“No. He had a way with them, like you. You’ll do fine. It’s putting them out there in Artimé with the others that causes problems.”
The high priest narrowed his eyes. A way with them? Like me? What an odd thing to say. “Well,” Aaron said, slightly unsettled, “I just wanted to check in and see if all was okay, and it appears it is, so—”
“Wait!” thundered the rock, making the nearby leaves tremble on the trees. “Panther needs your help.”
The black creature nodded emphatically.
“Oh,” Aaron said, a little impatiently. “Well then. What’s wrong?” He wanted these creatures to do his bidding, not add to his burdens.
“It’s her tail again. She can’t balance in the trees without it.”
Aaron’s eyes opened wide. “What?”
“Her tail. She needs you to repair it.”
“Repair it? Me?”
The rock slid forward almost silently, its eyes wearing a puzzled expression. “Of course you.”
The panther nimbly made her way down the rock and jumped to the ground. She snarled and hissed at Aaron, but sidled up to him, brushing against the boy’s hip.
Aaron stepped back nervously, one foot in the tube. He could still run for it. Disappear forever. But what if . . . what if he really could get this jungle filled with dangerous creatures to obey him? He wouldn’t need any Quillitary vehicles to take over Artimé—he’d simply turn Mr. Today’s misfits against the Unwanteds, and they’d tear them to bits!
It was a brilliant plan, if only Aaron had a clue how to fix the panther’s tail. Aaron looked at the panther’s stubby tail and started to panic. How in Quill was he supposed to fix that?
“Where’s the missing part?” he asked.
The panther shrugged and looked off into the jungle, disinterested.
Sweat broke out on Aaron’s forehead as he looked around. “How . . . ?” He faltered, knowing that this moment could solidify his control over these creatures. His eyes darted this way and that.
He stared at the panther, trying to figure out what it was made of.
But it was all too impossible. Aaron had no idea where to start or what to do. The questions made his head hurt. He couldn’t continue this farce any longer. It was over.
The Sky Vessel
Alex made his way into the Museum of Large, as he liked to do most evenings, leaving the door open in case Simber needed him. But now that things were under control in Artimé once more, it was time to push on to the next task—rescuing Sky and Crow’s mother. It seemed impossible, and it was going to be very dangerous, too.
“Not exactly sure how we’re going to do this rescue thing,” Alex murmured as he worked on his favorite task of late: turning Mr. Today’s whale skeleton into a beautiful sculpture. This was where Alex did his best thinking, when his hands were busy creating something new. Alex had finally gotten all the bones in their places after Ol’ Tater had scattered them far and wide, only to find there was one long, spearlike bone that didn’t seem to belong anywhere at all. Alex debated for a while what to do with it, and then decided to stick it on the whale’s forehead, because really—who wouldn’t want a big bone spear jutting out of their forehead? It looked extremely cool, too. Alex sharpened the point and studded it with sparkling stones that he’d found on the beach. They shone like diamonds.
Alex mixed up a container of thick, shiny blue liquid, preparing to spread it over the whale’s “skin.” The skin he’d made by weaving dried, knotted seaweed in a loom, and he’d used the preserve spell on it, which made the whale virtually indestructible. It had taken the last of Alex’s preserve components to cover the enormous mammal, and Alex made a note to make some more.
After a few swipes with the blue paint, Alex stepped back to analyze the color. He’d wanted to try covering the whale in a mosaic, like Jim the winged tortoise’s shell, but he would have to save that for another time—it was just too ambitious a project. But the brilliant blue paint looked very good next to the silvery diamondlike stones on the spear. He began painting in broad strokes.
“You need a name, I think,” Alex said after a while, finishing up the first coat. “Are you a boy or a girl?” He scratched his head. “Spike. No matter what.” He thought about it for a bit and nodded to himself. “Yes, I think that’s very fitting. Spike.”
When Alex heard a noise, he looked up, seeing Simber and Ms. Octavia coming into the museum.
“Interrresting,” Simber remarked, nodding at the new horn adorning the whale’s head. “She didn’t have that beforrre.”
Alex grinned and shrugged. “There was an extra bone. I couldn’t figure out where it went, so I gave her an accessory.” He tilted his head. “She? It’s a girl, then?”
Simber rolled his eyes. “Clearrrly,” he said, but he didn’t elaborate.
“Well, her name is Spike,” Alex said. “Spike . . . Furious.” He grinned, pleased with the way the name came to him so easily.
Ms. Octavia snorted. “Don’t get carried away. But I admit, it has a ring to it. And with the faux-diamond treatment to the horn, she needs a name just as grand to go with it. Spike Furious sounds very commanding.” She turned a more critical, art instructor eye to the project. “You’ve done a beautiful job painting her.”
“Yes,” Alex said, beginning the second coat. “Want to help finish?” He tossed a handful of paintbrushes to Ms. Octavia, who seemed pleased to be asked.