to notice.
‘What use are you? You’re a nothing! You do nothing, you make no effort, you expect others to do it all for you, all you do is read your useless books! You’re a parasite! You’re a germ! You infect everyone round you with your sick lazy failure! You disgust me!’
Kestrel reached the top of the jetty, took a deep breath, and with a yell of blood-curdling fury, threw herself on the Chief Examiner’s back.
‘Pocksicker!’
She locked her arms round his neck and her legs round his waist and squeezed with all her might, to make him let go of her father.
‘Sagahog! Pooa-pooa-pooa-banga-pompaprune! Pock-sicking udderbug!’
The Chief Examiner, taken by surprise, released Hanno Hath’s arm and turned about to pull Kestrel off him. But whichever way he swung, she was always behind him, her wiry little arms throttling him, her muddy feet kicking at his ribs.
The tussle was short but intense. During it, much of the mud on Kestrel’s legs was wiped on to the Chief Examiner’s clothing. When at last he got a grip on her and tore her off, she let go, and he threw her farther than he intended. At once she sprang to her feet and ran.
He made no attempt to chase her. He was too shocked at the sight of his muddy clothes.
‘My whites!’ he said. ‘The little witch!’
Kestrel was gone, streaking away as fast as she could, up the tunnel towards the distant door.
Maslo Inch brushed himself down, and pulled back the lever that raised the jetty to its former position. Then he turned to Hanno Hath.
‘Well, old friend,’ he said, icily calm. ‘What do you have to say to that?’
‘You shouldn’t have done that to her.’
‘Is that all?’
Hanno Hath was silent. He would not apologise for his daughter’s behaviour, but nor was it wise to say what he really felt, which was that he was intensely proud of her. So he kept a neutral expression on his face, and looked with inner satisfaction at the mudstains on the Chief Examiner’s once-pure robes.
‘I now see,’ said Maslo Inch quietly, ‘that we have a far more serious problem with the girl than I had realised.’
6
Special Teaching
Kestrel ran out of the tunnel, and straight into the grey-clothed warden. He must have heard her coming, since he had dropped his broom and was waiting for her, arms spread wide. As soon as he had her tight, he picked her up and dangled her in the air, where she kicked as hard as she could, and screamed at the top of her voice. But he was a big man, bigger than he’d looked bent over his broom, and he was strong, and her screams didn’t seem to trouble him in the least.
Maslo Inch came out into the courtyard, followed by her father, just as two more wardens came running, drawn by the noise she was making.
‘Papa!’ she screamed. ‘Papa-a-a!’
‘Put her down,’ said Hanno Hath.
‘Be silent!’ cried the Chief Examiner, with such terrible authority that even Kestrel stopped screaming.
‘Get this man out of here,’ he said more quietly, and the two wardens started to hustle Hanno Hath away. ‘Take the girl to Special Teaching.’
‘No!’ cried Hanno Hath. ‘I beg you, no!’
‘Papa!’ screamed Kestrel, kicking and struggling. ‘Papa-a-a!’
But she was already being carried off in the opposite direction. The Chief Examiner watched them both go with a grim and unmoving look on his face.
‘What more can you do to me, eh?’ he said softly to himself. And he strode away to change into clean white robes.
The separate building set aside for Special Teaching was inside the old palace compound, on one side of a small deserted square. It was a solid stone structure, much like any other in this grandest of the city’s districts, with a high handsome door at the top of three steps. This door was opened from the inside, as the warden approached with Kestrel in his arms. It was closed after them, by a doorman dressed in grey.
‘Referred by the Chief Examiner,’ said the warden.
The doorman nodded, and opened an inner door. Kestrel was pushed through into a long narrow room, and left there without a word. The door closed with a click behind her.
She was alone.
She realised for the first time that she was shaking violently, out of a combination of fear, rage and exhaustion. She took several deep breaths to steady herself, and looked round the room. It was empty and windowless.
She turned her attention to the door, hoping to find a way of opening it. The door had no handle. She felt all over it, and round its edges, but it was close-fitting, and there seemed to be no way to open it from the inside. So she turned back to examining the room.
All along one wall hung a plain grey floor-length curtain. She drew the curtain back, and found there was a window behind it, looking through to a much larger inner room. Cautiously, she drew the curtain all the way back, and stared at the strange scene beyond. It was a classroom. Sitting at the rows of desks, with their backs to her, were a large number of children, perhaps as many as a hundred. They were all bent studiously over their books, working away in silence; or so she supposed, for no sound of any kind came through the glass. There was a teacher’s desk at the far end, and a blackboard, but no teacher.
The children at the back of the class were quite close to the window. Perhaps they would help her. She tapped on the glass softly, just in case a teacher was nearby. The children didn’t move. She tapped more loudly, and then as loudly as she could, but they seemed to hear nothing. It began to strike her that there was something strange about them. They kept their heads so low to their books that she couldn’t see their faces, but their hands were unusually wrinkly. And their hair was grey, or white, or – she saw it now – some of them were bald. Now that she looked properly, she asked herself why she had thought they were children at all. And yet, they were the size of children, and the shape of children. And surely –
The door opened behind her. Kestrel turned round, her heart hammering. A scarlet-robed examiner entered, a middle-aged lady, and closed the door behind her. She held a file open in her hands, and she looked from the papers in it to Kestrel and back again. She had a friendly face.
‘Kestrel Hath?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Kestrel. ‘Ma’am.’
She spoke quietly, clasping her hands before her and lowering her gaze to the floor. She had decided, on the spur of the moment, to be a good girl.
The examiner looked at her in some perplexity.
‘What have you done, child?’
‘I was frightened,’ said Kestrel in a tiny voice. ‘I think I must have panicked.’
‘The Chief Examiner has referred you for Special Teaching.’ As
