“No!” Bet cried. “I mean yes, that was what they were doing, but you have to believe me when I say that I was against it. I am!”

“Liar!” Jorick screamed, jumping to his feet. “You were there, leading us along, making plans with your masters behind our backs. You made me think I had a father, a father who taught me every day how to fight and make weapons, who made a sword for me, who—”

Disgusted, Jorick turned away. He unsheathed his sword, looked at it in the glow from Bet’s magical orb, then tossed it into the dirt. “This sword means nothing. It’s just a prop.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Bet said quietly. “I am the apprentice of one of the order’s wizards, and they asked me to take part without fully explaining what was going on. They told me that you were willing participants, that you are orphans who hated your lives on the streets, and so you wanted to be here. It made sense to me. Memory altering spells work best when those whose memories are being altered don’t resist.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t agree to do anything like this,” Evin said.

Bet sighed. “I know that now, and since your memories came back, I suppose you must have resisted. I wasn’t even supposed to be down here, just … Well, the last time they did a campaign, the chosen children weren’t very bright and didn’t know where to go or what to do. They spent days and days doing nothing at all, even after having found the Practical Guide.”

“The guide?” Jorick asked. “Is that real or made up too? Is that Zendric guy your master? Is he behind this?”

“No,” Bet said. “I mean, yes, the guide is real. Zendric was real, and he was really from Curston, before that city was razed when they built the dome. The book has been around for ages—all wizards have to study it before they are given their robes. The wizards figured that they’d at least give their chosen children a small fighting chance by providing them with a guide. The fact that I had to come with you in order to help you understand the guide, well, that was new this time.”

“What happened to the kids?” Evin asked.

“Kids?” Bet asked.

“The last ones who were in here. The ones who weren’t very bright.”

“Oh,” Bet said. “After watching them for a week struggling to find food and hiding out in a cave crying, the wizards coerced a band of goblins into attacking the children.”

“Did the kids beat them?” Evin asked, even though he had a feeling that he already knew the answer.

“No,” Bet said. “They didn’t.”