“Yeah?” the guard said.

Sometimes Diamond heard the voice on the other end, but not today.

Bits offered a hard curse.

Seldom’s ideas were finished, or maybe he had merely stopped talking. Either way, everybody else had turned in their desk, watching the man who was sitting erect against the back wall.

The handset had to be returned to its cradle, and Bits looked at everyone, the usual smile missing.

Tar`ro had the highest rank. He leaned forward, asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Karlan,” said Bits.

Seldom spun and sat straighter. “What did my brother do?”

“Just slugged two teachers.” The guard sucked air between his teeth. “And he’s battling a couple others right now. He’s too damned big to bring down.”

Tar`ro cursed.

But it was Sophia who stood up. “I’ll go help, I guess.”

“Not you,” said Tar`ro. “Where is the bastard?”

Bits named a classroom four stories below.

Tar`ro got up, and talking to himself, he said, “No.” One possibility had been thrown aside without being discussed. Then to Sophia and Bits, he said, “Stay here. Both of you stay. I won’t be long.”

He left.

Whenever Karlan’s name was mentioned, Sophia’s eyes grew big. But her fear triggered a sense of duty, the need to help take care of this problem.

Bits watched his colleague standing at the front of the room.

She looked down at her little desk.

“Go,” said Bits.

She thought about sitting, and she thought about following.

“I can handle this crew myself,” Bits said.

The police blimp was huge but not close. The morning breezes always pushed it as far out into the air as possible. Only one young officer was watching the classroom, plainly untroubled by whatever he was hearing and seeing. Meanwhile the Master and every student had fallen silent, each watching the tiny drama play out. Nobody was moving, except for Seldom, who squirmed in pain while he imagined what his fierce brother must be doing and what it would mean to his family.

“No, I’ll go,” Bits said. “That kid’s a terror. You stay here.”

Diamond focused on Elata’s book, the printed page begging to be read.

Then Sophia muttered, “No, I’m going,” and the woman’s feet slipped across the smooth planks of the floor, carrying her out of the room.

Normalcy tried to return.

Diamond looked at the police blimp and then turned his eyes forwards. The Master smiled at no one in particular, and then glancing at Diamond, he said, “Remind us. What were we just talking about?”

The boy repeated phrases and sentences, pointing at each speaker in turn.

The monkey was dreaming, one cheek pressed against the dished-out screen.

Two recitations and part of a third had passed since Sophia left, and that’s when what might have been nothing was felt. Everyone in the room noticed what wasn’t very large. There was no movement but there was the possibility of movement, subtle and then gone in the next moment. And then suddenly, instantly, the outdoor air was jammed with desperate birds, and insects boiled out of every crack and wormhole on the tree, and Good screamed as he woke, giving the room one wild glare before jumping on his boy, biting Diamond hard on his little nose.

TWO

One forest filled the top of the world, while a smaller, simpler forest thrived inside the relentless mind, and stretched tight between those two realms—the real and the imagined—was a creature named Quest.

Quest was flesh, liquid, and ever changing. She was invention and potential and the utter absence of play. She was emotion, joy, and wild wonder buoying the flesh upwards while metal-clad fears constantly threatened to drag her off her perch. But this morning hadn’t been especially fearful. She rode the light winds and drank the rain before eating a city of beggar bees, and then swollen by the bodies and their honey, she pulled herself into the shape and feel of a mature sap-thief.

Her roost was high in the wilderness, on the fringes of the Corona District. She came here as often as she went anywhere. A human boy lived in the District, except the boy wasn’t human, and she saw him by chance once but the next eleven events were done by design.

The boy remained a mystery to her, and a marvel, and like any object of fascination, he was a hazard best left alone.

But there was another way to seek him out: sap-thieves were enormous and she let herself grow, and when her liquid flesh was large enough and mature enough, she sprouted hidden eyes and deep nostrils and too many ears to count. Those eyes absorbed great swaths of the world, and she could test the winds for any hint of scent, and even better were the forests of flowery ears tied into a mind that could pull the important whisper out from the roaring music of the world.

This was what Quest was doing today.

Today the boy was too distant to be seen or heard, and his distinctive farts would die before drifting this far. But tree-walkers were the loudest, most careless monkeys. Thousands of people had seen him with their own little eyes, or they knew people who claimed to know him. Diamond was rumor and story, the outlines of his life as clear as Quest’s own. She had learned quite a lot about his parents and two best friends, his various champions and the humans that he should fear. Just by listening, Quest could measure the relentless, ever-shifting flow of opinion. To some the boy was a wonder. Others considered him a monster, though many of his enemies considered him to be a marvelous monster. There was a second, far more frightening creature living in the District of Districts. Tales about King made Diamond appear small and weak. The local Archon liked to travel throughout her home, singing about this gift, this baby destined to be found by the best people, and within the hoots and proud postures of every citizen were a few simple rules:

Humans were supreme in the Creation.

Tree-walkers were superior to the papio, and the Corona District was blessed by the honor of having Diamond while the other Districts surely were jealous.

Of course the fierce papio had to be watched every moment and without trust. Every average citizen in the forest knew that their close cousins were envious and crafty, and being dangerous brutes, they would do whatever was necessary to serve their interests.

That toxic noise was always in the air.

Quest was thankful for being invisible. Alone, she could move where she wished, relying on nothing but her unparalleled talents, and regardless what rumors swirled around her existence, she felt safe enough and powerful enough to withstand assaults from either one of these half-smart monkeys.

In that fashion, Quest was utterly different from her two famous siblings.

Yet on that particular morning, when the air was damp but clear—when an angry man’s voice might carry a long ways—she heard nothing worrisome.

The tree-walkers seemed unusually happy.

From her hiding perch, Quest sewed together the chattering and the jokes, people fighting about tiny matters and celebrating tiny victories. Meanwhile a troop of magic sloths was climbing unaware down the branch of an old dobdob tree, and she couldn’t ignore them. She was very close to shucking off pieces of her great new body, pulling what lived into a fresh invisible form and racing after this easy meal.

But that’s when a single voice found her.

She felt the voice as much as she heard it. Washed within the ordinary mayhem was a shrill and distant scream, male and very loud. “Now now now,” the man yelled. “We have to get out of here now!”

The screamer didn’t offer any reasons, and the forest took no notice of his warning. Birds and monkeys, always ready for any excuse to panic, remained at peace, and Quest thought that this was a little peculiar, and that’s why she remained where she was. She was curious, hundreds of ears turning slowly toward the mouth that had caught her attentions.