by Lisa McMann
“Rightfully yours?” Liam asked softly.
“That’s not what I meant!” Aaron said.
“Do you wish you were an Unwanted?” Liam asked, just as softly as before.
“No!” cried Aaron. “That’s not what I meant at all!”
“Well then, what did you mean?” Liam asked, raising his voice and forgetting himself.
The two stood facing each other in the tiny, stuffy room, Aaron’s expression finally betraying years of agony, and Liam’s face blanching with the fear of having gone too far. Accusing the high priest of wishing to be an Unwanted was probably the worst of all the infractions in Quill.
After an excruciating moment, Liam spoke to try to save the treacherous walls from crumbling further. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I believe I misspoke. Did you instead mean that as the high priest of Quill, you are the rightful ruler of the entire island and all of its parts?”
The blood in Aaron’s body began to pump once more. A shadow passed over his face, and he dropped his gaze and let out a breath. “Yes, of course,” he said, his voice shaking and straining to find its usual patronizing tone. “How dare you assume anything else?”
Liam’s chest tightened. “I-I’m so very sorry, High Priest.”
Aaron straightened up and stood tall, ignoring his trembling limbs and recovering his high-priestly air. He pointed to the sack of components on Liam’s desk. “I’m ready for the components now. I assume I’ll find the verbal incantations and all instructions inside?”
“Yes.” Liam dropped his gaze to the floor, knowing what had to be coming next. There was no way, with Aaron’s temper, that Liam would spend another night in the palace. It was off to the Ancients Sector for him once more. Only this time, he wouldn’t live past dawn to tell about it.
“Very well, then.” Aaron reached past Liam to pick up the sack.
Liam flinched, waiting for the command.
Aaron retreated to the doorway and then paused, looking back over his shoulder. “I’ll let you know if I have any questions about these,” he said. He turned away once more and closed the door behind him.
When he heard the click of the door, Liam looked up.
He was still alive. For the moment, at least. And with life, a tiny ray of hope.
A Return to the Office Desk
Downstairs in his office, Aaron dropped the sack of components on the floor, collapsed at his desk, and buried his face in his hands. He felt like his gut was being torn to shreds. He didn’t even understand what had just happened. What was so wrong about Aaron wanting to rule over the entire island, including Artimé? And what was so wrong about wanting to do it from the nicest location in the land? Just because the mansion happened to be magical, and just because it happened to be created by Unwanted trash, and just because it was surrounded by wickedly awful creative people, did not make Aaron sympathetic to the Unwanteds, or worse, some sort of jealous admirer.
Artimé was rightfully his, but not because Aaron deserved to be Unwanted—no one knew about his infractions but he and his brother, who had taken the blame when they were ten in order to save him. And no one knew what Aaron’s life would be like now if he’d taken responsibility for his own creativity. Alex’s sacrifice had been a gift that any intelligent person wouldn’t think twice about accepting! For that was what Aaron was. Intelligent. Strong. Wanted. Period.
And none of this changed the fact that something sinister was happening with General Blair. Aaron didn’t trust him—not now. Not after that meeting.
He lifted his head and stared across the bare, gray room, and his heart sank. He was on his own again. He didn’t have the Quillitary after all. He was on his own, and undoubtedly about to fail once more. It was the story of his life.
At least he could let General Blair do the hard work of conquering Artimé. That was an easy enough decision—it was going to happen whether Aaron wanted it to or not. And of course he wanted it to happen. The impossible part would come after that, when Aaron would have to take over the mansion from General Blair. And if General Blair really was just using Aaron, did that mean that the general was also planning to get rid of him when he was no longer needed?
Aaron groaned into his sleeve. The uncertainty and the anxiety were killing him, he was sure of that.
His mind turned to Secretary. The old woman grew more dear to him the longer she was gone, and he wished her back in this room again. She’d know what to do. But there was no bringing her back from the panther’s jaws.
The panther—just one of his many failures. There had been so much promise there. It was such a shame that all the jungle and its creatures were useless to Aaron now. He couldn’t trust them to obey him, even though they seemed like they wanted to.
Aaron massaged his temples. Maybe he had moved too fast with the jungle animals. Maybe he hadn’t spent enough time teaching the panther what he wanted her to do. Could that have saved Eva? He was always so impatient. And now he would never know.
Three days left until General Blair attacked Artimé, and here Aaron sat, helplessly awaiting the general’s takeover, and not really sure he had a place in the angry man’s future plans. Perhaps a takeover of the palace was next. Maybe that was why General Blair wanted him to lock himself inside—to make his own capture that much easier.
“I’m such an idiot,” Aaron muttered, flopping down on the desk in despair.
“Yes, you really are,” came a woman’s voice from the hall.
It was the elusive Gondoleery Rattrapp.
Aaron lifted his head and frowned. “What do you want?”
Gondoleery stepped into the room. “I was just nosing about to see how you were coming along in your quest to take over Artimé,” she said. “Care to fill your favorite governor in on the plan?”
“Not really.”
“What’s that you say?”
Aaron shot her a pointed look. “Things are coming along fine,” he said. “I’m working with the Quillitary and we’re going to attack soon.”
