Island of Graves

  Taking a notepad and pen from his bedside table, he began scribbling. A minute later he paused and looked up at his blackboard. “Clive?” he called.

  Clive’s face pushed out. “Yes, m’mage?”

  Alex closed his eyes and expelled a breath. He tolerated Clive’s attitude, which had gotten better ever since Alex had given Clive more responsibility. Threatening to assign the important jobs to Samheed’s blackboard, Stuart, seemed to work well too. But Clive still liked to give a smug greeting now and then, especially when Alex had been away for any length of time.

  “Really?” Alex asked. “Must you? It’s getting tedious.”

  “I assumed you missed my charming personality,” Clive said.

  “Oh, but of course.”

  Clive nodded serenely. “Continue, your excellence.”

  “Clive,” Alex said, “I want you to assemble a meeting in my office for tomorrow evening after dinner. These advisors, please: Simber, Florence, Ms. Octavia, Claire, and Samheed and Lani and Carina and Sean—”

  “Whoa, hang on,” Clive said. “Not all of them can access the secret hallway.”

  “They can now—they just need to go through the 3-D door I made. Lani has it. Have the ones who need to use it connect with her.” He thought for a moment. “Invite Sky, too. She has great ideas.”

  “You got it, your imperial majesty.”

  “Knock it off,” Alex said. “Also, can you arrange for Liam Healy to meet me on the lawn in an hour?”

  Clive blinked. “I’m sorry. Who?”

  Alex crinkled up his nose. “Drat. Don’t you have him in your . . . system, or whatever you call it?”

  “No.” Clive frowned. “Is he new? One moment. My assistant is going to be in big trouble for this. . . .”

  “You have an assistant?” Alex asked.

  But Clive had disappeared. Alex watched the black screen with curiosity. Soon Clive pushed his face out of the blackboard once more. “All set. Mr. Healy has been located and a blackboard personality assigned to him. I imagine he’ll be quite shocked to hear from it. I almost wish it were me. . . . It’s such fun the first time. But then, well, you never know what sort of chump you’ll end up with. . . .”

  Alex ignored him. “So he’ll meet me on the lawn in an hour? Near the fountain, please.”

  “We’ll relay the message,” Clive said. “Anything else?”

  “The babies . . .” Alex tapped his chin. “I suppose I should visit them like Florence wants me to. Where might they be?”

  “I don’t know. They don’t have a blackboard. I’m not sure where they keep things like that.”

  “What, extra blackboards? I hardly think they need one yet.”

  “No, I meant babies.”

  “Oh. Don’t worry,” Alex said. “I’ll ask Florence. I didn’t see them in the hospital ward.”

  “If I hear anything about their location, I’ll let you know, of course.”

  “Thanks, Clive. That’s it for now.”

  Clive melted into the screen.

  Alex got dressed, ordered breakfast up to his room through the tube, and started back to work on a plan.

  After three quarters of an hour, he made his way downstairs and outside. It was a beautiful morning, and many Artiméans were taking advantage of the lawn actually being pleasant to sit upon once more, now that the ice was gone. The fountain bubbled merrily, perhaps even more enthusiastically than usual, for the water in it had been frozen under Gondoleery’s ice spell too.

  Liam wasn’t there yet, so Alex swung by the border between Artimé and Quill, where the three girrinos stood quite a distance apart, trying to do their job of protecting the entrance to Artimé. Now that the wall was down everywhere, they had quite an expanse to cover.

  There were others stationed along the border as well. The ostrich statue and the tiki statue were among them, as well as Jim the winged tortoise, who rose and fell with the flap of his wings between five and ten feet off the ground. The ostrich stood on one foot, looking quite bothered by anything and everything.

  “Summon Simber, Florence, and me immediately if you suspect any sort of invasion,” Alex said to each of the creatures and statues as he walked the border. “Gondoleery is not finished with us yet.” He asked them if they needed anything and, finally, praised them and thanked them for their work.

  When he was finished, he circled back and headed to the center of the lawn, where he saw an anxious-looking Liam Healy, clad in sporty new Artiméan clothing. His sleeves were quite a bit too long and needed hemming, and he used one of them like a handkerchief to mop the sweat off his forehead.

