“And now, to announce the winner of this year’s Harrison Arnoz Prize, I am pleased to introduce the director of the Bureau of Newly Discovered Lands, Mr. R. Delorme Mountmorris.” Maggie smiled down on the rows of students and guests lining the festive-looking Longhouse, everyone dressed in their best and most colorful clothing, the Neos’ facelights flashing merrily. “Let’s give him a warm welcome.”
Harrison Arnoz Day had dawned bright and sunny, the new layer of snow sparkling and catching the light everywhere one looked. In the evening the temperature had dropped, though the roaring fire and candles made the inside of the Longhouse warm and inviting. Outside, a few snowflakes had started to fall.
Mr. Mountmorris bounded up to the front of the room, where they had set up a podium decorated with flowers and yellow streamers.
“Hello, hello!” he said, turning to look at the wall above him with an exaggerated expression of fear on his face. “Just checking for elephants.” The room laughed, though I noticed that Kemal and Joyce, seated across from us, maintained stony expressions. Dolly Frost had arrived the day before to cover the Arnoz Day celebrations for her newspaper, and she copied Mr. Mountmorris’s remarks into her notebook with a little smile on her face.
“I am delighted to be here for this special occasion. As you know, these are difficult times, but thanks to the work of our military and to the Explorers of the Realm, the United States and its Allied Countries are holding their own against the ruthless attacks from the Indorustan Empire.
“Now, as you all know, each year we award the Harrison Arnoz Prize to the young Explorer-in-Training who has most contributed to the well-being and security of the nation. This year, we are honored to have three winners!” The room buzzed with surprise. “Lazlo Nackley, Zander West, and Joyce Kimani, please come up to the front of the room!”
Everyone rose to their feet, cheering and clapping, as Lazlo, Joyce, and Zander made their way up to Mr. Mountmorris at the podium. He hung a medal around each of their necks and grinned broadly out at the audience.
“Mr. Nackley is receiving this medal for the excellent leadership and planning he demonstrated in leading the expedition that discovered a new source of oil in the northeastern Caribbean. The oil well that will soon be operational there will allow our country to establish dominance over the Indorustans in myriad ways. Congratulations, Lazlo. I must also congratulate you for being the recipient of the $50,000 in gold that I offered at the beginning of the Final Exam Expedition season. It is well deserved!” Lazlo stepped forward and bowed deeply, smiling around the room at the noisy applause.
“Mr. West and Miss Kimani, you are receiving the Arnoz Prize for your bravery in organizing the attack against the ruthless pirate Monty Brioux and his crew. You surely saved the lives of several of your classmates by acting as you did. You showed yourselves capable of executing a well-strategized plan of attack. Congratulations!”
The applause and cheering filled the room as the waiters brought out platters of lobsters and beef and roast chicken. When those were gone, there were bowls of bright green Ribby Fruits and plates filled with slices of Ribby Fruit cake, but my appetite was gone.
Across the table from me, Joyce and M.K. were discussing an idea Joyce had had for a portable outboard engine that could be carried in a backpack and attached to an inflatable raft.
M.K. caught my eye as I pushed my chair back and stood up. “Where are you going?”
“Library,” I told her.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate Zander?”
“I don’t see him anywhere. I’ll tell him later.”
Kemal looked up from his food. “You and M.K. should have gotten the award, too,” he said. “I know that and so does Lazlo.”
“Well, it’s not about the awards, is it?” My voice sounded bitter to my ears, so I tried to smile and added, “Thanks, Kemal. I appreciate that.” He smiled back.
As I slipped out of the Longhouse, I ran into Zander and Sukey. They smelled of the cold air, of snow and ice, and they were laughing, their cheeks pink from the cold, snowflakes settling on their eyelashes and lips.
“Aren’t you coming back in?” Sukey asked, gripping Zander’s arm. “The dance is about to start.”
“I have too much work to do,” I said.
I felt Sukey watching me as I brushed past them, but I didn’t turn around.
I settled into my usual chair on the third floor, opening up a newspaper and reading about the war. I was studying a map of Simer City printed alongside a story about the latest offensive when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs to the second floor. I didn’t look up, assuming it was Mrs. Pasquale.
“Hello, Mr. West,” Mr. Mountmorris said.
Jec Banton stood behind him, but at a nod from Mr. Mountmorris, he wandered away, leaving us alone.
“I’m pleased that you all survived your adventure, none the worse for wear.”
He sat down in the chair across from me.
I didn’t say anything, keeping my eyes focused on the newspaper.
“Kit, I’m sure you realize that this war is going to change things for all of us. Your brother will be of use to BNDL, in a variety of capacities, once he’s finished his Explorer training. As you saw, his bravery in battle has not gone unnoticed. Your sister will be pressed into service in the engineering sector. Miss Neville has already been inducted into an elite flying corps that will help to win this war.”
The library was silent except for Mr. Mountmorris’ low voice. Outside the high windows, I could see the snow falling slowly to the ground.
“What about me?”
Mr. Mountmorris smiled. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I think you are well suited for a special kind of job. From time to time, we need Explorers who can obtain information in . . . clandestine ways. With your knowledge of maps, you may be of great use to us in this war. After all, wars are mostly about lines on maps, aren’t they?”
“You want me to be a spy? In Simeria?”
“Well, we don’t call it spying. You would be a cartographer, of a sort. An information gatherer.”
He gave me an evil little smile that made me shiver.
“What do you think, Mr. West?”
I didn’t answer. I looked back down at the newspaper, at the map of Simer City. It was an oval of lines running this way and that, describing the roads of the ancient city, squares and rectangles representing buildings and parks. It could have been anywhere in the world, anywhere old cities were built before city planners decided to build roads along grids instead of following the ancient footpaths of humans and animals.
But there was something familiar about this particular arrangement of lines and squares and rectangles. I’d seen it somewhere before, only made out of shells and stones rather than ink on paper.
The map to which Dad had led me, deep under the ocean, the map we had all risked our lives to find, the map that had led to the destruction of the underwater city—I was positive now—was a map of the ancient center of Simer City.
I looked up from the newspaper and met Mountmorris’s gaze. “I’ll do it,” I said, thinking of Sukey’s face, the way she’d beamed up at Zander, the way the snowflakes had melted on her lips. “Send me to Simeria. I don’t care.” I stood up, meeting Mr. Mountmorris’s cold, green eyes.
“When do I leave?”