Island of Fire

“All clear,” he said, huffing.

Simber nodded, unable to speak, and with the utmost gentleness, he carried Alex to the head mage’s living quarters. Samheed followed him into the mostly secret hallway and stood outside the door, waiting to see if he was needed.

Florence, who had to stoop a little bit inside the apartment, looked up from smoothing the comforter. “Fresh linens, good as new.” She leaned toward Simber, picked up Alex from his mouth, and laid him down in the bed. “Carina’s back,” she said. “Isn’t she a nurse?”

“She helped out Marrrcus when he had a bad case of the flu thrrree yearrrs back,” Simber said. “She can access the hallway. You trrrack herrr down. I’ll get Octavia.”

Samheed cleared his throat.

Florence looked up. “Oh, sorry. You can go to bed, you poor thing. Thanks for helping.”

“Well, actually, what I was going to say was that with all of Alex’s yakking and stuff—”

Simber cringed. He’d heard enough hairball terminology for one day.

“I mean, the vomiting and all the sweating, he’s probably dehydrated. He hadn’t drunk anything since I’ve been with him. I’d start there.”

“Hmm.” Florence nodded. “I never thought of that.”

Simber shrugged. “Me neitherrr.”

Samheed shook his head. “Statues,” he muttered. “I’ll get some water.”

Florence nodded. “I’ll get Carina and Octavia.”

Simber stayed by Alex’s side, vowing not to leave until the young mage woke up.

While Alex Slept

Simber remained by Alex’s side, waiting for him to wake up. Alex moaned and muttered, shouted and cried in his unconscious state. He fought battles with Quill and Warbler over and over, and he fought imaginary battles that had never happened, or perhaps that were still to

come. Day after day he lost Simber to the sea, Mr. Today to the spell, Lani and Sam to the silence, and Sky to his stupidity. In the days while Alex slept, Gunnar Haluki and Claire Morning felt well enough to leave the hospital ward. They began to get some fresh air and exercise, and Claire even took Gunnar for a ride in her boat.

Claire also began teaching again, and in the evenings she and Gunnar spent hours and hours in the Museum of Large, combing through Mr. Today’s books on healing. Whatever she could find she brought to Carina and Henry, and they shared them with the other nurses, and all of them spent many long evenings with books sprawled out over a table in the dining room. One day Ms. Morning appeared via blackboard, inviting residents with science skills who were interested in being on the healing team to join her. “It’s about time we improved our skills in this area,” she said, her face glowing again and her honey-blond hair shining on blackboards everywhere. “We never needed extensive knowledge and medical spells before. But ever since the battle with Quill, it has become obvious that Artimé is sorely lacking in this department. If you feel especially gifted in this area, please find me in the dining room most evenings from seven to nine.”

It was good for her to keep her mind busy after all she’d been through. But every now and then she thought about Liam and what life might be like if he’d chosen her over his blind allegiance to a broken government. He was on the verge of coming around, she could feel it those last days in Gunnar’s house. Maybe Liam had a heart in there somewhere. But that he’d been willing to tie her up and keep her in a closet—that was something she’d never be able to forgive. People who care about each other don’t hurt each other or make each other feel small. Period. End of sentence. It was obvious that Liam’s problem was much bigger than just feeling like he had to obey a high priest who was doing terrible things. He wasn’t the man she’d always hoped he’d be. And that was sad.

She sighed and dove into her work, trying desperately, among other things, to find something that would help poor Alex. Henry’s magical stitches were an extraordinary creation. Lani was soon able to hobble around and her slashed thigh was healing quickly. She moved back to her room upstairs too, leaving the hospital wing empty again, but no one knew how to make it disappear again except Alex, so it remained.

One day Ms. Octavia removed the hospital wing’s wooden doors and created new ones made of stained glass, designing a beautiful portrait of Mr. Today on the lawn in all his brightly colored glory. Below she etched a tribute: In loving memory of the heart and soul of Artimé, Marcus Today. By the end of the first day, over a hundred tokens of love had been placed in front of the portrait from all imaginable sorts of residents. Piles of acorns, potted flowers, seashells, as well as dozens of poems, stories, drawings, songs, scripts, and crafts.

Meghan stood for a long while staring at the new picture. And then she pulled from her pocket a tiny music box and set it on the floor at the mage’s feet.

In the days while Alex slept, Meghan spent extra time in the music room retraining her voice. One day she invited Sky to join her, thinking Sky had the most beautiful, husky, soulful voice she’d ever heard in someone near her own age. But while Sky appreciated the offer and agreed to sit in the room and listen to Meghan, Sky didn’t want to sing. “I’m not creative like you,” she said, her face growing warm.

Meghan turned away from her music stand to look at the girl. “Of course you are!”

“I don’t sing or draw or act or play an instrument. I can’t make things.”