Island of Silence (Unwanteds) (27 page)

It was quiet for a moment. Alex looked at Sean, and even in the small light from the sky, he could tell they needed to address one last thing.

Alex bit his lip, accidentally reopening the cut and feeling the sting. He tasted blood, and it made him queasy. “Is Mr. Today . . . gone?” He couldn’t say “dead.”

Sean looked out over the water. His jaw quivered and he broke down, shielding his face with his hand. It took him several minutes to contain himself, and then he choked out, “He has to be. For this to have happened’” Sean waved his hand around. “There’s no other explanation.” Sean couldn’t hold in his sorrow. He looked at Meghan’s pale face. “It’s all such a disaster.”

Alex was numb. “What about Ms. Morning?”

“She went with Mr. Today. And she’s not here. I suspect she’s dead too.”

The blood tasted like metal in his mouth. Alex couldn’t comprehend anything. He felt like he was going to faint. Finally he whispered, “What are we going to do?”

The Throne

H
igh Priest Haluki checked his timepiece and looked out the window again. All was quiet. But where was Marcus? And where were the guards? He called out to his chef, who was cleaning up the kitchen, “I’m going for a walk down to the house.”

“Yes sir,” the chef said.

The high priest slipped outside as he sometimes did after dark to enjoy the coolness of the evening. If it were light out, he’d be able to see the roof of his house from here. It wasn’t far.

He hadn’t been back since his move to the palace; Marcus had always made the trip to see him, as was the mage’s preference. And while there hadn’t been any violence in Quill since he took over, he picked his way carefully down the driveway toward the palace gate, looking left and right. Everything seemed perfectly normal.

He opened the gate, nodded to the guards that stood there.

“Shall we accompany you, sir?” one said.

“No thank you, Frederick.” He didn’t want to be
that
kind of high priest. “I’m just going down to the house. If Marcus Today comes to call, ask him to wait inside. I won’t be long.”

“We shall do just that, sir.”

“Thank you.” The high priest continued down the slight hill for several minutes, trying not to notice the heavy stench of garbage in the air. He wished for a light breeze, and perhaps there was one, but the walls stopped it from permeating their land. He would have to fix that one of these days. Tear the walls down. Ah, but that was a job for another day, once the Wanteds had quite gotten used to manual labor.

When he reached his home, he went up the steps and pulled a small key from his pocket, unlocked the front door, and then went in.

It was dark and stuffy inside, the house having been shut up for months. It felt smaller than he remembered. He turned down the hallway to his office. All was as it had been when he left it’his desk empty, the chair just so. He reached for the closet doorknob and pulled it open to get to the tube that would take him to Marcus’s office.

Without a sound Aaron Stowe reached out, grabbed Haluki by the neck, and put him in a choke hold. Crawledge Prize captured the surprised high priest’s wrists, wrenching them behind his back and tying a long, thin rope around them, and then he did the same around his ankles. Bethesda Dia Gloria shoved a towel in Haluki’s mouth, but it wasn’t necessary. He had already passed out from Aaron’s grip.

The three hoisted his body into the closet, then nailed the doors shut.

“Well done, everyone,” Aaron said in a low voice, breathing hard. “We are working together quite well now, aren’t we?”

Then, from the back door, a sound. Aaron grabbed a pistol and stealthily slipped down the hallway to the kitchen. When he saw who it was, he put his gun down. Liam and Eva entered together, talking softly. Eva had a stricken look on her face when she turned to Aaron. “You killed Marcus?”

Aaron smiled now. “Indeed,” he said. “Liam’s just been out to bury him.” He watched her face. “Disappointed?”

Eva just stared at him. “Yes,” she said. “I was so looking forward to doing it.” But she didn’t sound very convincing.

Liam interrupted. “What about the high priest? I saw him enter. We heard the pounding and waited before we came in.”

“You were wise to wait. Haluki is in our possession. He’s a bit tied up,” Aaron said. No one laughed.

Just then Dred Crandall burst through the back door, breathing hard. “There’s a major fight going on in the street with the Unwanteds,” he said, gasping. “Down by their gate. All of Artimé has disappeared and there are bodies everywhere! Several of our Restorers are down and so are many of theirs.”

Aaron grew alarmed. “What? What were you doing down there tonight?”

“We attacked at your command, sir!”

Aaron stared at him. And then, slowly, he turned and looked at the frozen Eva Fathom. She shook her head as if she didn’t understand a word Dred was saying.

In the pantry, Claire Morning’s eyes opened wider at every revelation. Artimé gone? Bodies everywhere? Gunnar captured, her father buried . . . She stared at the dark shelf above her, not seeing it, and worked at the ropes around her wrists until her arms burned and her fingers bled.

The Weight of the World

S
ean picked up the sleeve of his jacket, which was still wrapped around Meghan, and wiped his eyes with it. He looked at Alex. “It’s up to you, man. You’ve got to fix this.”

Alex’s throat ached. He couldn’t fathom it. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I don’t know how. He never taught me all of that.”

Sean turned and faced Alex. “He’s told you a lot more than anyone else here,” he said. “You’re the only one who can do it.”

