The Promise

  This is what I mean, Diary, when I say twins have a special connection. They can communicate without speaking—even twins who are as different from each other as Massarym and I are.

  Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I would have jumped in shock, but you can’t really jump when you’re hovering in the sky.

  I whipped my head around. There was Massarym, floating beside me. A mile up in the air.

  “H-how—” I spluttered.

  “YEEEOWW!” Massarym held tightly to my shoulder. Another Loculus was in his free hand. “This one is . . . remarkable,” he said through gritted teeth. “It instantly transports you to wherever you want to go—zzzzap! Mother calls it teleportation. Not as fun as the others. It hurts to use it.”

  “Incredible!” I said.

  “I think I’ll call it the Loculus of Zap,” he said. “Painful but spectacular.”

  “Massarym, you know s-s-something odd?” I said. “You are holding on to me, yet I do not feel your w-weight.”

  “Really . . . AAAAAAHHH!” As an experiment, he had let go. And now he was plummeting downward!

  I could see him fumbling with his Loculus of Zap, but in his panic he let go, sending the orb off into the air.

  Get him.

  My Loculus responded, accelerating me downward at a speed faster than Massarym’s. As I touched his shoulder, my brother’s fall ceased.

  I wrapped my arm around his waist. He was again flying with me. Together we continued onward to the falling Loculus, and Massarym plucked that safely from the air.

  “Th-th-thank you!” Massarym stammered. “By the gods, I sound like you!”

  “Ha ha!” I bellowed with joy. “Massarym, we now understand a p-property of the Loculi! The power to fly transferred from me to you, when I t-touched you!”

  Massarym gulped. I could see the thoughts bouncing around in his head. “So perhaps we can also use the Loculus of Zap to return instantly—”

  But my attention was drawn to a frightening sight not far away—an angry thicket of black clouds gathering over the Great Onyx Circle. “Massarym, look what’s going on over the r-ridge!” I said.

  I extended my arm to point, and Massarym lost his grip again. As he plummeted back toward the ground, I steered the Loculus of Flight into a dive after him, willing it to move me faster, reaching with my free hand as I gained on him. He hadn’t gone far. I had improved my skill.

  Then he disappeared.

  I kept diving, right through the empty space where he had been.

  The Parade Grounds grew nearer—Mother, Father, the Loculi scattered on the ground around them. Mother was shouting Massarym’s name. The crowd was hushed and agape. Massarym reappeared inches above the ground, then crashed down on top of one of the Loculi lying around Mother and Father’s feet. I saw his eyes widen as he realized that even though the teleportation had worked—he had gone from the air to the ground—it hadn’t stopped his momentum. He hit the ground with the same force he had been falling.

  The crowd gasped. Some fainted. Massarym lay on the ground, crumpled like a piece of parchment, his back arched into an impossible curve over the Loculus he’d landed on.

  Mother covered her mouth and ran to him. I touched down, dropped the Loculus of Flight, and knelt beside my brother.

  A shocked murmur swept through the crowd. Massarym wasn’t moving.

  “Oh, no. Oh, no!” Mother moaned. She turned her eyes to me, full of tears. “What were you thinking?”

  I said nothing. The last few moments of Massarym’s life played themselves in my head over and over—the black clouds above the Great Onyx Circle, Massarym’s voice in my ear. My hand, pointing to the ridge. Why did not my brother’s safety take priority over the weather? What was I thinking?

  Massarym’s body was convulsing. But now one leg, twisted horrifically underneath him, straightened. He coughed again. His arm, hanging limply to his side, popped back into joint.

  He grimaced as his body realigned itself. His legs bent back into their normal shape and he rolled to his side, off the glowing blue Loculus onto which he’d landed. “Well, that was fun,” he said, “in an extremely painful way.”

  The crowd roared, rising to their feet.

  At the sight of Massarym’s sudden resurrection, Father stood and let out a loud roar of relief, shock, and happiness. I thought Mother would do the same, but her face darkened. “You did that on purpose, Massarym, did you not?”

  “Would I do something like that, Mother?” Massarym said, grinning sheepishly.

