Gifted (Chapters 6-7)

Chapter 6: Mapping

'At times like these,' announced Denna to nobody in particular, as she balanced carefully on the pointed rooftop, 'I try to ask myself: What's the worst that could happen?'

'We could get caught, expelled, and subject to the death sentence,' replied Arra, 'But no sweat.'

'Death sentence? Have you been listening to the Tutor? Most we're going to get is ten years' jail time.'

'I was exaggerating a bit. Spare me.'

'Anyway, there's no way we're going to get caught. When was the last time you saw anyone patrolling the roofs?'

'Yesterday.'

'What?'

Arra made the potentially lethal mistake of diverting her attention from the matter at hand in order to send a withering look at her twin. 'Dear sister, you don't see because you don't look. You still think we're back—'

At this point, she fell through a skylight.

The short version of the explanation is that the girls had been climbing along the roof of one of the surplus dormitory buildings looking for a way in, which they had now found. It looked, however, as if Adam, Jonathan, and two children called Opal Osterman and Michael Shears, whom Arra didn't know very well, had all found it before them.

Everyone in the attic held their breath in anticipation of the inevitable bad pun.

'Nice of you to drop in,' said Adam obligingly. Jonathan, Mike, and Opal exhaled as one, and Arra smiled and tried to look non-threatening; Adam still scared her very slightly, Jonathan did whatever he told him and could easily have beat her up without laying a finger on her, and Shears frankly had a vicious streak a mile wide. Arra hadn't paid Opal much attention during the few weeks since school had started, but she figured Adam would be unlikely to hang out with someone unwilling to do his dirty work for him.

Jonathan signed something, including a finger pointed upwards. Arra's glance flickered to him; while she had significant trouble using the Sight at the best of times, he hadn't even bothered to close his material eyes.

'Won't you invite your sister to join us, Arra?' asked Adam. Arra relaxed very slightly; Adam had clearly been trying to make a good impression on Denna during the coffee burglary, so it was unlikely he would try anything painful while she was around.

'Denna, come on! It's not far down!' called Arra. A moment later, her twin dropped through the skylight, and landed on her feet.

'Ouch!' said Arra.

'Sorry,' said Denna distractedly, ignoring her and looking around at the three boys. 'What's up?'

Adam smiled, cheetah-quick. 'Welcome, m'lady,' he said, standing up to give her his seat, 'to our council of war. Care to join us?'

***

I have always thought that anybody who happened to wander into my office during that year would have found it very strange. For a start, the design of the office was very stark. Although there were a large desk, an armchair, a carpet, and a number of photographs – mainly of my sister and nephew – hanging on the walls, the actual structure of the room was Spartan: there were no windows, and the door was made of heavy metal with not the slightest crack between itself and the frame, and no keyhole or handle.

On this particular afternoon, I was sitting at the desk, looking through a large sheaf of notes in my own handwriting. All good Government teachers keep notes on their students, of course, but these were a little unusual, in that had nothing to do with academic achievements, or with any particular student's problems. They were social maps: diagrams representing the political structure of the class as a whole.

They took a while to make, since I had so much information to process. In the previous schools at which I had taught, they were mostly based on seating patterns and careful observation of who was doing what during recess, but here I had access to camera footage from all over the campus, including audio if I wanted it. Very Government, but then I was a Government employee, wasn't I?

I was also a Government employee working by myself. There were other staff, of course, mostly for security and to intervene physically if they had to, but I was under strict instructions to involve them in the actual teaching process as little as possible. I hadn't dared asked why, but I suspected that my employer was trying to maintain secrecy.

That meant I had to manage this class pretty much on my own. My mission was twofold: Firstly, to train them at sorcery, and secondly, to cure them of their assorted psychoses, at least as far as was necessary to get them to work together effectively.

Doing one of them would have been hard enough; I wasn't sure I was capable of doing both. Even beyond just having an extra priority to deal with, the two were almost contradictory: focusing on their powers would, necessarily, promote rivalry. Rivalry can be healthy, of course, but with kids like these... no. I was sure I needed a different strategy.

Not a compromise; that would just result in neither goal being achieved. I needed a tertium quid, a third option which exposes a dichotomy as false. I didn't have one, though, so for the meanwhile I just had to keep as much control as I could and watch very closely.

