The Unwanteds (12 page)

“Marcus,” Octavia said, “what we need is to get the boy to forget about his brother. Get him busy training immediately. Keep his mind occupied so he doesn’t have time to dwell on
it. How hard can it be? Human siblings have done it for years here without issue!”

Mr. Today’s eyes narrowed sharply. He glanced at Claire, then back at Octavia. When he spoke, it was in a most serious and hushed tone. “You must understand, my dear lady, that it is very, very different with twins. There’s a connection. A loyalty that exceeds all others.”

Claire stared at her hands in her lap.

Octavia closed her lips over her teeth, folded several arms across her chest and frowned. “So it’s inevitable, you’re saying. The connection between twins is that strong that he’ll never give up?”

“That is what I believe.”

“He’s capable of figuring spells out on his own eventually, with or without the training,” Octavia muttered, shaking her long head. “How soon before it all begins?”

“I can’t say,” Mr. Today said. “But I’m uneasy. I don’t know what it is, but something else is brewing. Sigfried told me of some suspicious behavior on the part of a few of his actors. Costumes gone missing, fights breaking out. Something’s going on.”

“What?”

“I don’t yet know. But I’m feeling cautious for Artimé. We may be in for some trouble.”

Octavia snapped her jaw angrily. “Then we are doing Alex a great disservice by forcing him to be vulnerable, unable to protect himself.”

Mr. Today regarded Octavia for a moment, and then Ms. Morning. “Claire?”

Claire, who had been biting her lip anxiously throughout the conversation, closed her eyes and opened them again slowly. “There is one other way to make Alex forget about Aaron,” she said quietly.

“You know I won’t do that.”

“Well, then … I agree with Octavia,” she said finally.

Mr. Today dropped his head in his hands, took a deep breath, and then looked up. His eyes were weary again. “It is decided, then. Octavia, begin the boy’s training at once. And Claire …”

“Yes?”

A look of sorrowful understanding passed between them.

“I’m afraid it’s come. It’s time. Prepare our warriors for battle.”

A
lex tossed and turned in his sleep, his anxiety over-flowing into a clutch of frightening dreams. He dreamed of Lani and Meghan taunting him, pointing their fingers; of Mr. Today’s disappointment in him; of the sea turning back into the Great Lake of Boiling Oil; of the entire civilization of Artimé frog-marching him to the edge of the lake and shoving him in as he screamed.

He dreamed of Quill, only instead of the drab colorlessness and simplistic functionality of it all—from the single road that encircled the land, to the rusting Quillitary jalopies that had
been used for training on and off for the past fifty years, to the quadrant of land where crops and farm animals were raised—he dreamed that Quill was brighter than it used to be. That things were painted, and that children were allowed to laugh and make things with sticks, and that Aaron and he still shared a tiny bedroom, but now they were allowed to whisper into the night and laugh after finishing each other’s sentences and tell each other about the dreams they’d had, rather than keeping them all inside and wondering.

He dreamed that Aaron was mourning for him. That Aaron missed him, just as Alex longed for Aaron. That they met again, and Aaron was so glad to see him. That Aaron wrapped his arms around his brother and said how terribly, awfully sorry he was that Alex was Unwanted, and that there had been a mistake—but that they had thought it was too late, that Alex was already dead.

In the dream Aaron couldn’t believe there was a magical land where hundreds of other Unwanteds lived, and so Alex convinced Aaron to come and see for himself. And when he did, Aaron didn’t want to go back.

That was a happy dream, and Alex, though he didn’t know
it, smiled in his sleep. He was thrilled that Aaron knew he was still alive. And when Alex reluctantly delivered Aaron back to Quill, he whispered excitedly, “Promise not to tell anyone—not anyone. Maybe next time you can stay with me for good!”

“I won’t tell,” Aaron said. “I promise. You have to come back again soon!”

And just as they waved a satisfied, heartfelt good-bye, and Alex turned away to enter the gate into Artimé again, he looked back over his shoulder one last time, and his heart stopped. In place of his dear brother, Aaron, appeared the sinister face of High Priest Justine.

“ALEX!”

Alex jumped awake and shouted, “No!”

“ALEX! Please don’t make me shout through your bedroom door. My voice is delicate after so many weeks of misuse.”

“Clive? Is that you?” For a moment Alex didn’t know where he was.

“Oh, boy,” Clive said, and rolled his eyes.

Alex scrambled off the bed and opened the door to the
sitting area. “Why are you shouting at me? It’s seven o’clock in the morning, for crying out sideways.”

“Ms. Octavia is waiting to speak with you. Put on a shirt or something, good gracious. I’ll deliver her as soon as you say you’re ready.”

Alex groaned as all the memories of the previous day came flooding back. More trouble, he thought, for skipping yesterday’s lesson. He slid a T-shirt over his head, pulled on his shorts, and waited, breathless, in front of the blackboard. “Okay,” he said.

