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Clay didn't dare look at the journal until close to midnight, when he was sure his counselor and his cabinmates were all asleep. Clay turned on his flashlight and shined it on the journal's cover. The ink-splat was just as he remembered: star-shaped but smeared. As soon as Clay opened the journal, where he expected to see the words MAGIC SUCKS!, he instead saw a date and the title "The Memoirs of Randolph Price".

Clay discovered that they were descending into a deep green valley. In the center of the valley was a long turquoise lake shaped like a crescent moon. At the far end of the lake, the base of an enormous black mountain disappeared into a ring of billowing clouds. "That dark mountain--it's the volcano?" he asked. Leira nodded. "Mount Forge. The lake protects us from the lava flows--supposedly."

Three coins. That was all the money they had left. To make matters worse, they were ancient coins, no longer legal tender anywhere in the world. On the bright side, the coins were gold. How to turn them into cash? "A pawnshop!" It came to Max-Ernest in a flash. "Great idea," said Cass. "I've been in lots of pawnshops." Her friends looked at her in surprise. "My grandfathers had an antiques store, remember?"

They are discussing the assignment they turned in for their class's Egypt unit: make a list of the 10 things you would take with you into the afterlife. "...and a giant bar fo chocolate, in case I get hungry, and a pair of underwear, because, you know," Max-Ernest was saying. "A deck of cards. Do you think that's cheating? Since there are 52 cards in a deck, and we're only supposed to take 10 things?"

"I'm terribly sorry, Herr Doctor," she said nervously. "But the stench--the neighbors are complaining...." "Does it smell? I hadn't noticed," replied the alchemist coldly. "But all that horse dung fermenting for months! Even horses couldn't bear it." "Enough! Forget the neighbors. Soon they will worship and fear me and will dare not talk any longer." "But you used to have their love--why now do you want their fear?"

Although I am reluctant for obvious reasons, I must continue recording the magician's story. You and I then will read over the shoulders of Max-Ernest and Cass. Before we do, I suggest you take a break. If you need to go to the bathroom, this is a good time. If you're sleepy, go to bed and save the next chapter for tomorrow. For the magician's story, you must have all your wits about you. No wandering minds allowed.

As they rumbled on over the boards, the shouting grew distant and the klaxon-wail faded to nothing. Still they continued, driving on through darkness, mile after mile. Their pace slowed as they became snagged at the back of a convoy of heavy wagons. The darkest hour came and went. Soft strands of light threaded their way up from the horizon as the sun prepared to rise.

The Professor of Light turned and stared into Twig's eyes. Slowly, there was recognition. 'Twig,' he said. 'I am so sorry,' he said. 'Let us continue.' 'Thank you, Professor,' said Twig. 'This is too hazardous. We must make sure that none of us wanders off - even if his mind does.' 'Of course!' said Tem, as he swung his own coil of rope down from his shoulder. 'We must all tie ourselves together in a line.'

Quint glanced across at Maris. She was staring straight ahead with that look of steady determination on her face that he knew so well.
What was it? he wondered. The arch of her eyebrow, the delicate line of her chin or perhaps the way her mouth curved up ever so slightly at the corners? Whatever it was, Quint had come to depend on that look, to seek it out whenever he needed courage or reassurance.

'Free and unbowed and answerable to no leaguesmaster in a ridiculous high hat. Of course, they hate us and try to stop our ships and seize our cargoes, but at the same time, they need us to do their dirty work--such as raid their rivals' league ships or disrupt one another's trade. Without sky pirates to carry out their nasty little underhand practices, the Leagues of Undertown would descend into open warfare.'

He'd been scouring the heavens for some sign of poor Hemphix Root, the latest knight academic to be dispatched to the Twilight Woods. The sky ship had turned turvey almost at once, and been blown away into Open Sky before Hemphix had had a chance to abandon ship and parawing himself to safety. Another brave young knight academic lost, and for what? 'To satisfy the crazed fantasies of Hax Vostillix.'

Linius sighed, rolled over and stared up at the ceiling.
'I started out with such good intentions," he murmured. 'I wanted to do so much for Sanctaphrax.'
Bungus leaned forward and took the professor's left hand in his own. 'Tell me your story, Linius,' he said. 'I'm listening.'

The she-wolf turned out to be Elizabeth Heywood, the girl who'd been to Matthew's Vineyard house. Frankie knew Elizabeth slightly through Zada. she wasn't part of Alpha's crowd, really--but she was still a strong match for Alpha in that she had spent her late-elementary and middle-school years as a featured actor on a popular sitcom, playing the cynical daughter of a famous comedian.

I presume he had discarded a fabricant living doll. Yes. The xec was keen to tell us all about it. "The Zizzi Hikaru Doll was the must-have the Sextet before last. My daughter didn't give me a moment's rest. My official wife put her all in, morning, noon and nite. 'How am I supposed to look our neighbors in their faces if our daughter is the only girl in our carousel to not have a Zizzi?'"

