"Osa is dead," he said solemnly.

Kalaloo looked genuinely hurt. "She had a daughter," he said.

"Her name is Loor," I said. "And she's everything her mother wanted her to be."

"I am saddened to hear of Osa's pa.s.sing," said Kalaloo. "She will be missed."

There was a silent moment of respect for Osa, then Kalaloo said, "We should go. They're waiting for you at The Council Circle."

"Who is?" asked Uncle Press.

"The Council of Faar," he answered. "They are anxious to hear from you."

The three of us exchanged looks. They were waiting foruslThis was all very strange, but there was no reason not to play along, so we followed Kalaloo toward the light.

As we walked I noticed that the ground was now completely dry. When we rounded the corner of the tunnel we stepped into an area that looked like a locker room - Faar-style. There were several people there, all pulling off their green fish skins. They must have been the swimmers we saw outside. They all had the same look as Kalaloo: light skin, bald, no eyebrows, and bluish eyes. It was kinda freaky, but I was already getting used to them. What should I call them? I wondered. Faarites? Faarmers? Faarbarians? I soon learned to refer to the people there as "Faarians."

They hung their swim skins on hooks and then put on these soft, white tunics that had a little bit of an ancient Roman feel. These gowns pulled down over their heads and went to above their knees. They tied them tightly at the waist with pieces of cloth that varied in color from rich green to deep red. n.o.body wore shoes, not even sandals.

As Kalaloo led us past them, many of the people smiled and welcomed us.

I said "hi" back as many times as I could. I wanted to show them that I was cool too. It got to the point where I was walking backward to keep eye contact with them. I kept walking backward until I walked right into Uncle Press.

"Oops, sorry, didn't mean to - " I turned around and froze. The words caught in my throat. That's because I had just gotten my first glimpse of the Lost City of Faar. Or maybe I should call it the Found City of Faar. Maybe I'll just call it Faar. Or maybe I'll just call ita phenomenal.

Where should I start? Yet again, I was about to enter an entirely new and amazing place. I had to keep telling myself that according to legend it once existed on the surface. If that were true, then this city would be plenty cool. But when you factor in that we were sitting hundreds of feet below the ocean - well, then it became unbelievable.

As strange as this may sound, I was looking out at a rocky mountain. I know, that's impossible, but that's what it was. The city was built into and around the craggy ledges of a small mountain. The mouth of the tunnel was closer to the top than the bottom so we were actually looking down at most of Faar.

The city had an ancient feel to it. There were no modern buildings, no cars, and no sign of technology anywhere. But there were plenty of birds. Can you believe it? Birds were flying in this underwater cavern!

The buildings had an ancient Greek look with marble staircases that led up to the columned entryways of domed structures. They were perched all over this craggy mountain and ranged in size from huge, impressive monuments like you'd see in Washington, D.C., to small simple stone houses made of whitewashed stucco. I saw many Faarians strolling along gentle pathways that snaked in and around and up and down and everywhere in between. There were beautiful, hanging vines draped over most of the city and several waterfalls cascaded from springs hidden deep in the mountain.

Far below, at the base of the mountain, I saw lush, green fields. There were some larger buildings down there that didn't seem as elaborate as the ones that dotted the mountain. I made a mental note to ask what they were later.

Remember, we were underwater. A major detail that I've left out is that the whole place was protected by a glittering dome. There was no sky, only a vast dome that allowed filtered light to make this city as bright as day. I now understood what the upside-down smile on Spader's father's map was. It represented the dome that protected Faar.

Kalaloo let us stand there for a while to soak in this wondrous sight. He must have known how amazed we were. Finally he asked Spader, "Is it what you imagined?"

"Hobey," Spader said in awe. "It's like someone reached into my mind and pulled out everything I ever thought about Faar and made this."

"I have to admit," said Uncle Press, "I'm not familiar with the legend."

"Let's walk," said Kalaloo.

He led us along a gently winding path made of soft sand. That was good, since none of us wore shoes.

"I think the myths have grown larger with time," he began. "But I can give you the simple story. In the beginning Faar was the only dry land on Cloral. The myths say that it sank after a cataclysmic event, but that isn't exactly what happened. The simple truth was that the waters of Cloral rose. Luckily it took a very long time to happen. The Council of Faar knew the water was coming and had time to prepare. A giant dome was erected over the center of the city. What you see here was only a small part of Faar. It wasn't possible to save it all. The waters began to rise even as the dome was being constructed. It was a race. By the time Faar was completely sealed and safe, the water was nearly to the top."