“Soon? When?”
“Soon enough,” Aaron said. “That’s my private information.”
Gondoleery laughed. “I’ll go ask Blair myself if you like.”
Aaron recoiled. “How did you—how do you—?”
“How did I know he was still alive?” Gondoleery purred, obviously delighted to see the surprise on Aaron’s face. “Maybe because I’ve been working with him too.”
Aaron stood up, feeling the heat rise to his face. “I knew it! I knew he was—! You traitor!” He whipped around the desk and lunged at Gondoleery.
She pointed at him, and a skewer of ice coupled with an arctic blast shot from her fingers and flew toward Aaron. It struck him, the point burying itself into his arm. He yelped and fell back against the desk. The spear of ice hung from him, and then crumbled and dropped to the floor.
“Next time I won’t stop it from going straight through you,” Gondoleery said with a sickly sweet smile. “Don’t touch me, Aaron Stowe. Don’t ever, ever, touch me.”
Aaron’s mouth hung open. He righted himself and rubbed his arm where the icy spear had jabbed him. Without taking his eyes off her, he slowly walked around to the other side of the desk, putting it between them for his protection. He glanced at the sack of spell components, out of reach on the floor, and useless until he knew the proper things to say with them. He looked down at the drawer that had once contained heart attack spell components, but he’d used them up on the panther.
He was out of luck.
“I’m sure you didn’t mean to threaten me,” Gondoleery said cheerily. She picked at her teeth with a fingernail. “Did you?”
“No,” Aaron said through gritted teeth.
“Good.” She stopped picking. “Now when did you say the Quillitary attack will be?”
Aaron worked his jaw. “Three days,” he said.
“Very good. I look forward to the festivities and the rewards. I’ll tell General Blair you said hello next time I see him.” She
turned and sauntered to the door. And then she turned back and added, “You know, everyone in the palace can hear everything you say when you and Liam are shouting together up there in that echo chamber.”
Aaron’s eyes widened. What did she mean?
Gondoleery laughed again as she walked away, talking loudly to herself. “General Blair, still alive. Amazing. What a cunning little mastermind. I didn’t expect it of him!”
As Aaron’s breath grew hot in his nostrils and he began to seethe, he looked at the puddle on the floor, a small hunk of ice remaining. It reminded him of the day he’d gone to Gunnar Haluki’s house and found water dripping from all surfaces, and a single puck of ice on the table—the only other time he’d seen or felt ice in his life.
And that’s when Aaron Stowe really got scared.
A Mansion and a Jungle
Aaron had two options if he wanted to protect himself from General Blair, and now from Gondoleery, who had quickly vaulted to being the number one person on his list of people to fear. The first option: the bag of spells. And the second? Another visit to the jungle. It probably wouldn’t do any good, but he could try.
Aaron spent the rest of the evening sorting through the spell components and reading the instructions for their use. A small, hard, green component would turn a person into a frog if he yelled “Hey-o froggy face!” while casting. A wispy piece of grass would give the receiver terrible allergies and render them incapacitated if Aaron yelled “Aaah-CHOO!” A squiggly forked stick would poke somebody in both eyes when accompanied by a rousing chant of “Neener neener neener!”
Aaron pored over the incantations earnestly, memorizing them and remembering the components that went along with each. This particular batch seemed ridiculously silly, and he knew he’d be rather embarrassed to yell out some of the strange things, yet he pressed on. He had no choice. It only reinforced in his mind—not that he doubted, of course—that Unwanteds were silly and stupid, and he was most definitely not one of them.
» » « «
The next morning, Aaron loaded up his pockets, wishing for one of those handy vests that his brother wore to carry all of the components in, and slipped out of the palace. He strode quickly to Haluki’s house, made his way inside to the office, and took the tube to the mansion.
Normally he spent only a split second there before hitting all the buttons, which would take him to the jungle. But this time he hesitated. It was quiet in the little kitchenette. He poked his head out of the tube and stole a glance beyond the room to the hallway and into the currently unlit office on the other side.
He listened carefully but heard nothing stirring, so he stepped out of the tube and snuck to the door frame. He peered out and to the left, down the intricately beautiful expanse of hallway. It was empty except for a small, ugly statue that looked strangely familiar, but at present Aaron couldn’t remember where he’d seen it before. A moment later he was tiptoeing across the hallway and into the office.
He’d been in there before. And like that first time when he’d just discovered his brother was alive, the room made him long for something. The feeling was much stronger now, perhaps because he was getting used to seeing the unusual, colorful world.
On that day, Mr. Today had been sitting at the desk with Alex.
They had been so surprised to see him coming through their strange paper doorway that worked like a real door. They’d been happy to see him. And they’d invited him to stay.
He wondered how things would be different now if he’d said yes. Would Mr. Today still be alive?
Aaron pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze. He didn’t like the gnawing feeling that dug into him.
After a minute he slipped back to the kitchenette and into the tube. He pressed all the buttons, and the warm comfort of Artimé was replaced by the cool, minty scent of the jungle. Aaron took it in and looked around.
