When Ana reached her bedroom, her best friend, Clarissa, was lying on one of the twin beds, reading a fat volume titled, Artimedius's Illustrated Guide to Olympus. She was dressed in her chambermaid's uniform, her thick, copper hair tied into its usual braid, but she had clearly not ventured off the bed all morning except to borrow another book from the castle's library (a forbidden habit which the Queen often threatened to cure by turning her "grubby paws" into flowerpots).

"Don't you feel obliged to at least pretend you're my chambermaid?" Ana said, kicking aside the nightclothes and socks and underthings she had left strewn between the beds.

"And spoil you more than you already are? Certainly not," Clarissa said. "By the way, did you know that Hephaestus tried to make his own race of men? Automatoi, they were called—all forged out of metal. Probably rusted the first time it rained."

She held up a page with drawings of muscular metallic men, all made of bronze. Ana hardly glanced at it, however, for she was not as enamored of books as Clarissa was, and, in any case, had suddenly noticed how thin and pale Clarissa looked. Two nights in the dungeons—for playing a loud game of "armor bowling" in the grand ballroom—would do that, of course. But her persistent patchwork of freckles had nearly faded away completely, and there were such dark bands pressed around her eyes, Ana could not help thinking of the tiny waif she had first laid eyes on years ago. She could still remember how excited she had been, because her father—who had missed her two previous birthdays—was home and said he had a special gift for her. She begged and pleaded and fidgeted all through dinner until finally, once the Queen had excused herself, he summoned Benjamin, the butler.

She remembered seeing only Benjamin standing in the doorway, at first—no package in his arms, no telltale bulge under his coat. Perhaps he's going to lead me to my present, she thought, though she hoped not, for Benjamin was a walking needle of a man, with prickly gray hair and sullen eyes, and though he was mute and had never so much as grunted at her, he somehow made it clear that he thought she was the most spoiled brat he had ever met.

Then a little shadow stepped out from behind Benjamin: a tiny, gaunt, mortal girl with hair the color of polished copper and spots all over her face. Someone had put her in a frilly new dress and new shoes and even tied a pink ribbon in her hair, but it was clear she felt no more at home in these things than she did in her new surroundings.

The girl stared at Ana. Her hazel eyes were aglow with confusion and excitement, but she did not look afraid—not much, at least. And this was unusual, for nearly all the mortals in the castle were afraid of Ana.

"Happy birthday, darling!" Ana's father said, beaming with pleasure. "Her name's Clarissa. She's to be your chambermaid: someone to tidy your room, brush your hair—all those things your mother holds so dear.

"Of course," he had added, bending low to whisper in Ana's hear, "if she happens to keep you company as well, where's the harm in that?"

It was only then that Ana realized the girl was her present. A servant for a present? A mortal for a friend? Ana had tried playing with mortals before. It never ended well. They either got hurt or ran off screaming in terror, and this skinny thing looked as if she would snap in two if Ana so much as sneezed in her direction.

"She has dirt all over her face," Ana said.

The girl put a hand to her face, then laughed. "Those are freckles," she said. "Haven't you ever seen freckles before?"

No, Ana had never seen freckles before. Immortals did not have freckles. But for a mortal to correct her, let alone laugh at her—that was unthinkable.

"Send her back. I don't like her," Ana said.

But her father said there was no one to send her back to. "She has no mother, no father. And I don't like you being alone all the time," he said. "It's not healthy." And so Clarissa had stayed.

"Oh, bother the Greek gods," Ana said now, opening the closet and searching for a dress to replace the one she had stained during breakfast. She hated dresses—she was always tripping over the hems and tearing them, and when she flew about, the silly things flapped in her face or caught on doorknobs and gargoyle's horns. But her mother would not allow her to wear anything else. "I've got news."

She told Clarissa about Madame Mumm being dismissed, and her new tutor, and Prince Barnaby coming to Solomon Castle, and her father taking a leave of absence. A bit of color returned to Clarissa's cheeks.

"Perfect!" she said, an evil grin spreading across her face. "We can torment Prince Barnaby endlessly and your father will tell your mother we're just ‘high spirited.' We should go out and find a moatmonster egg right now."

Ana smiled. A moatmonster egg in Prince Barnaby's bed would be the perfect way to welcome him to Solomon Castle. She hurried into her fresh clothes, wondering how a mere mortal with no magical powers of her own could be so brilliant at devising magical pranks. Making the food talk back to the chef; bewitching the dining room chairs so that they scurried away whenever anyone tried to sit; causing ball lightning to shoot out of the toilets—these had all been Clarissa's ideas. And though it was always Ana who had to cast the spells, everyone in the castle knew who supplied the imagination. In fact, the Queen had taken to punishing them both for any questionable activity that occurred in the castle, giving Clarissa a few days in the dungeons and Ana an equal number of days under room arrest. But it was all worth it, as far as Ana was concerned.

