Chapter 39

Restore everything in the room, Roy thought, then slipped back into the ground-floor classroom as if nothing had happened. He Scryed every soul in the school, all sixty or so of them, including Ffion and Cardell. He lingered longest over the respected headmistress. All the readings fell within human norms; Cardell was simply a human being, not some sage from another plane, nor a supernatural presence.

Still, Roy was a little surprised. Cardell, a woman over forty, was far more robust than most men. Her attributes averaged seven, and she carried the tags “Well-Trained” and “Dagger Specialization,” two active skills to boot. If anyone tried to tell him Cardell had nothing to do with the Revolutionary Army, he would not believe it.

...

After lunch, Roy picked Miffen out of a pack of boys roughhousing on the exercise yard.

Miffen was broad-shouldered and acne-scarred, a year from graduation. At first he treated Roy with indifferent arrogance, chin tilted, face set in contempt. He had long resented the pretty teacher’s obvious favor for Roy.

Two Crowns changed his tune. Money smoothed his scowl into a grin; suddenly he was eager to answer.

“Ffion’s real brother?” Miffen’s surprise showed in every pimple, each one practically gaping. “You know, I’ve been here four years. I’m one of the old hands among the sixty-or-so students. I’ve watched Miss Ffion for four years too. I can promise you, she has no weird brothers or sisters. Plenty of admirers like me, yes; look, those three greasy-faced lads over there, you see them? Same lot. Don’t lie, you like her too, don’t you?”

“As for fighting, Roy, are you mad? You don’t really expect me to have fought some nonexistent brother, do you? I’ve never seen any brother of hers. What I have seen is that wretch of a drunk, her father. If I get the chance, I might very well clobber him until he looks like a pig’s head.”

Miffen’s answers matched Roy’s expectations. Roy pulled a few other boys from the yard, kids younger than ten, found a pretext to speak with them in private, and heard the same story. Were any of them lying? Roy could not be sure; he had no Witcher Axii sign to force the truth. Still, it seemed unlikely that that many small children would keep a straight face while inventing the same elaborate lie. Their words carried weight.