Max's voice was steady and measured.

"Nigel, you are not leaving me in the care of a pig. pig."

Nigel smiled. "I'm not not leaving you in her care; I'm leaving you in her company. You should consider yourself lucky-Lucy's the best company there is!" leaving you in her care; I'm leaving you in her company. You should consider yourself lucky-Lucy's the best company there is!"

Lucy wriggled to gaze lovingly up at Nigel, releasing a wheezing burst of gas in the process.

"But...!"

Nigel ignored Max and gently lowered Lucy to the floor. She trotted toward the kitchen, snorting happily.

"She's a snap, really-just let her have a bite, or three, of whatever you're eating. When your dad gets home, slip her out the back door and she'll find me."

Defeated, Max looked at the floor and nodded. Something fell in the kitchen. He turned to see Lucy perched precariously on a chair, nosing through the leftover batter.

"Well," said Nigel with a glance at his watch. "I am now running quite late and really must be on my way. I know it's all been a whirl, but don't let it get the best of you. Things will sort themselves out sooner than you think! It's been my pleasure."

Nigel smiled and extended his hand.

"Will I see you again?" Max asked.

"I'd like to think so-I certainly hope to see you at your orientation!" He smiled and patted Max firmly on the shoulder. "I hope you'll join the new cla.s.s, Max. I think Rowan's just the place for you."

A moment later, Nigel had gone. Max watched him walk briskly down the sidewalk, briefcase in hand, before he turned off Max's street. Feeling very alone, Max locked the door and gathered up the plates and gla.s.ses. On his way to the kitchen, he pa.s.sed Lucy, who trotted past him into the den. Stepping over the rather large mess she'd made, Max sighed and piled the dishes in the sink. He left Lucy in the den, where she seemed content to snort and roll.

Max was vaguely aware that the Chicago Cubs were losing to the San Francisco Giants when he heard the front door open. Bolting upright in his father's chair, he switched off the radio and skidded to the back door clutching Lucy, who had been curled up on his lap. The piglet shook herself awake with a series of startled grunts.

Setting her down outside, Max scratched her ears and whispered, "Thanks for staying with me, Lucy. Sorry I doubted you. Can you find Nigel?"

Lucy nuzzled his leg and, with a jaunty turn, trotted out into the yard, disappearing behind the fort. Locking the door, Max padded barefoot to the front hall, where his father had just let his bag thump to the floor.

"Hey, Max. How were the Raleighs?"

"Er, fine," Max said, avoiding his father's eyes. "I'm glad you're home, though."

"Yeah, well, so am I. Had a chance to cool off a bit in KC, and I think we'll ground you for one week rather than two. Cooped up for two weeks is too much during the summer. Sound fair?"

"Sure," Max said. "Um, Dad, we're going to have someone coming by the house tonight to talk with us."

"Who's that? You're not in trouble, are you?"

"No, nothing like that. I won some kind of scholarship."

Scott McDaniels glanced from the mail to Max. "Really? A scholarship? What kind of scholarship?"

"I don't know exactly, but they're offering me full tuition at some school."

"What school?" asked his father, giving an inquisitive smile.

"Rowan Academy-in New England."

Mr. McDaniels's smile vanished. "New England? That's hundreds of miles away, Max. How did you win this scholarship?"

Max began fidgeting.

"Um, I guess I did well on some tests and, uh, they found me."

"And who is this person coming tonight?"

"Someone named Miss Awolowo."

"Humph," his father snorted. "That's a mouthful. We'll see what Miss Aloha has to say."

The two made turkey sandwiches and took turns dipping into a colossal tin of potato chips. Mr. McDaniels regaled Max with stories about a new paper towel that offered astonishing absorbency.

Miss Awolowo arrived precisely at eight o'clock. Towering to nearly Mr. McDaniels's height, she was an elegant woman whose age Max found impossible to estimate. She wore multicolored robes, a necklace of heavy beads, and carried a woven bag decorated with flying birds. She placed the bag on the step and extended her hand. Her skin was as smooth and dark as a coffee bean, her voice rich and tinged with an accent.

"You must be Mr. McDaniels. I am Ndidi Awolowo from Rowan Academy. It is my very great privilege to meet you."

