Chapter One

Skip was quiet; no one knew why he was so quiet but no one really questioned him about it. If someone did ask he would tell them he’s a deep thinker and needs silence to keep his concentration.
With his chores done for the evening he sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead, the brown clay mud in front of the barn squelched under his feet as he walked back towards the house. Skip never wore shoes during the evening chores especially when it rained because cleaning his shoes was much harder than cleaning his feet.
The light drizzle misted his face mingling with the now cooling sweat as he closed his eyes tilting his head back to feel the rain fall onto his skin. Skip smiled wide at the moment of reprieve before squaring his shoulders and continuing to the house.
The worn and sun-baked wooden steps moaned as his weight transferred quickly through the structure of the porch. He paused and smelled the moldy home-made furniture that his father lounged in most days, its splinters so numerous that the two chairs and table had an unfocused look.
A warm light flickered through the double glazed windows; Skip shook his head roughly trying to dispel the tiredness from creeping through. The leather hinges creaked as he pushed the front door inward dragging against the rough cobble stone floor.
The next room was emitting the normal pungent smell of mead and he knew what he would find when he entered and Skip was not surprised to see the head of his father lying on the table in the kitchen, a bottle framed by a limp hand moving with every deep breath.
His father was sleeping his mind numbed from the alcohol Skip tried his hardest to tiptoe through the kitchen without waking him but his father was a light sleeper, even when drinking, which was always.
With a start the bleary eyed forty year old shot up from his slouched position and fixed his attention to the figure slowly making his way across the room “Boy!” the kitchen rang with his booming voice.
Skip stopped and swallowed, fearing his fate this evening “Yes?”
“Yes?” his father said the word as if not recognizing it “YES WHAT?!”
“Sorry…”
“No” the man stood and removed his belt in one practiced movement “no sorry in this house always making mistakes… never doing your DAMN CHORES!”
“No please!” but it was too late the belt snapped back like a whip and caught him in the face as his father’s hand clamped around his forearm pulling him in for the inevitable beating.
The breath was stolen from his lungs as he was bent over a knee and whipped repeatedly with brown leather. The kind of comfortable leather that had been stretched over the years all the elasticity gone from it and an earthy smell from being in the same position for a long time.
Skip’s skin stung at first but soon became numb but the more numb it got the louder he screamed, if he made any sign that the beating wasn’t hurting him it would just get worse. He’d made that mistake once and had the scars on his back to prove it. It was not a good night when his backside wasn’t enough; sometimes his father beat him from backside to the back of his neck.
No one would run to his rescue he knew because the town of Little Houghton, Massachusetts was far away, seven miles of horse trails riddled with trees muffling the sound of the ostriches. Skip was on his own and accepted the beating calmly on the inside, screaming and thrashing on the outside.
When his father’s arm got tired and he was pushed to the ground Skip heard his father mutter “Damn six year old kid doesn’t know a damn thin’ abou’ wor-rk” and a resonating thud signaled his father had passed out cold.
Why his father couldn’t pass out before giving him a beating Skip did not know but he wished he did every night.  Only the fear of being beaten again stopped him from correcting his father and yelling in his drunken ear “I’m almost thirteen!”
Throbbing muscles and all Skip picked up what remained of his pride and made his way through the kitchen into the stairwell. Here there was a side door that headed directly towards the village, Skip tried to bypass the kitchen once through this door but paid dearly for it the next morning.
The stairs leading to the second floor were the best feature of the home because father rarely used them preferring to stay on the first floor where his access to the cellar and the mead was shortest. The stairs creaked but Skip didn’t fear more from his father that night, it was done and after the last five years of the same routine he knew when it was over.
Distracted with keeping hatred inside Skip’s insides squirmed with rage, he wanted to scream and punch the banister or smash the single window but he breathed deep and suppressed the urge. Fourteen steps that Skip marched up every night but even with that his foot extended upwards for a fifteenth step that wasn’t there.
Shock splashed his brain and his instincts took over; his hands moved on their own in front of him to brace for his impact and pain shot up his leg as it crunched first.
His descent stopped right before his face was to be flattened; a rush of air and blue light swirled around him pushing his body upright again. If the missed step shocked him this would’ve given him a heart attack but instead of curling up in a ball clutching his chest he brushed his slacks off, rubbed his right foot that started to throb like his backside and continued towards his room.
With a familiar groan the door eased to a stop when Skip let the pressure off. With another great sigh he collapsed on his straw bed nestling against his feather pillow. Comfortable and familiar sheets cradled him as he listened to the sound of rain still misting on his window.
Shadows darted across the sharp features of the room as lightning strobed in the distance, Skip held his breath until the deep bass-rumble hit his chest then he exhaled while the thunder shook the rickety house.
“Wow” he whispered to no one.
Soon his eyelids grew heavy with the constant pitter patter of water; thunder rumbled again through the outlying mountains adding to the soothing chorus.
Water smacked his nose and his eyes shot open completely awake, the roof was leaking, Skip cursed silently and fetched a pail from the closet. He placed the galvanized bucket right where his head was supposed to be and let out yet another long sigh. Sighs were his best form of communication especially for frustration but they also worked for unbiased response to questions. People assumed that he agreed with them without him actually saying anything, the little contact he had with people anyway.
If the rain and thunder were as good as straw beds and feather pillows then water hitting a galvanized bucket was like sleeping on a bed of needles and pillow stuffed with hot peppers. For an instant Skip thought it might be better to sleep with the water dripping on his bed but dismissed it instantly because it would most certainly ruin his best set of sheets and quilt.
He sighed again and decided to pull his quilt and pillow off the bed which he then threw to the floor with a soft thud. The nail-biting sound of water and metal was still present but at least it wasn’t next to his head. He wished the floor was softer and forced his eyes shut.
He tossed all night confronted by dreams that he couldn’t remember the next morning.

Sunlight baked Skips face slowly at first but as it rose higher and higher the rays got warmer and warmer on his chin and cheek. The best way to wakeup was slowly and by the sun, it was a natural way to wake up and Skip would never forget the morning that started this day, the day of the rest of his life.
It was normal, for an ostrich farmer.
The ceiling of thatch focused as he opened his eyes and took in the sounds of the morning, birds and other animals making noises outside muffled but still distinct. A family of blue jays set up nest in the oak tree adjacent from his window and he decided that first he would watch them before doing anything else.
Stretching his limbs he yawned and rolled to a sitting position a faint clicking sound made him look around and he realized with a pang of regret that he left the bucket unattended filling with water all night and it overflowed.
Luckily the quilt got the worst of the water damage; everything else was completely dry so he opened the window and hung the quilt on a makeshift clothes line he used whenever this happened which was often.
The blue jays were singing their raspy songs to each other, the parents fixing the damage done to the nest by the rain the night before, the babies making lots of noise looking for food.
Food.
Father would be up soon looking for breakfast, Skip had better get going so he took the bucket of rain water and tossed it out the window before changing into a shirt hanging on the makeshift clothesline making it fresh.
The shirt he wore yesterday and all night he hung up in its place for tomorrow and ran down with the subtly of a piano falling down the same set of stairs. His father wouldn’t hear it he knew but would wake with the smell of eggs cooking which he planned to cook last.
Skip stormed into the kitchen, shirt way too baggy for him then again it was his father’s old shirt, and come to think of it they all were. First thing Skip ran into the cellar accessed by a door in the sitting room opposite the kitchen.
Here he slowed down and caught sight of his father on the sitting chair in front of a dying fire clutching an empty bottle snoring loudly. Tip-toeing he slipped through the open cellar door and stole down the steep steps his bare feet settled on the dirt floor, he took in the stacked stones used for the foundation.
To the right was the mead, many barrels stacked four at a time all with spigots for easy pouring into father’s bottles. Skip could remember a time when many people would come over and they would be in and out of the cellar to get the alcohol and come back up, it was something innocent not at all connected with pain. Not for the first time Skip wondered why things changed he figured it was the day he stole away down here and jumped out scaring everyone who walked by.
He pushed the thoughts aside and turned to the left where the cured meats hung, he selected a nice looking ham to cut steaks from and hurried back up the steps his stomach rumbling. At the top of the steps he glanced at his still-sleeping father before continuing back to the kitchen.
He plopped the meat onto the butcher block and went to work slicing healthy chunks, snacking on a little bit of skin to make sure it wasn’t spoiled. A smile cracked his face as he relished in the salty and fat heaven.
With good meat selected Skip put the remainder on a hook next to the counter to hang for dinner then with a flourish retrieved an iron skillet from a cupboard next to the wood burning stove. He opened the latch to check the wood but frowned when he saw black ash, father must’ve made something the night before because it definitely was full since Skip filled it himself after dinner.
It’d been a while since he sighed so Skip let out a long one and walked out of the side door to the stack of firewood under a lean-to on the side of the house. He picked off the top few logs because even though they were dry to the touch he knew they absorbed moisture from the air but the ones just under should be bone dry throughout.
