Island of Graves (17 page)

“I took it off,” Alex said.

“Well, put it back on and get to work,” said Lani, “because you've got a big mess to figure out.”

Alex shoved his chair back and stood up. “Listen, Lani,” he said. “It's easy for you to stand there and criticize me. And you have every right to do it. Maybe I deserve it this time. But what
happened with Gondoleery is over now, and we have to look at what to do next. Neither Samheed nor you have offered any suggestions on how to fix things—you're just yelling at me.”

“I'll yell all I want,” Lani said, eyes blazing.

He frowned. “I understand why you're angry. But you don't know what was going through my head at that moment, and you didn't bother to ask. You don't understand what arguments I have with my own conscience about things. These are big decisions that I'm forced to make, and I have to live with them the rest of my life. There's no way I'm going to get them all right, but at least I have a method of deciding what to do, and it's based on stuff you know nothing about, so maybe you should try to understand why I didn't kill her before you condemn me for it.”

Lani's eyes narrowed, but she didn't speak.

Alex went on. “I know you went through terrible things on Warbler—in many ways worse than what I went through here. But yours were a different kind of terrible from mine, and that makes me a different person from you. You haven't seen what I've seen, and you haven't lived through what I've lived through, and you can't possibly know how my past experiences influence how I make decisions today. Because you weren't here to see them.” He let his hands fall to his sides. “And neither was Samheed.”

Lani stared at him for a long time. Alex wished he could figure out what she was thinking so he could know if she was going to start yelling again.

Finally she spoke. “You make a good point, I have to admit. Maybe our experience on Warbler led us to think one thing was the right thing to do, and your experience here during the time Artimé was gone led you to see things differently.”

Alex pressed his lips together and folded his hands in front of him.

“I'm still furious though,” Lani said. “And I still think you made a mistake.”

Alex nodded. “That's fair. I'm starting to think so too. Will you help me fix it?”

Lani rolled her eyes and sighed. “Well, of course. I always do. Let me think about it.”

“Thanks.” Alex looked down at his book.

“Okay.” She stood for a minute, uncertain, then turned and walked out the door.

» » « «

An hour later, when Alex heard another noise in the hallway, he looked up, preparing for someone else to launch a tirade at him. This time it was Claire.

“Oh, hi,” Alex said wearily. “Go ahead and tell me I made a huge mistake. I'm taking free punches today, so have at it.”

Claire offered a small smile and pointed to the robe, still crumpled on the desk. “I'm not here to criticize. I turned down that robe once for a reason.” She picked it up and began to smooth out the wrinkles.

“I appreciate it,” Alex said. He gazed at her inquisitively. “So . . . what's up?”

Claire paused what she was doing. “I'm here with some bad news, I'm afraid.”

“Oh,” Alex said. “Is it Carina? Is she doing worse?”

“No, she's much better. It's something else, in fact, involving Gondoleery. We just received word that she's ended Aaron's tradition of rewarding Wanteds and Necessaries with food from the Favored Farm, and closed the farm doors to everyone.”

“That's ridiculous. All the food will rot and go to waste!”

“Probably. But there's more news,” Claire said. “Were you
aware that some Unwanteds moved back into Quill after my father was killed?”

Alex nodded. “Yes. They got tired of having no food or water.”

“Well, last night Gondoleery sent them to the Ancients Sector. They were put to sleep this morning.”

Alex stared. “You're kidding.”

“I'm afraid not,” Claire said.

“You mean, like Cole Wickett from my Purge year? He's—he's dead?”

“Yes, his name was on the list. And rumor has it Gondoleery believes that as she expands her magical abilities, the Necessaries will no longer be necessary. So she's going to practice her killing spells on them whenever they annoy her.”

Alex's stomach roiled. If he'd killed Gondoleery, this wouldn't be happening. “I think I'm going to be sick,” he whispered.

Claire moved around the desk and held up the robe. “No you're not,” she said. “You're going to fix this.”

Alex took the robe from her and nodded slowly, then slipped it on and fastened it around his neck. “Yes,” he said solemnly. “I'm going to fix this.” He turned to look at Claire. “Even if it kills me.”

T
hat evening after everyone had taken care of the dishes, Ishibashi invited Aaron into the greenhouse. Aaron was dying to know if the telescope had been put back together again, and if so, how it worked and what it was for. But he still didn't dare to ask many questions—they always seemed to get him in trouble. He glanced at it in the corner and saw a few pieces lying around on the floor surrounding it. That was as much answer as he needed.

“Tonight you plan your meals,” Ishibashi said.

Aaron's stomach flipped, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “I don't
know how to cook anything.” He closed his mouth quickly.

“You have eaten several meals here now. Did you notice them?”

“They tasted good,” said Aaron.

“What did you observe about the food?”

Aaron's mind was blank. He shook his head. “I don't know.”

“This is how you learn,” Ishibashi said quietly. “You must be inquisitive about all things. Learn with eyes, imitate with hands.”

“But I'm afraid,” Aaron said, and looked down. He was ashamed. What if he made something awful, and Ito didn't like it? What would they do to him then?

Ishibashi sighed. “I am too old for this,” he muttered. He pulled a stool over to the garden area. “Here. Sit.”

Aaron sat down as Ishibashi got another stool and sat next to him. He took off his cat-eye glasses and looked at Aaron. “Who was our chef today?”

“I—I don't know.”

“And who watered these plants today?”

“I don't know that either.”

“Who caught the fish?”

Aaron folded his hands in his lap and studied them. “I don't know,” he whispered.

Ishibashi was silent for a long time. And then he said, “Your eyes are focused on one person. Do you fail at everything?”

