Sitting behind his desk, Armantrout’s eyes traced bookshelves filled with thank-you cards sent by former students. He opened desk drawers and read letters, felt surrounded by years of gratitude expressed in gifts of pottery, candles, wood carvings. He had decorated every wall in his office with drawings that were gathered around him like a warm wool coat. There were countless memories. However, it was not often that Armantrout had been asked to intervene in the life of a student who was born with a knowledge of flying.
Armantrout loved his students, but was proudest of Liana, recalled how bravely she’d spoken up at the board meeting. He hoped that with her help, Sanunique and Pickard could find the 0 + 1 egg and hold kindness aloft in the world like a flag of different colors. But he was not completely done, couldn’t leave his assigned post before he performed several last duties—passed along a box of tokens, and a brass ring of keys that opened the gate to the Pool of Knowledge. He held both in his hands, feared that someday the pathway might become so overgrown, people would get lost inside their own Devil’s Forest, and the school would become a historical marker remembered only by a plaque reading: Somewhere Around Here Stood a Pool of Knowledge.
Armantrout didn’t want to dwell on such a thing.
He was encouraged by recent events that ensured the school had the board’s support. Right now, he must entrust the keys to Creasemore and Molly. It had been an easy choice for him. All those years, Creasemore had faithfully repaired the school’s buildings, patched roofs, gutters, and made sure pipes didn’t burst during a winter freeze, and there was something else—Creasemore understood that if the Pool of Knowledge were to grow, it must include the families of Oakside and the bandits of Cruston.
Then there was Molly who had been cast out from the board because she had dared to voice her opinion in wanting to shield the Pool of Knowledge from money-making schemes, and had spent years wandering the countryside, but bringing beauty wherever she went—hedges, trees, flowers, and gardens spilling over rock walls and lakes. Molly taught farmers what to plant with corn—beans and gourds—brought understanding, no matter if it were along a pathway to the Pool of Knowledge or at Jensen’s, now Arabella’s Joint, and most of all, she knew how to laugh, had created a ghost plant that reminded her of a doll given to her by her mother.
Armantrout had known Molly’s mother, Doris Dwinlove, the first housekeeper at the school and its benefactor who made him promise never to tell Molly because she didn’t want her to feel entitled or privileged—didn’t believe that was a healthy quality in a young person.
Bu it was time. Armantrout looked at the clock close to the window on his wall—a simple clock made of flying maplewood with a carved frame of flowers. He’d been looking at it for more than forty years.
Creasemore and Molly stepped into his office and held hands.
“But sir,” said Creasemore, “Will you be all right?”
“Where will you go?” Molly asked.
“Don’t worry,” Armantrout said. “The important thing is that the school will continue.” He handed them the keys and the tokens with little other formality. “Take good care,” he said. “These belong to you now.”
“I have a gift also,” said Molly. She handed him a brown packet of seeds. The plants will help you to create a home wherever you go.”
Creasemore took out a small box and handed it to Armantrout filled with several stickers, they read: I Was the First Caretaker of the Pool of Knowledge.
“Thank you both so much,” he said. “I am sure that your love for each other will allow the school develop new branches.” They hugged each other. “Because of the two of you, I have not been a failure.”
Armantrout removed his coat from its hook. For years it been there, but he had never bothered to say, “Thank you for always being there. Thank you for your service.” He memorized everything in his office now, knew this would his last time to do so, his last chance to take everything with him before entering a new and different world. But maybe with Molly’s seeds…
Armantrout headed down the pathway to the Pool of Knowledge. He lingered along the way and peeled off the backing from Creasemore’s gift. It adhered to his cape of constellations.
Autumn, leaves ranged in color from gold to orange to deep red. An acorn occasionally plopped from an oak tree and rolled to the ground. Birds heralded his way. He thought once again of Liana. Like Creasemore and Molly, she was now part of his memories. He prayed for Liana to find the 0 + 1 egg, and even if she didn’t, to find satisfaction in all her efforts, the way he had in developing the school.
It was a peaceful day; wind barely etched the surface of the water. The suns and moons of Armantrout’s cape orbited around his arms and chest. He’d accomplished what he’d been sent to do, walked to the gravel’s edge of the pool and saw la guida beckoning.
“Come,” she said. “Our time here is over.”
Armantrout waded to the center of the pool and disappeared. He knew the location of the plug at the bottom.
Orren had been right all along, but he just hadn’t known where to look.