He felt an immediate spike of alarm, followed by shame. He stood up. “How did you know?” he said through the window.

“Reflection on my mirror, child,” she said, holding a cup of tea in both hands, not looking toward him. “Obey. If you please.”

Sullenly, he trudged around the building and through the front doors of the wooden lodge. The whole place smelled of the wood stain he’d recently helped apply. He still had the stuff under his fingernails.

He stepped into the room and shut the door. “Why did you—”

“Please sit down, Asinthew,” she said softly.

He walked to the desk, but didn’t take the guest seat. He remained standing, right where the constable had.

“Your handwriting,” Grandmother said, brushing at the paper the constable had left. “Did I not tell you that the matter of Forch was under control?”

“You say a lot of things, Grandmother. I believe when I see proof.”

Vwafendal leaned forward, steam rising from the cup in her hands. “Oh, Asinthew,” she said. “I thought you were determined to fit in here.”

“I am.”

“Then why are you listening at my window instead of doing evening meditations?”

He looked away, blushing.

“The Terris way is about order, child,” Grandmother said. “We have rules for a reason.”

“And burning down buildings isn’t against the rules?”

“Of course it is,” Grandmother said. “But Forch is not your responsibility. We’ve spoken to him. He’s penitent. His crime was that of a misguided youth who spends too much time alone. I’ve asked some of the others to befriend him. He will do penance for his crime, in our way. Would you rather see him rot in prison?”

Waxillium hesitated, then sighed, dropping into the chair before his grandmother’s desk. “I want to find out what is right,” he whispered, “and do it. Why is that so hard?”

Grandmother frowned. “It’s easy to discover what is right and wrong, child. I will admit that always choosing to follow what you know you should do is—”

“No,” Waxillium said. Then he winced. It wasn’t wise to interrupt Grandmother V. She never yelled, but her disapproval could be sensed as surely as an imminent thunderstorm. He continued more softly. “No, Grandmother. Finding out what’s right isn’t easy.”

“It is written in our ways. It is taught every day in your lessons.”

“That’s one voice,” Waxillium said, “one philosophy. There are so many…”

Grandmother reached across the desk and put her hand on his. Her skin was warm from holding the teacup. “Ah, Asinthew,” she said. “I understand how hard it must be for you. A child of two worlds.”

Two worlds, he thought immediately, but no home.

“But you must heed what you are taught,” Grandmother continued. “You promised me you would obey our rules while you were here.”

“I’ve been trying.”

“I know. I hear good reports from Tellingdwar and your other instructors. They say you learn the material better than anyone—that it’s as if you’ve lived here all your life! I’m proud of your effort.”