The Lost Colony

‘I thought you were one of a kind, Artemis, but that girl is a smart one.'
‘Yes,' said Artemis, musing. ‘She's a regular juvenile criminal mastermind.'
Below ground, in Section Eight HQ, Foaly groaned into his microphone. ‘Great,' he said. ‘Now there are two of you.'


I am young enough to believe in magic and old enough to understand how it works.


Oh, shut up, responded her irritated side eloquently.


‘How do you like the plan so far?'
‘Well, I don't like the first bit and I don't know the last bit. So, I'm really hoping the middle bit is exceptional.'


Why is it, he wondered, that the smart ones always think that they're invincible?


Even No1 was entranced. ‘What is that?'
Qwan fluttered his fingers, causing the monkey to somersault.
‘It's a simple magical construct. Instead of allowing the sparks to roam on instinct, I marshal them into a recognizable form. It takes time and effort, but in time you will have this micro-control too.'
‘No,' said No1. ‘I mean what is that?'
Qwan sighed. ‘It's a monkey.'


‘I know magic can be stolen,' said Artemis. ‘Because I stole some myself.'


Holly had been dead and now she was alive.
Artemis's hand tingled with the phantom memory of a gun it may or may not have held moments before.
There will be consequences for this, he thought. You can't alter events in time and be unaffected. But whatever the consequences are, I will bear them, because the alternative is too terrible.


Artemis focused on the important things he had left behind, and realized that they were all people. Mother, Father, Butler, Foaly and Mulch. Possessions that he had believed important now meant nothing.