Alex shook his head. “No. You don’t get it. It was just supposed to be for a few days. I can’t even wrap my mind around this.” He looked at Meghan. “We need to worry about her. And Sam and Lani . . . Simber . . .”
Mr. Today is dead. Mr. Today is dead. Dead.
“And find . . . everybody else.”

“Oh! Blast it.” Sean’s face turned to panic. “Speaking of everybody else, I have to go. They’re still out there fighting. I have to get back and help.” It was as though he’d just realized the entire world hadn’t stopped when he found Alex and saw his sister. He struggled to his feet, still carrying her. “Get up,” he said to Alex, an anxious tone in his voice. “This isn’t over. But you’you need to stay here. And stay hidden. If you die, we have no chance at all. Here, take Meghan.”

Alex scrambled up on weak legs and Sean placed his sister into Alex’s arms.

“Go hide in the shack. Bolt the door. Try to find something to eat and get some rest’you look . . . wow. You look terrible.”

Alex watched, slack-jawed and completely overwhelmed, as Sean turned and ran, jumping over the creatures that littered the lawn. Carrying Meghan, he picked his way carefully to the gray shack, struggling in the dark and unsure of his footing, exhausted from his ordeal.

When he reached the shack, his arms were trembling. He pushed the door open and stumbled in, straining to see in the shadows. He’d never been in here before. Not as a shack’only in its mansion form. He peered around the darkness and saw some furniture-like blobs. He staggered over and laid Meghan on a couch, then caught the back of it with his hand to steady himself and stop the black spots that swam before his eyes, like one of the paintings in Mr. Today’s office.
Mr. Today is dead,
he thought once again.
He’s dead. The man who saved us all . . . is dead.
But it just wasn’t registering. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. Then another, slower, until the spots went away. He thought about what Sean said, about eating something, and realized that might really be part of his problem. He hadn’t eaten a thing since lunch.

And then he heard the creak of a door opening.

He whirled around and searched the dark room without success. “Who’s there!” he said. “I have a weapon and I will kill you.”

He sidestepped into the familiarly shaped kitchen’familiar to Quill homes, not to the mansion’wondering how on earth there were no lights here, and then he remembered how things used to be. He reached into the kitchen drawer and pulled out the required candles and flint. He lit one, only a little bit rusty at using the flint after not having had to light a candle in well over a year. It flared up, and the chicken-grease-soaked string stayed lit. Alex held it in front of him. “Who’s there?” he said again. He walked toward the bedroom and pushed the door open.

Inside, the light reflected on two sets of orange eyes.

Alex gasped. Their beds had disappeared along with all of the other lovely things from the mansion, though it was clear Mr. Today had had some kitchen goods and furniture in this shack for the purpose of the governors’ visits. Now there was merely a small single bed that looked quite precarious. The two huddled instead on the floor, looking terribly harmless. Was it really just earlier today that the girl had spit in his face?

“Sheesh,” he said, when he could breathe properly again. “You scared me. I’d forgotten about you guys.” He took a few steps closer and got down on his haunches. “What a time to wake up, little boy. Don’t be scared,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. I was, um, just lying about the weapon.” He didn’t know if they understood him. “But don’t tell anyone,” he added. “Get it? Heh.” It was a terrible joke, he knew, and totally inappropriate. But he wasn’t exactly thinking properly at the moment.

The eyes moved, and as he leaned forward he could see the outlines of their bodies. Their neck bands glinted in the candlelight. The two drew back against the wall, so Alex stood again and backed up a few steps.

“Okay, guys, look. This is crazy. You don’t trust me. I don’t want to get spit on again. But I want you to know that I don’t plan to hurt you, not ever, and you can leave anytime you want. Your raft is . . . probably outside somewhere.” He scratched his head. “How about this: I’ll stay over here in the living room with Meghan,” he said, “and you two just do whatever you want. You’re really the least of my worries right now.” Alex fought off a violent yawn. “Though it would be really nice if you’d tell me what’s up with the thornaments.” He laughed a little at coining the phrase and realized he was growing delirious with exhaustion. “Just . . . don’t kill me, all right? I’m sort of valuable right now, it seems.”

He looked at the door, remembering Sean’s suggestion to lock it. Sighing deeply, he pulled a rickety chair to the door and wedged it under the knob, securing them in for the night. Then he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets for water and brought some over to Meghan, trying to rouse her, but unable to do so. He dripped a bit into her mouth to moisten it, drank some himself, and left the rest on the counter for the Silents. Then he collapsed in a softish chair nearby, too tired to scrounge around for something to eat, and fell asleep.

» » « «

When he awoke, it was a bright new day. But everything came flooding back too fast. Meghan was still unconscious, Sam and Lani were still missing, Simber was still at the bottom of the ocean, and Mr. Today was still dead.

Alex sat up, disheveled. He looked at his best friend, who hadn’t moved, and felt completely lost without his other friends. He wandered all around the little gray shack, looking at the meager, colorless furnishings and focusing his gaze out the windows at the bodies strewn about. His eyes landed on the footpath, where Jim the winged tortoise had fallen, probably just like Simber’without warning.

Alex leaned against a window, buried his face in his hands, and realized two things:

There was no cure for this pain.

And his life would never be the same again.