Island of Shipwrecks (5 page)

“Look.” She squinted, then got up and ran toward the beach, while Mr. Appleblossom headed for the corner of the
mansion and climbed sprightly up the side of it to his observation tower on the roof.

The spot grew bigger. “What in the world?” Meghan whispered.

“Hurrry!” came the familiar roar from the dot in the sky. “Prrreparrre forrr incoming wounded!”

T
he ship drifted slowly to the west with the current while the people on board grew restless and tired of fixing things. It had been days since they'd raced over the waterfall. Water continued to seep in through the edges of the patched hole in the ship, and sometimes the pressure of the waves knocked the glass out completely, causing a blast of seawater to fill the bowels of the vessel at an alarming rate. Samheed and Alex had cast more glass spells than they could count, and everyone else was getting sick of bailing around the clock. Sleep came in snatches, and on the minds of everyone was Simber's glaring absence.

One of Captain Ahab's ears was still missing and probably lost forever, and his head rattled a bit, but there was nothing Ms. Octavia could do to stop it short of taking his entire head off, and she didn't want to risk doing that at sea when they needed him at the wheel. Half-deaf, the captain spoke even louder than usual, and his nonsensical outbursts put everyone on edge.

Spike surfaced now and then, staying near the ship in case she was needed, and always eager to learn more about the ways of the sea by watching and listening.

Florence was unusually quiet and lost in thought as she repaired things on the top deck, no doubt revisiting in her mind the island of Karkinos and its inhabitants, most specifically the bronze giant Talon, whom she'd grown very fond of. She thought often about the dying crab and racked her brain to think of something the people of Artimé could do to help. But so far, she hadn't come up with anything.

Energy was down all around. Not unlike Karkinos, the ship had pretty much turned into a floating island with no other land in sight.

In the quietness of the late afternoon, Lani took a worn map
from her pocket. It was the one she'd been studying throughout the journey to Pirate Island and the Island of Legends. She'd been convinced the map held a secret to what lay beyond the string of seven islands, for on the map, to the west of a staggered row of seven dots, was a drawing of a much larger piece of land. That land was what she'd hoped to find on their journey beyond the westernmost island, Karkinos.

Now she studied it one last time and shook her head. There was no larger land to the west. The world was only seven islands, and the map was probably just something some writer imagined in her world of make-believe stories. Lani's theory had been wrong, and Samheed had been right. Oh, how she hated to admit it! But with her chin held high, and making sure Samheed was watching, Lani took a fire-breathing origami dragon from her component vest pocket, commanded it to light, and used it to set the corner of the map on fire, intending to let the ashes whirl around and fly off to meet the sea.

But Samheed didn't gloat—he sprang into action. He grabbed the map, threw it to the deck, and stomped the fire out. Then he picked it up and handed it back to Lani, smoothing the blackened corner and seeing that the map was still
fully intact. “You should keep this,” he said. “It might not be what you thought, but it could still be important.” He put his hands on Lani's shoulders and pulled her close. They stayed together, talking quietly for a very long time.

Alex noticed them and paused to watch their intimate conversation from his spot at the stern, where he continued to retreat to despite the fact that Simber was no longer hovering above. Feeling lost and alone, he sighed softly and turned to stare out over the sea.

Sky also noticed the couple and looked away. After an awkward moment standing near the stairwell, pointedly not looking at Alex, she descended to check on her mother, Copper, whom they'd rescued from the pirate island. Soon after, Crow and Henry, who had been watching and snickering at Sam and Lani from behind a crate, lost interest in the mushiness and snuck belowdecks too.

As darkness crept over the ship, the exhausted sailors, creatures, and even the young whale failed to detect in the distance what Simber no doubt would have noticed, had he been there. It was the easternmost island.

And it was not a nice one.

A
aron lifted his head from his desk. His hair was disheveled and his jawline wore an uneven layer of fuzz. Shadows hung below his bloodshot eyes. The desk was strewn with recent sketches—this time of Quillitary vehicles and soldiers. “There's no other way,” he muttered, stabbing the drawings with his pencil. “I need their help. And there's no more time to waste.”

Gondoleery had said out loud what Aaron had refused to admit to himself all this time—that he was going to lose everything. His power, the palace . . . probably even his life if he didn't do something drastic. And fast.

In retrospect, this was probably something Aaron should have done from the time he'd been kicked out of university, but back then there was no way it would have worked—after all, the Quillitary soldiers had been the ones who removed him. But now? Maybe. There was a chance.

All Aaron knew was that if his new plan didn't work, he might as well throw himself into the Great Lake of Boiling Oil, because he'd be more unwanted than the Unwanteds themselves.

