Lani walked slowly past more statues, who nodded to her cordially if she looked at them, and bright square things on the walls—paintings, Mr. Today had called them—of all colors and sizes. As she neared the end, growing more and more concerned that there would be no door calling out her name, one burst open, and a smallish, yellowish, featherish figure emerged. Lani startled and nearly screamed, because it is one thing to see a magical creature when in the company of others, and quite another thing entirely to have one nearly upon you when you’re alone.
But it was worry for nothing. The feathery creature—its body might have looked like a platypus if it weren’t so feathery, and its beak was definitely parrotlike—seemed more frightened of Lani than Lani seemed of her. “Squee squah!” the creature cried out in a high-pitched voice.
“I beg your pardon,” Lani said, stepping back.
“I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon,” repeated the creature.
And Lani, feeling bold—after all, when you’ve been marked for elimination, everything else seems easy—bent down and held out her hand. “My name is Lani,” she said.
The creature waddled up to Lani, clamped its beak lightly on Lani’s finger, and then mimicked the girl, saying, “My name is Lani.” And then it erupted into a puffball of giggles and ran madly down the hallway, wings flapping, shouting, “Lani, Lani, Lani!” all the way to the end.
Lani watched in shock until the platyprot—for that is what it was—disappeared. If her name is Lani too, then how will I know which room is mine? Lani wondered. But the platyprot’s doorway didn’t beckon to Lani as she passed it.
Finally, Lani approached the end of what she had thought might be a never-ending hallway. “Good evening, Lani!” greeted the last door on the right in a very cheerful voice. The door swung open, and Lani walked inside.
And while several magical things awaited Lani inside her room, she was so overwhelmed and exhausted that it was impossible for her to do anything except sink into an overstuffed chair. Lani was amazed at its softness, for all she had ever known were harsh wooden seats and worn-out bedrolls on the floor. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a moment—it had been a very long day. Before anyone could say, “Jim the winged tortoise,” she was asleep.
Elsewhere in the girls’ hall, Meghan explored her room and was delighted to find that it was nearly as large as an entire Quill house, with a sitting area, a bedroom, and a lovely bathroom with pretty soaps, fluffy towels, and a bubbling waterfall bathtub. In the drawers and closets was everything a girl could ask for and infinitely more, since Quillens were accustomed to living in very sparse conditions. Here all the clothes were exactly the right size, and the styles and colors complemented Meghan’s personality and skin tone. The bed was not the simple rolled cot she’d known—this was soft and cushiony and raised up from the floor. The walls were decorated in soft, calm colors of blue and green that changed from bright to muted with Meghan’s mood and with the passing of afternoon into evening. It was simply dreamy.
Meghan didn’t know quite what to think about the spacious quarters, the design, the unusual objects that were placed about the room, yet she found the place utterly enchanting.
And indeed it was. Both enchanting … and enchanted. Her room had a large rectangular screen on the wall, like a black chalkboard, with information scribbled on it. It kept the time and alerted her to upcoming activities and events, and all she had to do to find out more about a particular something was to touch the word, or ask the board a question. If she didn’t wish the board to announce things randomly out loud, she just pressed a button called SHUSH on the board. If she wanted a snack and didn’t feel like walking all the way down to the kitchen, there was a corner of the blackboard that was marked PANTRY. If Meghan touched it, she could view the contents of the kitchen pantry and send something up by tube.
Ah, and the tube! Each room in the mansion was equipped with a large corner tube made of glass. An opening had been cut into its side. It looked like a very tall cylinder with a platform on which to stand, and a miniature blackboard inside offered the various destinations available at that particular time.
As Meghan explored her room, she found a stack of papers with unusual lines and markings on them; they made no sense to her at all, so she put them aside. She also discovered a basket full of long metallic rods and wooden sticklike things of various sizes, all containing small holes and tiny levers. Cautiously, Meghan touched a wooden stick, and then picked it up with both hands, feeling the solid weight of it. She rolled it in her hands curiously, pushed a small metal lever near the center and released it, and then peered into the hollow end, which opened up like a big O.
“An oboe is a musical instrument.”
Meghan whirled around at the voice, but saw no one.
“You place the other end in your mouth, and blow into it. Like this.” Meghan’s blackboard lit up, and a picture of a beautiful woman appeared. The woman wet her lips, then placed her mouth on the instrument and blew into it. She moved her fingers on the levers, and a lovely, mournful tune came out of it. “Now you try it,” the woman said, looking directly into Meghan’s eyes as if she were right there in the room.
“I—I—” Meghan looked at the oboe. She turned it around, and the woman in the blackboard showed Meghan how to hold it properly. Meghan copied the hand positions, and then wet her lips and blew.
“A little harder,” the woman encouraged. “And keep your tongue near it.”