  “Liam,” Alex called out. He moved forward and held out his hand in greeting, and Liam sort of bowed over it while shaking it at the same time.

  “Hello, High Prie—I mean, your honor. Ah, sir? I’m sorry. What am I to call you?”

  “How about Alex?”

  “Oh. Well,” Liam said with a nervous laugh. “Alex. How easy.”

  “That’s the way we like it here,” Alex said. He could see the man’s hands trembling and wished he knew how to put him at ease. And then he thought of common ground that might help. “By the way, do you happen to know where the babies are? I’m not sure where we keep them.”

  Liam looked startled. “Keep them? They’re not supplies, you know. Loaves of bread or extra linens or whatnot.” He tittered nervously, forgetting himself for a moment. “They’re not likely to be in a box somewhere, I hope.”

  “Of course not,” Alex said warmly.

  Liam clamped his mouth shut. “I mean, ah . . .” He paled. “I spent several days with them, sir, so I feel quite defensive of them. I apologize for speaking out of turn.”

  “Not at all,” Alex said. “You’re absolutely right. It’s a bit demeaning the way I’ve been talking about them, isn’t it—I’ve only just realized it, thanks to you. Let me rephrase: Do you happen to know where my sisters are at the moment?” That he had sisters at all still felt very strange.

  “I—I believe the theater instructor is watching them today, along with an orange-eyed fellow. In the, ah, the theater, that is.”

  “Shall we go visit them together and have a chat along the way?”

  Liam let out a breath. “Yes, I think so. That would be nice.”

  Alex gave Liam a friendly slap on his shoulder.

  “Oh!” Liam exclaimed, startled by it.

  “Sorry,” said Alex.

  “My fault,” said Liam.

  Both of them knew it wasn’t Liam’s fault, but Alex decided to let it go or risk the conversation heading into an even more awkward direction.

  “Well, then,” Alex said. “Let’s go.”

  They set off. Liam seemed to calm down after a bit. Alex wondered if he had always been such a nervous person, or if it was just the vast change in environment that had him feeling edgy. Time would tell.

  “So,” Alex began, “tell me everything you know about Gondoleery. Whatever you can think of. Even if you’ve mentioned it before.”

  In fits and starts, Liam described what little he knew of her, beginning with the time they served together as Restorers for Aaron. He told of her lengthy disappearances and her strangely glowing house, her more recently singed eyebrows and fingertips, and her sudden takeover of the palace once she learned that Aaron had been abducted.

  “I see,” said Alex as they approached the mansion. He paused before entering. “Do you think Gondoleery has the people of Quill behind her?”

  Liam pondered the question. “I don’t know,” he said. “And like I told you when I first arrived, I don’t think she is prepared to take over Artimé. Not yet, anyway. High Priest Aaron’s disappearance was unexpected, and it caught her off guard. But I believe she is scheming, and she won’t waste time.”

  “What about the other governor? Strang, is it?”

  Liam scowled. “Strang is completely inept. He has no passion for anything, one way or another. I don’t think he cares for Gondoleery. He only spent
time with her rallying the people because he had to.”

  “Rallying them for what, exactly?”

  “Oh, getting them ready to fight Artimé. Same old thing.”

  “But they’re not ready? The people?”

  “Heavens no. They are dead inside, as I once was. It’ll take a miracle to rouse them. Only Aaron had a special touch with them when he wanted something, what with offering them extra fruits and vegetables and such. Incentives, I think he called them. He was very clever that way.”

  Alex set his jaw and nodded. “Well, I see their lack of enthusiasm as good news. Thanks.” He opened the mansion door and ushered Liam inside. “To the tubes,” he said. “Let’s go visit those adorable babies.” He tried not to cringe. But spending time with a couple of smelly one-year-olds was pretty much the last thing he wanted to do.

  Tiny Personalities

  The theater was awash in sound and light. Onstage was an entire ensemble of actors and singers, warming up their voices to rehearse the new musical. In the orchestra pit in front of the stage sat the musicians, tuning their instruments to accompany them.

  Observing from the seats were various student directors and crew. Alex spotted Samheed, who was trying his hand at directing. He was furiously scribbling notes, and Alex knew better than to distract him.

