“I promise you, it’s not,” said Effie, smiling. She told Dr. Wiseacre about how rough it was there with all the impoverished children who couldn’t even afford lunch and ate candy instead, and then beat each other up. She would have gone there herself had she not passed the test to get into the Tusitala School.

Effie found herself talking in a way that didn’t quite sound like her, but she didn’t seem able to stop doing it. It was partly because of the way Dr. Wiseacre responded, smiling and laughing when Effie complained about something at home. And everyone here hated the Realworld, it seemed, so Effie found herself playing up to it and making it sound much worse than it really was. She felt like an Otherworlder—a mainlander—at heart and always had been. If that meant hating the island as much as they all did, then she could do it.

She could maybe also get a pet dragon, and dye her hair blue, and try to grow a cat’s tail and ears and perhaps just have a single pink flower growing out of the back of one of her hands. . . .

“All right, Effie, thank you,” said Dr. Wiseacre. “We should probably start to review everything now. You’re quite right that you are a true hero and an interpreter. That’s all confirmed now. Quite an unusual combination, especially here. So all that remains is the matter of your shade. Tell me, what do you know about the shades?”

“Not very much,” said Effie. “I’ve got a book with a chapter on the shades but I didn’t read it because I didn’t want to influence my result.”

“So do you even know what the six shades are?”

“Philosopher?” said Effie. “That’s the one at the top?”

“That’s right. Go on.”

“Then . . . No. I’ve forgotten. I’ve been saving it up to read after this, so I’ve only ever glanced at the picture really. Sorry. Oh—protector is at the bottom of the circle, I think?”

“Yes. You’ll have noticed it’s structured as a clock face. It’s philosopher at twelve o’clock, then aesthete at two o’clock, artisan at four o’clock, protector at six o’clock, galloglass at eight o’clock, and shaper at ten o’clock. They all merge into one another in different directions, but mainly clockwise and counterclockwise. Where do you think you might go on the clock?”

“I’m not sure,” said Effie. “I don’t know enough about what each shade does.”