Thoughtfully, I opened my laptop, entered a number of complicated passcodes, and brought up a split-screen view of the entire campus, as seen through a number of different hidden security cameras. I rewound the footage, watching as the students and security personnel moved backwards through their daily routine for several weeks, until something caught my eye.

Playing the recording at normal speed, I saw Adam, Jonathan, and the Shalm twins standing under the window of the teachers' lounge, while on the other side of campus, Richard, Anthony and Max were pulling off almost exactly the same stunt at the supplies warehouse, although it did take them considerably longer; it was sheer luck that none of the patrols had run into them while they were there.

Of course, had things been otherwise I would have felt quite content to subject all those involved with several days in a punishment cell, of which there were several on campus. But the Governor had set down rules for this game, of which the children had unwittingly taken advantage.

Or had they managed to figure it out already? I looked through the antics of the few weeks during which the groups had formed – the change of seating, a few petty and non-sorcerous thefts between members of opposing groups, which I had punished accordingly, and so on – and noted that, in general, they appeared to be oblivious to the hidden rules which would allow them to escape justice, so the first pair of thefts were probably a fluke.

Unless...

I rewound the footage back to one day before the raids, and saw Adam and Jonathan breaking into the antechamber to Room 001. I had watched the video before, of course, but had been unable to punish them because, once again, they had played by the rules; and, once again, I had dismissed it as a fluke. But this time, watching the tape at normal speed as oppose to the 4x rate at which security footage is usually reviewed, I heard Adam's voice issuing from the laptop's speakers:

'I like ants. They remind me of us.'

And then watched him very carefully burn them to death with battery acid. What was that about? He might have just been a pure sadist—a not uncommon trait with children such as these—or he was making a statement.

Assuming, for the sake of the argument, that Adam was indeed trying to send a message, who was it for? His friend? There was no-one else there.

Except myself, after a fashion.

Oh-oh.

Could he have realised that the whole campus had to be bugged? Perhaps. But if he did know that, and had attempted entry to 001 anyway, then he had probably figured out the rules, even if he wasn't telling his friends yet. And there was not a damn thing I could do about it.

Or I was just reading too much into it. I do that sometimes.

With an internal scream of exasperation, I turned back to the diagrams of the rest of the class. Those, at least, were simple enough to predict. The class was going through all the normal stages of gang formation, albeit on a minor scale. The violent phase was bound to start shortly. Very soon, I would be looking at a fight.

I caught myself on that thought, and flipped back through my notes. There was something odd about the way the groups had formed themselves. Charismatic leader, check. Polarisation, check. Petty rivalry combined with equally petty flaunting of authority, check. Time frame—

That was it. The entire thing was happening too fast. The thefts had been catalyst events, of course, but even event-caused bonds still needed cementing time. This had taken twenty-four hours. It made no sense.

I sat in quiet contemplation until I came up with an explanation. The students were faced with a situation that was alien and, I was forced to admit, hostile. More than that: for the first time, they were studying their gift, and competing in its use against others.

I had already figured out, when I was drawing up preliminary psychological profiles, that sorcery would be a defining part of my charges' personality. That kind of power – and that kind of difference from normal members of society – will almost always become part of a person's identity. But it was only now that I realised the full implications of that fact.

The school presented my pupils with an opportunity that they had never faced before. It offered them the chance to be all they could be, to fully realise their power. They needed that desperately, and that gave me a powerful tool. On the other hand, they were also having those powers challenged for the first time, and that scared them. Not just superficial fear – it was a threat to a defining part of their sense of who they were.

In short, I was messing with powerful forces, the effects of which I wasn't sure I could control or even predict. One effect I was confident of, however, was the fact that the pressure my students were under had pushed them into hyper-shock: permanent fight-or-flight mode. For the entire time they were at the school, their brains would be marinated in adrenaline, and as such all of their actions would be exaggerated, all of their emotional states would be extreme.

Even for the calmer members of the class, like Peace or Claire or Denna, maintaining that state for an entire ten months would be unhealthy. For someone like Serenity or Mike, even a week would have been damaging, both for them and for anyone in their vicinity. I had no idea what an entire year would do.

On the other hand, at least I knew why the social structures were progressing so quickly. That was nice. It would have been terrible not to be able to analyse why my students were killing each other.

***

After the meeting broke up, Jonathan stayed close to Adam as they filed back to the dormitories, walking in silence. At one point, Adam slowed down carefully, and Jonathan followed suit, until they were at the back of the group – at which point, without warning, Adam turned down a side street and broke into a fast walk. Jonathan did a double take, and followed.