Ana slipped into an old jumper and pulled her hair back into a long ponytail. Then she and Clarissa raced outside to search the banks of the moat for eggs. They found only broken ones, unfortunately, for the moatmonsters—pink blubbery things, like manatees with bad skin and razor-sharp teeth—were always eating each other's eggs. There were, however, hundreds of masses of frog eggs floating in the water and this gave Clarissa an idea.

"Let's fill some buckets with frog eggs and hang them from the portcullis," she said. "When Prince Nutbrain passes beneath . . . "

"He won't be here for days," Ana said.

"Right. Think what a stinking mess they'll be by then," Clarissa said.

So Ana conjured up some buckets. Of course, in conjuring up the buckets and using a Scooping Spell to gather the eggs, she spattered the banks of the moat with bits of athen. A dull, steely-looking metal that appeared whenever and wherever magic was employed, athen was a terrible nuisance to everyone. It could not be melted, cut, or destroyed by any means known to anyone, and the servants were constantly having to cart it away.

"Ridiculous," Clarissa said, stepping several lumps of athen. "If you Immortals didn't have us to clean up after you, you'd be buried in your own wastes by now."

Ana rolled her eyes. Clarissa was always criticizing one thing or another about Immortals. "Since it bothers you so much, you can carry your bucket up the stairs," she said, and sent her own bucket floating up to the ramparts of the castle.

The buckets were heavy and Clarissa grumbled all the way up the steep, stony steps. When they emerged onto the parapets, she set the bucket down and peered through the crenellations.

"Look at that," she said, pointing to something in the distance.

Ana looked out. There was nothing but the usual patchwork of estates clinging to the hillside below them—castles and moats and enchanted gardens of every size and shape. And, of course, on the far side of the river, stood the city, its towers bristling like glassy spears.

"Over there," Clarissa said, pointing eastward.

Ana gazed at a misty brown smudge in the distance: the ghetto. She had seen it many times from the parapets and from the window of her mother's office—a crumbling, soot stained cake perched on the very edge of the harbor and bathed in a mustard-like haze. This was where most of the mortals lived, when they were not at the castles or offices, and this was where Clarissa had been born.

Clarissa was not pointing to the ghetto, however, but to the harbor just beyond it and the giant whirlpool at its heart—the Maelstrom. It swirled and smoked and sprayed, but there was nothing unusual in this. The Maelstrom had been doing that as long as anyone could remember. No, what was new was the glow emanating from the Maelstrom's mouth, a faint reddish cast, like a watery volcano waking.

"That's odd," Ana said. "Do you think AW or CNI flushed something particularly noxious today?" The two companies were always flushing their wastes into the oceans. Spell residues and curse byproducts, discarded potions, fragmented charms, and floating bits of necromancy—all of these found their way into the oceans, and for this reason the waters of Earth had long ago ceased to be anything but burning miasmas of magic.

"Perhaps," Clarissa said. But she did not look convinced. In fact, she looked worried.

Ana, watching Clarissa stared out at the glowing Maelstrom, was reminded again of Clarissa's arrival. Ana had done everything possible in the first few weeks to get rid of the girl, but every morning, when she woke up, Clarissa was standing there in her room, ready to play chambermaid. And then one day, when Ana had actually wanted the girl, she was gone. Ana had searched everywhere and finally found Clarissa on the parapets, where she had no business being.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" Ana said, annoyed.

Clarissa did not even bother to turn around. Ana drew closer to see what the girl was staring at and saw only the misty brown smudge near the harbor, where the Solomon and Georges Rivers crashed together.

"The ghetto? You're pining for the ghetto?" Ana said. She could not imagine anyone being homesick for such a cesspool.

"Yes, the ghetto," Clarissa snapped, turning around. "Why? Do you think it's so wonderful here? Do you think I should feel lucky just to be your stupid maidservant? I wish I'd never come here!"

Ana was on the verge of turning her into a legless, overturned turtle when she noticed the wet, splotchy trails on Clarissa's face. Mortals cried a lot, especially when faced with punishment. In fact, they tended to grovel and sob and do all sorts of other irritating things. But Clarissa's tears seemed different to Ana.

"Do you know what Benjamin wrote on his little notepad when I came here?" Clarissa sniffed, wiping at her nose. "He wrote that you and I were about as likely to become friends as a cat and a mouse. I didn't believe him. But now . . . "

Ana scowled. "It's not my fault you mortals are so fragile," Ana said.

Clarissa's face flushed bright red. "And it's not my fault I'm a mortal!" she snapped. "Besides, you have mortal blood, too."

Ana flinched. "What are you talking about?" she said.

"You're a slag!" Clarissa said. "Your father's part mortal, so that makes you part mortal, and that means you're a slag."

