by Lisa McMann
They sat in silence. And once they’d each thought about it, no one was particularly surprised. Hadn’t the people of Quill always wanted the people of Artimé dead? It was a common theme.
“Well, that’s just great,” Florence said. “Can I please just go pay a visit to the palace and have a little meeting with her?”
Alex might have laughed if the day weren’t so bleak. “Sure. And then two days later the next person will take over and decide Artimé should be destroyed. And the next, and the next.” He sat up. “You know, I’m starting to have an identity crisis. Why does everybody hate us so much?”
Even Sean managed a small smile. “We’re the most despised people in the whole world,” he said. “Just because we like to create things. No, not just create things, because everyone creates things. The problem is that we create things that they don’t think are the right things. And that’s what makes us so despised.”
“Which makes it even more strange that the pirates captured Aaron, of all people. You’d think if they despised us and were out for revenge, they’d have come here.” Alex tapped his finger to his lips, and then he said, “Charlie, can you ask Matilda what was on the paper that the pirates held up?”
Charlie nodded and a moment later he signed something to Haluki.
Haluki knit his brows, and then he looked at Alex. When he spoke, his voice was guarded. “She says it was a drawing of Aaron’s face.”
One by one, the advisors looked up, and then at Alex. And as the truth dawned on him, Alex’s face grew pale.
“Oh,” he said softly. “They thought Aaron was me.”
A Confession
After the meeting, Alex pinned a large canvas to the wall next to the Museum of Large. He lit the hallway brightly so he could see all the nuances of the door, and he began to paint. It had been such a long time since he’d had a chance to paint anything at all, and even though he was exhausted and his heart ached for Meghan, he found comfort in working on his art again. And it was important for him to get the 3-D door finished quickly to allow Lani access to Mr. Today’s personal library so she could help him look for a book about elemental spells. Thankfully it was a simple door, so it wouldn’t take much time to replicate.
While he worked, he thought about the whirlwind that had consumed every moment since he’d arrived back in Artimé. His community had never seen this much grief—they’d never lost so many people before. His best friend was gone, just like that. He still couldn’t process it. It was so strange . . . so horrible. He hadn’t even had a chance to say hello, much less good-bye. And poor Sean! He loved his sister so much. They had a very special sibling relationship. It was something Alex envied. But he didn’t envy Sean now.
Alex thought about his relationship with Aaron, and he knew he couldn’t relate to what Sean was feeling, even though it seemed possible that Aaron could be dead now. As much as Alex had wanted a relationship with his brother like the one Meghan had with Sean, it wasn’t meant to be.
After a while, Alex heard a sound at the mouth of the hallway and looked up. It was Samheed, hanging on to the wall and hobbling toward him.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Samheed said, breathing hard.
“They let you out of the hospital ward?” Alex asked, hurrying into his living quarters to grab a chair for his friend.
“Nah, I snuck out. Figured I could hide up here. I just needed to get out of there.”
Alex nodded and picked up his paintbrush. “Are you feeling better?”
“I guess.” Samheed’s face clouded over.
Alex glanced at him. “What’s wrong? You thinking about Meg?”
“Yeah. I’m so stinking mad at her, I can’t see straight.”
Alex paused his brush stroke, and then continued painting, saying nothing.
“She jumped in front of me,” Samheed went on. “She pushed me out of the way. You know?”
“Yeah.”
“Why’d she have to do that?” Samheed’s voice was filled with pain.
“You’d have done the same for her.”
Samheed was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. But still . . .”
“I know.” Alex put his brush down. “All I can think to say is that she’d do it again if she had the choice. All of us would. You, Lani, me—none of us would think twice about pushing each other out of the way.” He sighed and started painting again. “That’s what made us such a good team, I guess.” His vision misted over, forcing him to paint blind for a time, but he couldn’t stop or he knew he’d break down.
Samheed closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair. He sat there in silence until a tear trickled out, and another. He wiped them away and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I hate this,” he said.