He'd already sent Liam and Gondoleery out on the streets of Quill to spread the word about the new threat from Artimé, having them preach far and wide that one of the magical land's creatures had killed his beloved Secretary. And he'd pushed aside the twinge of guilt that went along with the little white lie. Technically the panther
was
a creature of Artimé if Mr. Today had created it. And it lived in the jungle, which was a part of Artimé. So it seemed a fair assessment. He just conveniently left out the part where
he
had been the one to unleash the wild beast.

His mouth went dry as he remembered the horrible scene that had kept him up every night since it happened. He couldn't understand why he kept thinking about it. For much of his life he'd been able to push thoughts aside, because the laws of
Quill required it. Sure, he'd had dreams about his brother now and then even though it wasn't allowed. He'd felt
something
when Justine had died, even though he wasn't supposed to. But Secretary . . . something about her death tore apart his insides in a way that was foreign and extremely frightening.

He stood abruptly and began ripping his drawings into tiny shreds and throwing them into the trash bin. “No!” he shouted. But even he wasn't sure why.

“Secretary! I require a meeting with the Quillitary—” He stopped short and set his jaw. The old habit of calling for her seemed impossible to break. He had no one now.

There was a noise in the hallway, and soon Liam appeared at the door. “Can I help you, sir? I mean, I heard you calling. I'm happy to, um . . . assist. . . . ”

Aaron looked at Liam. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, indeed. Get me a driver. I need to visit the Quillitary.” He paused. As Liam turned to go, Aaron added, “Come with me.” It was a demand, not a plea.

“Certainly,” Liam said. “I'll fetch a driver now.”

Ten minutes later the man who had driven Eva Fathom to her meeting with death was driving Liam and Aaron to the
place where all the weapons in Quill were kept, as well as all the people who knew how to use them.

Liam focused on his hands, folded in his lap. His eyes were bloodshot from mourning Eva Fathom's death in private. But now he knew he had to step up and do what she'd prepared him to do.

“May I suggest, High Priest,” Liam said tentatively, looking up, “that we stop at the Favored Farm on our way? A basket of nuts and produce might be a welcome gift to the Quillitary general.”

Aaron scowled. He thought about it for a while as the vehicle puttered along. It sounded like something Secretary would have suggested, and she was usually right with such things. “Fine,” he said.

Liam leaned forward to tell the driver, who maneuvered the vehicle to the side of the road and made the stop.

“I'll take care of collecting the goods,” Liam said.

Aaron remained in the car, staring sullenly out the window at the wall that surrounded Quill while Liam fetched an enormous burlap bag full of nuts, fruits, and vegetables. When the driver got out of the vehicle to help Liam load the produce into the back of the old jalopy, Liam palmed him some oranges.

The driver glanced at the backseat to make sure Aaron wasn't looking, then slipped the oranges inside a hidden compartment in the trunk. “Th-thank you,” he said in a voice so soft Liam could scarcely hear him. “I'm sorry about Secretary. When I saw what happened, I had to go. I had to—for my—”

Liam held a hand out. “I know,” he said, his voice quiet too. “She wouldn't have wanted you to get into trouble.” He glanced at the car. “We need to go.” The two exchanged a look of trust and returned to the vehicle.

“Let's get on with it, then,” Aaron said. He was cross and a little bit anxious to get the Quillitary visit over with. And he was disgusted by having to ask the Quillitary for help after the way they'd rejected and ridiculed him and kicked him out of university. As they proceeded, he continued to stare moodily out the window at the dingy wall that encircled them, wondering what was going on beyond it, but glad he didn't have to face that fear.

As they neared the Quillitary, Aaron's thoughts moved toward wondering whom exactly he'd have to grovel
to
. Who was in charge now? He hadn't visited the Quillitary since before he and Justine had discovered Artimé. After the battle,
the Quillitary had been very angry with Aaron for messing everything up, and they'd blamed him for Justine's death—it was no wonder that Aaron wanted nothing to do with them. Aaron hadn't paid any attention to them ever since.

But now that a meeting was imminent, Aaron realized he had absolutely no idea what had been going on behind the closed doors of the Quillitary since Quill's defeat. It struck him finally how odd it was that he, the high priest of Quill, wasn't exactly sure who was leading the Quillitary or what they'd been doing in the yard all this time. All he knew was that General Blair, notorious for tossing the dead body of his own son Will into Artimé, had been killed—Aaron had read it on the death post in the burial grounds more than a year before.
Perhaps
, thought Aaron,
the new general will be easier to deal with
.

With that in mind, it was all the more surprising when Aaron and Liam got out of the jalopy, opened the Quillitary gate, and entered the yard for the first time in a very long time. For not only was everything quite different from what Aaron remembered the last time he was here, but striding toward him at an alarming pace was the very last person Aaron had ever expected to see.