Chapter 1

A Boy with a Secret

In Mr. Ratikan's grove there lived a boy. He was not well-to-do, but his needs were met and he was happy most of the time. His name was Edgar.

Deep in the heart of the grove, a thick canopy of leaves hung low overhead, and in the heat of the day it was a cool, quiet place to lie in the grass and take a nap. But Edgar was not the kind who enjoyed sneaking off to nap under the trees like some of the others. He was far more likely to be found doing something mischievous, which is precisely where we find him as our story begins.

Somewhere in a silent part of the grove, Edgar had been swinging violently back and forth on one of the tree branches, trying to gain enough speed to fling himself across the grassy path to a branch five feet or more away on the other side. Twice Edgar had let go too late and flown through the air feetfirst, landing on his back in the middle of the pat with a terrible thud.

Undeterred, Edgar made a third attempt, which sent him careening through the air so fast he smashed into the tree's trunk and was rewarded with a bloody nose.

The ruckus caught the attention of the owner of the grove, Mr. Ratikin.

Edgar was in his biggest swing yet, brushing the leaves in the tree with his arms as he came forward. When he swung back, Mr. Ratikan struck Edgar on his bare feet with his walking stick.

"Come away from there this instant!" yelled the angry man. The walking stick had failed to knock Edgar free. Swinging his feet high up in the air, Edgar let go, arms and legs flailing. This time he caught hold of the branch on the other side. But the moment he did, the branch snapped off and he crashed to the ground.

This was exceptionally bad luck for Edgar, since nothing made Mr. Ratikan quite as irritated as someone damaging one of the precious trees in his grove.

"Now you've done it!" Mr. Ratikan shouted, poking Edgar in the ribs with his walking stick.

"I was only having a moment's fun before coming to find you," said Edgar as he tried to dodge the stick, his voice cracking and dry. He scrambled to his feet and dashed behind the trunk for protection, wiping a bit of blood from his nose.

Mr. Ratikan's walking stick crashed against the trunk of the tree, barely missing Edgar's head. "Get to work on the saplings - and don't you stop until you've finished twenty!" He rapped the stick against the tree once more, and Edgar jumped back. "If I ever catch you playing in trees again, they're be no dinner for a week!"

Edgar sized up the space across which he'd flown. Though he would have to work an extra hour for his misbehavior, it had been worth it.

"GO!" cried Mr. Ratikan, slapping his walking stick over and over against the tree and hoping to catch one of the boy's fingers in the process.

Edgar sprinted down a winding pathway leading through the shade of the grove until he was well out of sight of Mr. Ratikan. That was a reckless thing I did back there, he admitted to himself, despite the fun he'd had. It won't do to stir up watchful eyes. Someone might see what I've been doing.

Edgar slowed to a walk as he reached the oldest stretch of trees, where the limbs grew wide and long. Little bits of light were shooting between the leaves, and he tried to catch them in his hand as he went. Edgar was easily amused, and he would have made a good friend for someone, but he stayed by himself a great deal. He was a boy with a secret, and he kept it well.

Edgar made his way along the twisting path until the canopy of leaves fell away. He had come out into the full light of the day where there was a cliff wall reaching so high into the air he couldn't see where it ended. Down its side, roaring vigorously a waterfall crashed to the ground, and Edgar observed a familiar sight nearby. Several men stood around the pool at the bottom of the waterfall, guarding it from anyone who might approach out of turn. While three of the men stood on alert, others rationed the water in small wooden buckets to a line of people from the village. There were three such waterfalls coming from the top of the cliffs, but this was the only one near the grove. The others were far off in places Edgar had never been.

The careful distribution of water was one of the troubles of living in Tabletop, but Edgar thought it must be better than life in the Flatlands beneath him, where the water supply was limited to what little spilled over the edge of Tabletop. It was hard to imagine anyone below surviving for very long. In the world of Atherton, those in the Highlands above controlled the flow of water, and they could do with it as they pleased.

Suddenly there came a sound of a twig snapping from somewhere nearby in the grove. Edgar froze, wondering what he might do if Mr. Ratikan came out from the shadows again swinging his walking stick. I should have known he would follow me, Edgar thought with regret.

"You've got twigs and leaves caught in your hair," came a small voice from behind a tree.

Edgar felt some initial relief that it wasn't Mr. Ratikan, but he still wasn't altogether happy when he realized just who was speaking to him.

"Come out from there, Isabel."

"Did Mr. Ratikan knock you down again? Did he hit you with that awful stick of his?"

As usual, Edgar ignored her questions. "Why must you always follow me Isabel?" Edgar shook his head back and forth to free the rubbish from his hair, but the twigs and leaves only danced back and forth like little animals clinging to a nest.

"I can get those out for you," said Isabel as she leapt out from behind the tree. Edgar brushed the leaves and twigs from his mop of black hair, and then turned to go. He wasn't about to waste time telling this little pest how he'd gotten into trouble.

"Oh, but you can't just go," said Isabel. "You need to tell me what happened. Did Mr. Ratikan throw you to the ground? Is that why you've got leaves in your hair?"

Edgar was about to scold the girl as an older brother might do when he felt a slight rumbling beneath his feet. Isabel felt it, too, and they both stood quietly, trying to understand what it was. It had happened before - this faint trembling on the ground in the grove - and so the two were not so surprised by it. Still, it was a little stronger this time, as though something were banging a drum in the ground beneath them, trying to get their attention.

"My father says it's nothing," said Isabel, "but it does feel strange, doesn't it?"

The feeling stopped and Edgar began to walk away without answering. It was getting late and he still had twenty tree to trim.

"We'll talk tonight at dinner," said Isabel. "Whatever Mr. Ratikan did to you, it'll be our little secret."

She ran back into the grove, content for the moment to let her imagination run wild about how Mr. Ratikan had beaten Edgar with his walking stick.

Edgar licked his dry lips as he walked the last little pat toward the sapling field. He would have to wait until dinner to get a cup of water, but Edgar had grown used to this routine - everyone had - and soon his mind was on other things.

Edgar gazed out past the edge of the grove. He often dreamed about what his world might look like from far away and he had devised a rather accurate image in his mind. Atherton was situated on three circular levels, each one wider than the one above it. The broad Flatlands were at the distant bottom. Edgar thought that if a person fell off the edge of the Flatlands, they would fall forever. Tabletop, where Edgar lived, was a large plateau at the top of a steep rock face rising from the middle of the Flatlands. And then there were the Highlands, the most mysterious place of all. It sat at the top of the imposing cliffs in the center of Tabletop. People who lived in Tabletop often wondered what they might find in the Highlands. There were rumors of giant animals and abundant water, of powerful people and beautiful places.

Edgar, too, had always been curious about the Highlands, though he'd never been there. Travel between the three levels was strictly forbidden. No one from Tabletop knew what it was like at the top of the cliffs, because no one was ever invited.

Excerpted from ATHERTON: THE HOUSE OF POWER © Copyright 2012 by Patrick Carman. Reprinted with permission by Little, Brown for Young Readers, an imprint of Hachette Book Group USA. All rights reserved.