Island of Dragons (Unwanteds #7)(43)

“Yes,” said Alex. “Good point. Nix that.” After a while he started scribbling again, and Aaron, feeling restless and unsettled, began to pace. Charlie sat down on the deck, but it wasn’t long before he took on a slightly green tinge and held his stomach. When it seemed clear that Alex was done with him for the time being, he went back into the cabin to lie down.

Throughout the afternoon and evening the brothers strategized and mulled over ideas, sometimes bringing in Simber or Lani or Sky or Claire through Matilda and Charlie’s telepathic connection. Alex knew that Artimé could put up a good fight. But the pirates were a different sort of enemy—they were trained fighters. It’s what they did. Could Artimé withstand it? Especially now, with their ranks thinned from all the previous battles?

And what if Alex were captured and killed in the midst of battle? Artimé would disappear, and with it went the magic. It would put Artimé in terrible trouble. Even with Claire or Lani prepared to take over for him as mage, it would take time to bring the world back in order for the fighters’ magic to be restored. First they’d have to get to the shack, grab a robe, stand on the back step without getting attacked . . . It was no easy spell, and it took a ton of concentration. Being without magic would leave all of Artimé helpless to defend themselves for however long it took to restore it. Possibly enough time to get them all killed.

It was during one lull in the strategic planning that the most incredibly ridiculous, yet totally brilliant idea came into Alex’s head. And it wouldn’t leave. He tried pushing it aside, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He looked long and hard at Aaron, seeming to almost stare right through him as thoughts rushed around inside his head. He cringed. It made sense.

“Why in Quill are you staring and making faces at me like that?” asked Aaron. “It’s unsettling.”

Alex blinked. “What?”

“You’re staring at me like you want to . . . I don’t know . . . kill me or something.” He nearly laughed at the irony, but Alex seemed stressed, and he didn’t want to make light of such a serious situation.

“Sorry,” said Alex. “It’s just that . . .” He trailed off, thinking some more. “It’s just that I have this idea. And . . .” His brows furrowed. “And I think you . . . can help me.”

“Sure,” said Aaron. “What is it? I’ll do whatever I can.”

Alex gave him another hard look. “Can I trust you? Completely, I mean. Fully, one hundred percent, no fears, no worries—”

Aaron sighed impatiently. “If you don’t already, then I doubt you ever will,” he said. “I can say yes all day but I can’t change your mind.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” muttered Alex. “And I do. I just . . . this is going to sound strange. And likely insane.”

Aaron watched Alex with growing interest. “Well? Go ahead and say it.”

Alex studied Aaron’s face a moment longer, and then he said, “I want you to be the head mage of Artimé.”





A Secret Arrangement


Aaron stared at Alex. He sat up, opened his mouth, closed it again, and stared some more. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked presently.

“Seems so,” muttered Alex. He paced to the bow of the boat and stood there for a moment, staring toward Artimé. A moment later he returned to Aaron’s side. “No, I haven’t. It’s an excellent plan. Temporarily, I mean, of course, unless I die that is, and then it would clearly be for longer, I suppose. Hmm. Plus—and this is beside the fact—I think you’d be great at it.”

“Perhaps you’d like to explain.”

Alex nodded. “It’s easy, really. You’re immortal. If you’re the mage of Artimé and you can’t die, then Artimé will never disappear again like it did when you—” He stopped abruptly. “When you killed Mr. Today.” He grimaced, and for an instant he thought he truly must have lost his mind to offer the head mage position to the person who had killed the very man who had created the magical world.

Aaron stared. He shook his head.

“Plus, to be honest, you’re a stronger mage than I am, so you’d do well in the position in case you’d need to take it on long term.”

“Wait. Stop.” Aaron put up his hand to argue, but Alex waved him down.

“No, I’m serious,” Alex said. “I’ve known it for a while—I just didn’t like it all that much. But it’s true. You’re better at magic than most of us. All of us, maybe. And you have leadership skills—just look at how you handle the people of Quill.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Aaron. But his eyes flickered, and his mind began to whir.

“No,” said Alex, “I’m being unselfish for the sake of Artimé. Picture it: If the pirates kill me, Artimé will disappear until Lani or Claire has a chance to get to the shack, stand on the step with a robe . . .” He shook his head. “That spell is quite complicated, and if we’re in the midst of battle, no one’s magic will work until the world is brought back. And I doubt the pirates are going to sit idly by, waiting for Lani or Claire to do all the rigmarole, ‘repeat times three,’ et cetera, and for the magic to start working again. Anyone doing such an obvious thing will be tackled too, in an instant. And then what? Artimé will be defenseless if the mages keep dying. And it’s not just Artimé now—it’s all of Quill, too, that will disappear, leaving the Wanteds and Necessaries with no place to hide.”