Alex looked over his shoulder at his friend. “Me too.”
They stayed together in the hallway for a long time, Alex painting and thinking, Samheed watching and trying not to lose it, until finally Samheed said, “I heard about Aaron.”
Alex’s hand wavered, and he cursed under his breath, trying to fix the errant line he’d made. He drew his thumb along it, dabbing the excess paint onto his pants. When he’d fixed his mistake, he replied, “They were coming for me, you know.”
“Makes sense.”
“I’m sure Aaron has no idea what’s happening. Or why he was captured.”
“If he’s even alive,” Samheed said.
Alex frowned at his work. “Why would they kidnap him if they were just going to kill him? Why not just kill him?”
“I don’t know.”
Alex painted a while longer. “I think he’s alive.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I don’t know why. I just—I just think I’d, you know, feel something if he died. I’d be able to tell.” He let out a small laugh. “Sounds weird, I know.”
Samheed shifted in his chair. “You always were a little weird when it came to Aaron.”
“I suppose. I mean, we were very close. Or . . . or I thought we were.”
Samheed gave an exasperated sigh. “Look, I know he’s your twin, but he’s a bad person. And you’re not. And I think . . . if it’s possible . . . you should just forget about it. About him. Because I, for one, am kind of glad he’s gone.”
Alex cringed and stepped back to look at his work. “I suppose you’re happier with Gondoleery in charge,” he said, sarcasm creeping into his voice.
Samheed was quiet.
Alex snuck a glance at him. He could see that Samheed was trying to hold his tongue, which wasn’t easy for him.
“No, you’re right,” Samheed said eventually. “We’re worse off until we figure out how to stop her kind of magic. That’s true.”
Samheed’s admission surprised Alex, but he took it without question. They fell silent again.
Slowly, as Alex finished sections of the 3-D door, the corners and edges pushed out from the wall. Soon the drawing was finished. Alex took a tiny rubber component and cast it at the drawing, muttering “Preserve.” The component hit the canvas in the center, spread out, and rippled to the edges so it would never tear. He released the drawing from the wall and began rolling it so he could deliver it to Lani.
“You ready, bruiser?” asked Alex. “Let me help you back down to the hospital ward.”
Samheed frowned. “Can’t you just bring me to my room?”
“No way. The nurses will kill me.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Alex tucked the 3-D door under one arm and helped Sam out of the chair. They walked slowly toward the balcony, where Artiméans bustled about, going in and out of their respective hallways.
As Alex helped Samheed descend the steps, he caught a glance from Simber, who stood in his familiar spot at the front door. By the time they reached the bottom, Simber’s attention was elsewhere, his ears flicking this way and that, and his head tilted to one side. He leaped off his pedestal and stood at attention by the door.
Alex’s heart fell. “What i
s it, Sim?” he asked in a low voice. They weren’t ready for another attack. Samheed’s hands went automatically to where his vest pockets would be if he were wearing it, but he was unarmed. Alex grabbed components from his robe and shoved them at Samheed before taking some in his own hands.
Simber narrowed his eyes. “Somebody’s coming. But I don’t . . . I can’t tell if . . .”
“Claire? Ms. Octavia?” Alex called out. “Are you around? We have visitors.”
Ms. Octavia and Claire Morning came out of their classrooms and joined the head mage, preparing to attack as well.
There was a soft bumping at the door, more like something falling against it than a knock.
Alex looked at Simber in alarm. “Shall I open it?” he whispered.
Simber hesitated, and tried peering out the window. Seeing nothing from the strange angle, he nodded.
“Stay here,” Alex muttered, and left Samheed standing alone near the banister. He went to the door, turned the handle, and opened it.
There, slumped against the door frame, was a disheveled, shivering man with two identical packages in his arms.
Both packages were crying inconsolably.
Sisters
Alex and the others stared.
Simber growled. “Carrreful,” he said. “Could be a trrrick.”
