Island of Fire

Cole just stood there, color rising to his cheeks. Then he deliberately removed Alex’s hand from his arm, stepped back, and wiped his sleeve. “Oo-kay,” he said, his voice cold. He turned to his friends, who had stopped complaining long enough to listen. Cole nodded in the direction of the entrance to Quill and started walking away. To his friends he said, “Come on, guys. I know where we can get some food.”

Alex’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa,” he said. “Wait. Seriously? You’re going to be slaves to them again? You’re disgusting!” He kicked the cracked earth and spun around. “Cowards. I can’t believe this.”

“Whatever, Alex,” Cole called over his shoulder. He went through the gate, the others following him into Quill.

Alex raked his fingers through his hair and cursed under his breath. Now he was driving people away.

Exodus

Not far away in the yard, next to Jim the winged tortoise, stood Sky, on a break from stacking stiff, lifeless beavops, watching her new friend Alex fall apart. When she escaped from Warbler, she never once imagined that she would find a place where things were actually worse than what she’d endured. She took a few steps through the crowd toward Alex, thinking she might be able to offer some form of comfort, when she saw Carina Fathom walk up to him. Sky admired Carina’s pixie hair-cut and spunky style. But she slowed and then stopped when she saw Carina’s face, which looked very serious.

“Alex,” Carina said, looking up at him. She held young Seth on one hip and a knapsack over the opposite shoulder.

Alex turned, an almost bewildered look on his face. “Oh, hi,” he said. “What’s up?”

She took a deep breath. “Alex, I’m sorry.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because I . . . we . . . need to go. I’m sorry.” She pinched her lips together and didn’t look away. “We’re going. Leaving.”

The color drained from Alex’s face. He looked away quickly and took in a sharp breath, letting it out slowly through pursed lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, and then opened them again and looked back at the young woman. “You’re leaving.” He nodded, a little too swiftly, looking at the baby. “Of course you are. You have to.” He absently reached out and smoothed the listless baby’s hair. It was damp with sweat. Alex dropped his arm, like lead, to his side. “To your mother’s, I suppose,” he mused, almost to himself.

“No. She’s, you know. Back in the palace, and I—”

“Of course,” Alex murmured. “I—How could I forget?”

“I’ve changed my name, you know,” Carina blurted out.

“Oh?”

“To Holiday. Carina Holiday, that is. I mean, I can’t—I won’t have her name anymore.”

“I see.” His words were feeble, like unstable puffs of air. “A bit ironic, that name,” he said, looking past Carina now, to the sea. “Holiday. Day of the Purge and all that.”

“It’s—yes, it is. Intentionally so.” She shifted the baby higher on her hip.

Alex looked at her again as if he was finally seeing her. “Can I help you? Carry something, I mean? I’m sorry, I should have—”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I’m used to it. I just . . . I should go.”

Alex nodded. “Well.” He opened his lanky arms awkwardly and hugged her.

Carina patted his back. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

He shook his head and gave her a sad smile. “Don’t—it’s okay. Thank you for everything. I mean it.”

“I’ll be back.”

“I know.”

They stood face-to-face a moment longer, and then Carina nodded once. “Okay, then.” She hesitated a second more, and then set off. “You’ll figure it out, you know. The clue,” she called over her shoulder. “You will. I’m sure of it. Good-bye for now, brave Alex Stowe.” She grinned.

Alex nodded. He lifted his hand. “Good-bye, Carina Holiday.”

He watched her go.

As she reached the gate, she paused, turned once again, and tilted her head. “I don’t think it’s the islands,” she called. And then she shrugged and smiled. “For whatever that’s worth.”

With that, she disappeared around the wall.

When Alex’s shoulders slumped and he turned away, deadeyed, Sky was there.

At the Palace Gate

The High Priest Aaron donned his inherited black robe and made his way down the long driveway to the portcullis. He was flanked by four guards who carried rusty spearlike weapons in case the Necessaries acted up.

The workers stood waiting with shovels, picks, and some makeshift equipment.

“Release the lock,” Aaron said to his guards. Without so much as a glance at the Necessaries outside the gate, Aaron motioned to them and said, “Follow me.” One of Aaron’s guards unlocked the gate and the Necessaries streamed in. Aaron led them up the drive, to the forty-foot wall outside his palace office window.

“I want you to make a hole through the wall here, like a large doorway,” he said. “As tall and wide as the door to the palace.” He turned and looked at the dim-witted Necessaries to see if they understood. When he got to the last of them, his jaw slacked and he paled a shade, or perhaps two, but only someone who knew him well would have noticed. He held the unblinking man’s gaze for a moment, and then nodded slightly and turned back to the first one. “Are you in charge here?” he barked.