But at least he would eat.

It took him quite some time to get there. And he had forgotten about the wooden fence around the crops. But then he saw a soldier standing by the gate that led into the farm. Aaron mustered up as much authority as he could. “The high priest told me to pick my own corn if I wanted corn,” Aaron said, repeating the complaint he’d heard days ago on the street outside the university. “So I’m here to pick my own food.”

The Quillitary soldier eyed Aaron suspiciously for a moment, and then he stepped aside. “Limit is four items. Total, not each.”

“All right.” Aaron stepped into the garden and the smell of fresh fruits and vegetables was the most amazing thing he’d smelled in months. It nearly covered up the rotten stench from alongside the road. He inhaled, and then, trying not to seem too desperate, he quickly scanned the rows of the farm, digging through his memory for the layout he’d designed, wondering where the coconut trees and watermelon plants ended up.

Finally he found them on opposite ends of the farm. He gathered up one of each and sat down under the coconut tree’a rare shady spot in Quill’but couldn’t get the coconut to crack open, so he pounded his fist into the watermelon, finally breaking it, feeling like he also broke his hand in the process. But it didn’t matter. He dug into the pink flesh and slurped it, seeds and all. It wasn’t as refreshing as water, but it would have to do.

When finished, he wiped his sticky hands in the grass and his chin on his shirt, and tossed the watermelon rinds into a giant raspberry bush. Then he took two more watermelons and two ears of corn, leaving the useless coconut behind.

He made sure he had no signs of watermelon juice on his shirt, and then headed out past the guard, obediently showing the food. The soldier patted down Aaron’s book bag and let him pass without a word.

When Aaron got to the street, he breathed a sigh of relief. As he wandered past the Quillitary housing sector, his arms aching from the weight of the watermelons, he stopped to rest and gaze at the governors’ homes. They were the six best houses in Quill, not counting the high priest’s palace. Aaron burned with anger when he thought about how his hopes to live in one of these one day had been so violently dashed.

He wondered if Governor Strang might be persuaded to be on Aaron’s side’Strang had liked Aaron before everything fell apart. But Aaron hadn’t seen him in a while. Perhaps he was home today. . . . But then Aaron looked at himself. Dirty. Smelly. Wandering aimlessly. He was sure the governors all knew about him being kicked out of the university. They were probably behind it, along with Haluki.

Aaron turned his gaze to Haluki’s house as a drop of sweat made a shiny line from his temple to his jaw. Two buckets of water sat on the step by the door, having been delivered recently, no doubt. Tempting him. He swallowed reflexively, but the sticky sweetness of the watermelon had left his mouth drier than before. It was not worth trying to steal from a governor, much less the high priest, no matter how crazy with thirst he was. He’d be put in jail for years for that. Aaron narrowed his eyes, hating everything about that house and its occupants.

And then his eyes widened, and his hatred for the house trickled away. “Wait a second,” he said softly. If Mrs. Haluki and the two children are in Artimé, and High Priest Haluki is in the palace . . . who is living in the Halukis’ house?

“Great land of Quill,” Aaron whispered. “That’s it!”

Home Sweet Home

It was agony for Aaron, waiting for dark, but he knew that would be the only way to properly sneak into the Haluki home. He wasn’t about to blow it now. When it was quiet in the neighborhood, and all was clear, he went to the rear door to try a little trick he’d learned from Quillitary soldiers back when they liked him. The Quill doors tended to be a bit loose in their jambs during the driest months, and nearly every home had some sort of rot or termite infestation, so things were not as secure as they seemed.

Aaron lifted up on the door handle, moving the whole door an inch or so, and then wrenched it to the side. He heard the rusted-out bottom hinge break free from the soft wood and clatter to the floor inside the house. One more wrench for the top hinge, and the door opened. Aaron grabbed his watermelons and went inside, setting them on the table. Then he maneuvered the door closed again and leaned against it, breathing hard. He had never been so light-headed in all his life.

He went to the front door, unlocked and opened it, and peered outside to make sure no one was about. When he was certain he wasn’t being watched, he brought the precious water inside. In the kitchen he took a cup and, with a shaky hand, dipped it in and drank heartily. He dipped the cup in a second time, knowing he should try to preserve the water, but not caring at this particular moment. Two large buckets of water all to himself for an entire week’it was the best possible reward for all the punishment he’d taken recently.

When he had cleaned himself up, he made his way to a bedroom and collapsed on a mattress not unlike the kind he’d had at university, and fell asleep.

» » « «

In the morning, when the sunlight streamed in through the dusty windows and the heat of the day was not yet upon the land of Quill, Aaron rose. He took stock of the Halukis’ provisions, which were shockingly plentiful. They had an entire shelf of cooking and baking materials, a shelf containing large sacks of rice, beans, and peanuts, and a shelf of dried herbs and oils. Aaron stared at the abundance. Growing up in a Necessary house and then going straight to the university where his meals were served in a cafeteria, he’d had none of these extras just lying around.