The wood made a metallic thud when they were thrown into the bottom of the stove, immediately he opened the flue, pulled the flint and steel hanging on a string and began to strike the kindling he shoved underneath the logs. The kindling took and soon the smell of hickory or pine, he didn’t know which, filled the small space.
When he deemed the plates on top to be hot enough he grabbed a copper kettle, went back through the side door and dipped into a water barrel that had caught the rain, at least he didn’t have to go down to the well all day. He returned putting the copper kettle halfway on to a plate so it wouldn’t heat up too fast and began to grease the skillet with fat he trimmed off the ham for this purpose.
He kneeled in front of the butcher block to retrieve eggs, you’d think he would be using ostrich eggs which were abundant on this farm but they were worth too much, they kept a small coop of chickens just for their personal consumption.
He seared the ham steaks on either side and set them on the edge of the stove to keep warm while the eggs cooked his father emerged from the sitting room and walked in holding his back like an old man.
“Good morning sir” Skip said with a smile.
“Coffee?” father grunted.
“Coming up” Skip replied grabbing a towel before picking up the boiling kettle he poured it into the mug that his father used to steep and cool.
Like an expert chef Skip grabbed a few spices from the rack he’d built last week and sprinkled them over the eggs which he turned at the same time spreading flavor evenly. With the eggs almost done he turned back around with the now ready mug of coffee which he gave to his father black like he liked it.
Without skipping a beat he spun back around and grabbed a wooden plate, set a steak on it, scooped some perfect eggs next to it and spun yet again back to set it gracefully in front of his father who was now occupied with the newspaper he’d picked up yesterday in town.
His father grunted with what Skip supposed was appreciation before getting lost in the words of some city fool. The printing press had exploded the year before and everyone in the country now subscribed to the newspaper that were pumped out in the thousands and distributed every corner of the colonies.
Skip wasn’t interested in this obsession being twelve years old but that’s when he realized over half-eaten eggs and black coffee that he was no longer twelve. That day was his birthday, September 15th, 1792, he was now thirteen but didn’t much feel different.
He put down his pewter spoon that he used for everything in every meal to examine his newly thirteen year old body. His fingernails had dirt underneath them but looked no different than normal, his forearm was the same except there was something different, yes it looked more porous. His minute blond hairs were darkening at the root he realized, he was getting older, he was on his way to becoming a man.
“What the hell are you looking at?” his father suddenly asked, a quizzical eye peering over grey scrawled parchment.
“Nothing” Skip lied before shoveling the remainder of his plate into his mouth.
His father recoiled a bit with a disgusted scowl but returned to his paper shaking his head and muttering something indecipherable.
Washing down the eggs and ham with scalding coffee Skip cleaned his plate in the basin with the remainder of the water from the copper kettle and placed it on a wall peg to dry. Then he wiped down all the surfaces he’d used to cook breakfast with a white cloth before muttering ‘chores’ and slipping out the front door.
To the left of the porch where the chair and table usually sat covered in morning dew were splinters on top of table. The chair obviously was broken the night before in father’s drunken stupor. Skip sighed as loud as he could but knew he couldn’t be heard through the walls and ran down the steps onto the dirt.
His feet soaked up the clay mud creating a comfortable layer protecting his feet from the sand spurs that liked to grow around the feed barrels. Skip walked to the left of the barn and grabbed a hold of the cart he’d built specifically for the morning chores.
It was flat except for a rough plank of wood that stood up at the front so Skip had something to lean against when riding it. He grabbed the front wheel assembly that swiveled for turning and drug it from the inside of the barn into the morning light.
When he was finished, rustling back inside the barn got his attention so he walked back in the tall and sturdy structure pushing both doors as wide as they could go.
“Hiya, Mack!” Skip greeted the strongest of the male ostriches who was the only one in the barn, he was set aside because he worked the hardest “I’ll be right back” Skip waved disappearing back outside, Mack made a noise in response to the familiar voice.
The growing light pierced the dark purples and blues of the night as Skip walked to the feed barrels on the left side of the barn, he grabbed a dented galvanized bucket sitting on top of the nearest barrel and stuck a finger in the hole of the lid of the barrel. He tugged hard breaking the air-tight seal and underneath lay a fine ground grain mixed with seeds and dried berries, a homemade blend that Skip perfected himself. The grain for sustenance, the seeds for protein and the berries for sugar; the giant birds were always eager to eat the mix and produced more eggs than ever before.
Skip didn’t take any pride in this fact though; he frowned as he dipped the bucket into the barrel and extracted what he thought was a perfect serving although Mack was bound to disagree. He turned back and expertly spread the feed into a tall trough, another one of Skip’s inventions it allowed the birds to eat without dipping their heads more than necessary.
Mack chirped in an ostrich sort of way in appreciation, more appreciation than his father showed, Skip thought that if he brought out eggs and ham to Mack that he might actually fly away in excitement.
When the bird had finished Skip patted his head warmly before unlocking the roomy pen, Mack needed no leading or urging the bird knew his role well and automatically ran towards the front of the cart.
“Good boy” Skip yelled in a whoop of encouragement “if only you could strap yourself in.”
I would if I had hands the bird seemed to say in a sideways look.
Two wooden beams straddled either side of Mack as two leather straps ran across his back and two more leather straps wrapped around his front. Skip tightened and buckled all these straps and tested the load by sitting down, satisfied that the bird could hold the wait he clicked his tongue.
Mack used no reins because he needed none, he trotted around to the feed barrels and waited for Skip to load up twelve similar buckets he’d used to feed him moments earlier.  Mack eyed the feed in the buckets longingly but was content to stand still while Skip loaded up. He knew if he behaved he would receive an extra helping of feed when they were done. If he tried to steal some now he wouldn’t get an extra helping so it was better to stay put.
Skip jumped back on the cart “Let’s go!”
The bird ran enthusiastically away from the house and barn towards a large pasture enclosed by a white fence that came almost to Mack’s head. He stopped right at the beginning of the fence, Skip stared down the path that had been cut over the years by his father and for the past year by himself.
Skip stood up and peaked over the vertical wooden planks; sixty ostriches stared at him waiting eagerly since sunrise to be fed. They knew the routine well, Skip raised a bucket into the air, one hundred and twenty eyes followed it “Go!” he yelled at Mack who trotted ceremoniously forward as Skip poured the feed into the trough he’d built just on the other side of the fence.
The huge birds dove for the food and pushed each other around trying to find a good spot, they fanned out as Skip moved down the fence switching buckets every once in a while pouring the feed in as they went.
“Calm down people” Skip spoke to them more to amuse himself than anything else “plenty to go around.”
After all twelve buckets had been emptied and sixty heads were chomping wildly the cart came to a stop. Skip jumped down and grabbed his rake that rested in a groove and metal bands alongside the cart.
“Be right back” he called to Mack who replied with a sort of cluck.
Skip opened the fence to the pasture while all the birds were occupied and he slipped in before closing it silently behind. This part of the job was the part he hated the most, manure cleanup.
It had to be done and only he would do it. Skip ran to the far end of the enclosure thrust the rake towards the earth and ran backwards. Once he reached the end he ran back only to move over a few steps and run back; he repeated these steps several times until finally the whole pasture had been raked clean except for the side he had been raking to.
He moaned at the thought of all the work it was going to take to rake all of it down to the door and out into the compost pile but that had to wait because the birds were done eating and he would soon have no room to complete the task. He would rest until it was time to feed them in the evening and he would finish then, it was like this every other day.
Skip had never gone to school it was too expensive his father always told him and besides he didn’t need to learn anything more than what he already knew to be an ostrich farmer. While the birds walked around during mid-day Skip would perch himself around the perimeter and mark on a makeshift map where he saw eggs that were ready to be picked up and the next day he would use the map after the evening feeding to collect as many as he could before the birds realized what was happening and tried to kill him. There is nothing worse in Skip’s world than a mad ostrich pelting at you while you run with an eight pound egg like a rugby player.
Today though was just maintenance; he had a hole in the fence to repair before the evening meal was passed out and he had to rake the rest of the manure out. Tomorrow he would collect as many eggs as possible and repeat the pattern until Sunday where he would rest.
Back outside the enclosure Mack waited patiently while Skip walked around the herd to make sure everyone was healthy; satisfied he walked out and petted his friend on the neck who in turn nibbled at Skip’s loose shirt.
“Back to the shed for supplies boy” Skip commanded and the bird immediately took off skimming a few trees and making an abrupt u-turn.
They practically flew back towards the barn where the dry air could be felt sucking the moisture from the ground only left last night by the rains. For the first time in a long time Skip was happy to be bouncing along smelling the blooming flowers and admiring the different shades of green that led up the mountains.
Something was wrong though, there was a horse tethered to the porch Skip had never seen before, it was black and looked very impressive with a golden brown saddle. He could see his father standing on the porch talking to someone, well yelling at someone and pointing back towards the town.
“Head to the house” Skip told Mack who responded and changed course the squeaking of the wheels interrupted by his voice “What’s wrong?”