Ms. Morning peered at the figure through narrowed eyes. She took a few steps toward him to get a better look. “Liam?” she asked, incredulous. “You’re alive? What are you doing with those children?” She glanced at Alex. “Don’t let your guard down. I’m with Simber. This could be a trap.”
Alex, Samheed, and Ms. Octavia remained steady and watchful as Ms. Morning looked out the door, this way and that. When she was satisfied that there was no one else nearby, she reached out to the partially frozen Liam and took the babies, who were wrapped inside ragged pieces of cloth. Liam’s arms dropped and his head fell against the door frame. His eyes were closed.
Alex rushed to Liam’s side, slipped the man’s arm over his shoulders, and hoisted him to his feet. Ms. Morning quickly stepped inside with the crying girls and rushed them into the hospital ward to have them checked out.
Alex followed her, dragging Liam along, but before he could reach the hospital ward, Liam snapped his head up and struggled to stand on his own. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Just make sure the babies are all right. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Ms. Morning handed the children over to the nurses and came back to the entryway, where Alex helped Liam take a seat on the steps near Samheed. Ms. Octavia brought him a blanket. His unshaven face was proof enough that he’d been living precariously for at least a few days.
“We heard you’d been sent to the Ancients Sector,” Ms. Morning said. “It’s a shock to see you alive, much less carrying children.”
Liam didn’t dare look at her. He pulled the blanket around his shoulders, still visibly shivering. “It’s true. Gondoleery sent me to the Ancients Sector, and she commanded me to bring the babies there with me, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. They did nothing wrong. So I’ve been on the run.” He looked wearily at Alex. “You know about Aaron?”
Alex nodded.
A nurse who’d seen Liam come in returned with a steaming mug of warm liquid. Liam took it, grateful to warm his hands, and sipped from it. After a moment, he went on. “I took to the shoreline. After everything turned to ice, it took me all this time to get here, sliding along a little at a time so I didn’t fall with the children.” He glanced anxiously into the hospital ward. “They’re starving. I’m so sorry. I only had a little bread in my pocket, and I had to melt ice to give them water.”
Samheed looked over the banister at Liam. “Gondoleery sent little children to the Ancients Sector? Since when did Quill start doing that?”
“Since Gondoleery took over. But I have to tell you that I don’t think she has a plan much beyond freezing everybody in place. I think she saw the opportunity when Aaron was captured and she took it.”
Simber spoke. “So you don’t think she’s planning to attack us furrrtherrr at this time?”
Liam, who wasn’t comfortable at all around the large stone beast, shifted away from him. “I-I can’t say for sure, but I feel quite certain she froze the island because she needed to figure things out. She doesn’t have any allies as far as I know. Well, maybe Governor Strang, but I doubt it. The two are total opposites.”
“That’s good to hear,” Alex said, beginning to pace. “It buys us some time to figure out how to counteract the spell. In fact, that reminds me. I need to get Lani into the library. . . .” He stood still as his thoughts turned back to the task at hand, then he picked up the 3-D door and handed it to Samheed. “Get this to Lani, will you? You’ll see her before I do, I’m sure. I’m going to start searching. Tell her I’ll meet her up there.”
Samheed nodded and took it.
Alex looked at Claire. “Is this whole thing,” he asked, waving his hand toward Liam, “under control?”
“We’ll take it from here,” Ms. Octavia said. “Go save our island.”
Alex bid his thanks and his good-byes and turned to Liam. “Thank you,” he said before starting up the steps.
“Yes, of course.” Liam stood. He dropped his eyes. “I’ll be going, then. Thank you for the, ah, the drink.”
“What?” Alex asked. “Where will you go?”
“T-to the Ancients Sector,” Liam said. “That’s where I’ve been sent.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. He’d forgotten the strange ways people thought in Quill. “No, Liam. Don’t be ridiculous. You will not go back there. We’ll—we’ll find you a place. Somewhere. Here or in Quill.” He looked at Ms. Morning, letting her make the call.
