The Unwanteds (24 page)

“Your mom looks like crud.”

Clive’s gleaming nostrils flared. He melted back into the blackboard without another word.

The Quillitary

A
aron Stowe tossed and turned on his cot, falling into fits of battered sleep. When the gray morning light pressed into his dormitory room, he gave up rest and glanced at the wall. There was only one door there. Surely it had been a nightmare. He began his morning ritual, as always.

Since water was scarce in the desertlike land of Quill, and most of the supply was needed for the crops and cattle, each student of the university was given a pail of water every week for washing up. It felt like a bonus to most students, since households in the quadrants were given two pails of water for the
entire family, no matter the size. Aaron secretly felt annoyed, because that meant that some of the child-bearers who had failed by producing two Unwanteds fared the same as he, once their children had been disposed of.

But today his mind was on other things. Methodically Aaron wet his washcloth in the tepid water, being sure to squeeze the excess out of it carefully, and wiped his face. With a finger he brushed the bit of fuzz above his lip that seemed to be growing these past few weeks as he neared his fourteenth year. He was certain that it was his facial hair coming in, and he wondered what it looked like. He wondered if it looked like Alex’s.

As he washed, he tried to clear his mind of the events of the previous night. He had convinced himself by now that Alex was indeed a dream, but he was terribly concerned about how weak his abilities were to control these dreams, which grew more intense each day. He ran the washcloth over his chest and arms, and nearly yelped when he pressed on the tender spot on his shoulder where his dream brother had hit him. “What in Quill …?” he murmured, massaging it. “Great cats! That smarts.” His dream was all too real, yet all too impossible. “It didn’t happen,” he told himself firmly.

Once dressed, he sat in a chair and waited until it was time to go to breakfast. He stared blankly at the door for nearly an hour, for he had gotten up early. He tried to think about his next project that the High Priest Justine had given him—perfecting the Quillitary vehicle operations. Today he would visit the Quillitary base for a tour, and he’d learn from the officers how the vehicles ran. From there he’d take the information and develop a plan. Hopefully, it would be a plan that pleased the high priest. This was his best chance at remaining in his high position as assistant secretary and moving up to secretary in a few months when the old maid had been disposed of.

Aaron knew that solidifying his post in the palace was crucial to his advancement. The current secretary to the high priest was an ancient woman, older than the high priest herself. Soon she’d be sent on to the Ancients Sector of Quill, as her sight was failing. Once there she’d never be seen again. Well—not by Wanteds, anyway. It was the job of the Necessaries to tend to the Ancients, put them to sleep, and bury them. Aaron had learned all about the burying part because his father was a burier.

Burying. Aaron shuddered. His thoughts had turned back
to Alex and the day they’d made houses in the mud. Aaron admitted to himself that he hadn’t actually “seen” a house in the random markings in the mud. At the time he had wanted to see what Alex saw. But thinking back on it, he was glad that he didn’t.

Alex. Aaron shook his head violently. “Stop,” he said to himself. “Or I’ll be forced to report you.”

Aaron’s thoughts turned again to his own advancement. Once the secretary was banished to the Ancients Sector, Aaron would be on an equal level with five of the six governors. There were only two people in Quill who stood in his way from that point. One was the High Priest Justine herself, who at seventy years old was not presumed to live more than five or ten years. Aaron wasn’t worried about her standing in his way when the time came, and she had no heirs. But the second obstacle would be infinitely more difficult. He was the senior governor, second in command. The man watched Aaron like a dog watches a gopher hole. Almost like he knew Aaron was hot on his heels, ready to overthrow Senior Governor Haluki and become the next High Priest of Quill. Almost like he knew that Aaron would stop at nothing to succeed.

A harsh clanging of metal on metal sounded outside his door. Aaron breathed a sigh of relief, got up, and strode to the doorway. When he opened the door, and indeed as all the other doors of the hall opened simultaneously, a flash of something silvery bright caught his eye on the floor of his room next to the door. It was a thin piece of metal twisted into an odd shape. But this one wasn’t brown, like all the rusty metal Aaron had ever seen. This was gleaming silver, a color Aaron had never before laid eyes on, except in the dream the previous night.

Swiftly, he reached down and picked it up. He put it in his pocket to study later in private, and stepped into the line of students that would take him to the cafeteria for breakfast.

At eight o’clock Aaron slipped out of the university and into the awaiting vehicle that would take him to the Quillitary base for his tour. In the front seat, next to the driver, was Governor Haluki; in the back with Aaron, Governor Strang.

“Good day, Governors.”

“Well met, Aaron,” they intoned.

Now that he had an official title tied to the high priest, it bothered Aaron that they continued to call him by his first name as if he were a child. But he said nothing, and instead
turned his attention to the driver, a Quillitary lieutenant. “Driver,” he said curtly as the vehicle chugged and squealed along the road.

“Yes, sir, Assistant Secretary Stowe, sir!”

That made up for the previous. “What is your top speed?” Aaron asked.

“Twenty-five posts, sir.”

“Sustainable?”

“Not hardly, sir.”

“How long?”

“I’d say thirty minutes.”

“You’d say?” Aaron sneered.

“Thirty minutes, sir!”

“What happens at thirty-one?”

“Engine locks up, Mr. Stowe. You hear the squealing now? Needs water and grease. Soon as we arrive, I’ll rejuice so I can make it back.”

Aaron’s brow furrowed. “Water? What’s the water allotment for the base? Gentlemen?”

Governor Strang spoke. “We’ve just increased it to thirty barrels.”

“A week?”

“Thirty barrels,” Strang repeated, “a day.”