They walked quickly through the – naturally – deserted campus streets, until Adam stopped so suddenly Jonathan almost ran into his backpack. They building before them was, like all the buildings on campus, a completely nondescript whitewashed block, but Adam had clearly been there before, because when he turned the handle the door opened easily – the lock had already been taken care of. As they stepped through into the dark room, Adam leaned close to him and whispered 'No lights. Use the Sight.'

Perplexed, Jonathan did as instructed, abandoning his normal senses in favour of the strange perception of the Second Power. The Sight, despite its name, did not rely on light – nor on any other medium, according to Tutor Steel – and so his friend was quite clear to him as Adam signed. Good. Can talk.

Jonathan suddenly realised what was going on. The cameras which were dotted all over campus had microphones attached, and of course the Tutor knew sign language – but in the dark, that would hardly be any use to him. He grinned. Communicating without sound or light – that was a sorcerer's trick. It didn't bother him that Adam had figured it out before him – despite their relative strength and technical skill, Jonathan had long since recognized that the other was a brilliantly original mind. He was happy to tag along behind.

Like ants, he thought, remembering their earlier conversation. But so what? Almost everyone was an ant, ultimately. It was just a question of which pheromone trail you wanted to follow. The innovators, by necessity, would always be in the minority – if everybody were to lead, there would be no nest at all.

Genius, he signed.

Thanks, signed Adam. Now help find.

?, signed Jonathan. If there was any advantage to sign language over spoken, it was conciseness.

Room for hold.

So that's what this was about. Of course Adam would want to scout out a room ahead of time. Always a step ahead.

Criteria? He inquired.

Adam frowned for a moment in thought. Small, but enough for one sitting and one standing. One camera. No windows.

Jonathan nodded, and turned to searching the building. It was a large, well-organized structure, with corridors and rooms laid systematically, as in an office block. In theory, this should have made it easy to search; in practice, since there wasn't a decoration or stick of furniture in the place, all the rooms, corridors and cupboards wound up being essentially identical, and Jonathan had a hard time keeping track of which rooms he'd seen already.

Not that he actually wandered all through the building himself – that would have taken far too long, so he used the Sight. Adam, on the other hand, did it the old-fashioned way. No accounting for taste.

Eventually, Jonathan found what they were looking for: each of the offices – or whatever they were – on the top floor had a storage space at the back, a narrow, windowless room lined with shelves. Perfect.

He returned to himself and turned to tell Adam – who, of course, wasn't there. Why did he always have to do things the hard way? Still, not to worry. He used the Sight again, and found Adam searching through rooms on the other side of the building. Jonathan—

did something that would be impossible to describe

—and knew that Adam would see a flash in front of his eyes. Or at least, he hoped so. Unfortunately, Jonathan couldn't see it himself since he was only watching through the Sight, which didn't perceive Illusory images, but he'd experimented with the Third Power before and he was getting pretty good at it.

He still wasn't sure if he'd be good enough for the coming operation, though.

He Saw Adam stop abruptly, and sign J ? —Jonathan didn't have a personal name in sign language, since he spent all his time around people who could speak.

Jonathan replied with another flash. He could do much more elaborate tricks than that, but for the meantime there was no reason to exhaust himself. Adam had already been duly impressed by his abilities.

Where ? Signed Adam.

This time Jonathan did go for something more elaborate – but only slightly. He caused a white arrow to appear in front of Adam, maintained it for a second, and then let it go. It was frustrating having to work without being able to see the results – similar to drawing or writing with one's eyes shut, although the mechanics weren't exactly the same – but Jonathan figured it would be good practice.

Regardless, he clearly hadn't managed to botch the arrow, because Adam did an about-face and walked quickly back to the central room. Jonathan returned to himself as he entered, and led the way up to the rooms he had found.

Jonathan turned his Sight on again as they entered the storage space, and saw Adam grin. Excellent.

Thanks.

You're welcome. Where camera ?

Jonathan did a quick scan of the room, found nothing whatsoever, and went back for a slow scan of the room. Eventually they found it: a tiny, metallic box, stuck in the middle of the wall between the top row of shelves and the one below it. He pointed to it, and Adam nodded acknowledgement.

