It was a helmet, hollowed on the inside like his own leather helmet but made of hard shell. Dark glass rounded the front to cover the eyes. One of the strange ropes he’d originally thought were roots ran between the helmet and the hub.

So then, the warrior was intended to place this helmet on for protection when he drove this buggy. It was a war machine.

Immediately Billos’s pulse surged. He’d found a weapon that was far more advanced than anything he or any of the Forest Dwellers could have imagined! And if he, Billos, could find a way to operate it, perhaps find a way to return it to the forests, enter it into battle against the Horde, even . . . if he could do that, the possibilities were endless. He might single-handedly save the forests!

Each thought spun through his mind as quickly as the next, which reminded him that he was trapped in a white room without the books or food or a clue how this contraption worked. And he was here because he’d ignored the warning not to touch the books with blood.

Billos took a deep breath and walked around the machine, touching and prodding the surfaces. The central hub with all the small red lights he’d first thought were eyes was as hard as stone. But when he rapped on it with his knuckles, it sounded hollow.

So, how did one operate this beast? He rounded the whole contraption twice, looking for something to control it, like reins, though he doubted he’d find reins—this wasn’t an animal. Still, there were no reins, no levers, no objects of any kind. In fact, just the smooth hub and the six seats sticking out. And the red lights that had brightened when he first touched it.

Light was coming into the room from glowing squares on the ceiling, likely some kind of glass through which the sun was shining, though Billos couldn’t see past them. It made sense that the red “eyes” were just crystals reflecting light from the ceiling.

Billos sighed and was about to climb into one of the seats when he noticed a thin outline, one square foot, on the hub. He touched it, pressed lightly, felt it move.

He gasped.

The square silently slid up, revealing a row of buttons on the surface beneath. Buttons with letters on each.

How was that possible? Something unseen was making this contraption move!

Magic, then. Like the books. This weapon was even more powerful than he could imagine.

He couldn’t steady the tremble in his fingers as he reached for the letters. He wasn’t one who could write, like Johnis, but he knew the letters Thomas had insisted every child learn. He pushed a few and stood back.