Gondoleery and Strang have been filling their heads with lies about how dangerous we are. We don’t think we stand a chance of convincing them to join our side now.”
Lani added, “You weren’t there when Alex and I talked to Sully the driver. But he said that the people of Quill think the creatures of Artimé are all very dangerous. They believe our creatures and statues want to attack them, based on what Aaron and Gondoleery and Strang told them about Eva Fathom’s death.”
Simber snorted. “Well, maybe they’rrre rrright.”
Ms. Octavia batted at the cat with her nearest tentacle. “Stop it. You’re gentle as a lamb.”
Simber growled but didn’t respond. He nodded to continue the conversation.
“I know about the rumors,” Samheed said to Lani. “I was talking with Liam about it.”
“But you still think it could work, convincing them to join us?” asked Alex, incredulous.
“No,” Samheed said. “Not that way, anyway.”
“Then how?” asked Lani. “I don’t get it.”
“Well, this is where the crazy part comes in.”
“I was wondering,” Alex muttered.
“Quiet, Alex,” said Lani. “Go ahead, Sam.”
Samheed seemed uncertain about continuing. He made no eye contact, choosing instead to stare at a spot in the garden box. “See,” he began, “Liam also told me that the people of Quill have really only been roused out of their complacency once before.”
Ms. Octavia leaned in. “Have they? That’s news to me.”
“Yes,” Lani said, tapping a finger to her lips. “That’s right, they have.”
“I’d forgotten that,” Alex admitted. “It’s true. According to Liam, anyway.”
“Right,” Samheed said, gaining a bit of confidence. “It was when Aaron was high priest and he began rewarding them with food. They responded to that in a way they never had before, and they were pretty loyal to Aaron after that even though he didn’t pay much attention to them from that point on.”
“So we should start offering them food?” asked Ms. Octavia. “Well, certainly, if it’ll work. We have enough to spare.”
“But the creatures and statues,” Lani reminded the octogator. “The Wanteds and Necessaries are afraid of you. If we give them food, they’ll think we’re tricking them. So much of Quill is based on fear.” She glanced at the instructor. “It’s hard to understand if you’ve never lived there.”
“Right,” Samheed said. “I thought of that too.” He slid his fingers over a particularly wide blade of grass, making it squeak. “But,” he went on, “they responded to Aaron, right? And Alex looks exactly like Aaron. So I was thinking maybe Alex could, you know, pretend he’s Aaron. He wouldn’t even need a disguise, really.”
“That’s brilliant!” Lani exclaimed. She turned to Alex and grabbed his arm. “You could go into Quill and act it all out. You know—you’re Aaron and you’ve returned to your people, and you start giving out food and doing what Aaron would do to get them to respond, and you show them you’re friends with Artimé now. And you prove to them that we’re safe, and convince them all to rise up against Gondoleery!”
Alex looked skeptical. “What happens when they discover I’m not Aaron? When they find out I lied to them and tricked them? Then what? Because you know they’ll find out eventually.”
“Oh, good grief, Alex,” Lani said, frustrated. “Do you have to wreck every single good idea we have?”
Alex looked at Lani and sighed. “You know, the problem with you is that you jump on things too quickly and you don’t think them through all the way. Which is also why you were caught flat-footed without any spell components to freeze Gondoleery in the car when you were in disguise, like you wanted to do.”
“Yeah, like you would have let us kill her if she was frozen!” Lani said. “Apparently she has to be a split second away from killing you before you’ll take her out. Isn’t that about right, Al?”
&
nbsp; Samheed ripped the tips of the grass from the lawn and threw them down. “I thought we weren’t going back to this conversation,” he said.
“I’m just giving an example,” Alex replied evenly, “just like you gave me when you thought I did something wrong.”
“Well, stick to the topic,” Samheed said. “I think it’s a good idea.”
“I’ll gladly stick to the topic,” Alex said. “The answer is no. I’m not going to impersonate my brother. I think it’ll backfire horribly in the end. And I don’t want to spend one second of my time acting like him—not that I even know how! Besides, how am I supposed to run Artimé if I’m busy being Aaron in Quill? How are the two leaders supposed to show trust for each other if they’re never seen together? I can’t be both people at once.” He leaned toward Samheed. “This plan is fraught with problems. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. Admit it.”
Samheed frowned, thinking it over in silence.
Lani sat up. “I’ve got it—I’ll be Aaron! I’ll disguise myself and do all that stuff so you don’t have to.”
Samheed groaned. “This is sounding eerily familiar,” he muttered. “And I think I can predict Alex’s response.”
Lani went on planning out loud as if she hadn’t heard Samheed. “I’m sure I can figure out Aaron’s mannerisms and stuff—he’s got to be a lot like you, right?”
“He’s nothing like me,” said Alex.
“I mean on the outside,” Lani said.
“He’s nothing like me,” Alex repeated, louder this time, “and Sam, you’d be right in your prediction, because the answer is, once again, no.”
“Come on. Why not?” Lani asked.
Alex clenched his jaw, trying not to raise his voice. “Because you don’t have a clue about how he’d act, or what he’d say, or how he’d say it. You’ve never spent time with him. You’ve barely even seen him. You don’t know him at all!”
“Yes, but I know you really well—”