Mirrors line the walls on all sides, kind of like the fancy hall of mirrors at the Palace of Versailles. Weaving in and around and among the mirrors are inlaid mosaics of emerald-leafed trees with gold trunks and branches. The branches hang heavy with ruby-seeded pomegranates. The gemstone trees reach all the way to the ceiling—I mean all the way. It has to be at least thirty feet above my head.

It’s like being within the canopy of a gemstone forest. This must be what the Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz really looks like.

Through the branches, I see a sky of aquamarines and other pale blue gems. There is a giant golden sun—formed by real gold and amber-colored topaz. I swear I feel the heat from its glow.

The floor beneath me is a flowing river of sapphires, with pearl and opal whitewater rapids. As I watch the water, it actually moves, undulating like a real river. I even see the little movements of fish beneath the surface.

“This is incredible,” Xander says, trying to take all of it in at once.

That is the understatement of the century.

For a moment—a looong moment—I’m caught up in the beauty and magic of the room. But as I watch the tree branches sway in a magical breeze, big, fat pomegranates bouncing around on the verge of falling, I force myself to remember why I’m here.

“We need to get the seeds,” I say, breaking the spell. “Fast.”

Just because we got ourselves inside the hall doesn’t mean it’s all cake from here.

“How?” Xander asks. “Those pomegranates must be two stories in the air.”

“We’ll have to improvise.”

I walk to the wall and study one of the gem-crusted trees. It’s a full, three-dimensional version, as if they took a real tree and dipped it in jewels.

“I can climb it,” I say. I motion Xander over to my side. “Give me a boost.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, lacing his fingers together to form a step.

I place my boot in his palms and, bracing my arms on his head, push myself up. A few seconds of grappling later, I’m standing on his shoulders and reaching for the trunk.

Xander braces his hands against the wall while I pull my weight off him and onto the tree.

When I get to the first fruit-bearing branch, I climb out until I can reach the nearest pomegranate and yank. The branch sways beneath me, but the fruit stays securely attached. I try pushing with as much of my weight as I can without losing my balance, but I reach too far. In an instant, I’m dangling from the ceiling, the fruit still clinging on.

“Are you okay?” Xander shouts.

“Fine,” I call out, holding on to the pomegranate with all my strength.