Chapter Two

The man father was yelling at saw Skip approaching, immediately stopped talking to his father and made his way to greet him. His dress was strange to say the least but just as impressive as the horse; a long flowing and shimmering cloak parted by his folded hands and a neat pressed robe underneath. His black hair was greasy, slicked to either side and eyes were curiously bulging. “Master Thomas Kent I presume?” the man asked in a surprisingly airy tone for such a serious appearance.
“Everyone calls me Skip” what he didn’t say was that everyone was his father, the only person who called him anything.
“Indeed” the man inclined his head.
“Stop talking to my SON!” father roared and Skip’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment “I told you to leave!”
The man grinned at Skip before turning towards father and turning his grin into a threatening scowl “as I’ve told you Mr. Kent you cannot stop me.”
“What’s this all about?” Skip couldn’t contain his curiosity “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“That Skip is the question I am dying to answer” the man swooped to Skip’s level for he was really tall “for I deal in questions for a living and it is rare that I get to answer someone.”
“And that means?”
“I am a professor” the man said with a flourish of his hand like it was something Skip should be whooping about.
“A professor,” Skip had never heard the word before “what’s that?”
The professor wasn’t put off for a moment and answered immediately “A teacher.”
Recognition dawned on Skip’s face and he nodded excitedly “what do you teach Professor?”
“Answers” he responded cryptically.
“How do you teach answers?” Skip asked apologetically.
“That” the Professor lay a hand on his shoulder “is what I hope to show you” Skip didn’t know what to say so the professor continued “I would like your father’s permission first but it is not required, the decision is yours alone since you are thirteen. Would you come with me to my school and learn what I have to teach?”
Again Skip was at a loss of words until an unfamiliar pang in his stomach forced him to ask “Are there other’s?”
“Yes several other children, twenty to be exact, who will be taught alongside you and three knowledgable professors to teach you everything you need to know to do the job that no one asks of you” the Professor stood up to his fullest height and addressed father for the last time “do you give your permission for me to take your son into service willingly?”
“No” his father yelled as Skip’s insides felt like they’d drop out any second “now get off my land before I get my bow and shoot you!”
Father took a step towards the front door but never made it; a wall of blue light flashed like lightning sending him sprawling backwards where he landed on the ground next to Mack. Stunned silence stretched until the Professor’s voice cracked like a whip “I am taking Thomas Kent because he is required to come with me to the House of Answers in order to learn everything there is to learn about being an inquisitor. A tax of one thousand pounds is required for his education, if this cannot be provided then you are to hand over every last valuable in your possession until it is to my liking.”
Father stood, shook his head and walked into the house. Skip feared he would return with his bow and put an arrow into the Professor but was relieved when he emerged with a small chest of gold which he handed to the Professor without any words his father disappeared into the house again without a goodbye.
Not sure what just happened Skip’s eyes watered and tears started to stream down his face, he looked at the chest and back to the house not sure what to do, not sure if he was being rescued or kidnapped.
“You’re going to have to hold this while we ride” the Professor thrust the chest into his arms and mounted his great horse. He then stuck out an arm to help him into the saddle. Skip didn’t move he just stood holding the chest torn between running away or accepting the hand. “Come one son, you are going to enjoy this I promise you.”
Mack made a sound as Skip decided to go walking towards the outstretched arm “Sorry boy I’ll put you back in” he hurried to the cart and put the chest down on it. Then he realized he would never see the bird again, father would probably starve the whole farm so Skip knew he must let him go so he could eat the feed in the barrels before it was spoiled or all gone and he was forced to forage in the forest.
“He may come with us Skip, we have stables and I’m sure I could get one of those feed barrels onto the cart easily enough and he could live with you” the words came to him through the fog of change that clouded Skip’s mind.
His heart soared at the prospect of bringing his friend along “Really?”
The Professor nodded “it would make it easier to carry that chest of gold as well, come let’s go before your father decides to shoot me.”
“Yes, sir” Skip replied urging the ostrich towards the feed barrels where Skip was amazed when the Professor waved a hand and one of the barrels dragged and rolled itself onto the cart.
“Wow!” Skip exclaimed “Am I going to learn how to do that?”
“Not exactly come on now and I’ll tell you all about your new life on our way to your new school” with that the Professor rode forward and Skip jumped on the cart. As if Mack knew what was happening he followed the horse leading the way to town.
The perimeter to the farm came and passed before he even realized it they were in town, the first few buildings were nothing but shacks with large families sharing a few rooms. Skip felt sad for the children playing in the dirt for lack of anything else to play with but he couldn’t feel sorry for long as he noticed all the adults.
One look at the Professor and they recoiled or scowled at him not for the last time in his life Skip wondered what he’d gotten himself into. That's when he noticed a black sack hanging from the pommel but reserved to ask about it later.
“People are not going to like you” the Professor said as Skip was thinking of apologizing and turning back “what they don’t know is that without you, their lives wouldn’t be possible.”
Not one to ask too many questions Skip remained quiet staring at the back of the Professor’s head imagining what he was talking about. Great battles went through his mind and warriors clad in shiny armor but somehow that didn’t fit.
“We are warriors but not the type you’re thinking” the Professor turned around in his saddle to say this and Skip stopped stunned and suspicious. The Professor reined in realizing the young lad stopped “why are you stopped? Ah, you are questioning how I know your thoughts.”
Skip could only nod in amazement.
“You are not far from the truth” the Professor leaned from the saddle and pointed a worn crooked finger in Skip’s face “although it is you who has the gift, not me” a smile cracked open revealing well-taken-care-of teeth.
Not certain how to respond Skip just stared wide-eyed in genuine wonder, he had abilities and knew that these were not normal but his father had told him that he would grow out of it and that all children had abnormalities before they grew up and learned control.
“How many other kids are like me?”
“No one is like you in all ways” the Professor replied cryptically with a subtle wink.
“I mean abilities” Skip watched his face in anticipation but received no answer so he changed tactics “what abilities do you think I have?”
“We at the House of Answers don’t think you have abilities we know you have abilities” the Professor wheeled his horse towards their original heading “let’s get on with it I want to reach the next town before nightfall.”
They rode in silence through thick trees the professor swooping low in his saddle to avoid branches from swiping him off. The thick brown of the forest eventually gave way to lush grassland that Skip had never seen before, in fact, he had never been passed the blacksmith shop on the edge of town before that day.
After several hours of deafening silence Skip became aware of pain he had never felt in his lower back and legs. It crept up to his shoulder blades into the meat in between causing them to cramp suddenly, he let out a slight yelp which went unnoticed by the tall dark rider in front of him.
“Professor?” Skip asked experimentally.
Silence stretched and he hears a low repetitive sound.
Snoring.
The horse looked back at Skip while still walking forwards and eyed his rider before snorting irritably and the Professor almost jumped from his saddle “What in the devil?” he tried to regain composure steadying his rein and patting the back of his horses neck “Calm down boy, what time is it? I’m starving it must be lunch time!”
The horse whinnied in answer obviously ready for a break from the ongoing gait. They came to a stop in a hilly area still filled with grass as far as they could see. On the horizon a black mass indicated a farm of some sort but otherwise there was nothing substantial anywhere.
“Are you hungry boy?”
“Well yes but all I have is feed for Mack and I’m not interested in eating that” Skip’s attempt at humor was not lost on the Professor who let out a loud deep booming laugh that seemed to fill the voided air.
“Now that is an ability that we need to screen for!” he made great sweeping motions with his hands and his saddle bag opened spilling contents on the ground which immediately organized into a pleasant picnic. “I may be a Mage but I prefer the finer things in life, I’m not all about causing destruction.”
“Is that what I’m going to be? A Mage like you? What is a Mage?”
“I will answer your questions in reverse order since it seems the most logical” he sat down and offered Skip the other side of an elaborate quilt “A Mage is born with the ability to control his environment by physical means. We enforce the laws of the colonies without swords or any weapons other than our minds. You’re not going to be like me Skip, you were discovered by the High Inquisitor who is an ancient man who has the ability to spot talent from far away. You will be an Inquisitor because you were born with the ability to not only read a person’s mind or feelings but you are also able to suggest a course of action.
“You have noticed of course that you can control Mack without any reins and he seems to know your desires as far as pulling the cart goes” the Professor paused to open a basket revealing grapes, cheese and cured ham. “All Inquisitors have the ability to bend simple minds, someone who is not educated is easily susceptible to your form of mind control.”
“I’ve never been able to control minds” Skip argued shaking his head thinking of all the times he stumbled and made blue light not only stop his fall but upright himself as well. He had done that last night on the steps! Then he looked at Mack who was digging for worms while the horse grazed and thought about the bird jumping up and down flapping its wings.
For a moment nothing happened but then the horse jumped back in alarm as the ostrich began jumping up and down flapping at the air convinced it could fly to the moon if it wanted.
“Wow” Skip mumbled.
