The vehicle choked and sputtered.
Aaron quickly turned it off. He pumped a pedal on the floor as he’d seen his drivers do on occasion, and then he turned the ignition once more.
The vehicle screeched, protested, and died on its own.
Aaron didn’t know what to do. Sweat dripped from his temples and down his cheeks. He leaned back in the seat, craning his neck to look at the pedals on the floor, and tried pumping a different one. Then he took a deep breath and turned the ignition once more.
This time the vehicle sputtered and roared with life.
Aaron bit his lip to hide his glee and held his breath, wishing for his luck to hold as the roar settled to a smooth purr. After a minute, Aaron looked up and saw that a few of the Quillitary soldiers had gathered around to see what was happening. He could hear their comments about the bright sound and the smooth chug of the engine, which confirmed what he already knew to be true—that Quillitary vehicles had never sounded so steady before.
Leaving it running, Aaron stepped out so that the general could take it for a test drive, and he watched as the man rode around the yard in a circle. A moment later the general got out and instructed one of his soldiers to take it for a ride up to the palace and back at top speed to see how fast it would go now.
As the vehicle sped out of the grounds and onto the main road, Aaron, Liam, and the general jogged after it for a few yards, watching it leave a huge cloud of dust in its wake.
“Not bad, High Priest,” General Blair said. He looked at Aaron. “Maybe you’re useful after all.” He turned and walked toward his house, laughing to himself as if he’d just made a mean joke. After a few steps, he turned and looked at the high priest and governor. “Well, come on, then! Let’s plot the demise of Artimé.”
The War Room
General Blair invited Aaron and Liam to sit around the table in his house. Spread across it were half a dozen little black instruments with bits of rusty barbed wire attached.
“What are these?” Aaron asked.
“I’m not sure,” General Blair said. “They came off the top of the wall in different places. I’ve never seen anything like them before.”
Liam picked one up and turned it in his hand, and then his mouth went dry. He knew what they were. Eva had told him about the screens in Mr. Today’s—now Alex’s—office that constantly showed different parts of Quill. These were the magical cameras. He set the piece down. “Looks like a piece of junk to me.”
The general shot Liam a curious look, and then shrugged. “Maybe,” he said.
“What did you end up doing with the barbed wire, by the way?” Liam asked, trying to change the subject.
“My soldiers are cutting it up and stacking the pieces here in the Quillitary grounds. We’ll use it for weapons eventually.”
Aaron nodded. “Resourceful,” he said. “Really smart.”
“Of course it is,” said General Blair, his face clearly showing signs of annoyance. “Well, then, let’s discuss. We’ll begin with everything that went wrong in the initial battle with Artimé.”
“Good idea,” offered Aaron. He was really out of his element now, yet couldn’t seem to stop commenting. “Go ahead.”
“If you’ll keep quiet,” General Blair muttered.
“I will,” Aaron said. “Continue. Please.”
The general cleared his throat. “First, they saw us coming from a mile away,” he said. “And our approach was ridiculously slow.”
“But that little problem is fixed now, isn’t it?” Aaron asked smugly. He pointed out the window at the soldier who had already driven to the palace and back, and was now getting out of the vehicle.
General Blair ignored him. “We’re removing the wall, which was the main hindrance and cause of our initial loss. And we’re working to smooth out the terrain so that the rubble is something our vehicles can drive over if necessary. And while my Quillitary is doing that painstaking job, they are also preparing for the battle by using the rubble as a physical training device. Soon they’ll be perfectly nimble and able to run at top speed over the rocks anywhere in Quill and Artimé.”
“That sounds extraordinarily wise,” Aaron said, trying to sound wise himself, but not doing a very good job bluffing his way through all things Quillitary. He tapped a finger to his chin. “And what about weapons? Besides the potential new ones made of wire, I mean?”
General Blair narrowed his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with our weapons.”
Aaron glanced sidelong at Liam, who didn’t return the look. “Nothing wrong with the weapons?” Aaron repeated, trying not to sound too incredulous. What was the general thinking? The weapons were a mess of rusty scrap metal from ages past, and a few guns with almost no bullets left. “It seems like excellent weaponry might be an important factor when fighting against magic.”
Aaron thought about the sack of magical components that Liam had stolen from Artimé and nearly mentioned them as a potential surprise attack weapon, but then thought the better of it. Instead he added more generically, “Magic itself might not be a bad idea, either.”
The general leaned forward, the scar at his throat pulsing. “Is that what you think?” he asked. “Magic is for Unwanteds who deserve to die. There’s nothing wrong with our weapons,” he said again. “And even if there was, it’s not your worry. Got it, High Priest?”