Aaron closed his eyes for a moment, telling himself to stop all thoughts of Alex forever before he did something to jeopardize his standing with the high priest. Even so, he fingered the thin piece of metal in his pocket through the fabric of his trousers, wondering where else something like that could have possibly come from.
Finally the driver pulled the vehicle up to the palace. After the customary passwords and formal greetings with the high priest, the four sat in the conference room.
Senior Governor Haluki began the briefing, updating the high priest with a status report from General Blair. Strang continued, speaking of their tour, and then the three turned to Aaron. “And what are your findings?” Justine asked.
Throughout the briefing, something had niggled at the edge of Aaron’s thoughts. He struggled to come up with something brilliant to say, but he was afraid that his comments would disappoint. He knew this was important. He knew this could prove that his first idea, the Favored Farm, was not a fluke. This could prove his brilliance. And perhaps, just perhaps, it might answer the burning question that had been plaguing him for months.
The high priest waited patiently for Aaron to answer.
Haluki and Strang eyed him carefully.
Aaron straightened his already extreme posture to a state of rigid. “If it pleases the high priest, I wish to offer a solution to the growing problem, not only of the poor quality of the Quillitary vehicles, for indeed they are in a sorry state. But also a solution that will ease Quill’s looming water shortage.”
Justine’s gaze didn’t waver. “Proceed,” she said.
Aaron nodded. “I believe there is a method that, to my limited knowledge,” he said humbly, “we have not explored. Perhaps you will consider it worthy.” Aaron took a breath, knowing he couldn’t stall much longer without actually making his suggestion, yet still trying desperately in his mind to figure out exactly how it would work.
Haluki, who sat opposite Aaron, shifted in his chair, his narrowed eyes not leaving the boy’s face.
Strang nodded encouragingly, for he had an appreciation for the boy’s mind.
The High Priest Justine’s mouth twitched, as if she were growing impatient. “Out with it, then.”
Aaron nodded again and pressed his lips together. “Very well,” he said, his esophagus feeling tight enough to stop his breath. “I believe the solution to making the vehicles run more efficiently, and to freeing up the thirty barrels of water used by the Quillitary base each day, is …” Aaron swallowed, and continued. “The Great Lake of Boiling Oil.”
The High Priest Justine knitted her brows, the look on her face growing even more intense. “And?” she prompted sharply.
“And …” Aaron’s voice cracked, making him cringe and clear his throat. “And,” he continued, “therefore, as I have never seen the Great Lake of Boiling Oil, I’d like your permission to pay a visit to the Death Farm so I might gather a sample for study and testing.”
Haluki’s eyes flickered for an instant before they returned to their cold steel-blue color. He shifted in his chair as the high priest and Strang grew thoughtful.
“No. It’s out of the question,” Haluki said.
The high priest offered Haluki a rare look of disdain. “What?” she said, her voice raised slightly as fire rose in her eyes.
“It’s contaminated,” Haluki said forcefully. “Polluted. Perhaps you’ve forgotten what goes in there.”
Aaron and the young Governor Strang exchanged an uncomfortable look.
The high priest glared at Haluki. “I’ll thank you to leave that decision up to me.” She turned to the palace guards at the door. “Guards! Fetch a vehicle immediately, suitably large enough for the four of us.”
Aaron’s stomach flipped.
Haluki hesitated, and then stood abruptly and made for the door. “Make that three. I’ve another appointment. Good day, madam.”
The three remaining at the table watched him go, and then looked at each other, none of them bothering to hide the shock on their faces at this strange behavior. Finally the high priest had the wherewithal to call out, “Oh, for Quill’s sake, Haluki. Come back here immediately!”
But the man was already gone.
Visitors
And so it was that while Mr. Today was holding a meeting on the lawn to give the most recent developments to all humans, statues, and domesticated creatures, and while Arija called to order a similar meeting of all the wild creatures in the jungle, the squeaky Quillitary vehicle containing the High Priest Justine, Governor Strang, and Assistant Secretary Stowe came to a stop outside the vast iron gate. And because no one had ever come through the gate without six months’ notice, and because only one person in all of Quill had a key to the gate, and because the remaining three girrinos had trickled to the fringe of the crowd on the lawn so that they could hear just a little more clearly, there was no one there to notice it.
Except for Simber, whose keen senses were the best of anyone’s. But by the time the great winged cheetah had bounded over a row of Artiméans and thundered toward the gate, growling out a warning to Mr. Today that set the entire land of Artimé on their feet and reaching into their component vests for their magical weapons, it was too late. The gate was swinging open.
A look passed between the great old mage and the stately cheetah; it was a look only two friends who have known each other for many, many years could understand. So while Mr. Today held up his hand to silence the Artiméans, the stone cheetah stood solid, his enormous wings outstretched to their full span of twenty feet or more, and acted as a shield between the visitors and the crowd to keep the enthusiastic folk from descending on the three Quillens like a thousand Unwanted ghosts on the Eliminator.