I telled 'em what'd happened at Sloosha's Crossin', but...did I tell the hole true? Nay, the boy Zachry lied. I din't 'fess how I'd leaded the Kona to Pa's camp, I said I'd just gone huntin' a lardbird into the thicket, an' when I got back...Pa was killed, Adam taken, an' Kona hoofs in the mud ev'rywhere. Cudn't do noting', not then, not now. Ten Kona bruisers could o' slayed Abel's kin jus' as easy as slayin' Pa.

"Here's where I'm at with this guy," Douglas said. It was 1984. The killer was sitll at large. "Back when he started in 1974, he was in his mid to late twenties," Douglas began. "It's now ten years later, so that would put him in his mid to late thirties." BTK had never engaged in any sexual penetration. That suggested to him someone with an "inadequate, immature sexual history."

An FBI agent in Phoenix sent a memor to headquarters that began with the sentence "The purpose of this communication is to advise the Bureau and New York of the possibility of a coordinated effort by Osama Bin Laden to send students to the United States to attend civilian aviation universities and colleges." But the FBI never acted ont he information.

The German secret weapon was a puzzle, and the Allies didn't have enough information to solve it. There was another way to think about the problem, though, which ultimately proved far more useful: treat the German secret weapon as a mystery.

Remaining friends with someone you have been romantically involved with depends on two things: How close were you before you got together, and how did it end? If it ended with the words "cunt" and "worthless nigger," you're probably not gonna be meeting for coffee on a rainy Saturday.

Unlike all the super-skinny dieticians I've seen over the years, Carole was what I like to call "normal size." She was a woman who I assessed to be about a size 12 on the top and a 14 on the bottom, and she seemed completely unfazed by it. her warm personality and huge knowledge base were going to prove my salvation in the next few weeks, and our first meeting was no different.

Like everyone else in the world, I thought rehab would look like a cross between "One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest" and "Girl, Interrupted", minus the star power of patients like Jack and Angelina, and without the sexual tension and Academy Awards. I imagined enormous white metal doors that would shut behind me with a loud thud, followed by the sharp click of a lock, behind which I would be trapped.

"Harvard is a fine place, Seymour. And I believe you'll fit in there, better than I did at first. I know this sounds strange, but when I entered Harvard, I actually had some genuine academic interests! I enrolled in very traditional courses. But I had a pretty rigid drinking schedule to stick to, and I soon found out that my classes interfered with it."

It's been a week since I left Earl Grey, and he hasn't tried to contact me. I'm staying at my dad's house in Portland. I didn't consider going back to the duplex I share with Kathleen, not even for a second--she's probably still mad at me. Plus, the entire place is undoubtedly still under surveillance by Earl Grey, billionaire stalker extraordinaire.

"And these LARPers like it when you beat them?" "Oh yes," he says. "Pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin. At another level, though, my LARPers want to please me. I am the Dungeon Master, after all." Control freak. But damn! What a sexy control freak.

Lucy squeezes her arm. Nothing. Colin looks hopeful, bordering on giddy, but she basically feels the same: somewhere in between a solid and a gas. In that strange no man's land on the verge of the sublime. "And it works for you, going into the water alone? Having Jay pull you out?" "Absolutely." Colin is practically vibrating with joy now, but Lucy doesn't register any change in herself.

"You don't know Colin like I do. Colin is the guy who never questions whether he can or should do something. He just does it. The stuff you saw him doing at the lake was nothing. Last summer, we went skydiving with my dad, and Colin pulled his chute at the last minute and landed easier than any of us. As crazy as it sounds, Colin doesn't know what dying even means."

Isabella proposed an outing with her sister to visit San Francesco Grande to see the altarpiece by Leonardo. "Though he is difficult, he is the most important artist in Milan, and you will be commissioning him to do many thigns for your family over the years. You may as well get to know his work all the more so that you may use him properly. You are duchess to the duke who is known for his love of art!"

Days later, riding in the Royal Procession through the streets of Milan and crossing the drawbridge over the great, wide moat that surrounded the Castello Sforzesca, Isabella felt as if she were entering the kingdom of one of the fairytales she and Beatrice had recited to each other as children. Messengers, pages, soldiers, merchants, ladies, ambassadors, and knights, exited and entered at all hours.

"Let me get this straight," Alek said. " Your big secret is that you steal two cents' worth of dill from Whole Foods every other week?" "And I feel terrible about it," his mother continued, guilt riddling her face. "After all, it's theft. What if the person at the cash register realized? Or I were captured on one of those video cameras? Can you imagine the scandal?" "We'd never live it down," Alek deadpanned.

The next day at lunch, Alek decided the cafeteria was the room he hated most in the world. The relentless flurescent lighting gave everything a flat greenish hue, and even without the terrible school food being served, the place still smelled like wet socks. At least during the school year he had Becky to sit with and discuss the minutiae of their lives. But that kiss had changed everything.