Chapter One
I was in the courtyard sweeping dead leaves when I spotted the spy in the chestnut tree.
Most people would not have noticed, but I have a knack for seeing things other don't. After just a short look, say a second or two, I can sort through the images in my mind and sketch every detail. It is a skill I kept secret. It is a skill that I hoped would be the key to my escape from the tedium of the Mount.
I first suspected the Mount was being watched months earlier, at the beginning of planting season. Now the dark nights and paralyzing snows of HighConjunction were fast approaching. The air was crisp and tinged with the acrid smell of the fields that had been flash-burned after the harvest. The rapid change of season conspired to reveal the spy. The chestnut tree, dappled in shades of russet and dark yellow, had begun to shed leaves.
SolMinor, in steady pursuit of its big brother, was already at LowNoon as SolMajor descended directly behind the chestnut. Silhouetted amongst the thinning branches was the still form of a boy.
I have nothing against spies. Boys like me, boys without families, are frequently used by the different alliances as spies. I was unsure of the spy's purpose, but the first sons from many franchise families boarded and studied at the Mount, so the spy in the tree was probably employed by one of the guild families or a guild school. I often thought about becoming a guild spy myself. Being a foundling ward of the school, I was as invisible to the students and most of the faculty as the spy in the tree. And with my hidden talents and my access to all these privileged franchise children, I could make a small fortune selling what I knew of their secrets, personal fears, and private perversions. Or maybe I could spy for a franchise family at a guild school. However, my life at the Mount was all I knew and, although I desired change, I was afraid of leaving.
I was considering whether or not to inform Headmaster Hunninger about the spy when someone entered the courtyard behind me.
"Fallon, what the Below are you thinking!"
I turned to face Dean Ambrose. The pink flush of his face stood out starkly from his black wool frock coat, starched white collar, and slick black hair. He stood stiffly, clutching a sheaf of yellowed papers in one hand and glowering over the wire-rimmed pince-nez perched low on his nose. At his side was the stout and stern head of staff, Missy Howard, attired in her usual grey ankle-length dress and white cotton smock.
The dean was half a head taller than I, so I had to look up to make eye contact — I have found that good, solid eye contact is best when lying. Most people think you can't look them straight in the eye and lie. They're wrong.
"Sir?" My voice was calm and innocent.
"I am asking you, Fallon, what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking of sweeping the courtyard, sir, just as Missy Howard instructed. Well, mostly that, sir. You see, as I was sweeping, I glanced up at the tree — the chestnut over the wall. I think there's…"
"No, not what are you thinking of… Not… not what are you thinking of right now… I mean…" The vein on his left temple stood out and pulsed as his face passed from pink to crimson. He raised his hand as if to strike me, as he often had, but he only wagged the papers at me accusingly. "I mean, what are you thinking by having these in your room?"
I resisted shooting a look at Missy Howard, who must have found the papers in my room and given them to the dean. "That would depend upon what those are, sir."
"Don't wizas me, boy. If you weren't a ward of the settlement, you'd be wandering the inlands, I dare say. So don't… don't wizas me."
I struggled to keep my outward composure. My insides were gnarled and the pounding of my heart had fallen into rhythm with the dean’s pulsing vein.
"But sir, my reply was neither wise nor asinine. I haven't a shade what it is you're flailing about in front of you. So how can I answer?"
It was Ambrose who broke eye contact first, looking to Missy Howard for support. "I know you know perfectly well what I have."
"You know I know? How can you know what I know?" I took a step back and pulled my best expression of fearful realization. "Are you a sorcerer then, sir? Can you read my mind now?"
I had gone too far.
"F-F-Fallon!” He grabbed me by the neck of my waistcoat and dragged me roughly toward the courtyard door. “I’m taking you to the headmaster. He’ll want an explanation. If you wizas him, ward or no ward, you’ll be out on the street by the setting of SolMaj, I dare say.”
As the dean manhandled me through the door, I made eye contact with the hidden figure in the tree, communicating my situation with a grin and a shrug. To my great surprise, the spy leaned out of the shadows and raised a hand, palm-forward, fingers spread, in the sign that said “do not despair, all is well.” I gasped when I realized that the spy was a girl, maybe a cycle or a cycle-and-a-half my junior. Her shaggy copper hair fairly glowed in the soft yellowish light of SolMinor. It is an image that is vibrant in my mind to this day.
– End Chapter One –
