I opened my hand and reached out. It buzzed to life. It shook free of its bambi sheath and began spinning, flying from my bed. Faster and faster, it whirled. It circled left then right, testing the boundaries of the room. Finally, it wound its way to my grasp. It was warm with energy. I nodded, letting the substance of its weight reassure me of my own power. I gripped it, then for sport, flung it out again, aiming for my desk chair. It burst into dust on contact. I tossed it out again, destroying my desk, my bed, my basin and mirror.

When everything was destroyed, I looked down at my ruined aura. The tight nip of the hobble had ripped in my battle with Jones. Impulsively, I pushed two fingers in the gash and yanked it open, tearing the cloth from seam to seam and tossing it to the ground. Clothed in my bambi leggings, I shifted my pack onto my shoulder and, without looking back, I strode from my Schoolhouse dorm for the last time.

I walked quickly through the empty corridors and up the main stairs. Close to the Supply Room hall, I slowed. I measured my breathing so as not to make a sound. Inch by inch, I snuck up to the Chalk-Hand Guard—the one who called himself Jay.

I was close enough to see him. As always, his hands were powdery white. The ring finger on his left hand was bent just above the second knuckle. His other nine nails were congested with white crust.

I took a deep breath and shouted, “Condor!”

He jerked and jumped around—at the sound of his true name.

I stood to reveal myself.

“You!” he hissed.

I strode forward, triumphant, holding his naked gaze. Toe to toe, I stopped. “So, you are Condor,” I said. “The muscle of Voltaire’s Army.”

“How did you know?” he said.

I took his wrist. My hand didn’t span its girth. I lifted it so his chalk-white fingers fanned between us. “Your hands,” I said. “We call you the Chalk-Hand Guard, but the whiteness isn’t chalk; it’s paint. When I realized that, I knew you were a White-Face soldier. Last night, I sensed you were lying about your name. The rest I guessed and, now, you’ve confirmed it. How clever of you to hide here at Cobane, the most tame of the Kongo Houses.”