“See?” the Professor punched the air with his fist “imagine what you can make people do! Eventually you’ll learn to control and fine tune your ability and you’ll make our jobs as Mage’s much easier.”
“So there are Inspectors and Mage’s?”
“Inquisitors” he corrected him “inspectors is a very normal role in the colonies and Inquisitors are often mistaken or inspectors. Actually it can be an effective way to earn trust from the common folk and extract more information from them.”
“Inquisitors ask lots of questions” Skip ventured “so that’s why you named it the ‘House of Answers'?”
“Well yes, naturally what else should it be called?”
“I’m not sure but I would think the founders would be more creative than that after all it is an important institution, we get awesome names like Inquisitors and Mages.”
“I forgot how much thirteen year olds talk about nonsense” the Professor waved a hand airily as if fanning a fly away.
Skip closed his mouth as he was about to respond but curiosity overcame his restraint “do we get paid any money?”
The Professor raised his eyebrows in surprise “I wouldn’t worry about that, you’ll be provided for plenty” he chuckled “besides there are no tuition costs” he eyed the chest of gold on the cart.
Skip almost stood up “You mean?”
The Professor nodded “All yours, it should buy you some decent clothes and supplies and you’ll have plenty left over for whatever your heart desires. You must promise me though that after we buy everything you need we split the money in half, you use half to spend freely and the other half you save for a rainy day.”
“Of course!” Skip whooped in excitement and jumped up and down scaring the horse and bird as well as the dining Mage. A sudden realization grabbed onto his heart like a steel fist “What about my father, will he’ll be alright?”
“Thomas Kent your heart is bigger than the prize melons grown by the grounds keeper" this did nothing to alleviate his frown so the Professor continued “You are thirteen years old my young friend, I assume your father is older than that so he has been around many years before you came along. At one point he took care of you, he can take care of himself. That money is practically yours from what I heard when I first came into your town.”
“What did you hear?”
“That Skip is a good kid who does all the work on that farm, more than that he revolutionized the work to be done and made it more productive than ever.” Skip blushed when the Professor paused smiling at him with a black seed stuck in his teeth, a hazard when eating multigrain loaves of bread. “Tell me, have you been running the farm by yourself?”
“Well Mack helps me!” Mack made a noise at Skip’s voice but he wasn’t sure if it was because it was recognition of his name or Skip’s ability.
“Of course of course he does, he’s the tamest ostrich I’ve ever met although he’s the only ostrich I’ve ever met” the Professor smiled warmly at Skip who sat back down and helped himself to cheese cut into cubes “Would you say that production of the eggs has increased since you took over?”
“Yes from two hundred a breeding season to twelve hundred a breeding season.”
“Quite a significant increase wouldn’t you say?” Skip nodded frowning “how did you do it?”
He swallowed and closed his eyes remembering the first month of being taught how to farm “I would say feeding them differently increased it.”
“Why feeding them?”
“We used to feed them by riding the cart around inside the pen and pushing out equal shares at each nesting site but the birds get over excited and trample their own eggs running behind the cart trying to eat what was inside rather than what was dropped” Skip sighed not seeing where this was all going “Professor why is this important?”
“Let’s call this your first lesson” with a few twirls the Professor untied his cape and flung it over his horse with practiced flare, underneath the cape was a shirt of deep patterns of black and purple flowers “Logic Skip, I am using logic to reassure you that your father will be okay, continue with the story how did you fix the problem of the trampling of the eggs?”
“I built a trough at one end of the compound where I pour the feed every morning. The ostriches went from running wildly behind the cart to gathering calmly at first light away from the nests to wait to be fed. This way they would be distracted by the feeding while Mack and I rolled in to collect as many eggs as possible before they realize what’s happening. “
“How much do these eggs sell for?”
“Fifty pounds is what we would get for them at the market” Skip proceeded cautiously being careful not to over-state matters.
“Now how many pounds is that a season?” the Professor waited patiently as Skip tried his hardest but he didn’t know numbers so eventually he shook his head. “That’s okay my son you have no education but for your information it is sixty thousand pounds a season, that’s enough to buy three new farms just like yours. I doubt the one thousand pounds in your chest  are the only pounds he has stashed away. Point is Thomas, your father will have difficulty at adjusting to life without you but he will adjust. One of our greatest traits as humans is our ability to survive, he will survive if he has as many pounds as I suspect he has. Does that make sense?”
Skip’s heart did feel lighter so he nodded “Thanks Professor.”
“Call me Mikah.”
Chapter Three

They set out after all the grapes were gone and the bread they had eaten expanded satisfyingly in their stomachs. The green rolling hills and sunny skies were soon darkened by threatening streaks of white hot lightning and rumbling thunder.
“You can set your clock to these storms!” the Professor bellowed to his companion next to him “Every day at tea time! Speaking of tea time!” they rounded a corner of a large hill and spotted a tavern tucked in between two more hills “our pit stop for the evening, the Blue Horse!”
“I’ve heard of this place father tells me that bad men go here!” Skip yelled over the wind that started howling.
“Your father would say something like that” the Professor said with a nasty curl of his lip but recovered quickly “he’s a commoner and most commoners think of this place in such a way because the Blue Horse is for people like us.”
“You mean I’m going to meet people like me?” Skip said excitedly causing Mack to accelerate unintentionally.
“Yes if there are any Mages or Inquisitors drinking on a Monday evening” the Professor said amused as he reined in next to Skip in front of the small white stucco building with a steep shingled roof. 
They dismounted and walked slowly to the dark front door, a rough wooden sign painted with a mug of mead and turkey leg on it swung menacingly off a squeaky hinge overhead. Just when Skip was getting a chill up his spine and the silence was too much the Professor rapped his fist on the oak door “Open up in the name of George Washington!”
Once Skip’s heart returned to its rightful place in his chest and blood stopped pounding in his ears he heard footsteps and a rustling of several metallic locks on the inside. “What in the bloody hell are you doing all the way out here Mikah?” a plump red-haired woman in a wide sundress and white stained apron demanded from a slot in the door. Heat and light sprayed from the gap warming Skips face where the light fell.
“Betty, how are the prized melons, going to compete with the House of Answers this year?” Professor Mikah asked graciously bowing swishing his cloak around in swirls.
“You know it’s not the season you daft fool” Betty closed the slot and after much more metallic clanking the door swung inward easily “you always seem to arrive just before the storm! Why hello” Betty smiled when she first noticed Skip “who might this be?”
They waited in silence until Professor Mikah slapped Skip on the back none-too-gently “don’t be rude answer the miss.”
“Sorry” Skip mumbled “My name is Thomas Kent but everyone calls me Skip.”
“Skip, what an unusual nickname why I wouldn’t want to be called ‘Thomas’ all the time either” Betty let out a harsh but genuine laugh “come on in lad and I’ll fix you some stew are you hungry?”
“We…”
“Don’t be rude lad that was an hour ago always accept hospitality because you’ll never know when you’ll receive it again or when your next meal will be” Professor Mikah smiled encouragingly.
Betty shook her head “Don’t listen to the old fool if you’re not hungry for stew then maybe some cake?”
Skips eyes must’ve lighted up because Betty smiled even wider “Well come on then and I’ll get you a piece.”
The inside was not at all what Skip had expected, although the building was small to the eye on the outside it was quite spacious on the inside even if the ceilings were a little low. All the walls were polished wood paneling except for the hearth which took up a wall of its own where pots bubbled spewing aromas Skip never smelled before.
“Brewing some tonics” Betty explained “from spices I got from a man traveling here from the East Continent, ever since they landed more and more come every year to trade spices and animals for clothing and meat. Not to mention the wood but that’s further north where the forests are vast. The red one is said to cure headaches.”
“Ah Betty” Professor Mikah said from a table he’d found and propped his feet onto “I know you cook a mean venison stew but I didn’t know you were an alchemist. Place is empty though which I wouldn’t expect even for a Monday evening” at this Betty gave a nervous giggle and her eyes went to the stairs next to the bar. Mikah nodded in understanding and gave a hand gesture that Skip didn’t see clearly but Betty inclined her sweating forehead.
Skip was really confused at this point wondering what was happening but sensing something was going on he didn’t make any move to question it. The Professor motioned for Skip to come over so he did nonchalantly “Well Betty why don’t you fix us up some of that stew after all and two ales! We’re thirsty!” he said louder than necessary but then in a barely audible whisper in Skip’s ear he said “We have a chance to test your talent upstairs my young friend, there are Widgets afoot.”
He shook his head because he didn’t understand the word he tried to convey his confusion to the Professor who in turn nodded approvingly “Very good” he said still in a whisper “you’re understanding the role an Inquisitor plays already, a Widget is the very essence of what we do to protect the common people. They are people who are illusionists; they have ability just like we do only theirs is to deceive. They can be a scrawny old man who portrays himself as youthful and muscle-bound hero. They are always imposing to look at but what you need to do as an Inquisitor is feel them for whom they really are. Right now close your eyes and try your hardest to feel what is upstairs. When you’ve refined your ability you’ll not only be able to tell who they are but where they are and also if you’re powerful enough you can control them without a Mage.”
