The August 5 (21 page)

“Identification card, please,” the guard said gruffly.

Gavin's hands trembled as he handed over his card. He was mere steps away from the door. A beautiful autumn day beckoned him to come outside, but these men were like an impassable wall. Gavin felt a rising sense of panic as the soldier read the card carefully and jotted down information in his ledger.

“Gavin Baine,” the guard read. “What's your profession?”

“Machinist,” Baine lied.

“Is this your current residence?” the soldier asked, peering at the address printed on the small piece of paper.

“Yes, sir,” Gavin lied again. The address on the card was actually an empty warehouse in the butchers' district, but the numbers and street name were a plausible place for a cottager to reside.

The soldier jotted more notes in the ledger. It seemed to take forever, and every once in a while, he'd consider Gavin critically and then make another note. Finally, after a tense silence, the man spoke.

“You're free to go,” the soldier said.

Gavin had to restrain himself from sprinting into the street. Now that they had his name, he wondered how much freedom he had left.

20

MASS TRIAL FOR REBEL COTTAGERS BEGINS

The mass trial of the rebel leaders has begun at the Zunft Compound in Sevenna City. While the good people of Port Kenney try to rebuild the ruins of their village, they call for justice to be done. The families of the soldiers murdered in the August Rising demand action! Chief Administrator Shore has heard their cries and he has answered: justice will be done!

—
Zunft Chronicle,
Evening Edition, October 21

On Saturday, Tommy entered the dining hall as the bell rang to signal the beginning of the evening meal. Across the sea of tables, Kristoph and Dennett were laughing together as they sat at their usual table with Bern. When Tommy entered the dining hall, Bern glanced at him and quickly turned his attention elsewhere. The two brothers hadn't spoken since the night at Ash Street Garden, and Tommy had mostly avoided the dining hall. But he was tired of lukewarm soup and crackers. He didn't want to avoid his brother anymore. Tommy had been in the right, not Bern and his buddies.

Tommy wove his way between the tables toward the back of the hall and stood behind the chair next to Ellie. As always, Ellie and Kristin were the only students at the large table near the entrance to the kitchen. The servers were so accustomed to this arrangement that they only put out two place settings instead of eight. Tommy stood there, waiting for an invitation to join the girls, but they both stared at him like he had two heads, which oddly hurt his feelings.

Everyone in the hall stopped talking and stared. Tommy pulled a chair out to sit down, but the legs screeched against the floor. The unpleasant noise reverberated loudly in the hall as Tommy plunked down in his seat. With everyone watching him, everything seemed overly loud and overly dramatic. It was so silent that Tommy could hear the clink of the dishes from the kitchen as the servants prepared the meal. The blood rushed to his face as he felt all eyes on him.

Kristin tossed her blond curls and laughed. “I don't know if there's room for you, Tommy. This table is pretty crowded.”

“Is it all right if I sit here?” Tommy asked. “I should have asked first.”

“Of course, Tommy!” Kristin said. “You don't have to ask.”

Finally, the students returned to their eating and chatting—probably about Tommy—but at least the racket felt like a shield around them. He glanced over at Ellie, who was frowning at him.

“What?” he asked.

“This is where Zunft careers come to die,” Ellie said.

“Ellie!” Kristin said.

“I'm sorry,” Ellie said. “But he has to know what he's doing.”

“No problem. I already ruined my political future by disagreeing with the lads,” Tommy said.

“Is that what happened to your eye?” Ellie asked. Tommy still had a faint black eye from Kristoph's fist. Tommy shrugged as if it wasn't important. Ellie and Kristin glanced at each other, and then they both grinned at him.

“Well, then, welcome to the table where the fun never stops,” Kristin said.

“We put the ‘fun' in funeral,” Ellie said, and Kristin groaned. It took Tommy a second to get her joke.

“Ugh, Ellie, that was terrible,” he said, and she laughed, delighted with herself.

“Ellie is the master of bad puns,” Kristin told him.

“My father was this incredible genius who was tickled by dumb humor like that,” Ellie said. “When I was little, I would get him laughing with the silliest jokes.”