Clever. Corner first place to look, so camera in centre.

Smaller than outside, noted Jonathan.

Stealth. Want to pretend only outside have cameras.

Why?

No idea. Now, observe.

Adam removed his pack from his shoulders, laid it carefully on the floor, and started going through its contents very quietly. Eventually he found what he was looking for, and straightened up.

Bottle ? Asked Jonathan.

Adam shook his head, and passed it to Jonathan, who took it on automatic. Once both his hands were free, Adam signed, thermos flask. Place over camera.

Jonathan obligingly covered the little device with the flask, so that its mouth was touching the wall. Adam nodded, and then reached into his bag and produced a roll of duct tape.

Where tape from ? Asked Jonathan.

Adam winked at him. Then he unrolled some duct tape and carefully taped around the edges of the flask, so that it was stuck to the wall with the camera still inside. Then he stretched it out a bit, making it taut, and after a second Jonathan twigged and punched some holes in it with the Force so Adam could tear it off.

?, signed Jonathan, after Adam had returned the duct tape to his bag.

'Do you know how a thermos flask works?'

Jonathan shook his head.

'Two layers of plastic, with vacuum in-between for thermal insulation.'

So ?

'Vacuum also insulates sound. Now, keep the light off, and we can't be found.'

Jonathan was moderately impressed, but it seemed to him that Adam had overlooked something quite important. Not with camera. But still can be found with Sight.

'I know.'

Jonathan briefly considered asking for an explanation, but quickly decided that it was pointless; if Adam wanted to be cryptic, he'd stay that way until he decided Jonathan needed to know something, at which point he'd tell him whether or not he was asked. Sometimes he was a frustrating person to have as a best friend.

Of course, Jonathan realised, he would probably be a far more frustrating person to have as an enemy. Or – and here he felt a stab of sympathy for Tutor Steel – as a student.

Then again, in this school, what was the difference?

Chapter 7: The Fight

Late at night, Max was kneeling on the edge of a rooftop, looking out over the campus. It was dark, but since they were out in the middle of nowhere the moon and stars provided enough light to see the general layout of the compound. It was a sight which made very little sense.

The entire place was too big. There were just too many buildings than could be attributed to the running of a school, especially if one took into account how small the dormitories were. Sure, there had to be housing for the guards, somewhere to store food and other supplies, a building from which the security system could be run... but no matter how many uses he thought up, there were still structures not accounted for.

The simple explanation was that the whole thing had simply been built to accommodate many more children than were actually present, and this also appeared to be true. But even scaling the current operation up by a factor of ten or eleven, there were still unneeded and abandoned buildings all over the place, populated by ghosts, wandering endlessly through their halls carrying walkie-talkies and, for some reason, cheeseburgers...

Max jerked awake, blinked raindrops out of his eyes, and glanced down at his watch. He had been lucky; it had started raining only twenty minutes after he had dozed off. Still, the first rain of the autumn was supposed to be lucky, wasn't it? His mother had told him that once...

It was just as well the clouds had come scudding in when they had, or he probably would have returned late to the dormitories and got himself tomorrow's lunch docked. In another school he would probably have been able to make up somewhere he had been being productive, especially on a campus this big, but it had taken him less than three days to spot the CCTV cables and he knew there was no way he was going to fool anyone. The cameras themselves were well hidden, but people always forgot to conceal their wires properly.

Shaking his head to clear it before he fell asleep again and dreamed of badly designed security systems, he stood up, managed to turn halfway around, felt something hit the back of his skull very hard, and fell over.

'Say, Max,' said Adam conversationally, as he tied his wrists together with what felt like a pair of spare shoelaces. 'Do you believe in rain fortune?'

Max breathed heavily, trying to overcome the pain in his skull and get up, and felt someone grab his hair. 'Don't move, please.' Adam's voice again.

On balance, Max felt that obedience was his best option, and remained still. He did send out the Sight, though, and Saw that it was indeed Adam who was tying his wrists – using both hands, so it was evidently Force that had a grip on his hair. Behind him he saw Opal and Mike Shears, the former still as a statue, the latter hopping from foot to foot agitatedly.

'I don't suppose you're going to enlighten me as to what the hell you're doing?' hazarded Max. It was worth a shot.

'Not yet. Now do me a favour and be quiet until we get where we're going.'