The rock was there, with the panther curled up in one of its crevasses, sleeping.
Aaron remained still in the tube for a moment, looking out at the softly lit refuge. He’d liked it here before the horrible incident with Eva and the panther. It had an entirely different feel from home and from Artimé. It was the most welcoming place of all, he thought. Populated by misfits and failures of all shapes and sizes. Talk about unwanted.
He cringed. Aaron didn’t like to admit to himself just why he felt so comfortable here. But it was pretty obvious. Despite his one success, Aaron was a misfit and a failure too.
He stepped out of the tube, and his soft tread upon the jungle floor sent the panther jumping to her feet. She took one look at Aaron, bounded toward him, and screamed in his face, just like old times. She brushed her body against his legs, nearly throwing him off balance, and nudged his hand with her head, prompting him to pet her.
Aaron’s mouth twisted into a half smile and he did what she wanted, checking her all over to make sure she was intact.
“Hey, you, your tail’s gone again,” he scolded. “What do you do to that poor thing, bounce on it? Bite it off?”
The rock opened his craggy yellow eyes. Its cave mouth spread into a smile. “I was hoping we’d see you soon,” the rock growled. “You seem to know just when to come.”
Aaron smiled. It was strange how he hadn’t thought about the jungle for weeks, and then it just popped into his mind. “It’s good to be back,” he said, and despite everything that had happened with Secretary, he meant it. He knew the panther hadn’t meant to do anything wrong. It was his fault, not hers.
He took a length of vine and fixed her tail, magically melding the pieces together like before, with only a small fraction of the anxiety this time.
The panther screeched in appreciation. Aaron bent down so his face aligned with hers. Her fangs glistened.
“You’re so smart,” Aaron told the panther. “You know that, right?” He tapped a finger nervously on his knee, debating what to do. Finally, he just decided to explain it, wanting the rock to hear as well.
“I have two tricks I’d like to teach you, Panther,” he said. “The first one is called down. When I say ‘down,’ I want you to sit next to me and not move, no matter what is happening around you.”
The panther lunged, licking Aaron with her cold stone tongue and knocking him off his feet.
“Yeah?” Aaron asked, getting up. “Do you understand me? I highly doubt it,” he said. “But you will.”
The panther panted and screamed.
“She understands. But that doesn’t mean she’ll do it.” The rock moved a few feet closer. “That’s the reason she’s here, you know. What’s the second trick?” he asked.
Aaron looked up. “I’m afraid there’s trouble brewing in Artimé, my rocky friend. The second trick I need to teach the panther is called attack.”
The rock’s eyes drew closer together in concern. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” it growled.
“No, I’m not,” Aaron said, surprising himself with how forthcoming he was being today. “But to be honest, it’s the only hope I have.”
Calm Seas
The patchwork ship soon left the Island of Shipwrecks and the giant hurricane far behind. The Artiméans were so glad to be dry again, and Alex was even gladder to have Simber back with them once more. A quick consultation with the cat convinced Alex that Artimé was not in imminent danger. Simber reassured Alex that everything was under control and running smoothly, and that he would give him more details of future concerns once they had the ship in order.
And the ship was going to be a great task. It had lost most of its original rigging and tools, and because of the hurricane the Artiméans had to stow all of the salvaged replacement items, food, and rainwater belowdecks to keep them from blowing away. By the end of the day they had repositioned everything in its proper place, and the non-statues quite fairly collapsed in exhaustion at the first hint of darkness after their harrowing day.
» » « «
By morning, once all the shipboard duties had been portion
ed out and things were running efficiently on the calm waters, Alex and the others finally had time to tell Simber all that had happened while he was gone.
Simber took specific interest in the shipwreck that contained the military vehicles.
Alex explained, “Ishibashi—he’s the guy you scared half to death—said that nobody was on board when the ship wrecked. Isn’t that weird?”
Simber frowned. “Yes, it’s a little strrrange, unless they abandoned ship when they firrrst enterrred the storrrm. Even strrrangerrr, I rrrecall Marrrcus saying something yearrrs ago about a ship just like it that had come limping to Quill back when he and Justine initially inhabited the island, beforrre the wall went up. The ship had been thrrrough some wrrretched storrrm, I guess. Perrrhaps it was the same hurrricane you’ve been living through.”
“Maybe . . . but if they escaped it and made it to Quill, how did they end up right back in the hurricane again? You’d think they’d know enough to steer clear.”
“You’d think. But they did drrrop some of theirrr vehicles on Quill to lighten theirrr load. That’s how Justine got them. Perrrhaps therrre werrre two ships, and only one was able to make it to Quill.” He fell quiet for a moment, thinking. “If I rrrecall, Marrrcus said something about a warrr.” The cat shook his head. “I don’t rrremember. I wasn’t that interrrested in the storrry back then, so I doubt I asked many questions.” He puzzled some more as he flew.
Alex puzzled along with him on the deck below. “I suppose there’s a book about it somewhere,” he said, rolling his eyes. “There always is.”
Simber chuckled. “I suppose. Marrrcus did a lot of wrrriting.”