Skip tried his hardest to feel for a presence but couldn’t hear or feel anything but his own beating heart and rapid breathing.
“Relax Skip it’s much easier if you’re calm.”
“Stew is almost ready lads” Betty bellowed from the great fire place.
He felt it! Right when Betty distracted him, he realized he was focused on the Professor and impressing him, when Betty said something his attention switched to her but in the gray area in between the two he definitely felt a presence. He narrowed his eyebrows and relaxed his shoulders and instead of focusing on finding someone he let his mind float in the gray area of unfocused thought. Like a beacon of white light he saw a glimpse of a man laying on the floor in the room straight above them. Skip opened his eyes and saw the wood ceiling staring back at him he smiled at the Professor and pointed to where he was sure the man was.
“Thanks for the stew Betty you are truly the best chef in this whole country!” the Mage said staring at the spot where Skip had pointed, he stood, spun on the spot and a great ball of blue light erupted from his fingertips. The light hit the ceiling there was a yelp from upstairs of surprise and a resounding thud. “Let’s go Skip he won’t be stunned for long!”
They bolted up the stairs, three doors were on the landing one for each of the small rooms that Betty needed to accommodate the rare guest that needed to sleep while traveling through. Skip assumed they would use one eventually but now he was focused on the unfocused area, Professor Mikah looked at him for direction which Skip gave pointing to the door on their far right.
Professor Mikah tried the handle but it was steadfast, he tapped it with his left index finger, a jet of blue light shot from it and the door flew inward as if being kicked. The room was small, one bed and a stand where a wash basin stood, a rusty oil lamp swaying slightly on its suspension from the ceiling. Nothing was in the room that Skip could see but he knew the man was just there.
“Feel for him Skip” the Professor demanded “this is a defense mechanism when they are knocked unconscious they become invisible so no one can find them except for an Inquisitor.”
Skip felt a small sense of pride and for the third time ever he tried to feel the presence he could just make out something but it wasn’t in the room anymore, it was behind him! The old Mage reacted immediately to Skip’s panic sending the blue light straight at him, Skip opened his eyes in shock as wind brushed his cheek. The blue light split right before it got to his face and circled around him to hit the target standing on the landing.
The man or Widget was visible only for a moment as the energy impacted his chest he was sent backwards over the railing, his leather vest draped over a white collared shirt flapped violently and his shoulder-length black hair covered his tan face. He dropped and rolled down the stairs returning to his invisible state but Skip still felt him without even trying now. He could also convey his thoughts directly to the Mage without difficulty. That’s what he was a link for a Mage to capture an Illusionist, it fit perfectly he fit perfectly for the first time in Skip’s life he felt needed.
“Mortyr!” a deep and throaty word rolled off Professor Mikah’s tongue that sounded ancient, prickly energy filled the air making the hair on Skips neck stand up. The widget became visible again writhing on the floor in pain screaming at the top of his lungs, as soon as it happened it was over. He flickered in and out of focus, he looked faded and he changed shapes. Dozens of animals from a toad to a lion and then his normal shaggy appearance, a common vagabond Skip had seen them before passing through town.
Betty walked into the hall as the widget settled and let out a scream when she saw the man lying there “Is that what he really looks like?”
“Yes” the Professor responded as Skip helped him down the stairs “do not be alarmed I am only weakened by the use of that last bit of power, it’s indeed strong and drains all the energy not only from me but the air around us.”
“He looked like such a sweet old man when he walked in but turned into a huge beast when I refused to let him use my hearth for his potion brewing” Betty said shaking her head at the lump like it was such a shame that a little old man would do such a terrible thing.
“Well now he isn’t going to be hijacking any more taverns for his activities.”
“He isn’t…”
“No Betty he’s not dead just incapacitated until I deem it necessary to release his mind” Professor Mikah sighed and looked longingly at the other bedroom doors “if you would be so kind Betty to send your stable boy to the House of Answers and inform Mr. Tinley and Mr. Bain that I need them here as soon as possible so we can get these potions disposed of and this widget taken care of.”
“Of course Mika take the room on the far left it is the biggest and Skip you can have the middle one” Betty said as she hurried to the back door.
“Thank you Miss Betty” Skip said before she was gone from view.
Chapter Four

Skip couldn’t sleep that night he laid awake staring at the oil lamp that always seemed to sway slightly in the center of the room. The evening’s events stuck with him as he kept going over all the steps in his head and then he tried to sense everyone in the building even Mack and Mikah's horse were in the stable behind the building sheltered by a fence and lean-to roof. Safe and out of the rain the animals curled up and slept peacefully oblivious to Skip laying there probing them.
The Mage wasn’t sleeping either he was thinking about his younger days though Skip couldn’t get any details which he was sure the Mage was doing on purpose, weak minds he had told him and the Mage didn’t have a weak mind. The widget didn’t have anything that he could feel other than life itself. The Mage must’ve done something remarkable.
Betty was asleep in a room in the cellar that was quite spacious from what he could feel, he found that peoples sense of the area around them also came through naturally. The stable boy left an hour earlier but he could still be felt his urgency was strong and Skip could glimpse him on the horizon of the gray area.
Slowly as he relaxed more he became aware of a family of mice in the attic, surprisingly they were aware of everyone in the building and had detailed trails of the surrounding grass lands, one was thinking about foraging nearby in a place where tasty red berries grew hiding among dangerous purple flowers. Eat the flower and sleep forever the mouse thought.
Who knew mice had thoughts? Deeper and more relaxed Skip felt a fox roaming the grass looking for something to eat. Her thoughts back on some cubs in a den nearby.
Something happened that Skip did not intend suddenly the mice became aware of the fox outside and the fox became aware of the mice inside. The mice panicked and ran for it as the fox bounded towards the tavern resolute on getting them for dinner. Not sure what to do Skip got up, still fully clothed since he didn’t feel like sleeping and ran down the stairs two at a time. He leapt over the widget and unbolted the front door, fully aware of the mice and the fox at the same time he ran for the fox that was cresting the nearest hill.
He stopped when he spotted Skip confused at what to do but when the mice appeared to Skip’s left the fox returned to his hunt ignoring the confusing person.
Panicking Skip yelled “STOP!”
Both parties slid to a stop and looked at him as if waiting for further instruction, before anything else happened Skip came up with an idea go to the other side of the hill and don’t hunt around this house again it’s not safe. The fox reacted instantly running low and fast away from the false danger that Skip instilled in its head. Then he turned to the four mice staring back at him, he didn’t like the idea of them infesting the tavern but he didn’t want them to stay out here and get eaten either so he told them go back inside. Just as the fox did they all ran as fast as they could back through a hole in the stucco and up to their hiding spot.
“I shouldn’t have told you yet” Skip nearly jumped out of his skin as Professor Mikah spoke from the doorway “you’re getting too powerful too quickly with almost no control.”
“What do you mean?”
“Imagine if you did that to people? Showed two people who were fighting exactly where the other one is and then proceeding to convey feelings back and forth it’s not good unless you learn control” he shook his head and rested his large hand on Skip’s shoulder again “you’re far ahead of most students, you’re more powerful than many second year’s.”
“How many years are there?”
“Well it depends on the student but the average is four, I’d say you’ll do it in two but that’s just me I’ve never seen talent like yours, Skip. Mr. Tinley knew what he was doing when he picked you, you probably don't even need an obsidian” Mikah said fondly guiding him inside and sitting him at a table “you’re the best I’ve ever seen, you’re aura is well developed maybe because of your unique relationship with Mack I don’t know but Mr. Tinley will know more. I’m sure he’ll be eager to hear about all of this.”
“Mr. Tinley picks the students?” Skip asked Professor Mikah who nodded “how?”
“He’s unique among Inquisitors as he can locate ones with ability anywhere in the world he isn’t powerful in persuasion like you but more in identification and location. Just like you did with the widget finding him upstairs or even the fox outside hundreds of yards away you felt them. Mr. Tinley however can do it from hundreds of miles so he is perfect for finding our students.”
They sat for a while in silence Professor Mikah smiling with a twinkle in his eye every so often then chuckling he said “Let’s go back to our rooms the stable boy won’t be back until at least first light.”
“I can’t sleep though” Skip said in a low voice eyeing the widget still motionless on the floor at the base of the stairs.
“Neither can I but sometimes it’s rest that we need” he stood “not sleep.”
With that Skip helped the weak professor back upstairs and into his room where he plopped onto the straw mattress with a satisfied groan “You know Skip I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
Skip knelt on the bed suddenly curious about secrets, strange, he didn’t used to be.
“Life is not what you expect when you grow up, these next few years are going to be the best of your life so don’t muddle it all up, the friends you make now are going to be your friends for the rest of your life. There is no deeper connection that I have discovered in the whole world than friendship especially when it’s made during your teenage years” with a smile and another twinkling eye he rolled over signifying the conversation was over.
