Kilenya Series Books One, Two, and Three (41 page)

Jacob studied his hands. He couldn’t meet eyes with anyone. What Kenji said made sense, and he hated to admit it. Finally he looked up again when Kenji spoke to the Fat Lady.

“How many potions will you be able to make?”

She shrugged and wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead. “Depends on many things. How quickly we can gather the ingredients, how fresh they are, and all that. Can’t push things to grow faster. It don’t work that way. The older the ingredients are, the less potent they’ll be, and the more of them I’ll need.

“You know, we’re lucky. One of the items, a flower bud from the Silver Trees, grows practically in my back yard. Two others I can’t get until the bud has grown—otherwise, they’ll go bad.” She turned to Jacob. “Sorry, kiddo. As Brojan said, six weeks is if everything goes
extremely
well. Sometimes the bud takes up to three months to fully mature.”

“Three months?” Jacob slumped back, running his hand through his hair. How could Aloren possibly wait that long? It would almost be Christmas by then. “I promised her . . .” He stopped. He didn’t want to say anything more. The Makalos already felt bad—they’d said so over and over.

Silence hung like a thick fog. The adults in the room looked at Jacob expectantly, waiting for him to agree.

“Okay, I’ll wait for the potion. But just as soon as it’s ready—the exact minute—we go get Aloren.”

Kenji nodded. “Of course.”

Someone knocked on the door and Jaegar got up to answer it. A Makalo spoke with him for a moment, then stepped aside to let Aldo walk into the house.

“Aldo?” Ebony asked. “You’re back?”

“Grass is broken non-surplussed.” He bowed to Ebony several times in a row, then grabbed her hand, pulled her to her feet, and twirled her.

Ebony laughed, then looked at Jaegar. “What did the Makalo say?”

“Just that Aldo had been throwing things around in the tree, and he’d pulled everything out of the drawers. He doesn’t think it’s wise to have Aldo stay there, in an unfamiliar place, alone.”

“We could have someone in the tree with him at all times,” Kenji said.

“Who?” Ebony asked. “There aren’t many who have that kind of time.”

Kenji nodded. “We’d need to arrange shifts.”

“He can stay at my place,” the Fat Lady said. “I’ve got an extra room.”

“But . . . is that appropriate?” Ebony asked.

The Fat Lady laughed. “Of course it is. I can hold my own, and I was going to request having him stay with me, anyway. Just so I can figure out what’s going on with him.”

Ebony nodded, then looked at her watch. “Jacob, do your parents know where you are?”

He looked at his watch as well—quarter to seven. “Dang it. Yes, they do. And Coach is coming over in fifteen minutes. Mom’s probably freaking out that we’re not home right now.”

“How’s basketball going, anyway?” Kenji asked. “Did you make your tryouts?”

“No. I’m talking to Coach about it tonight.”

Brojan sighed and got to his feet. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help you in that endeavor of yours. We’re indebted to you.”

Jacob nodded, though he doubted the Makalos could help him. If anything, they’d distract Coach
from
Jacob. He also stood.

“Be careful with that Key,” Kenji said.

Ebony nodded. “Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to. It would be bad if you decided to take a trip to China and ended up getting stuck there—you never know what is on the other side of the door.”

“They know where China is?” Matt whispered to Jacob.

Akeno laughed.

Jacob rolled his eyes at his brother. “They know everything you know about Earth. Probably even more. They’re smart that way.”

“But how?”

“Books,” Akeno said. “We read a lot of them.”

“All right, you two,” Ebony said. ”Would you mind taking the Fat Lady and Aldo to her place on your way? Then go home before your mother has a panic attack.”

Jacob and Matt, using the Key, dropped Aldo and the Fat Lady off at her cabin, and arrived home just in time to help set the table. The doorbell rang, and Jacob answered it.

Coach was all smiles. “Jacob!” he said, removing his fedora and patting Jacob on the shoulder as he walked past.

