Finally the vehicle came to a sputtering stop at the entrance to the palace. Aaron’s mind turned swiftly back to the affairs of Quill and his luncheon with the elite. He brushed the nagging thoughts away and walked briskly and with confidence to the Quillitary guards who stood watch at the palace door.
“Your license, please.”
Aaron pulled a folded document from his jacket pocket and handed it to the guard.
“Code?”
“Quill prevails when the strong survive.”
“The governors await,” the guard said. He opened the creaking door, and Aaron stepped inside.
Governors Haluki and Strang stood in the dimly lit entrance. “Good day, Aaron,” Haluki said, looking the boy over with a trained eye. “Your first time here. Need I remind you that you’re not to discuss this visit with anyone?”
“It’s not necessary, sir, but I thank you nevertheless.”
“Very good. Follow me.” Without further comment Haluki turned and walked briskly down a dark stone corridor. Aaron clipped along behind him, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead, and Strang brought up the rear.
They entered a room with a long table, a dozen chairs around it. Three women and a man sat at the far end of the table, conversing in soft tones, their heads close together. Two of the women could not be more than twenty, and the man was quite young as well. Aaron’s eyes strayed briefly to a display of potted plants in the corner of the room before he looked away hastily. He kept his expression bland, void of the surprise he felt over seeing vegetation indoors.
“Good day, Governors,” Strang said to the four at the table. A round of polite good-days was exchanged in response. “This is young Aaron Stowe, the instigator of the Favored Farm plan.”
“Well met, Aaron Stowe,” came the even reply, though Aaron had met them all before at one point or another in the half year he’d been at university.
“Good day, Governors,” he said.
Aaron, Haluki, and Strang joined the four at the table as the interrupted conversation continued once again. Aaron sat at the fringe of it, looking at his hands linked together on the table, awed that he should be allowed to listen as the governors discussed recent and long-standing issues with the quality of Quillitary vehicles, and the current state of the water shortage. When the door opened again, two Quillitary guards entered, followed by the statuesque High Priest Justine. Two additional guards trailed behind and waited at the door.
Everyone stood abruptly and turned toward the woman. Aaron swallowed hard—he’d never been this close to her before. He lowered his eyes appropriately, though not before he caught a glimpse of her structured face, etched with wrinkles around her burning black eyes and pinched mouth. She wore her hair down, as always, white streaks naturally painted into the silver. Her gown, a colorless flowing garment, was covered by a black cloak, which rested heavily on her shoulders.
Immediately following the High Priest Justine came a small entourage of service staff pushing a squeaky cart that held the luncheon.
The governors and Aaron bowed deeply before the stately woman.
Justine glanced around, her eyebrow raised slightly. She stopped at Aaron, her appraising glance apparently finding favor with the boy. “Young Mr. Stowe, I presume,” she said in her powerful voice, startling the silence.
“Forever at your service, Madam High Priest,” murmured Aaron, as he’d been taught. “May all Quill’s enemies die a thousand deaths.”
She held out her hand, her long fingers reaching limply. Aaron took her hand in his and bowed his head over it as he’d been instructed. Her fingers were as cold as barbed wire on a frosty night.
Magical Warrior Training
Ms. Octavia was sitting at her desk, her half-glasses perched precariously on her snout and her appendages involved in a half-dozen independent activities, when Alex shuffled in.
He stopped awkwardly just inside the doorway, feeling sheepish about having missed class the previous day, watching the octogator scribble with one arm on a paper on her desk and another arm on the chalkboard behind her, while a third painted on an easel at her side. When Ms. Octavia noticed Alex, she stopped all her activities and smiled.
“Come in,” she said. “Sit.”
Alex sidled up to her desk and sat in the chair beside her.
“Feeling better today?” Ms. Octavia asked.
“I—yes.”
“I’m a bit worried about you.” Ms. Octavia’s smile faded, and her voice took on a serious tone. “Would you care to talk about what’s been bothering you lately, Alex?”
Alex blushed crimson. He squirmed in his seat. “I—um—”
Ms. Octavia waited patiently. Finally she patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. Let’s talk about your Magical Warrior Training instead. I am sure you are as excited as I am to start.”
Alex breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, ma’am.”
“In fact you are probably wondering why I’ve held you back this long. It must have been excruciating for you.”
“Well …” Alex looked at his shoes. “It sure seemed like it was fun for everybody else to pull their spell pranks on me.” He thought of Lani. “I felt like I must have been really bad at this to be held back so long.”
Ms. Octavia closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened her eyes, she looked to the classroom doorway and nodded. “Come in, Marcus,” she said.
Alex turned in his chair. Mr. Today entered the room and closed the door behind him. “I’m afraid that I am the one to blame for your troubles, Alex,” he said.