Free Warriors of the Black Shroud by Peter Howe

Frankie,” said Frankie, who never needed anyone else to introduce her. “I’m from the Outerworld, which is a long way from here—at least I think it is! And this is Walker,” she continued. “He’s from the Outerworld too. We live near each other.”
    â€œActually this is Lord Walker,” Astrodor corrected her. “He’s a Chosen One.”
    Amradin looked up from his building blocks, suddenly interested in the visitors for the first time.
    â€œAre you going to be king one day?” he asked Walker.
    â€œCan we see the mark?” his brother Avradin chimed in.
    They gathered around Walker, staring at his cheek as if it was the most amazing thing they had ever seen.
    â€œYou know, being with you is like being with a celebrity,” Frankie observed.
    Fame was the last thing that Walker wanted. He had always tried to go unnoticed.
    â€œIt’s just something that happened when I was born,” he protested. “It’s not like I did anything good to get it. It could have happened to anyone.”
    â€œNo, no, my lord,” said Astrodor, “the mark is only given to those of outstanding character. It says so in our history books.”
    Eddie let out a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a growl. He was getting as tired of the Walker admiration as Walker was himself.
    â€œLet’s do something fun,” he said. “How about a game of rocks?”
    This had the effect of taking the attention away from Walker, much to his relief. The twins disappeared into their room and returned a few moments later with a fabric bag full of round stones. They drew a circle in the dust on the floor and dropped most of them into the middle, reserving six for each player. The object of the game was to knock as many of your opponents’ rocks out of the circle, much like marbles, and each time one was hit a cloud of dust rose into the air. Walker had only ever played card games by himself or sometimes with his mother, but soon he was on his knees with the other children and yelling as loud as they did when one of his rocks struck an opponent’s.
    It seemed there were two competitions taking place: one to win the contest, the other to see who could make the most noise. Because of this nobody heard Astrodor’s mother and father enter the room along with the boys’ sister, Amalia. It was only the strange doglike creature that came in with them that took the boys’ attention away from their game. Artor suddenly put his book down and whistled to the animal that looked as if it was made of shiny steel wool.
    â€œArv—come here, boy,” he said, and then, as an afterthought, “Hi, Mom; hi, Dad.”
    The boys’ father stood there with a stern look on his face.
    â€œWhat exactly,” he asked, “is going on here?”
    â€œFather,” Astrodor addressed him respectfully, “the king asked me to take care of these children for a while, and they said they wanted to see a normal Nebulite home, so I brought them here to visit. Two of them come from the Outerworld, you see.”
    â€œI’m perfectly well aware of who they are and where they come from,” his father assured him gruffly, “and I’m also well aware,” he continued, looking at Eddie, “who this person is and what his reputation is.”
    â€œMy dear, please, show a little respect,” said their mother. “This young man is a Chosen One, after all.”
    â€œOh, a Chosen One! So what makes him different? Nothing more than a mark on his skin, that’s all,” said the father. “I don’t know who chose him, but it wasn’t me.”
    â€œWe’re happy to have you visit. It’s an honor to have a Chosen One among us,” the mother said.
    â€œHe’s a child,” said the father. “He’s just a child, no better than our own. All this Chosen One nonsense—it’s just an old