Max took a casual interest in the intricacies of Government Native, and he was fairly sure that using “favour” to describe a situation where one person is tying somebody up while holding on to their scalp with the Force was something of a stretch, but didn't press the point. In theory, he could have used the First Power himself to knock Adam away and make a run for it, but he ditched that idea on the basis that he was outnumbered, he didn't know the relative strengths of himself and his opponents, and Jonathan would be around here somewhere, who could happily destroy Max any day of the week.

Actually, where was Jonathan? Surely Adam didn't think Max was stupid enough not to remember that he never left Adam's side. Anyway, what did he have to gain by pretence? The most extreme possible result was that Max would woefully underestimate him and make a dash for it, but what would that help? Well, if that was what he was aiming for, Max resolved not to do it; but then he realised that perhaps that was the conclusion Adam wanted him to reach, in which case –

As a rule he was good at these kind of double- and triple- and infinituple-bluffing games – they turned up any time one attempted to beat a system designed by a human being – but in this case it was clearly pointless, especially since it was dawning on Max that Adam had the upper hand in every possible way, not least the intellectual. Damn.

'Okay, let's go,' said Adam.

Opal grabbed Max's arms, Mike Shears took his ankles, and they were off, moving at a brisk pace down the stairs, out the building, and through the streets of campus. The rain and the rows of identical buildings, as well as the fact that he wasn't actually walking, combined to give the experience a surreal quality.

Less than five minutes later, Max was carried into yet another disused building, and dropped just inside the entrance. It was pitch black, but Adam pulled him upright by his hair and led him up at least two flights of stairs, through another doorway, and to a chair.

'Sit.'

Max sat.

'Now we can talk,' said Adam. 'You're probably wondering what the hell is going on.'

'That would be a fairly accurate summation, yes.'

'Fair enough. I decided to abduct you because I want to give your friends a reason to come and try to beat their way past me and my friends.'

'Why?'

'Because I want to see if they'll manage. Because I want to see how long it will take them, and how long it'll take the staff. Because I want to see which of my friends will stick with me when push comes to shove.'

'Any other reasons?'

'Yes, but I'm not going to tell you those. Oh, except one: I think I'd enjoy torturing you.'

That got Max's attention, although he was pretty sure Adam was bluffing. 'Torture?'

'Small stuff. Nutrient deprivation, low-level psychological tricks, strangulation, that kind of thing. I've found sadism pretty crude ever since I finished primary school, to be frank, but it's kind of gratifying.'

Max still wasn't sure if he was being serious or not. On the off-chance that he was, he was completely insane. On the more reasonable chance that he wasn't, he was aiming for something, but Max couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. He decided to play along, on the basis that calling his bluff could have unpleasant consequences. 'You're insane.'

'So are you.'

Max rolled his eyes, then realised it was pitch black, and said 'All right, then. You're significantly more insane even than the average human being.'

'Again, so are you.' Adam sighed, as if explaining something to a child. 'Basic fact of human nature: power corrupts. Take the Governor: he only came to power a couple of decades ago, when he was already a mature and fully-formed person – and already he's a megalomaniac.'

Max had never heard anyone say it so plainly, but the statement was hard to argue with. 'True.'

'And if you can get your hands on some real history books, you'll see that he's not the first example. Once people come into power, the corruption sets in and works fast.'

'Okay.'

'Now take us. The students here, I mean. We were born more powerful than other people; that corruption has been working on us for our entire lives. The chances of any of us being sane is minute.'

This was interesting, and Max had to admit that he presented a compelling argument. 'Go on.'

'Well, in you that power complex manifests mostly as a blatant disregard for authority and an obsession with getting through physical boundaries. In Richard, it's this weird tendency to try to make every dispute around him his own business. And I wound up ignoring boundaries of yet another kind – the boundaries of the self. Other people's bodies and minds.'

'You've been dying to explain that to someone since you got here, haven't you?'

'Oh, yeah.' Adam laughed. 'Now, let me show you something I learned from Jonathan a couple of weeks ago.'

'Sure.' Usually Max was more verbose, but it was always a good idea to keep the bad guy talking. Plus, this was actually interesting, and it was clear to him that he could stand to learn a thing or three from Adam.

'We both know that, if you try hard enough, you can get more power when you apply the Force. Or, if you're careful, less power. Usually we do it automatically when we're trying to move heavier or lighter objects.'

'Yeah...'