Scott McDaniels paused somewhat awkwardly before concluding the handshake.

"Yes, of course. Very nice to meet you, too. Please come in."

"Thank you," said Miss Awolowo, sweeping past him into the foyer, where Max lingered nervously.

"h.e.l.lo there-you must be Max! I'm Miss Awolowo."

Max took her hand and felt his apprehension wash away. As with Nigel, there was a rea.s.suring strength and warmth to this woman. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he led her into the living room, where Mr. McDaniels fumbled with coffee and a tray of sugar cookies. Settling at one end of the couch, she directed her bright eyes alternately between Max and his father.

"You have a beautiful home, Mr. McDaniels, and an extraordinary son. I must apologize for visiting on such short notice; we only recently received Max's results. Have you had an opportunity to review the scholarship we would like to offer him?"

"Yes, and we sure do appreciate that, Miss Ahoolaloo." Max squirmed as his father adopted the tone of voice he used with clients. "That letter got us tickled pink, but I think we're going to have to take a pa.s.s. Max's been through a lot these past few years, and I think it's best if he stays close to home."

Miss Awolowo nodded soberly and paused before replying.

"Yes, please forgive me for being direct, but I am aware of the situation with Mrs. McDaniels. I am sorry."

"Er, yes. Yes, it's been difficult for us, but we're managing."

"Of course you are. You're doing a wonderful job, Mr. McDaniels. You've raised a fine boy under very trying circ.u.mstances. I do hope, however, that you will not permit a tragedy in your son's past to obstruct a wonderful opportunity in his future."

"I only want the best for Max," said his father defensively.

"I know you do," she said soothingly. "That is precisely what we offer. Our program is better suited to serve your son than a mainstream curriculum. You see, Mr. McDaniels, a boy with Max's apt.i.tude and creativity cannot flourish in a program that does not recognize and develop his unique skills."

"How does your academy manage to do better?"

"By placing Max among other gifted, creative students from all around the world. By providing him with teachers who understand his gifts and are capable of developing them to their potential."

"Did you attend Rowan?"

"Yes, I did, Mr. McDaniels. I was visited by a Recruiter in my village in Africa." She clapped her hands together and gave a girlish laugh. "Ah, it seems like ages ago. My parents did not want to let their baby go; they were afraid of all that might go wrong! But, after a quiet time, my father came to me and said, 'If a man does not stand for something, he will fall for anything. I want to stand for you for you.'"

Her eyes glistened, and she smiled at the memory. Mr. McDaniels stared at his k.n.o.bby fingers. His voice was tight when he next spoke.

"I don't know what to do here. It sounds like a good opportunity, but I just don't know if Max is ready for something like this. Max, how do you feel?"

To this point, Max had been happy to be a bystander. Now, with their attention focused on him, he became very nervous.

"I don't know. I don't want to leave you alone."

"Don't worry about me, Max. I'm a big boy."

After an awkward silence, Miss Awolowo spoke.

"Mr. McDaniels? Would it be all right if I spoke to Max one on one?"

"Max? Would you like that?"

Max glanced at Miss Awolowo, who waited patiently.

"It's a beautiful summer evening, Max. Why don't we walk around the block and get a breath of fresh air?"

Max looked at his father, who nodded his approval.

Miss Awolowo took Max's arm as they walked down the front steps. The night sky was very clear. They walked without speaking, pa.s.sing quietly under the streetlamp. Giving his arm a soft pat, Miss Awolowo broke the silence.

"Nigel sends his best. You made quite an impression on him-he speaks very highly of you. You have our deepest apologies for that woman's unfortunate visit."

Max shuddered and focused his eyes on the dark hedges and lawns all around them. Miss Awolowo drew him nearer and hummed a low, pretty tune.

"You have no need to fear, Max. The Enemy is aware of me and knows that I am no trifle. Old Awolowo can be fierce!" She flashed her eyes wide, chuckled, and gave his arm a playful squeeze. Max smiled and tried to relax.

"Miss Awolowo? Who is the Enemy? Nigel wouldn't answer my questions."

"Yes, well, that's not his job to answer questions of that sort. Will you come with me? I want to show you something."