Skip stopped at the door and said “Goodnight” before closing it with a wooden thud and returning to his own room wondering what that was all about.

Morning came as it normally did any other day but this day was different, his body didn’t hurt. He had totally forgotten about his normal beating because of all the excitement the night before. With a pang of sadness Skip hoped the birds got fed and the proper eggs were picked from the map Skip had drawn but when he reached into his pocket he pulled out the piece of paper he made two days ago marking where most of the eggs were, he sighed, his first sigh of the day.
Voices traveled from downstairs, they were rough and quick responses to what Skip assumed were explanations coming from Mikah. Skip dressed and quietly stepped onto the landing outside his door where the voices were clearer.
"I don't see how any of this is good Mikah" a gravelly monotone reverberated from near the fire place "as always you are too eager and optimistic" a pregnant silence passed, Skip moved down the stairs to make sure they didn't leave but was surprised when a new person began to speak.
"You will do as discussed then?" the voice was jovial but somehow misleading.
"Reluctantly" Mikah replied "only because I have no other choice."
"Come now professor" the jovial voice responded with the scuffing of wooden chairs signifying the speakers were standing "we all have a choice, you made yours and it is I who saved you, don't forget that."
"I can't" Mikah said drearily.
Skip quietly went back up the stairs and then noisily stomped down to pretend he had heard nothing, although he couldn't quite hide his curiosity.
"Ah!" the jovial voice belonged to a tall, round man with greased back blonde hair "Master Kent I trust you slept well!"
"Erm... fine... thanks" was all Skip managed to say.
"I am Representative Chester Barwick for the United States Congress" the man said shaking his hand "do you know what that means?" Skip shook his head "I didn't think so, I knew your father at one time and if I am correct he is unchanged in his views."
Skip never thought he would meet someone who could say a lot without saying anything, his interest was peaked by his fathers involvement but the third man in the room belayed any further questions.
"Thomas" the gravelly voice said.
"Skip" Mikah corrected him.
They exchanged a meaningful look that made Skip wonder at how much he was going to have to learn, everything at home was straight forward, it seemed that humans could interact in many new ways he was unfamiliar with.
The gravelly man cleared his throat in a short but precise forced cough "Skip, my name is Mr. Tinley, I am the High Inquisitor of the House of Answers. I have here your acceptance letter and your first year book" he handed Skip a yellow envelope and a worn brown leather-bound book, he turned to the title which read The Eye "Take care of that one it is fragile, now if you will excuse us the Representative and I have lots to discuss.  Good day Skip and Mikah, as we discussed earlier."
With that the two men left out the front door, the sound of a carriage followed and more discussion that he could not hear.
"I am sorry about this" Mikah said from behind him "I really am."
Skip was about to turn around and ask him what he was sorry about but the world spun and his eyes closed, he hit the ground soft, the wood felt like fresh cotton sheets...

"I think it's about time you woke up."
Skip bolted up to find himself bouncing on the back of his feed cart, his brain was fuzzy and he wasn't sure why, the last thing he could remember was arriving at the small quaint inn and eating stew with a nice chocolate cake for dessert. "What happened?"
"Hm? What are you talking about Skip?" Professor Mikah's face creased in concern from a top a black horse riding next to him and Mack.
"I can't remember anything past the cake last night" he climbed up to the makeshift seat at the front and stared at the back of an ostrich bouncing happily through the countryside. "Did we stay the night?"
Mikah nodded "Aye we both spent the night and in the morning breakfasted. Just an hour after we set out this morning you told me you were tired so you slid back and fell asleep. I was tired of listening in on your snores and woke you just now. Are you telling me you don't remember anything?"
Skip shook his head at a thought that crossed his mind but then after several seconds debating it he decided the only way to know is ask "You don't think the cake was..." he racked his brain for the right word "altered in any way?"
"What? No Miss Betty would never tamper with food like that" he then added with a smile "she likes it too much master Kent. I think you were just tired and had some episode of amnesia related to the exciting discovery of you being an inquisitor. Oh" he opened his black saddle bag "your book for this year and your acceptance letter into the House of Answers."
Skip studied the book and its worn brown leather cover, inside the first and second page were blank but the third page read simply The Eye "What's 'the eye'?"
"You should wait for the other professors to tell you, we're nearly there" Mikah finished with a weak smile and trotted ahead.
Skip had the feeling that something changed and he didn't like it, he also didn't like memory loss, it was very unlike Mikah to behave timidly but since Skip only knew him for barely a day he decided to wait and see what happens next.
Just then he noticed the horizon getting darker and had to ask "What is that?"
"What is what my young master?"
"The shadow on the horizon" Skip shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun.
"That is the forest of flowers" Mikah said mysteriously with a wave of his hand.
"I don't see any flowers."
"And you won't" he turned in the saddle to look at him "it only blooms one day a year, April 1st."
"Why?" Skip asked standing on his cart to get a better view.
"I don't know it's just always been that way" Mikah replied with an edge to his tone "just stay close to me when we pass through, no matter what don't stray from the path."
It took almost an hour to reach the forest edge, they horse and ostrich were reluctant to enter the dark path but did so with their owners urging and reassurance, although Skip did not feel reassured himself.
He trusted Mikah all the way up to this point, something happened the night before and he was going to find out, he wasn't sure how but he was.
The enveloping canopy blocked all light from the sun, this is why it was so dark. The branches twisted unnaturally at odd angles intertwining with each other and produced thick black-green leaves. It was quiet too which sent Skip's nerves on edge, the tinkling of metal pierced the semidarkness as Mikah held up a tiny swinging lamp to a necklace he wore. Instantly a blue flame bounced inside the small glass bulb.
"What is that?" he asked but when Mikah didn't answer he elaborated "on the end of your necklace."
"It is what we call an obsidian" he answered like it was common knowledge "it focuses the power of the mind. You will learn all of this in good time, remember when I told you to stick to the path?" Skip nodded. "Now is the time to heed that advice."
"Yes professor" as he agreed Skip became aware of something in his peripheral vision, something moving in the darkness, something with an eerie white glow. It remained on the edge of his vision though so he couldn't get a good view.
"SKIP!" Mikah roared from behind.
Behind? Somehow Skip ended up off the path moving towards the white figures and wasn't sure how. "Let's go Mack! Back the way we came!" Mack reacted instantly to his thoughts surging forward and swinging around, Skip heard a deep groan as the cart tipped into two wheels, footfalls faded behind him and he stood up to right the cart back onto all fours.
 When he got back to the path Mikah nodded approvingly "Best ride side by side" his winning smile was back, Skip felt he could trust him again so the two set off side by side chatting away about what was for dinner. 
Chapter Five

The House of Answers was difficult to find, if Skip had been by himself looking for it he would've never found it he was sure. The path led right to a field but the field was unremarkable and on the other side the path continued. One might stop to have lunch in the sun and continue if they failed to explore the western edge they wouldn't find that five paces into the trees they abruptly ended.
The two emerged from the black forest into a field of golden light, the grass was filled with blooming wildflowers whose pedals and pollen caught by the wind swirled in unmeasurable patterns.
"Wow" is all Skip could manage.
"Aye" Mikah grunted in agreement "bloody nightmare if you suffer from the sniffles though." Skip had no idea what the sniffles were but he didn't care to ask because someone was walking towards them "Ah the groundskeeper, he's always a cheerful fellow."
"Groundskeeper? Are we almost at the school?"
"Yes master Kent" he reached down out of the saddle and tapped Skip on the back "just behind that jet of trees is the House of Answers. Ahoy Mr. Glend are you our welcoming party?"
Mr. Glend the groundskeeper stopped a few strides away "Mr. Tinley asked me to come looking for you" his voice sounded ancient and there was an accent that Skip was unsure of "he feared one of the necro's got you." He finished with a gleeful cackle that was unexpected. Almost as if the idea of them getting caught by a necro would be the happiest circumstances of his life.
"I assure you that a thousand necro's couldn't stop me from delivering young Master Kent" Mikah said it with confidence but Skip could tell Mr. Glend was not easily swayed.
"What's a necro?" Skip asked.
Mikah tilted his head with a mischievous smile "Never mind that just yet you'll be taught all of that soon enough."
"Indeed" added the groundskeeper "and why is it may I ask Mikah, that you had to retrieve a student?"
"His father didn't allow post" they both shared a deep laugh as if Mikah had made a joke.
"Like that would ever stop a bastard like you!" Replied the groundskeeper with more guffaws of laughter.
Skip was highly confused and was certain he should be offended by two strangers poking fun at his father but somehow, he wasn't.
"Ah well the feast is to be started soon" Mr. Glend said fondly "why don't you get master Kent washed up and into his robes?"
"Good idea" replied Mikah who set off again, Skip stole one last glance at the groundskeeper who started back on a leisurely stroll touching the top of the high grass with his fingertips.
Sure enough when they passed a group of trees that stuck out from the main forest a great building stood stocky and brown. It was large but it lacked any appeal thought Skip.