  “Something like what?” Father said.

  “He fell,” Mother said, “on the Loculus of Healing. He planned this.”

  Massarym pushed himself to a standing position. “All right, all right. Hey, I knew it would work. Right? Our Loculi never fail.”

  Smiling, he waved to the crowd.

  And they went wild.

  As I write this now, just before retiring to sleep, I cannot help but report that the sunset was beautiful. Why mention this, you may ask, Diary? Because I was able to see it above the silhouette of the Great Onyx Circle.

  Yes, shortly after the Loculi were returned, there was no sign of the horrible storm that had been there hours before.

  Friday

  COUSIN NELIK CAME by the lab today. He’s been helping me out for the last few months. His parents dote on him, Diary. Nearly every day Lady Karissa and Lord Al’duin report to Mother that Nelik is a genius at mathematics. He is good, it’s true, even though he’s only thirteen years old, almost four years younger than I am. And I like working with him.

  But I wonder exactly how Mother and Father describe me to others? A genius? I hope so. But I think not.

  If I were to describe him, chatterbox would be the first word that came to mind.

  “Karai, those magic orbs your mother invented are AMAZING!” Nelik said as he banged the door open. “Will you teach me how to use them? I want to fly! And lift huge rocks! And go invisible! Do you think we could figure out how she made them? Maybe we could make a set for me!”

  “Nelik, I have n-n-no idea how she made them. I’m not even sure she knows herself,” I said. “Plus, you can’t y-y-y . . . use them.”

  His face fell. “Why not?”

  “They are off-limits to anyone but the royal f-f-family,” I said.

  “I’m your cousin! I am part of the royal family!” Nelik protested.

  “Immediate royal family, n-n-not extended royal family,” I had to tell him.

  “But I’m still alive!” he said.

  I had to think about that for a moment. “Extended, not expended,” I said. “And it doesn’t m-m-m-matter whether they work or not on you—they are off-limits. End of discussion.”

  This, of course, only made things worse. Nelik looked as though I’d slapped him. “Well,” he said, turning to leave, “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are!” I exclaimed.

  He reached for the doorknob.

  “Hey!” I called. “Hey, hey. I’ve got something else really c-c-cool that you can try. Remember what we did with the vizzeets, when we gave them the serum that changed their b-blood?”

  “Oh, fun, you’re going to make me spit like a vizzeet . . .” Nelik sniffed.

  “No!” I said quickly. “I’ve refined the p-p-p-process. The blood can be altered in many different ways—wonderful ways! I’m sure it’s safe on humans—well, because I’ve tried it on m-myself.”

  He turned around warily. “What kind of wonderful ways?”

  “Guess who can speak Akkadian?” I grinned at him. “With no st-stammering?

  “Just like that—change the blood, know a language?” Nelik asked. “That makes no sense.”

  “It’s the abi-ab-ability to learn languages,” I said. “You lock it in—vocabulary, structure, all of it—each time you hear a c-conversation.”

  “Children can do that,” Nelik said with a shrug.

  “Not like this,” I insisted. “Not this f-fast.”

  H
e looked decidedly unimpressed. “I want to be able to zoom around in the air like Massarym.”

  Like Massarym. I couldn’t believe my ears. Not Nelik, too!

  “By the gods, Nelik,” I groaned, “please give me just a few hours when I don’t have to think about my stupid b-brother!”

  “Oooh, princes aren’t supposed to say stupid,” Nelik said gleefully.

  Yes, Diary, that was uncalled-for. Yes, I am sometimes less mature than my impetuous cousin.

  “I’m s-sorry,” I said. “But think about this, my cousin—changing the blood holds so much more p-p-potential than depending on some orb. You love sports, yes? What if I can make you run f-faster, jump higher, never get tired—without a Loculus?”

  He looked intrigued.

  “I know the exact ingredient in your blood that limits your per . . . performance,” I told him. “I can t-target it and get rid of it. By tonight, you’ll be su . . . superhuman. And if my theory is correct, your ch-children will also have your new abilities.”

  “Children?” Nelik looked aghast. “I don’t have children!”

  “In the future!” I said.

