“No.”

“Unsurprising. He lived ages ago. His people are no more. His language went extinct long before Europeans discovered this continent. But he left a unique treasure behind.”

“What is it?”

“The details are vague. But the prowess of Iwa Iza is renowned among magicians. He used his power to protect his people and the natural world they admired. A few of his inimitable creations have survived, but his masterwork was called Uweya, and it is hidden somewhere in this area.”

“Uweya?”

“That may not even be the correct pronunciation,” Jonas said. “The language is lost. I can offer no translation. But I’m here to follow some clues that might lead us to Iwa Iza’s masterpiece. Many have sought Uweya. Hanaver Mills was involved in the hunt. Success eluded him, but he searched here for years, which is why he hid his water from the Fountain of Youth in this vicinity. I gleaned some insights from his failures, and from the fruitless efforts of many others. I am finally closing in on my prize. Would you like to become involved?”

“Sounds interesting,” Nate said. He hoped he didn’t seem too eager.

“More than interesting,” Jonas promised. “The hunt will be challenging, frightening, astonishing, and perhaps even deadly. It will provide a once-in-a-lifetime chance to experience the miraculous. The relics of Iwa Iza are among our most potent talismans of protection and healing, guarded alongside other wonders by the Unseen Magi. By all accounts, Uweya should surpass his other creations in splendor and power.”

“You want Uweya so you can help people?” Nate asked, trying not to sound doubtful.

“Iwa Iza devoted his life to uplifting his followers and protecting the natural world. Uweya is allegedly his crowning achievement. Yet it does no good while lost.”

Nate folded his arms. “What exactly am I agreeing to do?”

“To become one of my Jets,” Jonas said, producing a pad of ink in a wooden case. “The power of the stamp should remain in full effect for two days. Over the third day, the enchantment will dwindle to nothing. I will stamp you once for making the purchase with your tickets. Renewing the stamp depends on my receiving your cooperation. If you do not wish to join the club, I will offer a jet stamp to another and deny you access to the ink.”

“I’ll be the last to join?” Nate checked.

“You would complete the club. Each club will have four members.”

“That’s a lot of kids,” Nate said.

Jonas shrugged. “There will be multiple stages to finding Uweya. The clubs will compete against each other. You’ll learn the details later. The winning club will have the honor of retrieving Uweya.”

“You’ll accept me if I commit?” Nate asked.

“You worry that I would deny you because of your involvement with Belinda. I am bound to my sister by blood, but she is no friend of mine. I was always much fonder of my other sister, Camilla. Belinda’s disappearance helped spawn this opportunity for me. She was also pursuing Uweya. Acquiring water from the Fountain of Youth was merely a step along that path. By foiling her, Nate, you aided me immeasurably.”

Nate frowned. Something was off. Why was Jonas making this so easy? “You mentioned you were worried I might be involved with other magicians. If I helped stop Belinda, doesn’t that make me a potential threat?”

Jonas laughed, tapping the side of the inkpad with one finger. “If I can’t handle the hazards posed by a child, I should pack up and go home. Don’t overestimate yourself. I’ll grant that you’re probably more capable than many others your age. I need capable people to find this treasure. It will not be simple. It is quite possible that all of my clubs will fail and I will have to start again from scratch. You let me worry about the threat you pose. I’ll take measures to protect my interests. All you really need to know is that I’m willing to accept the risks if you’re willing to work with me.”

Nate considered the insultingly frank response. Jonas White’s open attitude made Nate hungry for information. He felt tempted to ask about Mozag and John Dart, but worried it would push the magician too far. If he worked for Jonas, he would sooner or later end up in a position to learn about his captured friends. “All right. I’ll be a Jet.”

“Just like West Side Story!” Jonas gushed. “Hand over the stamp and hold out your hand.”

Nate obeyed. Jonas pressed the stamp against the inkpad, then stamped the back of Nate’s hand. Tingles rushed up his arm and spread across his body.

“Welcome to the team.” Jonas grinned.

Nate looked at the simple jet insignia on his hand. Something had changed, but he couldn’t quite recognize the difference.

“Try to fly,” Jonas prompted.

Nate stood, and his feet rose off the floor. He levitated a few feet into the air. He hovered, looking down at Jonas in surprise. It felt as natural as walking. He swerved to the left, then back to the right. Deciding where to go felt as simple as commanding his arms to move or his fingers to grasp. The force suspending him in the air existed throughout his body but seemed centered in his chest. Nate slowly dropped back to the ground.

“Ever experience anything like it?” Jonas asked.

“No,” Nate replied.

“I can’t tell you I’m surprised,” Jonas chuckled. “I’m a perfectionist. Are you a perfectionist, Nate?”

“I try to do good work,” Nate said. “I like to win.”

“I didn’t think so,” Jonas said smugly. “Most people refer to perfectionism much too casually. Being a perfectionist has advantages and drawbacks. My enhancers are not exceptionally diverse. Lesser magicians have broader catalogs. But my creations work unusually well for an uncommon amount of time. For example, real flight is a very difficult enhancement to produce. As a Jet, you will benefit from my thoroughness.”

“It feels amazing,” Nate said, impressed by the new ability. “I’ve had dreams about flying. Sometimes it’s like swimming clumsily through the air. Other times I can zoom around however I want. This feels like my best dreams.”

“Wait until you try it outside,” Jonas said. “I can imagine nothing more exhilarating. Makes me wish I were young enough to use it. A word of caution: You have the ability to fly, but your body is no stronger than usual. In a car, you have a metal shell to protect you in a crash. A motorcyclist has much less protection. Think of yourself as a flying motorcyclist.”