“Is it too late to try out for Varsity? I think I’d be a good addition to the team.”

Coach Birmingham stopped. “Tryouts aren’t for another few months.”

Jacob cocked his head. “I thought they were two weeks ago.”

“No, that wasn’t anything official. But how about you wait until your sophomore or even junior year? Some of those seniors can be really rough.”

Jacob’s mouth popped open and he struggled to find an answer. He’d only been fourteen for a few weeks, but he’d had no problem playing against older, more experienced players—even seniors. Coach started toward the kitchen again, and Jacob caught up.

“I’ve been playing against seniors since I was thirteen. Ask Matt. I’ll even sit on the bench as much as you need.”

Coach only smiled at him, then shook hands with Jacob’s parents. “Lee, Janna, how are you? Many thanks for inviting me over. Anne’s sorry she couldn’t make it tonight.”

Jacob slumped in his chair. He hated the way Coach treated him. He should’ve known. Coach always watched his son’s games, but his attention never strayed to the other players. He’d probably never even seen Jacob play basketball before. Coach had always paid a lot of money to leagues in Ogden for Kevin to play there. Ogden was a bigger city and had more opportunities, and Kevin had only played against Jacob a couple of times.

Conversation around him continued after the prayer on the food, and dinner was its usual noisy affair. Amberly tried not to spill, but managed to get a whole piece of lasagna on the white tablecloth. Mom almost freaked, then calmly cleaned up the mess, probably remembering their guest. Dad and Coach talked about the upcoming NBA season.

Matt was lost in his thoughts, but Jacob followed the NBA conversation closely. He had to show Coach how much he knew about basketball—he
had
to. Eventually, if Jacob was persistent enough, Coach would listen to him and see how valuable a player Jacob could be.

After everyone had their fill of dessert, Coach Birmingham stood. “Well, it’s time for me to head out. Anne and the kids’ll be home by now, and I’m sure she’ll need a break.”

Jacob jumped to his feet too. “Wait, Coach—let me shoot some hoops for you before you go.”

Coach smiled, ruffling Jacob’s hair. “Maybe next time, son.”

Jacob scowled as his parents walked Coach to the front door. He hated being patronized. How could Coach not notice how tall he was now? Or that he wasn’t an eight-year-old boy anymore?

Later, he had a hard time concentrating on his chores, he was so frustrated. Finally, he decided the only thing he could do was make Coach watch him. He’d play basketball with everyone in the orange gym on Monday, and Coach would
have
to recognize how good he was.

“You might need to break into the school to get it. Especially if it worries you that much to have it gone.”

Jacob snorted. “Matt, honestly. Do you know how much trouble I’d get in if I did that?”

He was sprawled across the couch in the living room Saturday morning, bouncing a rubber ball off the ceiling. Matt was on the couch opposite him, thumbing through a football magazine. He’d just gotten off the phone with his girlfriend, Sammy, and had listened to Jacob complain for five minutes about not having the journal with him.

“I’m just saying. I don’t think Mr. Coolidge’ll read it, but you never know. Besides, why are you so irritated by it now? You hardly mentioned it since he took it.”

“I haven’t exactly been sitting around doing nothing, you know.” In truth, Jacob had been so busy over the past couple of days he hadn’t even missed the journal. But now that he had time to read it, he wanted it. He shook his head. “If he did read it, he’d probably think I made it all up.”

“But what about the words appearing on the page as he reads? That’ll definitely get his attention.”

This hadn’t occurred to Jacob, and he sat up, feeling mortified. “Do you think he’d turn it over to someone?”

“Nah. It’s not his. He’ll give it back to you. He’s really good at keeping his word.” Matt jumped off the couch. “Let’s go shoot a few hoops. Loser cleans out the chicken coop.”

“Why do you volunteer yourself for things like that?”

Matt laughed, and they ran outside.

The first game only lasted two minutes.

“All right,” Jacob said. “Go clean the chicken coop.”

“Best out of three?”

