Alex felt a rush of relief. “Yes. Totally. We’all of us should.”
“Let me ask you, Alex, where do your passions lie?”
“My . . . ,” Alex began. “My passions . . .” His voice trailed off, and then he closed his lips again and thought for a long moment. “I guess I’m not sure.”
Mr. Today nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps you can think about that over the next week and we can discuss it when we meet again.”
Alex deflated. “Perhaps. I mean, yes, of course.”
“But in the meantime, my dear boy, will you kindly indulge my old soul by letting me tell you what passions I see in you?”
“O-okay,” Alex said, a bit suspicious but completely curious.
Mr. Today’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful. Thank you.” He stood, staring out the window for a moment, one hand raised slightly before him as if to deliver a soliloquy, but not the magical kind. He brought the outstretched hand inward to clutch the folds of his robe near his heart, and turned to face Alex. He began simply. “In you, Alex, I see a young man who loves to create and experiment with new spells. True enough?”
Alex nodded. He was always creating or trying new things’trapping clay that forms shackles around an enemy’s wrists, ankles, or neck, origami dragons that can attack from a hundred feet away, and the 3-D door, something he was incredibly proud of, even though it had caused a lot of trouble. Very few Artiméans could make one of those’only Ms. Octavia, as far as Alex knew.
“I also see a loyal, fair-minded young man who cares about people and consistently wants to give them second chances when they mess up. Agreed?”
“I guess,” Alex said. He thought about his once-enemy Samheed, and how close they had become. And Lani, how she used to drive him crazy. And then he thought about Aaron. “Maybe I give too many chances,” he said. He looked at his hands.
“Forgiveness is not a negative trait.” Mr. Today walked to the window and looked out. “Not if one possesses common sense. Which you do,” he said, turning and wagging his finger at the boy. “And it’s a priceless gift, too, for common sense is not something one can just acquire at will. You either have it or you don’t, as they say.”
“Yeah,” Alex said. “I suppose so.” He looked up eagerly to see if Mr. Today had any more kind words to share.
“Alex, much of your strength lies in your honesty, in your courage in battle, in the way you inspire others to be better people’like Samheed, and believe it or not, like Aaron.”
Alex snorted. “See? I’m a failure.”
“Not at all. Aaron is fighting his own internal battle, and you very nearly swayed him once to join our side. Perhaps one day you’ll try again, and who knows what can happen? No one else in Artimé has that power.”
Alex was silent. Mr. Today moved back toward his desk and sat on the corner of it, facing Alex. He was wearing slippers today, Alex noted with a little grin.
After a time, Mr. Today spoke again. “I want to tell you a story, Alex.”
Alex nibbled at his bottom lip, waiting. Wondering now if Mr. Today really understood that Alex was turning him down.
“Simber,” the old mage said.
Alex turned automatically to the door, expecting to see the beast.
Mr. Today shook his head. “No, he’s not here. Simber was my first creation. Before there was Artimé, there was Simber.”
In the Beginning
The old mage, still sitting on the corner of his desk, had a familiar faraway look in his eye as he thought about the beginning of Artimé. “I knew magic growing up’a few of us did, but we were largely an underground society on Warbler Island. Justine and I both could do it. I was better than she.”
Alex sat up. “Wait’Warbler Island?”
Mr. Today nodded but didn’t explain, choosing rather to continue with the story. “Once she and I moved here and we established Quill, the wall began to go up, which took years. Also during those early years, all the people were made to forget their pasts and their magical abilities. And Justine instigated the Purge. You already know that eventually I became disillusioned with our motives and moved from Quill to this part of the island, and I lived in the little gray shack you saw when you first entered the gate.”
Alex nodded. “And . . . you said something about Simber?”
“Ah, yes. One day I was down on the beach, feeling quite utterly alone in the world. I had suppressed my artistic tendencies, accepting Justine’s belief that creativity was a sign of weakness. But that day we’d had a rare bit of rain, and the entire stretch of sand was damp. I began to sculpt an animal I’d once seen in a book as a child’a cheetah. It was the most stunning creature I’d ever seen, and I still remember that picture as if it were here in front of me.
“I worked to re-create it all day, getting the curve of its back and roll of its shoulders, the strength and proportion of its hind legs just right. Its face, its eyes’intelligent, powerful, fierce but caring eyes. And then, on a whim, becoming uniquely inspired, I added wings. Perhaps I was feeling a bit caged in myself.” He chuckled softly, lost in the memory for a moment. “When I knew that I had perfected each part of the creature, I preserved that part with magic, making its surface almost completely indestructible,” he said, smiling proudly. “And then, when I was quite finished, I brought it to life.”
“Wow,” Alex whispered. “Simber is made entirely of sand?”