'Jonathan figured out that we can not only adjust the power, but focus it as well. So if you can concentrate on a smaller area, you can get the same amount of Force applying to a smaller surface, which makes it easier to punch holes in things and so on. Like so.'

'I actually can't see anyth— SHIT!'

Max felt like someone had stabbed a needle between his ribs. 'What was that for?'

'My own amusement. Calm down, I can't penetrate far; you can't really keep on applying the Force once you get through someone's skin, although we're not sure why. Tutor Steel will probably tell us sometime. Or maybe not, seeing as that information could teach us how to overcome that effect, which would be very bad for him. Now, Jonathan can do this kind of gradual-focus thing which I'd love to show you, but needless to say I'm not as good as him. So I'll stick with the basics.'

Max stepped outside himself with the Sight, pinpointed Adam, and was jerked back into his body by another needle-stabbing sensation, on the other side of his chest. He cried out.

'I just want you to know that, if I was the kind to lose self-control, I could punch you so full of holes you could be used to strain soup,' said Adam. 'But I'm not going to do that, because I decided I'm not really that kind of person. Nice talking to you.'

And just like that, he was gone.

***

'They're going to kill him.' said Serenity flatly.

'Of course they're not. Calm down.'

'THEY'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!'

It was, once again, evening; Max had been missing for twenty-four hours. Richard had managed to get Serenity onto a rooftop before she started taking apart the lounge.

'Serenity, you know these people,' said Richard as soothingly as he could manage. 'You see them every day. Adam is an evil little sod, true, but kidnap and murder? He's probably just exploring somewhere; maybe he managed to get into one of the spare buildings or something, I don't know. But you're being paranoid.'

'You really have no idea what people like Miller are capable of, do you?'

'I've seen my fair share. You don't have to live in Svartheim to learn those lessons. But funnily enough, I'd still take my time before naming a boy no older than me as a stone-cold killer! If you're so worried, go out and look for him.'

'This place is huge! I'd never find him.'

Richard decided to try a different tack before she actually knocked his head off his shoulders. 'Look, how fast can you move your Sight? You go north, I go south.'

It was dark, but had he not known her he would have sworn he saw her blush. 'I'm not actually that fa— You do it, if you think it's such a good idea!'

Knowing that violence would follow if he pressed the point, he acceded. 'Watch me while I'm gone,' he said—

And he was. Fifteen minutes later, he swore, jumped two floors down onto the ground, and set off towards the dormitories at a run.

***

Jonathan opened his eyes, to find himself leaning against a door. He clapped his hands together, and when Adam turned to look, signed Coming!. In very large gestures.

'Who do they have?' asked Adam, who was standing at the other door on the far side of the room. He sounded completely calm.

Jonathan took some comfort from his tone, calmed down a bit, and started spelling out names.

R C H R D , S R N T Y , A N D R W , Hettite name not recall.

'Peace?' suggested Adam.

He nodded.

'Never liked Hets.' said Michael, from where he was seated in the corner of the room. 'Funny color.'

'I assume they'd think the same thing about you, brown boy.' said Adam, and smiled for the space of an instant.

'Probably,' he conceded. 'Doesn't make me wrong. Acceptable difference of opinions and all.'

'What is?' asked Denna, climbing in through the window.

'Racism, apparently,' said Adam drily. 'Are the other girls in position, by the way?'

She nodded. Mike guffawed.

'Mike,' said Adam, and he fell silent. 'You're up.'

Michael Shears unfolded himself lazily, walked over to the open window and climbed out onto the sill. He lowered himself out sight and was gone. Adam shut and latched the window behind him.

'Jonathan,' said Adam once the two of them and Denna were alone in the room. 'Change of plan. You're in the back. Denna, I'll be here with you instead.'

Jonathan noted that Denna didn't seem to mind, but she didn't know Adam as well as he did. An impulsive change of plan – or, come to that, an impulsive anything – was totally out of character. He raised an eyebrow.

'I need you to be our last line of defence. And, to be frank, I don't want to use sorcery until it's that or lose.'

The eyebrow stayed up. Adam had never had any qualms about using the Powers in their old school.

'Ever heard of the principle of MAD?'

Jonathan nodded. Not recall meaning.

'Mutually Assured Destruction. Two enemies, who each have the ability to wreak wholesale destruction on the other, agree that neither of them will unless the other does first. Turns up in politics quite frequently.'