Mikah steered them to the left of the building where a separate structure stood, outside were feed barrels and stacks of hay. It was a stable, Skip was relieved when they pulled in, it looked well stocked and prepared for the harsh winters.
Great beams, the biggest he had ever seen towered up to the ceiling suspending lofts for more hay. Mack stomped uncomfortably when Skip started to release the straps that held him onto the cart.
"It's okay Mack this is our new home" Skip ruffled the feathers on the back of his head and Mack nibbled on his shirt affectionately.
"Come Skip" Mikah half commanded from the stable doorway "there will be plenty of time to visit him later, we must get you dressed properly."
Skip followed reluctantly and now that he thought about it his clothes were a tad substandard compared to Mikah who had plenty of color and a spotlessly clean cloak even after a long ride.
He saw now that the main building was made out of logs, the largest logs Skip had ever seen that spanned the entire length of one side, he didn't know measurements but he knew it was unnaturally long.
There were only a few windows along the second floor and balconies in random groups that made gaping holes in the roof. It was the largest Skip had ever seen so he was still impressed and even more so when they walked around the front. The tall brown doors stood silent and stoic, when Mikah waved his hand the iron latches pulled and they swung outward much faster than he thought they should.
Impressive is a term unworthy of the hall inside, Skip could see all the way to the roof where the rafters were exposed and the balconies let in just the right amount of light.
"On the left is the girls dormitory" Mikah announced on his tour "and on the right is the boys dormitory. The first level is the common hall where you will eat and socialize. The second level is where you will all sleep, that is until you are paired."
"Paired?"
"All in good time just keep up" Mikah looked at him seriously "just passed the common hall is the kitchen where there is a staff of three who are not magi or inquisitors or those who have failed their lessons. On the left just passed the girls common hall are the bathing rooms" Mikah stopped to look at Skip again "girls bathe at seven a.m. and the boys at eight a.m. the toilets are also out of bounds when the girls are bathing do I make myself clear?"
"Of course why would I want to interrupt girls bathing? I wouldn't want a girl walking in on me" Skip answered a little confused as to why mentioning this was so important "would you?"
"It depends on the circumstances" Mikah answered with his trademark mischievous smile "but probably not" he concluded with a frown "well first you have special permission to bathe before the feast. Your new clothes should be on the rack with the towels. Be sure to wash behind your ears, when you're done go to the back of the hall and to the left of the back doors there is a staircase. Just climb it and you'll find the feast." Mikah winked and then swooped away, his cloak billowing like a big black bird.
Skip's jaw dropped when he entered the bathroom. Gold. All of the fixtures were solid gold and the toilets (each surrounded by a heavy curtain) were made of translucent glass hard as stone.
This unassuming hulk of a building held surprises, Skip's heart beat faster and faster, he was a part of something special now.
In the center was a large and round hole in the ground filled with crystal clear water, the middle bubbled creating lapping waves that were inviting. Skip disrobed and sunk his toes in, it was instant relief of his sore feet, the water was warm and when he sank to his shoulders he relaxed his muscles. It was a luxury he had never known before.
Along the sides of the pool were bricks tied with rope, they made bubbles when he touched them so he assumed they were soap, again something he was unfamiliar with. He pressed on though using the lather to wash everything, he never could wash everything before so stuck-on patches of dirt took some scrubbing to get off but he did it, remembering what Mikah had said he washed behind his ears and jumped out.
The towel rack was not as ornate as everything else but the wrought iron twisted into shape had a beauty of it's own. The towels were white and extremely fluffy, another luxury that was new as well as the clothes set out for him.
He had only ever worn trousers and a loose shirt, there was an extra garment that he guessed went on before the pants because he never saw someone wearing these on the outside before.
When he had dressed he found another new item, a reflection of himself on a wall, he wondered how it worked. It was the first time he saw himself, yes he caught glimpses in shop windows and puddles after the rain but never in this detail.
His hair was the star sticking up at all sorts of angles on top of his teardrop shaped head, his grey eyes stared back with a depth so visible he swore he could see his soul behind them. The black robes enveloped him yet his body pushed them into a desirable shape, he was quite fit for a young man.
Done ogling himself Skip jogged back into the hall where he hung a left towards the back door, they were identical to the front ones but he was looking for a staircase. It was spiral and narrow and it rose all the way to the ceiling, he was sure this was it, there were no other stairs so he started to climb.
Expecting it to give and swing because it was so tall he started up cautiously but when it stood steadfast Skip again had the feeling that some of the features of this building were unnatural.
   It was a long trek but he made it to the top barely out of breath, the view down was spectacular, Skip heard of people when at great heights get the sensation to jump but he felt no such urging. In fact he'd be terrified if it weren't for the iron railing to hold onto. Just over the rim he saw candles on string surrounding a long table with a baby blue table cloth and several people sitting at it.
"Ah Master Kent!" A nasally man at the end had announced "we've been waiting for you!" Skip blushed and went for the only available seat opposite Mikah and in-between two redheaded children, a girl and a boy that he guessed were siblings. "Now to continue with what I was saying.
"I am Mr. Tinley, head of this house and I welcome all of you to a most special school for the gifted." He paused dramatically. "Every four years twenty children at the age of thirteen who are found to be gifted are chosen to attend school here. Normally ten of you would be magi, those with the physical gift of blue energy and ten one of you would be inquisitors, those blessed with the mental gift of reading and controlling minds. However this year we have someone who can do both." Skip's heart beat violently, he could do both couldn't he? He didn't know that most students could only do one. "Please welcome Master Jason Barwick" everyone erupted in applause except for a stunned Skip who's mouth wouldn't close. Should he say something? By the time he worked up the courage Mr. Tinley started to speak again. "In this quadrennial you will all learn how to hone your abilities into defensive weapons against the unseen evil that plagues our country, but more on that later."
Three people in dirty aprons appeared from around a corner of the roof Skip had not seen, he now looked at the sky beyond the roof and realized this was one of the balconies that he'd seen setup as a banquet area. The dirty aproned people set down plates, bowls and goblets all filled with food and drink to satisfy any hungry army.
Skip was pleased to see ham as one of the selections, along with turkey and sliced beef, surrounded by giant carrots and mounds of mashed potatoes. Stomaches were growling audibly, he tried to remember the last time he'd eaten which made him remember the gap in his memory.
He had never experienced this before, the impromptu dinner and the memory loss. He felt eyes on him and he realized Mikah was staring.
"I was wondering when you'd stop analyzing your food and make conversation" he said with a peace of beef being chewed in between a smile "I assume you have something to talk about, you did most the entire journey here."
"You two came together?" the redheaded girl on his left asked.
Skip cleared his throat and nodded "Who did you come with?"
"My brother" she indicated the boy on Skip's right "and my mother. My name's Naomi and the little piggy stuffing his face is George."
"Pleased to meet you" is what Skip heard his father say when introduced to new people in town "my name is Thomas but I prefer Skip."
"Nice to meet you too" Naomi replied, George grunted in between bites.
"And you may call me Professor Mikah" Mikah interrupted with a satisfied smile.
"Glad to meet you Professor Mikah" Naomi replied to his interjection "what do you teach here?"
"Practicality" Mikah answered mysteriously.
"Oh what is practicality?" George asked, done with gnawing on a turkey leg "is that some form of magic?"
Mikah chuckled "Indeed some would say so, although on this occasion it means exactly what the definition is."
"And what is that?" Naomi asked leaning over the table slightly.
Another chuckle "A sentence or paragraph describing what a word means." When he received no laughs in reply he grunted and continued "Practical lessons are my specialty, I will demonstrate how you will use your abilities to defend yourselves, as I will become your enemy and you will have to fight me off."
The whole table had stopped to listen and were now staring at him in disbelief, the students had added fear but the other teachers felt disapproval.
"No more talk about your lessons at the moment" Mr. Tinsley announced after silence "let's talk about other more socially acceptable subjects."
Needless to say the rest of the evening was boring, for everyone but Skip, who never experienced such an event before. Lots of individual conversations and lots of individual opinions on one subject. He was happy he guessed, mostly in awe and not sure what to make of it all.
Dessert consisted of three different puddings that he couldn't name or remember their names but he would never forget the taste or the events of that evening. His brain started to get fuzzy with food and just in time the High Inquisitor announced "Off to bed my soft young minds, for tomorrow is the first day of many where you will learn and strive to become part of the few who guard this country. Your professors Bain and Kane will lead you to your dormitories by gender. If you need any help figuring any of that out, you are in the wrong school. Goodnight."
Skip barely paid enough attention to the new teachers but followed the group of boys to the stairs and descended groggily, lost among the babble of talking.
"He's a strange man isn't he?" a redheaded boy asked from just behind.
Skip was instantly awake "Which one?"
They shared a laugh "My name is George, George Littlefield."
"I remember" Skip replied with what he assumed was a warm smile "my name is Thomas Kent but I've always just been called Skip."
