Island of Fire (The Unwanteds) Read Free

Haluki was tied up at the moment, the new Associate High Priest Aaron Stowe wasted no time shortening his official title to High Priest Aaron. It was just easier for the people of Quill that way, he declared, and it took much less time to say and write.
    Not that Aaron could write quite yet. But soon. He’d been practicing with one of the scholars, Crete Sepulcher, a middle-aged man with crinkly, paper-thin skin and the personality of a rock.
    Aaron sat at his desk with a rare piece of paper, scratchingon it with an ancient stick of a pencil. As a young boy, he’d always wondered how the markings got on the paper. He never imagined it was with a stick. It made him think of Alex, drawing with that stick in the mud in the midst of a downpour in the backyard. And how he’d tried it too. And how he’d been caught, but his father had mistaken him for Alex. With his eyes, Aaron had pleaded with Alex to go along with it, to take the blame so Aaron wouldn’t get an infraction.
    He looked at the pencil now, turning it in his hands, tracing the ridge with his finger, down to the dull, whittled point. Remembering. It all seemed a very long time ago. But the look of betrayal on Alex’s face . . . Aaron closed his eyes and tried to forget it. Tried to stop the words that taunted him. The only reason you’re sitting here now is because of him.
    Standing abruptly, Aaron dropped the pencil on his desk and strode to the window. An ugly gargoyle statue wearing a pink bow around its horn rested on the ledge, very nearly staring up at the young high priest. “Haluki had the strangest sense of decor,” Aaron muttered. He gazed through the glass down the long driveway, then turned his eyes back and traced his gaze along the ever-present, ever-boring wall.
    “Secretary,” Aaron said in a raised voice.
    Eva Fathom appeared in the doorway, her name—and indeed her identity—discarded once again.
    “Find me a dozen strong Necessaries and the most powerful tools we have. Giant hammers, sharp picks, shovels. My guards and I will meet them at the portcullis at sunrise tomorrow.”
    “Of course,” murmured Eva, but she smirked to herself. The rusty, broken-down gate to the palace could hardly be called a portcullis, but the new high priest was fond of making his things sound important, especially when they weren’t.
    “Next,” Aaron went on, “send two more guards to Artimé to infiltrate. Tell them not to fight—just create some more unrest and keep the grumbling going. It’s been working. We’ve taken in nearly two dozen so far and have put them right to work for our Wanteds.”
    “Very good,” Eva said. She folded her hands behind her back, waiting for more tasks.
    Aaron turned, looking down his nose at the woman. “And get me an update on the whereabouts and activities of the Restorers. Is Haluki dead yet? Where’s Gondoleery? She’s all but disappeared.”
    Eva hadn’t seen Gondoleery at all since the battle, but instinct nudged her not to admit that. Instead she said, “Many of the Restorers are taking a rest after all their hard work, but Liam Healy and Bethesda Dia Gloria are still stationed at High Priest Haluki’s house.”
    Aaron narrowed his eyes at her. “ I’m the high priest. Secretary .”
    Eva pursed her lips and turned them into a thin-lipped smile. “My apologies for the slip. I don’t know what I’m to call him now.”
    “Call him . . . oh, who cares? Just don’t call him that .”
    Eva nodded. “Anything else?”
    Aaron turned back to the window and caught a glimpse of the gargoyle again. He frowned at it. “No. You may go.”
    Without a sound, the old woman turned and left the office.
    Aaron picked up the gargoyle, held it away from himself as he walked, as if its hideousness might be contagious, and tossed it into a wooden box in the closet with the rest of Haluki’s things. They’d melt the statue down to make weapons once Haluki was dead.

Gondoleery’s Secret
    I n the weeks since