“Of course,” Haluki said, nodding to young Governor Strang, who made a mental note of the assignment.

At the high priest’s call, the palace cook rushed into the dining room and bowed deeply. His body trembled, though his face was dull and lifeless.

Justine glared at the cook. “Clean up the kitchen. When you are finished, find me a replacement cook—one who actually knows something about cooking—to serve in your stead.”

The cook’s eyes grew wide. “But the meat—,” he began.

“Silence!” Justine hissed. “By dusk I want you to make your way to the Ancients Home. You have outlived your usefulness. How you made it past me when you were thirteen, I know not. You should have been an Unwanted.”

“Yes, High Priest Justine,” whispered the cook. His face was now struck with the realization that he would die that night. He knew better than to ask if he could stop at his house in Quadrant Three to say good-bye to his wife.

Justine dismissed the cook with a wave, and he disappeared. “Haluki,” Justine continued, “you are right. I’ve been far too lenient, letting some slip by as Necessaries when they should have been eliminated. From now on, one reported infraction is one too many. There should be no room for mistakes in Quill!”

Loud cheers echoed all the way down the table to General Blair, who shouted, “Quill prevails when the strong survive!” Five governors echoed the sentiment. Senior Governor Haluki, gnawing wildly at his steak bone, eyed the elderly high priest. “Hear, hear,” he said.

Artimé

It took a good deal of the afternoon for the children to thaw. Alex had a small headache, but it seemed to go away once a group of teenagers, who were slightly older-looking than the group of Unwanteds, delivered to them a delicious picnic supper on the lawn by the shore. As the children ate, the teenagers formed two rows facing them. A rousing but pleasant noise burst from the nearby bushes, and the group stated words of welcome in a most peculiar way. The tops of nearby trees seemed to swish in the breeze like pom-poms. The Unwanteds had no idea what it all was, as they had never seen nor heard anything like it ever before.

Alex could guess, though, since he had witnessed Meghan’s very serious infraction, that what the teenagers were doing was called singing. And though the noise was very fast and loud, it was exciting, and it sounded good to his ears. He looked at Meghan, concerned, knowing how wrong this sort of thing was. But Meghan was enraptured by the performers and didn’t notice.

When the song ended, the choir bowed politely while Mr. Today applauded loudly. “Clap for them!” he said to the new Unwanteds. “Like this—hands together! Applause! It tells them that you liked it,” he explained as the choir dissipated. “You did like it, didn’t you? Meghan, I’ll bet you did.”

Meghan’s eyes grew wide. She glanced in each direction uneasily, perhaps out of habit, and cleared her throat. “Yes, very much, sir.” And then, when Mr. Today chuckled merrily, she added, “Thank you,” and tried to smile.

He nodded encouragingly to her, and to all the children, and then his face grew sober. “You may express your feelings and say what you are thinking here in Artimé,” he said in a soft voice. “It will be hard, at first. But you are safe to speak your mind. All of you.” His eyes grew misty for a moment, and then he clasped his hands in his lap. “There are some things we should talk about,” he said.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, and all eyes focused on Mr. Today, who continued. “You already know that your parents and the government of Quill believe you to be eliminated by now. You know they are not mourning for you. They’re doing what they do every day, which is to work to build Quill into a place of extreme power and super intelligence. You, dear children, are what they call creative. Imaginative. The government, and especially High Priest Justine, wants to eliminate creative thinkers like you—they see creativity as a weakness. After all, it could lead to something horrible … like magic.” He afforded a small smile, picked a flower, and handed it to Meghan. She hesitated and then took it, and in her hand it turned into a small silver music box.

Meghan jumped and sucked in a startled breath.

“Music,” Mr. Today said. “When you wind the little key, the music box will play a song. Sometimes you’ll hear a song with voices saying something, like we just witnessed here a moment ago.”

Meghan nodded. “Singing,” she said. She turned the key tentatively, and a few wondrous notes sprang from the box. She startled, and then her shock melted into a grin.

“Indeed,” Mr. Today replied, peering at the others to see if they understood. “Singing and dancing. Painting, sculpting, telling wild tales,” he said, glancing at Lani, who blushed. “Theater, playing instruments, writing stories and poems,” he continued, glancing at various others at each word. “That is what you are now free to do.” He noticed their puzzled looks. “Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself.”

He paused and tapped a finger on his lips as if he were thinking carefully. “I have two very serious requests. Because of your creative minds, you have been eliminated, or so think the people of Quill. My first request is this: Please consider the ramifications if you ever decide you want to go back to Quill.”

The group of children blinked, hanging on to every word.

“If you ever go back, if you ever contact anyone there in any way, your parents or your siblings,” he said, glancing at Alex, “the governors, or anyone, you risk exposing us all. You take the lives of everyone here in Artimé into your own hands. If discovered, this place, and everyone in it, will be destroyed.