“What did your father do?” Tommy asked.

“He was an engineer with the Bureau of Innovations,” Ellie said.

“He has the patent on volt-cells, right, Ellie?” Kristin said.

“Your dad invented the volt-cell?” Tommy asked. He suddenly remembered the name Peter Sommerfield from his engineering book. He was considered the father of the industrial revolution.

“His original model was incredibly unstable,” Ellie said. “But it's the foundation of what they make now. That's why they let me into Seminary—to carry on his legacy or something.”

“Both Ellie and I come from
notable
families,” Kristin said. “We're smart, sure, but our dads have
spectacular
pedigrees. It was Charlotte who was the true genius. Her dad's a nobody, and they still let her in.”

Kristin had a funny inflection every time she talked about the Zunft. To someone who didn't know her well, it made her sound ditzy. Tommy had come to understand it as a layer of sarcasm. She wasn't as overt as Ellie about her disdain for the Zunft, which was definitely the safer choice.

“How is Charlotte doing?” Tommy asked as a server arrived with plates of chicken and fresh bread.

“I haven't had a letter from her in a while,” Kristin said.

“Not since her mother took her back to her grandparents' house on Norde,” Ellie said. “Apparently, she's going to stay there for a while.”

“Poor Charlotte,” Kristin said. “She thought her grandparents' manor house was haunted. She's going to be miserable.”

“Charlotte left Seminary for good?” Tommy asked. He actually wasn't surprised. He hadn't seen her since the day she was ill and went to the hospital. The same day that he and Ellie had walked around Sebastian's Circle.

“Did you hear what they did for Rannigan?” Ellie said. “They rewarded him with a full professorship and a shiny new office on the top floor of the administration building.”

“Did she leave because of Professor Rannigan?” Tommy asked.

“The rest of the students weren't exactly friendly,” Ellie said. She and Kristin exchanged glances. “But he targeted her specifically. There was a bet among some of the professors about who could get us to leave.”

Tommy glanced up at the row of men eating at the head table. Sure enough, Rannigan was now wearing the stripes of a full professor on his black robes. He was talking to Headmaster Olberg, who was seated on his right. Even from a distance, Tommy could see Rannigan's self-important smile. It was amazing to him that anyone could congratulate himself for bullying a girl—a girl he was supposed to be teaching and helping find her way in the world. And his colleagues had rewarded him for his efforts. Tommy stared down at his chicken. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore.

“Well, the issue of girls in Seminary is being examined in the Chamber now,” Ellie said. She lowered her voice. “Not that there is a Chamber anymore.”

“Ellie!” Kristin hushed her. “Not here.”

“I can talk about the facts,” Ellie retorted. “The chief administrator dissolved the Chamber. All power now resides with him.”

“It's a temporary thing, right?” Tommy said.

Ellie scowled at him. “Your father crowned himself the metaphorical king of the world. Do you really think he's going to willingly hand his scepter back to the peasants—ever?”

Tommy felt annoyed and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was her tone of voice. “It's not like the ‘peasants' ever had any power.”

“Did you think I meant the cottagers?” Ellie retorted. “Your father treats his own faction like peasants. And you know what? They're starting to desert him. He's taken his power trip too far, and it doesn't matter how much he tries to pay them off, they don't want to be second-class citizens to King Colston.”

“Uh-oh,” Kristin said softly. She tilted her chin toward the front of the hall. A group of lads were approaching their table. Kristoph, Dennett, and Frank were among them, but Bern had disappeared from the hall.

“They're swaggering,” Ellie whispered.

“Swagger alert,” Kristin agreed.

“Like cocks showing the hens what's what,” Ellie whispered back, and Kristin made barely discernible chicken noises under her breath.
Cock-a-doodle-do!
Tommy realized that the girls were rehearsed at this. Maybe it made them feel better, but Tommy wasn't laughing.

The lads lined up along the edge of their table. The dining room was surprisingly empty considering the meal had been served only a short while ago. Kristoph and Dennett lifted the edge of the table up and dropped it back down with a loud bang. The three water glasses tipped over, and the rest of Tommy's food was ruined. Ellie was about to speak, but Kristin shot her a warning glare, and Ellie closed her mouth.