Ana could have obliterated Clarissa for such an insult, but she was too shocked. How did Clarissa know? Had Ana's father told her? No. The Queen would tie his head to a passing comet if he so much as mentioned it to anyone.

"Shutup. You don't know anything," Ana whispered, suddenly aware that the castle's Monitoring Spells could be reporting the entire conversation to her mother.

"I do. You're half mortal. Everyone knows it."

"A quarter!" Ana hissed. "My father's half mortal, and that makes me only one quarter. But if you don't want to be torn to pieces when Mother comes home, you'll shut your mouth right now."

Clarissa shrugged. "Why? I'm not afraid of her," she said. "You are, though. Good little Anatopsis—apple of her mother's eye."

"At least I have a mother!" Ana spat. She turned away, convinced she had been as patient as possible with this awful girl, when Clarissa suddenly jumped on her and knocked her to the ground.

"Take that back!" Clarissa shouted, sitting on top of Ana. She flailed and scratched and punched at Ana, and though Ana had more than enough power to stop her, she was far too bewildered to think what to do, for she had never fought anyone in this way.

Fortunately, the castle's Monitoring Spells had done their work, and just as Clarissa delivered a sharp blow to Ana's nose, the Queen materialized beside them.

"Disgusting little vermin!" the Queen shouted, snatching Clarissa up with a Rat Catching Spell and slamming her into the battlement wall. "How dare you!"

Ana sat up, gasping for breath. An alarming amount of blood was dripping from her nose. She found it a bit fascinating, for she had never had a bloody nose before. But her mother was about to unleash a Vaporization Curse, and however angry Ana was, she did not want her mother interfering.

"Don't!" Ana said, stumbling to her feet. "She didn't do anything,"

"She assaulted you, Anatopsis!" the Queen said. "I saw her!"

"I . . . I asked her to do it," Ana lied. "I wanted to practice my self-defense spells on a real person."

"She's not a person, Anatopsis. She's an animal. And look at you—she bloodied your nose! She has to be put down."

"No! She's mine—not yours. I'll decide what to do with her."

The Queen eyed Ana. "I don't have time for this nonsense, Anatopsis," she said. "The Monitoring Spells told me you were in danger and like a good mother, I flew to your aid. Now you tell me you were deliberately rolling about on the battlements with a filthy faced mortal? I'm tempted to throw you both in the dungeons." She gave Ana one last disgusted look, then vanished.

Clarissa stared Ana. For a moment, neither of them said a word, as if they feared the Queen would return at the first sound. Then Clarissa sat up, rubbing the lump on the back of her head.

"I thought you wanted me gone," she said.

Ana scowled. "I don't like Mother interfering," she said.

Clarissa nodded. "Well, thanks," she said, struggling to her feet. She touched a hand to the lump forming on the back of her head. "I suppose I'll have to leave you alone now."

Ana shrugged. Only a few minutes ago, she would have welcomed this offer. Now she felt strangely disappointed. A mortal who wasn't afraid of her, a mortal who dared to attack her, to hurt her . . . She knew she shouldn't tolerate such behavior. And yet, she felt as much curious as angry.

Another drop of blood fell onto her hand. She studied it as if it had fallen from the sky. "Does this stop by itself?" she asked. "Or do I have to do something?"

"Why don't you just use a spell?" Clarissa said.

"Mother won't let me do spells on myself. She thinks I'll disfigure myself," Ana said. "But when I'm of age, I'm going to interchromafy my hair and make my legs longer and my arms stronger."

Clarissa rolled her eyes and untied her apron. "Hold this against your nose," she said, handing the apron to Ana. "It'll stop in a minute."

Ana pressed the apron to her face. Soon they were walking down the stairs together, Ana trying not to stumble as she walked with her head back.

"You know, you Immortals are useless," Clarissa said. "You have all this magic and you don't do anything with it."

"Like what?" Ana asked, expecting Clarissa to say something horribly mortalish, like Free the mortals or Clean up the ghetto.

But instead, Clarissa pointed out one of the arrow slits, and said, "Do you see that drawbridge? If I had your power, I'd put a spell on the bridge so it snapped shut every time your mother came home. Or I'd turn the floors of the castle to ice and skate everywhere. I'd make all the meals uncook themselves just as they were put on the table . . . "

"You wouldn't dare," Ana said.

Clarissa grinned. "You wouldn't dare," she said.

Ana threw the apron at her. They raced down the stairs and within minutes were skating through the castle. By nightfall, they had destroyed three doors and half the gargoyles in the castle, and by the next day they were receiving their first punishments.

Now, as Ana snapped out of her trance and helped Clarissa hook the buckets to the top of the portcullis, she began to worry. What if Barnaby treated Clarissa like a servant? What if he had no sense of humor? What if he truly was a nutbrained imbecile?