I thought back to our swim to get here and realized that while we were skimming across the shallow reef, the city of Faar was down below us, hidden by a skin that looked like coral.

"Why does the dome look like coral from up above?" I asked.

"Because it is," Kalaloo answered. "At first the dome was crystal clear, but over time the coral grew and enveloped it. For the longest time it was kept clear, but eventually the Council of Faar thought it best to allow the coral to hide us. However, we keep the covering thin so that light can find its way through."

We continued to walk through this amazing city. People strolled by us and always gave a friendly wave. They were all pretty mellow. I heard soft music coming from one of the buildings we pa.s.sed. It sounded like that New Age stuff you hear in the dentist's office that's supposed to calm you down before they drill into your head. Not exactly my taste.

"Why did you decide to hide?" asked Uncle Press.

"Faar was the beginning of life on Cloral. It grew into an advanced civilization that used water for power and created building materials from the silt under the seabed. But people eventually grew restless. Long before the water rose, adventurers built ships and left to explore the rest of our world. They went in search of other dry land, but there was none to be found. Those people lived with many hardships as they struggled to survive on the ocean. Generations pa.s.sed and because Faar was the only civilized place on all of Cloral, it became a target. The sons of Faar who left in search of adventure now returned as enemies in a desperate search of food. Faar was in danger of being destroyed. So when it was discovered that Faar was going to be swallowed by the sea, it was considered a miracle that gave us our only hope of salvation."

"So when the city sank, you stayed hidden underwater to protect the city from the descendents of people who were born here?" I asked.

"Exactly. The people in the ships above had to create an entirely new world from nothing. Many died to pave the way for the mighty habitats you see today. The fact that they've come as far as they have is due to their undying spirit to survive, and because of the people of Faar."

"What do you mean?" asked Spader.

"From the time the Council of Faar decided that we would remain hidden, it was declared that we would do all we could, secretly, to help those who remained living on the surface of the water. How could we not? They were our brothers. It became the princ.i.p.al goal of all Faarians. The Clorans, which we call the people above, needed all the help they could get to help them. We would secretly tend their underwater farms. We led them to mines which held material for building. We even saved many from drowning as they struggled to build the habitats."

"Just for the record," I interrupted, "you keep sayingwelike you were there. You're not like, ancient, are you?"

Kalaloo laughed and said, "No, not at all. Most of what I am telling you was pa.s.sed down to me by my ancestors. There are at least two hundred generations separating me from the Faarians who built the dome."

"Okay, cool, just wondering."

"Make no mistake," Kalaloo continued. "If not for the people of Faar, the Clorans would not have survived to become the great society they are today. We are all very proud of this, and still do all we can to help our brothers above."

Uncle Press asked, "What do you know of the trouble that's facing them right now?"

"This brings us to the meeting we must attend at the Council Circle," said Kalaloo. He suddenly became serious.

"We first heard of the problem from Spader's father. It is a very rare occasion that a Cloran stumbles upon Faar, but your father was not a typical Cloran. It was like he had a much greater sense ofa purpose."

I knew exactly what Kalaloo meant. Spader's father was a Traveler. He totally had a greater sense of purpose.

"And I sense that you three are much the same," he added.

Right again, fish-man.

"What did he tell you?" asked Uncle Press.

"He said he feared a great plague would soon come to Cloral that would endanger every living person."

I shot a look to Uncle Press and Spader. It seemed as though Spader's dad saw Saint Dane's plan coming. The horrible thing was that he became a victim before he could stop it.

"Did he know exactly what was going to happen?" Uncle Press asked.

"He was afraid that something might damage the crops," answered Kalaloo. "From what we have seen, he was right. We are receiving word from all over Cloral that underwater farms are now producing poisonous crops."

"It's the fertilizer," I said. "It makes plants grow faster, but they become poisonous."

"Why did my father come to you?" asked Spader. "Was he trying to warn you?"

"Yes," Kalaloo answered quickly. "But he also came looking for help. Our knowledge of the life cycle is far greater than the Clorans'. He wanted to know if we could do anything to help prevent such a disaster."

Kalaloo fell silent. The big question hung in the air. Was Spader's father right? Could the answer to battling the deadly chain reaction be found right here in Faar?

"Well?" Uncle Press finally asked. "Can you help?"

"Absolutely," answered Kalaloo with a smile.