“What is it with you and food?” Tommy asked.

“I think you dropped something at the garden,” Dennett said, and the other boys snickered. “Your balls, Tommy. Some kid is playing with them in the garden.”

Tommy mopped up the water in front of him with his napkin. The hall had grown quiet again. At the front, a few of the professors excused themselves and left the dining hall. The rest made a point of talking among themselves and pretending to ignore the situation. Rannigan was the only one who was watching openly.

“We've been talking about you,” Kristoph said.

“You've got nothing better to do?” Tommy replied.

“And we've decided that you must be a pansy boy,” Kristoph continued. “That explains why you're such a fruitcake.”

Tommy wasn't sure if he should stand up and leave or sit there and take it. Either way, people would think he was an idiot. Across the table, Ellie was red faced and furious. Kristin was staring at the entrance like she was wishing she was somewhere else.

“Pansy boys should really wear some face paint and ribbons,” Kristoph said. “Why don't you ask your girlfriends for some?”

“Shut up, Kristoph,” Ellie, who couldn't keep quiet anymore, said.

“Close your trap, dog face,” Kristoph said.

“Hey!” Tommy stood up abruptly, pleased to see that Kristoph took a step backward. “Leave her alone.”

“You know what your brother told us?” Kristoph retorted. “Your father thinks you're a pansy, too.”

Tommy hesitated. Either Kristoph was skilled at saying the right things to hurt someone or Bern had talked about Tommy to his friends. Colston Shore probably
did
think Tommy was a misfit, but it was a betrayal that Bern would actually reveal that to anyone else.

Kristoph spun around to address the hall, speaking loudly so the remaining students and professors could hear him, “There ought to be a law. No pansy boys in Seminary. Will someone please take out the trash?”

There was a smattering of laughter among the rest of the students. Suddenly Tommy wanted to kill Kristoph. Throw him down on the ground and smash his face. But if he swung at Kristoph, he'd get himself expelled. So instead, he turned and walked away.

“A pansy
and
a coward?” Kristoph called. “Pathetic.”

When he reached the door, he could still hear the lads laughing at his expense. Tommy wished he could enjoy the irony of Kristoph calling him a coward. Here was a rich kid who destroyed a poor man's garden in the dead of night. As Tommy yanked the door open and hurried down the stairs, he wondered if he should wait for the girls. If they didn't follow him, he would look even more like an idiot. It was getting dark and he wasn't supposed to leave the Seminary at this hour. He was going to have to slip out a side gate to avoid being stopped by a guard. If he got caught, it would mean trouble, but with his face still burning with humiliation, he really didn't care. He wanted to get out of there—beyond the walls of Seminary. He wanted to be beyond the reach of any Zunftman.

 

 

Go over Shadow Bridge, take a right at Connell, and go two blocks east.
That's what Emilie had told him that night in the cabaret. He found the Plough and Sun, a pub with a wooden sign swinging in the cool breeze. Warm firelight glowed under the door, and even from the street, he could hear lively fiddle music and laughter. When Tommy stepped inside, he was met with a blast of heat. He surveyed the room anxiously, but no one paid any attention to him. He was yet another body in the already packed establishment. A crowd of people danced on the open floor in front of the roaring fireplace. The inside of the pub was bigger than it looked from the street. There were high-backed booths along the far wall and long tables and benches in the center of the room.

Tommy was happy to see that, like him, most of the men wore brown trousers and long-sleeved shirts. Many had their vests on and their sleeves rolled up. Tommy shoved his green scarf in his pocket and loosened the buttons on his jacket. He gingerly navigated the crowd and waited patiently in the crush of people near the bar. After ordering shepherd's pie and a mug of cider from the harried barkeep, he asked her about Emilie Johns, but he could barely make himself heard over the noise. So he found an empty alcove in a far corner away from the boisterous dancers and waited for his food. It was dimly lit and colder in the back of the pub. A half-burned candle flickered in the center of the scarred tabletop.