  There were a few curious onlookers in the seats as well, including Fox and Kitten—musicians of a different kind, though they kept to the lounge for that. They bounced with anticipation for the dress rehearsal to begin.

  Several adults and statues moved about the aisles and backstage, multitasking like crazy. Some used magic to adjust the lighting; others tried spells to coax a stuck curtain into opening and closing properly. Captain Ahab stumped across the stage once, grumbling under his breath, just like old times.

  Watching it all from the back of the theater, Alex couldn’t help but smile, remembering the shows he’d been a part of. He’d have to see about reprising his role in Perseus! Perseus! one day. Maybe the next time Lani wouldn’t break him into tiny bits.

  Beside Alex, Liam was a bit jumpy because of the noise, but he was handling it. He was eager to see the twin girls, and it was he who spotted them first. He nudged Alex and pointed them out, toddling near the front row. Sky’s younger brother, Crow, sat on the floor watching them as the theater instructor, Sigfried Appleblossom, spoke to some actors. Mr. Today’s daughter, Claire Morning, instructed the musicians and singers.

  Alex glanced at Liam, whose eyes landed on Ms. Morning. Liam was clearly in love with her, and apparently had been since they were children. Everybody knew it but nobody talked about it, because Liam had blown his chance at reuniting with her. His terrible decisions as a Restorer would likely haunt him for life. And while Claire had been kind enough to allow Liam the safety of remaining in Artimé, at least for the time being, she had made it painfully obvious that there would be no love reciprocated.

  When Liam noticed Alex looking at him, he dropped his gaze. Alex shrugged. He didn’t feel sorry for the man. Not much, anyway. He was an adult, and he’d made his own decisions. But Alex was glad Liam was making such great strides in reforming his ways.

  The two made their way down the aisle toward the stage. Crow saw them coming, chased after the twins, and scooped them up. They giggled and kicked their feet as Crow held them and began moving up the aisle toward Alex.

  Their features were just as identical as Alex and Aaron’s. The boys resembled their fair-skinned, dark-haired father, but the girls had the sharper features and deeper complexion of their mother. Alex hadn’t noticed it before, but now he couldn’t help but see his mother’s face in the angle of their jaws, the tight spring curls in their dark brown hair, and the most unusual trait—their eyes. Alex had known only one person in all his life with true, jet-black irises, and that was his mother. The girls had inherited those. But while Mrs. Stowe’s eyes had looked tired and dead, the girls’ looked alive and full of mischief.

  It took Alex aback for a moment—a disturbing reminder of the death of his parents from the crashing wall in Quill. He was so far removed from them since the Purge, yet their deaths had brought them screaming to the forefront of his mind. He didn’t feel sad about them, and that bothered him somewhat. Maybe he was still numb from Meghan. How much grief could a person hold at one time? He took a deep breath to clear the thought from his mind and studied his sisters, gathered up in Crow’s arms.

  The one in purple held a smashed jam sandwich in one fist, and she wore most of the jam on her cheeks. In her other hand she held a tiny wind instrument that Alex recognized as a quarter-size fife. In between bites she blew into it.

  The one in red pounded on Crow’s chest, trying desperately to get down and back to the business of toppling piles of books, which Crow had been stacking up for her. Her determination now got the better of Crow, and after one especially well-placed jab to the throat, he let her down. She shrieked with joy at her freedom and quite adorably tottered to the pile of books and knocked them over.

  From the stage, Mr. Appleblossom noticed the visitors. He called for a break and headed down the steps toward them as Alex greeted Crow.

  “Hi, Alex,” Crow said. He hoisted the girl in purple higher on his hip. “How’ve you been?”

  “Not as busy as you appear to be.” He leaned forward to align his face with his sister’s as she sat contentedly in Crow’s arms. She looked back at Alex, her face innocent and sticky as could be. It wasn’t quite as awkward talking to her now as it was last time. “What have you got there?” Alex said. “Huckleberry jam?”

  “It’s fig,” Crow said. “She can’t get enough of it. She knows her way to the kitchen from almost anywhere in the mansion.”

  “Oh my. Already?” Alex said with a grin. “Just wait until she learns how to travel the tubes.”