Jacob shook his head, smiling. “You must really like humiliation.”

When Jacob won the second, then the third and fourth, too, Matt finally admitted defeat.

“Can I play?” Jacob’s dad asked, strolling off the porch. He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his white shirt.

Matt’s cell rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “I’m taking this—it’s Sammy.” Holding the phone to his ear, he jogged away.

Jacob’s dad took the ball and dribbled it. “How’s Mr. Coolidge treating you these days?” He tossed the ball through the net.

“The same,” Jacob said. “I should be getting the journal back on Monday. It’s so frustrating that he took it from me.”

“You don’t blame him for that, do you?” He handed the ball back to Jacob, who dropped it and sat on it.

“Not really. I mean, I shouldn’t have been reading in his class. It’s just that . . . I’m so bored there. And there’s this really annoying girl who always answers the questions—no one else gets to talk.”

Jacob’s dad smiled. “I can imagine.” He pushed Jacob off the ball. “Want to play a game of one-on-one? Cheer you up a bit?”

Jacob groaned in protest. “I’m already tired, Dad.”

“Oh, come on. You’re just afraid of losing.”

Jacob jumped up, a broad grin spreading across his face. “You might be better than Matt, but I’ll still win—even exhausted.”

He was right.

“Remember when I used to beat you?” Jacob’s dad asked after the game had ended, wiping sweat off his forehead.

“Yeah,” Jacob said, laughing. “That was years ago. Maybe someday I’ll let you do it again.”

His dad shook his head. “Nah—that wouldn’t feel right. Who wants a cop-out?” A serious expression crossed his face. “I’m proud of you, Jacob. You’re becoming a man—people can depend on you.”

Jacob looked down. “Thanks, Dad.”

Neither spoke for a moment, then his dad broke the silence. “How are things with the Makalos? You know, I’d give anything to be able to go with you.” A wistful expression flit across his features.

“I’m sure you could—they wouldn’t kick you out.”

His dad hesitated, a far-off look in his eye. Then he blinked a few times and glanced at Jacob. “I’ve got other things I need to tend to—business trips. I don’t really like the traveling, but it’s necessary.”

Jacob groaned. “You’re gone a lot lately. Both you and Mom. How much longer until they promote you or something?”

“That’s not what this is about—I wish I could tell you more.”

“Unless you’re hiding things from the IRS, it’s not like it’s a secret.”

His dad smiled, then picked up the ball from where it had fallen after the game. “I’m really good at my job—you’d be surprised at all the secrets I can keep.”

Jacob grinned. “Whatever.”

Dad studied Jacob’s face, all seriousness now. “Promise me that if you need my help in Eklaron, you’ll ask for it, okay?”

“All right, Dad. I promise.”

Chapter 5. Such a Sweet Pea

Finally, it was Monday morning. Jacob jogged into math class, heading straight to the teacher’s desk.

Without looking up, Mr. Coolidge handed him the journal. “Don’t let me see you reading it during class again.”

Jacob ruffled through the pages, looking for anything out of place. Satisfied, he sat, opening to where he’d last read. He wanted to take advantage of the few minutes before class started.

Only bad news—more and more bad news. Almost the entire Makalo civilization has been wiped out. Only some remain—those who were with me on the journey to rescue Arien, and a small group of Makalos who were set aside to perform special tasks. Kelson’s wife is dead, as is the queen, Ara Liese. The Lorkon laid siege on Maivoryl, and have killed hundreds of the people there. I am the ruler of this kingdom, and yet I have no control. Kenji and Brojan assist to the best of their ability, but I am lost without my right-hand man, Kelson, or King Roylance. How am I to lead a kingdom when I’ve only lived here for a few years? Even Aldo, who was King Roylance’s advisor, is distracted, studying documents, trying to figure out where the other Key is, or where the Lorkon originated. He hasn’t found anything, though, and meanwhile, I am without assistance. The people look to me for guidance, but I have none to give.