Max nodded. Miss Awolowo straightened to her full height and looked down upon him. Her eyes shone silver, and to Max she appeared as wise and beautiful as all the queens in all his old storybooks put together. She smiled and took his hand.

Max's insides squirmed like they had when he saw the tapestry. Only this time it didn't feel like he'd swallowed bees; helium balloons now filled his stomach. His feet tingled as though he'd stepped into a bath that was too hot. When Max looked down to investigate, he gasped.

The sidewalk was shrinking.

Miss Awolowo held his hand tightly as they rose slowly above the streetlamps and dark clumps of trees. They drifted together on the night breeze, leaving houses and parks in their wake as they glided over the treetops and chimneys. They skimmed out over the lake and rose up in gentle spirals.

They soared so high, Max thought they might catch the moon. He laughed and reached out to touch it. He couldn't reach it, though. It continued to hover above them, bright and distant and cold.

"We live in a beautiful world, don't we?"

Miss Awolowo's words shook Max out of his reverie. It had all seemed utterly like a dream until he realized with sudden terror that he was indeed high above the lake with the wind whipping fiercely about him.

Miss Awolowo was serene. "Let's find a more comfortable perch, shall we?"

Max nodded enthusiastically.

With a wide, lazy turn, she guided them toward the Baha'i temple that jutted against the night sky like a ma.s.sive block of carved ivory. She set them down on its dome, many stories above the trees. They sat side by side, and Miss Awolowo smoothed her robes and clasped her hands together.

"There! That's better." Running her hand over the intricate stonework about them, she declared, "I do do love this building. Anyway, are you a bit warmer, my dear?" love this building. Anyway, are you a bit warmer, my dear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now take a look up at the sky. What do you see?"

"I don't know," Max said. "Stars. The moon."

"You also see a great deal of darkness, don't you? Max, this is our struggle. There is a force in this world that does not love the moon, stars, or sun. It doesn't care for the lights of cities, the joys of laughter, or even the sounds of grief. It doesn't care for anything anything that causes a ripple in the perfect black stillness whence it came. It would devour that moon if it could." that causes a ripple in the perfect black stillness whence it came. It would devour that moon if it could."

Max shivered and watched an elderly couple strolling in the gardens far below. Miss Awolowo continued.

"It can't devour the moon, so it seeks to devour man instead. For thousands of years, people have fought against this Enemy in all its many forms. People like you and me."

Max looked hard at her. Miss Awolowo nodded and touched two fingers to his forehead.

"Yes, Max-people like you. you. You were born a prince, a prince of humankind. For centuries, gifted people have developed their abilities to ensure man can continue to grow and create beautiful things like this very building. Without us, mankind would have perished long ago. Ours is an ancient struggle for survival." You were born a prince, a prince of humankind. For centuries, gifted people have developed their abilities to ensure man can continue to grow and create beautiful things like this very building. Without us, mankind would have perished long ago. Ours is an ancient struggle for survival."

"And you want me to join this...struggle?"

Miss Awolowo smiled and placed her head on Max's head.

"Nigel said you are a brave boy. But you're far too young to make such a choice. Only Rowan's graduates are asked to make that decision, and some elect to do other things. All I want you to do is to give us a try and see if you like it."

Max frowned. "What if I decide not to go? Would you be angry?"

Miss Awolowo sat quietly for several moments. Her response was measured.

"I would be disappointed, but certainly not angry. I won't lie to you, however. My desire for you to come to Rowan is very strong. Nigel's report suggests the Old Magic might be in you, that you might be a prince even among our kind. In person, I can see it might be so. The little light within you burns so bright it warms even old Awolowo!"

Her beaded necklace shook with her laughter.

"Yes, Max, that light is very bright indeed. I am only sorry that others have seen it, too. Given what's happened, I think Rowan would be a safer place for you. But I am here only to offer opportunities-you will get no judgments or false choices from me. The decision is yours alone, and it is an important one."

Max hugged his knees, listening carefully.

Max swiveled from Miss Awolowo and followed the path of a plane far away over the moonlit lake. Its signal light blinked at steady intervals against the deep blue sky. When he turned to her, his face was set and fierce.

"I want to go."