Aaron sat back in the seat. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said evenly, even though Senior Governor Haluki hadn’t contributed a word, and even appeared to be nodding off in the front seat.

Thirty barrels a day. Aaron looked out his window, up through the barbed-wire defense ceiling, and scanned the sky for rain clouds. Seeing none, he feared for the life of his first project, the Favored Farm. With water this scarce and the Quillitary vehicles sucking up a ridiculous amount, something had to be done.

Haluki, Strang, and Aaron toured the Quillitary base, walking past new Wanted soldiers practicing the traditional Quillitary death chants that would be used in battle should Quill ever come under attack. But Aaron’s focus was on transportation today. He absorbed everything he saw and heard regarding the vehicles. Then the three returned to the vehicle for the short ride to the palace to meet with the High Priest Justine. The car creaked and strained its way up the hill, and Aaron, now feeling the exhaustion from too few hours of sleep the night before,
let his thoughts wander once again to the strange episode during the night. It felt distant now, but something tugged at Aaron’s mind. How could it be possible that behind that great fence was an entire world full of Unwanteds? Aaron couldn’t fathom it. There was no way they would fit, for one thing—not according to the accounts he’d overheard from the governors’ inspection about the small plot of land. And where would they hide? It was ridiculous. There was nothing but a building, some weeds, and a—a lake. A Great Lake of Boiling Oil.

Aaron closed his eyes for a moment, telling himself to stop all thoughts of Alex forever before he did something to jeopardize his standing with the high priest. Even so, he fingered the thin piece of metal in his pocket through the fabric of his trousers, wondering where else something like that could have possibly come from.

Finally the driver pulled the vehicle up to the palace. After the customary passwords and formal greetings with the high priest, the four sat in the conference room.

Senior Governor Haluki began the briefing, updating the high priest with a status report from General Blair. Strang
continued, speaking of their tour, and then the three turned to Aaron. “And what are your findings?” Justine asked.

Throughout the briefing, something had niggled at the edge of Aaron’s thoughts. He struggled to come up with something brilliant to say, but he was afraid that his comments would disappoint. He knew this was important. He knew this could prove that his first idea, the Favored Farm, was not a fluke. This could prove his brilliance. And perhaps, just perhaps, it might answer the burning question that had been plaguing him for months.

The high priest waited patiently for Aaron to answer.

Haluki and Strang eyed him carefully.

Aaron straightened his already extreme posture to a state of rigid. “If it pleases the high priest, I wish to offer a solution to the growing problem, not only of the poor quality of the Quillitary vehicles, for indeed they are in a sorry state. But also a solution that will ease Quill’s looming water shortage.”

Justine’s gaze didn’t waver. “Proceed,” she said.

Aaron nodded. “I believe there is a method that, to my limited knowledge,” he said humbly, “we have not explored. Perhaps you will consider it worthy.” Aaron took a breath,
knowing he couldn’t stall much longer without actually making his suggestion, yet still trying desperately in his mind to figure out exactly how it would work.

Haluki, who sat opposite Aaron, shifted in his chair, his narrowed eyes not leaving the boy’s face.

Strang nodded encouragingly, for he had an appreciation for the boy’s mind.

The High Priest Justine’s mouth twitched, as if she were growing impatient. “Out with it, then.”

Aaron nodded again and pressed his lips together. “Very well,” he said, his esophagus feeling tight enough to stop his breath. “I believe the solution to making the vehicles run more efficiently, and to freeing up the thirty barrels of water used by the Quillitary base each day, is …” Aaron swallowed, and continued. “The Great Lake of Boiling Oil.”

The High Priest Justine knitted her brows, the look on her face growing even more intense. “And?” she prompted sharply.

“And …” Aaron’s voice cracked, making him cringe and clear his throat. “And,” he continued, “therefore, as I have never seen the Great Lake of Boiling Oil, I’d like your permission to
pay a visit to the Death Farm so I might gather a sample for study and testing.”

Haluki’s eyes flickered for an instant before they returned to their cold steel-blue color. He shifted in his chair as the high priest and Strang grew thoughtful.

“No. It’s out of the question,” Haluki said.

The high priest offered Haluki a rare look of disdain. “What?” she said, her voice raised slightly as fire rose in her eyes.

“It’s contaminated,” Haluki said forcefully. “Polluted. Perhaps you’ve forgotten what goes in there.”

Aaron and the young Governor Strang exchanged an uncomfortable look.

The high priest glared at Haluki. “I’ll thank you to leave that decision up to me.” She turned to the palace guards at the door. “Guards! Fetch a vehicle immediately, suitably large enough for the four of us.”

Aaron’s stomach flipped.

Haluki hesitated, and then stood abruptly and made for the door. “Make that three. I’ve another appointment. Good day, madam.”

The three remaining at the table watched him go, and then
looked at each other, none of them bothering to hide the shock on their faces at this strange behavior. Finally the high priest had the wherewithal to call out, “Oh, for Quill’s sake, Haluki. Come back here immediately!”

But the man was already gone.

A
nd so it was that while Mr. Today was holding a meeting on the lawn to give the most recent developments to all humans, statues, and domesticated creatures, and while Arija called to order a similar meeting of all the wild creatures in the jungle, the squeaky Quillitary vehicle containing the High Priest Justine, Governor Strang, and Assistant Secretary Stowe came to a stop outside the vast iron gate. And because no one had ever come through the gate without six months’ notice, and because only one person in all of Quill had a key to the gate, and because the remaining three girrinos had trickled to
the fringe of the crowd on the lawn so that they could hear just a little more clearly, there was no one there to notice it.