Aaron recoiled. How dare he! Who did this little old man think he was, speaking to him like that? He started to protest, but then he shut his mouth, realizing he had no words as powerful to fight back with. How did Ishibashi know about Aaron's failures? Had Alex told him?

Finally Aaron found his voice. “You don't know me,” he said.

To which Ishibashi replied, “I am afraid I know you better than you know anyone in the world.” He put his glasses back on. “Your glasses are invisible, and through them you see only yourself. You must turn your lenses around, Aaron. Windows, not mirrors.”

Aaron frowned, not understanding anything Ishibashi was saying. “What does that have to do with me not being able to cook?”

Ishibashi smiled. “You'll figure it out. For now, you're welcome.”

“For what?”

“For cooking your meals today.”

“But I didn't know . . . ,” Aaron began, still feeling defensive. “Oh.”
He looked around the greenhouse, overwhelmed with the choices. “Will you help me cook tomorrow?”

Ishibashi got off his stool. “I have other work to do tomorrow to keep our shelter running.”

“But what if I make something terrible to eat?” Aaron pleaded.

“Then likely we will all be very irritable,” said Ishibashi. Without another word, he hopped off his stool and left the boy alone to figure out how he was going to fix anything that would please the scientists . . . for all three meals.

Aaron muttered as he wandered around the greenhouse. But he knew now there was no use getting mad. He thought briefly about making the three of them go hungry tomorrow like they'd done to him, but he was pretty sure that wouldn't quite work the way he was imagining it. He picked up a frayed wicker basket from the corner and started to look all around the greenhouse. At least he knew a little bit about picking fruits and vegetables. He also knew something about nuts and saw an almond tree growing behind the pea pods. Maybe he could start with that.

He spent the rest of the evening choosing food items, changing his mind and choosing different ones, then sitting down at a small table in the kitchen to figure out how much to make and how long it would take him to prepare things. He knew that breakfast had to be served and eaten before the hour of calm began. Lunch was a few hours after they were back from working outside. And dinner usually happened when it was fully dark outside and the storm was nearing its worst.

When he went to bed, he saw that someone had put out the fire, which meant that someone also had to light it in the morning. He also noticed the broom had been put away. And he saw that the lights in the greenhouse had been dimmed.

In his room he noted that the first set of clothing he'd been given after he'd arrived in tatters was washed and folded neatly on his cot. “I wonder who did that for me,” he said. He yawned and lay down on his cot, pulling his blanket up to his chin and telling himself to be sure to wake up on time so he could get the breakfast going.

» » « «

The next morning, Aaron arose before dawn. He noticed the fire in the eating room was lit and going strong, and so was
the one in the kitchen, where he began cutting fruit and chopping almonds. Having fire was a relief—he wasn't sure what he would have done if they had expected him to light that, too. “Gondoleery would come in handy for that,” he said with a small chuckle. And then he laughed loudly as he pictured Gondoleery Rattrapp stuck here on this island with these three scientists. How would they get her to obey them? he wondered. It made him laugh so hard he had to set his knife down and wipe his eyes. He hadn't laughed like that since . . . since . . . ever.

Rummaging around the kitchen looking for serving utensils, Aaron flung open a drawer and stared at the contents. “Forks,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “A whole drawer full of them. Unbelievable.” But he didn't replace his sticks. He closed the drawer and found what he needed elsewhere.

When the time came for breakfast and Ito and Sato filed into the kitchen with Ishibashi at their heels, Aaron was sweating profusely, but he was ready for them. On the counter he presented a large bowl of smashed fruit pieces (he'd had a bit of trouble with the knife). In a pot on the stove he announced chopped almonds soaked in coconut milk with a prune on top,
and in the teapot, orange tea, which was orange slices soaked in boiling water, since he didn't really know what tea from the containers on the shelves actually looked like.

Aaron wiped his forehead with his sleeve and stood at attention, trying not to appear anxious or look like he was waiting for someone to compliment him on a job well done. And then he remembered what Ishibashi said to him about turning the lenses around, and he remembered how the fires were already lit when he awoke.

He cleared his throat, nervous to speak, but deciding that if he got punished, he'd had enough tastings of the food that he wouldn't be too terribly hungry and could snack again while making lunch. As the three old men dished the food into their bowls, Aaron said, “Thank you to . . . to whoever it was that lit the fires this morning. I—we wouldn't have this fine almond cereal and orange tea without it.”

Sato looked up at the boy, and then he looked at Ishibashi. Ishibashi translated for Ito and Sato, while Aaron's heart pounded.

“Hai,”
Sato said. He spoke a few more words in his native tongue.

Ishibashi nodded and turned to Aaron. “He says you're welcome, and he thanks you for your . . . interesting . . . breakfast.”

Aaron's mouth twitched. He stood up a bit straighter and swallowed hard, and then he nodded slightly. “You're welcome,” Aaron said, with an almost indiscernible bow of his head toward the man.

They finished filling their bowls with the curious-looking food, and when Aaron took his bowl last of all and followed the men to the dining area, he waited to be recognized as usual.

Ito said something to Ishibashi.

Ishibashi looked at Aaron. “Ito-san said you are the chef, and you no longer have to wait for permission to sit and eat.”

Aaron felt a thrill chase up his spine. He was being rewarded. Finally. “Thank you, Ito-san,” he said reverently, and sat down with his bowl. He held the teapot up for Ito and filled his cup, then Sato's, then Ishibashi's, and then he filled his own. The three looked at the tea very curiously and hid their strange reactions when they tasted it, but Aaron wouldn't have noticed, because he was too busy eating the first meal he had ever created. And to him, everything tasted absolutely delicious.