The Unwanteds by Lisa McMann Page B

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 wrinklesaround 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
    M s. 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