Effie shook her head. “I didn’t know that. I mean, I knew that you were involved with troubled young people, but then I found out that that you were undercover and—”

“Do you know what happens to galloglasses who are expelled from the Otherworld?” Festus said.

Effie shook her head.

“Most of them die. They can’t breathe the air here. They can’t get energy from our food. They’re allergic to almost everything. So because of a stupid test they are condemned to death. Yet the Otherworld thinks it’s so superior and so kind. It thinks our world is the one that is horrible. But we don’t have the death penalty anywhere here anymore.”

Effie had learned in history class about the dark times when people could be electrocuted for committing murder, even if they hadn’t really done it, and people were flogged to death for nothing more than drinking a glass of wine or kissing the wrong person.

“I thought you liked the Otherworld,” said Effie.

“I do. But it’s not as wonderful as it thinks it is. Mind you, this business of expelling galloglasses only really became serious when the Mainland Liberation Collective got so powerful. They think they’re protecting the Otherworld, but in fact they’re corrupting it. Turning it into the thing they’re supposed to hate.”

“Are they really all galloglasses?” asked Effie.

“Who?”

“The people who get ejected. The ones you talk to. The young people . . .”

“No,” said Festus. “I don’t think so. Sometimes, perhaps, but anyway, people can change their shade. Although that fact is often conveniently forgotten. Occasionally I do intercede and try to get one of them returned, but by then their parents will have been told that it’s actually best for the child to be sent to the island. They are promised letters and future contact, but in over seventy percent of cases the poor kids just evaporate as soon as they walk through the door of a portal.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yes.”

“Their parents must know what happens, though?”

“You’d think so. But the fear of the island is very strong. Once a parent has been convinced that their child is really island bred they are usually relieved to see them go.”

“But that’s barbaric.”

“Indeed.”

“I really thought the Otherworld was supposed to be perfect.”

“And in many ways it is. But perfection usually comes at a cost.”

Effie had thought that a chat with Festus might make her feel better, but now she actually felt a lot worse. They walked on for a few moments in silence. Water dripped from somewhere, and Effie could hear the wind make low, unimpressed whistling noises as it felt its way through the tunnel.

“What’s your shade?” she asked Festus.

“Protector,” he said.

“Like me,” said Effie. “Except . . .”