Ms. Octavia appeared. “Hello, Alex,” she said, peering down her snout at him.

Alex nodded. “Hi, Ms. Octavia,” he mumbled. Waiting.

“I missed you yesterday. Were you ill?”

“N-n-not exactly, ma’am.”

“I see.” She adjusted her glasses. “Well, you’ll be here today, won’t you?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

“Good. We’re starting your Magical Warrior Training, and I wouldn’t want you to miss that. I look forward to seeing you.” She nodded curtly. Her picture faded to the black screen, leaving Alex standing with his jaw slacked in amazement.

Clive resurfaced and gave a patronizing smile. “Well, it’s about time.”

Alex scowled. “Shove a sock in it, Clive.”

He showered, dressed, and headed off to classes, puzzling just a little over his dreams before pushing them back in the dark corner of his mind.

At the same time, just a few miles away, another boy who looked identical to Alex was doing the exact same things.

W
hen the buzzer sounded, Aaron Stowe left his tiny gray dormitory room in Wanted University and entered the hallway as a dozen others did the same. They walked shoulder to shoulder to the cafeteria for breakfast and ate their gruel politely, in silence. Chatting at mealtimes was not permitted, so the students ate quickly and moved on to their assignments for the day.

While most students still went to their classrooms to continue their basic learning, Aaron had excelled and been promoted. He walked toward the exit, where a square, rust-colored
Quillitary Jeep pulled up. Just as Aaron reached the edge of the narrow road that encircled Quill, the vehicle belched out acrid black smoke that smelled like burning chicken grease. He got inside and nodded to the driver.

The vehicle roared and sputtered past government offices and the new Favored Farm, Aaron’s own creation, where special high-quality, high-grade vegetables, fruits, grains, and animals were now raised for consumption by the High Priest Justine, the governors, and the Quillitary. The barbed-wire ceiling cast gridlike shadows that lined up almost exactly with the rows of crops. “It’s looking fine,” Aaron noted with a hint of satisfaction.

Since Aaron was considered to be very promising, showing not only the highest intelligence for his class but a budding strength as well, he had been chosen to train directly under the guidance of Senior Governor Haluki, a slight, graying man who was the High Priest’s second in command, and Governor Strang, a proven young man of twenty. Like Strang had been, Aaron Stowe was a serious boy, quiet and completely dedicated to the service of the high priest of Quill, at all costs. He was just the sort of boy who grows up to be a dangerously powerful man.

The vehicle clunked and groaned up the winding hill to the palace of the high priest, for on this day Aaron was being rewarded. First for his excellent work in solving the beef problem for the high priest, second for his insight into the matter of the Favored Farm at large, and third for his program, which outlined precisely how to run the farm most efficiently. It had been his last assignment in math class, and since all of the university students’ work was checked by the governors, it did not take long for Governor Strang to notice Aaron’s penchant for economics. And economics was something that the High Priest Justine was very fond of. Especially because it always benefited her.

It had been Aaron’s suggestion to work the farm in the same manner as the people of the land of Quill, sorting the farm animals into three categories: Wanted, Necessary, and Unwanted. The highest quality of animals would be sequestered at the Favored Farm to breed and be fattened up, and the lower qualities of stock would be sent to the Common Farm to be bred and raised for consumption by the Necessaries. And it had been Aaron’s suggestion to send the Quillitary to the Common Farm to transplant the highest quality crops to the Favored Farm as well.

Now that the Favored Farm was running without a single hitch and the process was complete, Aaron had been invited to the palace to have lunch with the governors and the High Priest Justine herself. It was an incredible honor. Aaron was pleased with his achievement so early in his instruction, but of course he didn’t even smile outwardly when he heard the news. After all, his full allegiance was to Quill. And since his parents were both Necessaries, he felt he had to make extra effort to prove to the governors that he was of the highest quality and worthy of his Wanted title.

All these thoughts and more filled his mind, though at one point in the slow journey to the palace—going uphill demanded a good deal of effort from the vehicle—a nagging thought pestered his brain concerning a recurring dream he’d had lately.

It frightened him more than he cared to admit to himself, because he thought he had managed to eliminate dreams entirely from a young age, once he had learned they were wrong. But several times since the Purge he’d awakened, horrified and feeling terribly guilty, because not only had he dreamed about something, but that something was his brother,
Alex. A half year had passed since Alex had been eliminated, and Aaron admitted that he had felt a bit bad for at least an hour, until his mother had warned him to forget about it. And with his entrance to the university the day after the Purge, well, it really hadn’t been difficult to forget Alex. Indeed it was rare for Aaron to think of his twin at all, but on the rare occasion he did, Alex was the sort of faint and fuzzy memory after which one wonders,
Did that really happen?

Aaron knew better than to tell anyone about these recent dreams, though. Now that he was held in such high esteem for a young student, it would be a definite career-killing sign of weakness were he to admit that to anyone. He shuddered to think it.

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.