Recall. Tectonic, epidemic, antimaterial weaponry.

'For example. And now sorcery as well.'

Interesting.

'Isn't it? Anyway, you'd better get into the back room. You'd be pretty useless in an ordinary fight.'

Jonathan had to admit that this was probably true, and turned to face the door he had just been leaning against.

'Also,' said Adam behind him. 'Feel free to show off.'

Jonathan nodded, pushed open the door and went inside. As he closed the door he heard Denna start saying 'You know, someday you're going to have to—' before the thick portal cut off the sound.

It was dark at the back of the building, since it had no exterior windows to allow in the light from the campus streetlamps. The Sight, however, required no light, and Jonathan could clearly see – or, more accurately, perceive – Max sitting in the stolen classroom chair he had been tied to. His expression was surprisingly cheerful.

'Hey,' said Max.

Jonathan, of course, did not reply.

'I didn't catch your face when you came in,' continued Max.

Jonathan clapped his hands together a few times.

'Oh. Jonathan.'

Two claps.

'Can we talk?'

One clap.

'Well, no, of course not. But can we have a discussion?'

Three claps. A pause. One clap.

'Er... what?'

In the darkness, Jonathan rolled his eyes. By standard convention, which was taught in most schools in the Government, a triple-note was a question, so three-pause-one meant Why not? But Max evidently hadn't paid attention past “one for no, two for yes”.

Jonathan considered his options. What he had in mind was sort of obnoxious, and tiring besides, but Adam had said to do something impressive. He drew a deep breath, steeled himself, did something that would be completely indescribable in any ordinary language—

And the words Why not? were written in letters of fire across the darkness.

Max yelled and jerked backwards so hard that he knocked his chair over. Jonathan dropped the words and levered him back upright without touching it.

'What the hell was that?'

Breathe. Focus. Act. The Third Power. Illusion, remember? Tutor Steel mentioned it.

Max inhaled deeply. 'Mentioned, yes. He's also mentioned the existence of advanced firearms and space travel.'

You could use the Sight when you first arrived, couldn't you? And we hadn't been taught that either.

'No, but—' Max stopped, and Jonathan could have sworn he heard his brain whirring. 'Wait, how do you know that? I only used it once before it was taught, and you weren't even there.'

Your girlfriend must have mentioned it.

'My girlfriend?'

Serenity.

'Huh. I wish. But stop trying to change the subject. You've been spying on me, haven't you.' It wasn't really a question.

Jonathan cursed himself, but in the darkness Max couldn't see him and probably wouldn't have known what most of the gestures meant anyway. Of course, he projected onto the air.

Through the Sight, Jonathan could tell Max was grinning. 'I don't know why I'm surprised, actually. Adam put you up to it?'

Jonathan's previous words continued to hang in the air conspicuously.

'Fair enough, fair enough...' his voice trailed off, and Jonathan allowed the words to wink out; he felt like he had run a mile.

'Wait a minute. How come I can read? It's pitch black.'

Yes, it was a waste of energy, but Jonathan couldn't resist showing off. Close your eyes.

Max did, and cried out loud for the second time in as many minutes. Through the door, Jonathan heard an answering shout from outside, and realised that the fight was already going on. Best not to mention this; Max might fight if he were to realise his friends were just outside trying to get to him.

Disconcerting, isn't it?

'I'll say.'

Once again Jonathan dropped the illusion, and there was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments—during which the shouts from outside were clearly audible—before Max said:

'Doesn't it strike you as ironic that something that isn't real could be seen even under circumstances when real things can't?'

The philosophical non sequitur caught him off balance.

I sup... but the words disappeared before he had even finished writing them, and he nearly fell over, losing his grip on the Sight. He was very tired.

'Jonathan?' said Max from the darkness.

Jonathan clapped his hands together.

'It's still very hard for you to do that, isn't it? Takes a lot out of you?'

Clap. Clap. He was too tired to deny it.

Jonathan heard a snap, and realised that the other boy must have been building up Force throughout the entire conversation. Then Max was behind him, wrapping a piece of the string which had tied him to the chair around his neck and dragging him to the ground. He felt the other bits of string wrap around his wrists and ankles and tie themselves into knots, and then Max was at the door, which abruptly opened of its own accord.

There was a security guard standing in the doorway. 'Game's up, kids.'

Jonathan nodded, weakly, and passed out.