The great wolf nodded. Alex lowered his head, feeling fully responsible for it.

“And a favor, if I may,” Mr. Today said.

“Of course.”

“I think you should alert the jungle creatures to what’s happening. If we should come to war, I will surely offer my protection for those that wish it. But if any feel inclined to fight with us …” Mr. Today’s voice was humble. “I would be grateful for their help if it comes to that. Would you let them know?”

The wolf regarded Mr. Today thoughtfully. “It would be better, I think,” he said carefully, “for them to hear it from one of their own, rather than from me.”

Mr. Today tapped his lips. “So it would,” he murmured. “I’ll speak to Arija.” He roused himself briskly and nodded, then pulled the 3-D painting from the wall. He rolled it up swiftly and touched one end, and an iron band with a lock grew around it, holding it firmly closed. Mr. Today put it in a cupboard near the door and locked that as well. Alex knew it was for the best, but it was hard to see all those hours of work get locked up in a cupboard.

“You should probably do that immediately,” the wolf said. He glanced out the big picture window in the lounge just outside Mr. Today’s office.

Alex followed his gaze and saw it was nearly dawn. He yawned despite his best intentions, but it had been a long and sleepless night.

“Very well,” Mr. Today said. “Alex, perhaps you’d like to catch a few hours of sleep before training begins?”

Alex jumped. “Oh—yeah, of course.”

“I must go as well,” Gunnar said.

Mr. Today smiled and followed the two into the hallway. Gunnar kept walking across the lounge, past the small kitchen, and into the room where all sorts of monitors and gadgets whirred softly. He hoisted himself on his hind legs and stood in the tube in the corner.

“Take care, Gunnar,” Mr. Today said.

“You also.” Gunnar’s body shimmered and blurred before it disappeared.

Alex blinked and rubbed his eyes, not quite sure what he had just seen. “There’s a tube to the jungle?”

Mr. Today put his hand on the boy’s shoulder as they walked down the hall toward the balcony. “No,” he said. “That tube is quite different from any other. Please don’t ever use it. It goes places you wouldn’t want to go.” He turned around, pointed to the ceiling, and murmured, “Glass.” Liquid glass shimmered down and froze into place, sealing the area.

“Mr. Today,” Alex said, “why don’t you protect your office more carefully? I … I could still see the blackboards when the glass was in place. And sometimes the glass isn’t up at all, you know.”

“I know. I’m growing forgetful.” The mage sighed. “Alex, I have nothing to hide. I am the same as anyone here. I hold few secrets, and those that need protecting are personal and I keep them inside me, where no one can get to them—just like everyone does.” He chuckled softly. “I hesitated to put up the glass shield at all, but my most trusted friends overruled me. The glass isn’t there to protect my office. It’s there to protect the most creative students, like you and others, who are able to see this hallway. And to give me a little peace and quiet. My sleeping quarters are connected to my office, you know. That’s how I heard you when you went through the magical door.”

Alex’s eyes widened. He shook his head, amazed, puzzled, not at all sure what to say. And since he was sleep-deprived after the emotional, eventful night, his thoughts were completely jumbled.

They stepped out on the balcony, and Alex turned to go down the boys’ hallway to his room. “I have so many questions.”

Mr. Today smiled warmly. “I have answers. But for now,” he said, “you and I will be better off getting some sleep.”

Alex nodded and stumbled down the hall and into his room. “Hey, Clive, you ol’ curmudgeon, you,” he grumbled. “Wake me up in time for breakfast.”

Clive surfaced and glared. “You look like crud.”

“Your mom looks like crud.”

Clive’s gleaming nostrils flared. He melted back into the blackboard without another word.

The Quillitary

Aaron Stowe tossed and turned on his cot, falling into fits of battered sleep. When the gray morning light pressed into his dormitory room, he gave up rest and glanced at the wall. There was only one door there. Surely it had been a nightmare. He began his morning ritual, as always.

Since water was scarce in the desertlike land of Quill, and most of the supply was needed for the crops and cattle, each student of the university was given a pail of water every week for washing up. It felt like a bonus to most students, since households in the quadrants were given two pails of water for the entire family, no matter the size. Aaron secretly felt annoyed, because that meant that some of the child-bearers who had failed by producing two Unwanteds fared the same as he, once their children had been disposed of.

But today his mind was on other things. Methodically Aaron wet his washcloth in the tepid water, being sure to squeeze the excess out of it carefully, and wiped his face. With a finger he brushed the bit of fuzz above his lip that seemed to be growing these past few weeks as he neared his fourteenth year. He was certain that it was his facial hair coming in, and he wondered what it looked like. He wondered if it looked like Alex’s.

As he washed, he tried to clear his mind of the events of the previous night. He had convinced himself by now that Alex was indeed a dream, but he was terribly concerned about how weak his abilities were to control these dreams, which grew more intense each day. He ran the washcloth over his chest and arms, and nearly yelped when he pressed on the tender spot on his shoulder where his dream brother had hit him. “What in Quill …?” he murmured, massaging it. “Great cats! That smarts.” His dream was all too real, yet all too impossible. “It didn’t happen,” he told himself firmly.