He pointed down to the bottom of the mountain of Faar and to the large buildings I described before.

"Those buildings contain the life of Cloral," he explained. "For hundreds of generations we have studied every variety of plant that exists here. To put it simply, we know how Cloral works."

"So, what about the poisonous plants?" I asked.

"We have already a.n.a.lyzed samples of the mutated plants. We found that their cell structure was changed and their chemistry corrupted. This new fertilizer created a very complex problem, but we have the means to undo it. Even now we are preparing to send hundreds of Faarians out to the underwater farms of Cloral with a simple chemical compound that will reverse the damage. It is a large task, but we have the means. But the Clorans must stop using the fertilizer."

"That's already happening," said Uncle Press. "They know the damage they've done and they're going to stop."

Kalaloo broke out in a big smile.

"Then you are giving me wonderful news!" he said happily. "Once the Faarians reverse the damage, the crops will be safe again!"

Kalaloo was thrilled that everything was well on the way to being put right.

But we knew differently.

Uncle Press looked worried. So did Spader. An absolute feeling of certainty came over me that made me shiver. I knew what the final act of this conflict was going to be.

These brilliant, ancient people held the key to saving all of Cloral. There was no doubt about what that meant. Saint Dane was going to attack Faar to prevent them from saving the territory.

The people of Faar had been protected for centuries by the waters of Cloral, but they couldn't hide any longer.

Saint Dane knew where they were, and he was coming.

I had no idea if these brave people were capable of defending themselves, but we were going to find out. I'm going to end this journal here, guys, because, whatever is going to happen, I'm sure will happen soon. This journal was written and sent to you from Faar, an amazing city of guardian angels that is hidden hundreds of feet below the waters of Cloral.

Unfortunately, it won't be safe much longer.

END OF JOURNAL #7.

Mark finished reading the journalbefore Courtney and sat down on the floor with his back leaning against his desk. Of course he feared for Bobby and Press and Spader and for the battle that was soon to erupt on Cloral. Actually, he wondered if the battle had already taken place. Was Bobby on Cloral in the past? Or was it the distant future? Or was everything happening at the same time as events here on Second Earth? The whole relative timeline thing was one of the many great mysteries of Bobby's adventures as a Traveler.

It was also tough to read about Bobby's troubles without being able to do anything about them. Not that he had any ideas. And even if he did he wasn't allowed to interfere. Not after what happened on Denduron. His entire job here was to be a librarian for Bobby's journals.

Which was the other thing that was upsetting him. As a keeper of the journals, he was doing a lousy job. He kept glancing at his watch, hoping that Courtney would hurry up and finish and get out of there before Andy Mitch.e.l.l called back to ask about reading them.

Finally Courtney finished the journal and looked up at Mark.

"Those people can't defend themselves," she said somberly. "From what Bobby described, they're totally peaceful."

Mark stood up and gathered the stray pages together. "Yeah, well, we'll see."

"Aren't you worried?" Courtney asked.

"Of course I'm worried, but what can we do?"

Courtney dropped her head. Mark was right. There was nothing they could possibly do to help.

"It's getting late," he added. "I got stuff to do."

He wanted her out of there because the phone was going to ring any second. She took the hint.

"Right," said Courtney. "The algebra guy."

"Huh?" Mark didn't know what she was talking about. But a second later he remembered his lie and tried to cover.

"Right," he said quickly. "Algebra. Gotta help m-my friend."

There it was again. The stutter. Mark tried not to wince.

"You okay?" she asked curiously. "You're acting all nervous."

"I-I'm just afraid for Bobby.

Mark hated to lie to Courtney, but he didn't know what else to do. Besides, it wasn't a total lie. Hewasafraid for Bobby.

Then the phone rang. Mark shot a look to it as if he wanted it to explode. Courtney caught this look, but didn't react.

"I'm out of here," she said, getting up to leave. "You'll call me when - "

"Soon as the next journal shows up."

Ring.The phone sounded like thunder to Mark.

"See ya," said Courtney, and left Mark alone in his room.

Mark answered the phone before the horrible bell could stab at him anymore. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Well?" came the dreaded voice from the other end of the line.

"Hang on," Mark said. He glanced out of his window to make sure Courtney was gone. Moments later he saw her walking down the sidewalk, away from the house. His gut rumbled. He felt like a traitor.

"Let's meet on the Ave," Mark then said into the phone. "That pocket park below Garden Poultry."

"Fifteen minutes," snorted Mitch.e.l.l.