  “In that case,” he said. “Yes. Make me superhuman. Prove it.”

  I felt a moment’s unease, thinking about what my mother had said about playing games with heredity. But then I thought, I tried it on myself and I’m fine. She’s just envious of what I might accomplish.

  “Let’s get ready,” I said, gathering the supplies I needed.

  Saturday

  THIS MORNING MOTHER, Father, and I introduced the griffin to the Heptakiklos. We set a vromaski loose with the instructions to fetch a Loculus.

  I pitied what happened to the vromaski.

  Though the sight was disgusting, Mother and Father both praised the work I had done. The transformation of the griffin from a predator of small animals to an instrument of killing.

  I summoned up the courage to ask Mother about the clouds I had seen over the Great Onyx Circle, but she dismissed my concerns. “Once we returned the Loculi, those indeed vanished,” she said. “We will be sure to take precautions not to remove them.”

  And that was that.

  But, Diary, there’s been something else brewing besides the storms above the ridge and Nelik’s new blood.

  Arishti-Aya.

  No, she’s not brewing, Diary. I am writing about my affections for her.16

  First I was just talking to her to practice my Akkadian, but now it’s because she’s funny and smart. And I really like staring into her huge, almond-shaped eyes.

  Today, on the final day of the Akkadian visit, she told me I can call her Aya.

  I summoned her this morning to the Royal Garden to have one last word, with Massarym nowhere in sight to hog her attention.17

  My Akkadian is now near fluent. Every sentence I hear is like a complete lesson. I find myself recognizing words I had no knowledge of until moments earlier. I told her—vaguely—of my experiments, and she was rapt. Aya’s laugh, musical and fluttery, is a priceless reward. I’ve been trying to teach her a little bit of Atlantean, and she’s doing remarkably well.

  “I wish I could learn like you do,” she said.

  “Ah, but you are doing so well!” I replied, scratching the back of my head.

  Karai, listen to yourself, a voice screamed in my head—speaking Akkadian with no stammer, with no difficulty whatever!

  “But could you zap me with your special science uddu-uddu?”18 Aya said with a laugh. “Whatever it is . . .”

  “A field of energy, brought about by magical elixirs I have been developing with wizards from the palace, that rebuilds the structure of the blood so that its flow to the brain actually rebuilds its architecture in such a way that—” Her eyes were glazing over, so I stopped. “I’m sorry. It’s all I can think about sometimes.”

  “All you can think of?” Aya said, a tiny smile growing across her face.

  Oh, Diary. Oh, dear Diary. If you could but feel a fraction of the excitement coursing through me in that moment, your pages would explode, scattering to the four winds.

  “Well . . .” I began.

  “Will you think of me when I’m gone, Karai?” she said. “I wish we were staying longer. Maybe one day we’ll come back. Or you could sneak away on one of those round . . . uddu-uddu things your brother loves to play with. You could fly over to our kingdom and come visit me.”

  I felt my cheeks flush. She smiled and looked away. What was I supposed to say? Talking to girls is Massarym’s specialty. He would have pushed his dark hair away from his face and smiled in that way that just makes girls laugh immediately. He would have said Sure! When should I come over? just like that. He becomes relaxed and confident, I become scared.

  Maybe someday I will be able to fix this through science—instead of doing what I did at that moment, which was . . . talk about science!

  (Yes, Diary, I am a fool.)

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Mother is afraid of foreign powers trying to take Atlantis over,” I blathered, “so the Loculi are almost a way of saving up, or concentrating, the Atlantean Force in such a way that if something happens we can just—” I flew my hand through the air like a bird.

  She looked alarmed. “So then why would you show them off to my father and his men? Our country would benefit from these . . . Lobuli . . . so they would pose a temptation.”

  “But your father is a good—”

  “A good king, yes,” Aya said. “But there have been problems with courtiers and also with unrest among the people. There is no telling what would happen if word gets out. Dear Karai, your continent has been a place of harmony and trust, but the rest of the world . . .”

  I wanted nothing more than to soothe her worries. “They only work for . . . some people, Aya, not all,” I said. “Plus we keep them hidden in a place that only we know how to reach. And they are now guarded by unbeatable foes—griffins!”