"I wish I had a name like that, George is so plain" George had a nasally voice that Skip started to like, he was also much taller and thicker than the other students. Almost as if he were a few years older. Thin lips and almost no chin made him look grumpy except when he talked about a subject he loved.
"It's just a name though isn't it?" Skip tired to cheer his new friend up "What's in a name? That's the line from Shakespeare right?"
"Wouldn't know, I don't read much" George flashed his book which was different from the one Mikah had given him earlier. At the bottom of the stairs the students fanned out.
The Hand was all the title said, Skip was instantly curious because he read constantly, in fact he tried to read everything his father had, even the books that were forbidden underneath his fathers bed. His father never did much to hide them and eventually never went upstairs to intervene.
"Do you mind?" Skip asked gesturing to the book.
"You gonna read it tonight?" George eyed him curiously.
"Not all of it I just want to get a few chapters in" he grabbed the old book as George shoved it over unimportantly "I'll probably finish it tomorrow."
"You're mad" was all he could say and just then George made it a priority to get to know him.
They shoved two at a time through a hallway lined with paintings, legendary graduates Skip assumed. At the end of the hall was a simple door that opened into a scarlet walled chamber lit by a roaring fire, it was too warm but he'd rather be too warm in the beginning of fall than be too cold. Still Skip knew it was too early to light a fire.
"Welcome to the common hall" Professor Bain squeaked, his voice being unusually high and otherwise unremarkable, the students took him to be a fool. Skip however knew that things were never as they seemed. "This is where you all will eat, what happened on the mezzanine was special. The room contains several comfortable chairs to enjoy your free time after lessons before the bell rings at 9 pm. All students will be in bed after the bell rings, any students caught out of bed will be punished with swift assignment to manual labor. Up the stairs are the temporary beds before the pairing, there are no assignments but there are enough beds. The door to the left of the stairs is locked at all times, access to the kitchen is prohibited. Any students attempting to access the kitchen will be punished with a swift assignment of manual labor. That is all."
Bain left with a bang as he closed the door with intention and authority, the students looked around nervously until a blonde-haired boy broke the silence.
"Just because I am the chosen" he paused dramatically opening his arms as if embracing the group "doesn't mean we can't all be friends. If anyone wants they can accompany me to the beds and find the best one for me."
The invitation was clear, most took it and followed him upstairs leaving the remaining four to stare at each other.
George was the first to speak, something Skip was learning fast "It amazes me, his blind arrogance is offensive but I can't help admiring him. I don't like it." 
Chapter 6 Footprints
Skip read both books a few chapters in before the boys were called to the bath, most students were hesitant to bathe openly with other people around so they went to the corners and waited for use of a shower. It was too tempting to pass up the wonderful bath so Skip took off his robes when no one else was looking and quickly sank into the water.
Everyone steered clear of each other until someone started splashing and everyone in the bath sent great waves of water towards each other. George was one of the brave in the bath with Skip and he had a way of swinging his arm that sent a wall of water any direction he chose.
Eventually they all settled and floated to the walls to face each other.
"So what do you think about our professors?" one boy asked with dark brown hair sticking up at odd angles.
"I only got to know professor Mikah and Bain" Skip said looking at the boys wide brown eyes "who are the others?"
"There's no way you didn't notice Professor Kane" George said a little too loud so that every eye was on Skip.
"I really did" Skip blushed because he was sure he was the only one to miss him "what does he teach?"
"She teaches the magi" the wide-eyed boy replied.
"She is the most perfect woman ever" George said with a glossy stare "you had to at least notice the red leather, she's covered head to toe in it and whenever she moves it makes noise."
Skip shook his head and George threw his hands up in the air.
The bell rang clearly throughout the house. When it did he was the last to climb out of the pool and the last to stomp up the stairs and find the remaining bed in semidarkness. Eventually he fell into a light sleep filled with dreams of his father, Mikah, ostriches and Naomi.
He was confused when he woke up to see the moon clearly through a window in the roof, there was a definite pull on his bladder. He was sure that they wouldn't mind him using the bathroom in the middle of the night so he quietly rose and sat up.
The moon lit up most of the room well so he could make out the faces of his fellow classmates, except George who had his face buried into his feather pillow. Skip pulled the goose-down blanket to his feet and slid off the bed before making his way as silently as he could through the neatly situated beds and posts.
The stairs creaked on his descent but not as bad as he thought they would, when he crossed the common hall it was darker but the moon could still be seen through the sliver of a window on the eastern wall.
The door into the passage opened and slid noiselessly thanks to the well-oiled brass hinges and shut with a tiny click. He could see the atrium at the end of the long hallway, it was close and his bladder added urgency to his stride. He wondered why the closer he got the more he had to go, it always worked that way though.
His shuffling was a muffled echo, once he had reached the atrium the silence was split by a door slam. Skip froze, just reaching the end of the hallway his head stuck out so he looked both ways and saw no one. He was sure someone had closed a door, had they heard him?
Silver rays of moonlight lit up sections of the space brilliantly while leaving the remainder in a curtain of velvet black. Sensing no danger he moved forward on his tippy toes.
Something caught his eye, a trail on the floor near the back doors, he stepped towards it but had to run to the bathroom because he could not deny his body's urging anymore.
Once out of the bathroom again he was cautious, listening intently for anyone but it was all silent. He made his way to the trail on the floor near the back doors with more confidence than before and saw that it was mud. The beginning was at the kitchen and led straight to the back doors, was it the back door he heard slam or the kitchen door? He was unfamiliar with the sounds of the building so he couldn't be sure but by the sheer force of the sound he was mostly certain it was the back.
The muddy prints were blotchy which made it hard to distinguish direction, his heart jumped into his throat when he saw something that accompanied those steps. Drops of a thick red liquid.
Blood, or so he assumed.
Skip swallowed and ran back through the hallway and common hall, up the stairs and straight to his bed. No one woke as he lay there panting with his pillow folded over his ears. He tossed theories of what the bloody footprints meant for a long time.
One thing was certain, like many things in this place, nothing was as it seemed. Only he knew about the footprints so it was up to him to figure it out but as he formed a plan to do so his mind numbed and he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Morning came wet, all the windows were fogged and everyone seemed downtrodden, Skip wished it would be a good day but it didn't seem like it was going to be. He studied the white clouds bisected with wisps of grey when he heard someone ascending the stairs.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed a man with black greasy hair that hung like a frayed and parted curtain around a gaunt face "are you lads still sleeping?"
"What's this?" Jason asked from the corner and the 'best bed' he claimed the night before.
Mikah swept through the beds and spoke as if not hearing the interruption "rise my lads and seize the day!" He circled the room noisily and fluffed a few pillows with heads still on them, when he got back to the stairs he said "your first lesson is with me, that is all."
Skip thoroughly enjoyed Mikah's morning greeting, he dressed and followed George down the stairwell to the common hall where the cooks from the night before were setting out toast, jam and poached eggs. They selected a round table near the back.
He didn't pay enough attention to the number of cooks there were and wasn't sure if he'd seen them all yet, there had to be some that went to the girls side too and some that remained unseen. Skip was determined to find out what that was last night on the floor and at worst case if one of the cooks was missing.
He stopped a portly woman with a big grease stain that looked several years old on her apron "Pardon miss."
"Yes young master?" her voice was sweet for someone so intimidating.
"Thomas Kent, what's your name?"
"You may call me Miss Turnkey" she replied with a self satisfied smile.
"Okay Miss Turnkey" Skip replied as courteous as he could "may I ask how many cooks are here in the house?"
"Of course you may ask" she said with a delighted giggle, Skip had the feeling she didn't interact with other people very much. "But if you must know the answer to the real question, two chefs and two waiters."
"I see" now he had the feeling he was being made fun of but couldn't find the joke so he went on "is everyone here this morning?"
"If Master Kent" Miss Turnkey now replied hotly "you are referring to the lack of meat, then you would be right, Colleen was not feeling well this morning and stayed in, she usually cooks the meat."
Right then a sound that seemed to grate against Skip's ears interrupted their conversation "Are you talking to the help?" Jason exclaimed from the foot of the stairs, his group of followers peered around until each set of eyes landed on Skip talking to Miss Turnkey.
"At least she contributes something" George who had silently watched Skip's conversation spat at Jason, his face turning red.
"You're one to talk Littlefield" Jason sat at a long table and began to spread jam onto his toast "I believe it was your father who had to be locked up last month. My father of course is the governor and chief magistrate of Massachusetts and as I recall the last time he was in Boston he had to free your father from the jail." Jason bit down on his toast with relish dropping a big glob of jam onto the floor "I believe that is your job to clean it up" he said to Miss Turnkey.
"Aye" she responded pulling a rag out of her pocket "but I clean for the Lord and this house, not you young master."
Jason could not be more pleased as Miss Turnkey bent over and wiped up the jam with a practiced hand and retreated silently to the kitchen. The common hall quickly became noisy as everyone either tried to ignore what just happened or didn't care about it. Skip and George however, looked intently at Jason who smirked at them still intentionally dropping food onto the floor.