Ms. Morning sighed. “Fine. You can stay here, of course. Then you’ll be closer to your children.”
Liam looked at her in alarm. “My—my children? The girls aren’t mine! They’re Alex’s. I thought . . . I thought you all knew that.”
Alex’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
Samheed raised an eyebrow.
“Oh. Oh dear.” Liam grew pale. “Y-you didn’t hear this part? About the wall—and your parents? Oh my, I’m afraid I’ve quite bungled this. . . .”
“My parents?” Alex stared at Liam. Then he slowly turned to peer into the hospital ward where the children were being cared for, and slowly turned to look at Liam once more. “Explain, please,” he said in a terse voice.
Liam wavered. “Oh dear. Alex,” he said, “I’m so very sorry. I have some, ah, some horrifying news.” His mouth went dry, but he pressed on. “When the last of the wall collapsed, it fell inward on the workers, and it crushed three rows of Necessary houses. Your parents were both . . . killed.”
Alex continued to stare.
Liam swallowed hard. “Oh dear, you don’t know a thing, do you. I’d thought—I’d thought you’d have had contact with them by now.” His eyes darted around, making sure no one was about to attack him, and chastised himself under his breath. “You see, Alex, the children are your sisters. Twins, just like you and—” He stopped.
Shock registered on the faces all around.
“And, well, since Aaron is . . . ah . . . ,” he added weakly, and then finally he gave up trying to be sensitive and blurted out, “You’re their only kin. You see?”
In the long moment that followed, Alex appeared to have turned into a stunned statue. No one else moved either.
“You’re saying my parents are dead,” Alex said finally, “and I’ve inherited these screaming babies.” It wasn’t a question. He shook his head slowly in disbelief. First Meghan, then Aaron, then this craziness . . . it was all too much. What was Alex supposed to do with two helpless babies on top of everything else he had to do?
“Yes,” Liam whispered.
“No,” said Alex. “I do not accept this. Not any of it.” And then, without another word, he turned and walked up the stairs.
The cat frowned. Every instinct he had urged him to go after the mage. But sometimes Claire understood human things better than he did. He stood at the base of the staircase for a long moment, and then he bowed his head and returned to his spot by the door.
Heartbreak and Loss
Alex stared unseeing at the library shelves in the Museum of Large, trying to process everything he’d been through in the past few days. He still couldn’t believe Meghan was gone forever, along with ten other Artiméans. Then his brother was kidnapped, and Alex had no idea where he could be. Then Liam told him his parents were dead, and he had somehow inherited two crying babies that he’d never laid eyes on before.
He closed his eyes and gripped the shelves, wanting to pound his head against the wood, but ultimately deciding to rest his forehead against it instead. Meghan had been the closest thing to family Alex had known for years. Ever since Alex’s parents had told him that he was Unwanted at age ten, they’d distanced themselves from him. He’d always pretended it didn’t hurt, because that’s what a good Quillen would do.
And now Meghan was gone, his parents were dead, and Aaron . . . Alex squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to tamp down the pain and tears, but his breathing grew heavy and wretched, and before he could pull himself from the grip of reality, he found he was hurtling toward it. He cried out in anguish—a deep, ugly groan that began at the depths of his gut and burst from his throat, and then he dropped to the floor and pounded it, sobbing incoherently about the unfairness of life and his awful childhood.
Growing up in Quill, being taught not to feel—those lessons would never quite leave him completely, no matter how hard he tried to forget them. He hated Justine for it, and Aaron, and all of Quill for inserting their fears and rituals into his mind. He hated his parents for it. Even in their death, he hated them.
As he sobbed, feeling terribly sorry for himself, it began to occur to him that maybe the only reason he was so troubled by the injustice of growing up in Quill was because he had experienced life differently since then. He’d experienced something that his parents and Aaron had never known. And that maybe, if he hadn’t been Unwanted, he’d have been just like them.