  “Grif-fin?” she said, sounding the word out.

  “It looks like a lion, but with an eagle’s head and neck. And wings,” I explained. “Usually they live high in the mountaintops, hunting small game and laying eggs. They are peaceful and lazy—except when they sense a threat on their young. I have seen how they were able to use their natural defenses in an aggressive way, and so I . . . er, trained them to protect the Loculi as they would their babies. Anyone who came close would be torn to shreds.”

  “This all makes sense, but defending your Loculi is not what worries me.” Aya turned toward me, looking at my eyes, then at my feet. “It’s your own people, dear Karai. Your wild exhibition was impressive, but it was also very, very frightening. Your family has power so far beyond what any other human being has ever had . . .” She hesitated before going on. “Showing that off can delight people for a moment but create mistrust and resentment forever.”

  I didn’t answer. My brain raced to keep up with the stream of foreign language, picking up mostly everything.

  “My father came to Atlantis to see how you managed to keep peaceful rule for so many hundreds of years,” Aya added. “But as we walked through the city that night, much of the talk our translator heard was rebellious and resentful. Some people see you as gods. Others want the power you have. And they believe they have reason to fear you.”

  Fear us? Diary, these words landed on my ears like a hammer.

  “But—the people know we wouldn’t use our powers to harm them,” I said.

  “Really?” she said, her eyes moistening. “Karai, this scares me. What if one of your own people tries to steal the Loculi? Would the griffin murder one of your own citizens?”

  “You—you really care about this,” I said. It was the first time I had slipped into a stammer in Akkadian.

  “How would it feel to have your own people’s blood on your hands?” she said. “Your citizens have been happy for so long. Wouldn’t you be safest to keep it that way?”

  She’s shrewd, smart, and knows about governing. She was spea
king wisely about danger from within. I knew I should be concerned, Diary. But at the moment all I could think about was her as Atlantean queen, by my side. She, not I, would be running the operations of the country, while I worked on my science.

  I didn’t say any of this, of course. In fact, before I could say anything at all, my tunic was pulled up over my head. Something shoved me hard from behind. I stumbled forward—right into Aya’s arms, like a forceful, thoughtless brute!

  I quickly stepped away and yanked my tunic back, feeling as though not just my face but my entire head was on fire. Aya was biting her lip to stop from laughing.

  “Awww, she wants to give you a hug, Karai!” Massarym’s voice floated out of nowhere.

  “She can’t understand you, you fool!” I shouted in Atlantean.

  “Tell her what I said!” I began to feel my brother’s fingers poking my ribs all around. I bent out of the way and flailed blindly at the air around me. “Massarym!” I shouted. Aya jumped to avoid me, then lost her footing and began to fall. I reached out to grab her arm, keep her up, and all of a sudden we were in a heap on the ground.

  I jerked my head up and away from hers, conscious of her breath brushing my cheek. As I leaped up, Massarym appeared out of nowhere, arms folded, grinning. Something heavy thumped to the ground—the Loculus of Invisibility, no doubt. I whirled and shoved him, hard, in the chest. He staggered back, the smile on his face unchanged.

  “Leave . . . me . . . alone!” I grunted. I was off-balance, furious. I couldn’t see past my own fists, and I aimed a fist at my brother’s chest.

  Massarym whirled out of the way and calmly bent to offer a hand to Aya. “Please, miss, let me help you. My brother doesn’t know his own strength.” She took his hand and stood, smiling uneasily as my brother spoke our language.

  She thanked him in Akkadian, dusting herself off. It took everything I had to not try again to smack Massarym, but I knew I would just look spiteful and immature. I couldn’t think of anything to say or do, so I said “I’m sorry” in Akkadian.

  Massarym glanced from me to Aya. He nodded and grunted as if he understood. The faker.

  “Don’t worry, Karai,” she said. “Your brother tries so hard to make a fool of you. It’s not an attractive quality in him. You’re considerate and easy to talk to . . . even if you almost smacked me in the nose by accident. Don’t let him get under your skin so, Karai.”