  Mr. Appleblossom reached the group. “Greetings one and all,” he said pleasantly, and crouched to pile up the books for the twin in red. When he was finished, he turned to Alex. “It’s good to see you. These nameless girls must learn that you’re their kin.” He straightened up and smiled as the one in red tugged at his trouser leg. “I’m not sure Red and Purple suit them well. Perhaps you’ve come to dub them Sage and Flynn? Or Amelie, or Eleanore, or Quinn?”

  Alex grinned and shook his head in admiration. “I should have come here before—of course you’d have lots of names to offer. What do you think? The one in red seems . . . bookish. And dramatic. And this one, with the fig jam all over her face,” he said, looking at her almost fondly, “she needs a musical name, don’t you think? What with that grip on the fife?” Hesitantly he tickled her tummy. She didn’t seem to notice, and Alex gave a sheepish laugh and pulled his hand away.

  “Do you want the names to start with the same letter?” Crow asked. “Like you and Aaron?”

  “Hm,” said Alex. “I think maybe not. Let’s see what suits them. Mr. Appleblossom, what other literary names do you like from your plays and stories? Any tragic heroines or secret queens or spectacular fighters we can name this one after?”

  Mr. Appleblossom looked at the girl in red and tapped his chin thoughtfully.

  “No hurry,” Alex said. “I imagine it takes time to find just the right name.” He glanced at the orchestra pit, where Ms. Morning was straightening her papers.

  Crow followed Alex’s gaze. “Hey,” he said, “maybe Ms. Morning can help with a musical name for the purple twin.”

  “Great idea,” said Alex. The thought of having to name them had been weighing on him, and he just wanted to be done with it. Did it really matter what somebody’s name was? Why not just call them Red and Purple? He didn’t care all that much.

  Alex waved to get Claire’s attention and motioned for her to join them.

  Ms. Morning, who had given her students a break at the same time as Mr. Appleblossom, came over to see what the discussion was about. “Good morning,” she said. She didn’t look at Liam, who had shrunk back slightly and pretended to be fascinate
d by the workings of the aisle seat next to him.

  Alex explained his idea for naming the twins.

  “I’ve never named a person before,” Claire said. “I’m not sure I have a gift for it, but I’ll try.” She studied the one in purple. “Hm. This might be too easy. Clearly she’s a fifer. I mean, it’s simple, but what do you think of that?”

  “Think of what?” asked Alex, confused.

  “Fifer,” said Claire. “It makes a beautiful name, and I don’t know anyone with it. She’d be unique.”

  “Fifer?” Alex asked. He thought about it. “I like it. What do you think?” he said to the girl in Crow’s arms. “Fifer. Shall we call you that?”

  The girl held the figgy crust of her sandwich out to Alex. “Da!” she said, and blew into the fife. A shrill note came out.

  Alex looked at Claire. “Either you’ve got beginner’s luck, or you’re secretly talented at naming children and just discovering it now. I think it’s decided.” He reached out hesitantly for his sister, and the girl leaned forward into his arms like she’d been waiting for him to take her. He held her, a little cautiously at first, and bounced her gently on his hip. “There, little Fifer Stowe. Do you like your name?”

  She bonked him on the head with the fife, then slapped her sticky little hand to his mouth.

  Alex licked his lips. “Mm, tasty,” he said. “A bit warmer than how I normally take my jam, but I like it.” He looked at Crow. “What do you think? Does Fifer suit her?”

  Crow’s face was more animated than Alex had ever seen it before. “I think it does!” he exclaimed. “And . . . maybe we can call her Fig for short?”

  “I love it,” said Alex. It was nice to see Crow feeling so comfortable without Henry at his side. Perhaps he had found his niche with caring for the little ones. “Fifer Stowe, and Fig for short.” Alex looked at Mr. Appleblossom. “And what about the other Miss Stowe? Nothing’s coming to me at all for her, I’m afraid. Have I given you enough time to think?”

  Fifer’s twin rubbed her eye with her fist. She looked tired and sweet and full of goodness. Then she reached her pudgy hand in the air whimsically, grabbed Mr. Appleblossom’s hair, and wrenched his head to the side.