The dining rooms door opened. With pushes and shoves, the boys entered, then settled themselves at two long tables, self-segregated by age. Mrs. Dawlish sat down at the head of the senior boys table, Mrs. Hancock, the junior boys table.
Will you say grace, Mrs. Hancock? Mrs. Dawlish asked.
At the mention of Mrs. Hancocks name, Fairfax, across the table from Titus, tensed. Titus could see that she wanted to turn around and have a good look at Mrs. Hancock, but she was careful enough to imitate the other boys and bow her head instead.
Our Heavenly Father, began Mrs. Hancock, assist us in your boundless mercy as we embark on a new Half in this ancient and splendid school. Guide the boys to be industrious and fruitful in their studies. Keep them strong and healthy in body and mind. And may 1883 be the year you bless them at last with victories upon the cricket pitchfor Almighty Lord, you know how sorely we have been tried in Summer Halves past.
The boys groaned and snickered. Mrs. Dawlish, half smiling herself, shushed them.
Fairfax raised her head, surprise written all over her face. Did she imagine that the agents of Atlantis could not be perfectly charming individuals? Mrs. Hancock was beloved in this house, almost more so than Mrs. Dawlish.
We give our thanks for the bounty of this meal, O Lord, continued Mrs. Hancock. For Mrs. Dawlish, our stalwart dame. Even for the boys, whom we love dearly but, if history is any indication, will wish to throttle with our bare hands before the week is out.
More laughter.
All the same we are overjoyed that all of our boys have returned safely to us, especially Fairfax. May he refrain from climbing trees this Half.
Fairfaxs hands tightened on the table. She bowed her head again, as if to hide her unease at being singled out by an enemy.
But above all other things may we attain the knowledge of thee, O Lord, and serve thee with every breath and every deed. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.
Amen, echoed the boys.
Fried smelts, asparagus, and orange jelly were servedwhat must be strange food to Fairfax. She ate sparingly. Three minutes into supper, she dropped her napkin. She turned in her seat, picked up the napkin, and, as she straightened, finally glanced toward Mrs. Hancock.
Mrs. Hancock was, in Tituss opinion, a more attractive woman than she let on. She favored shapeless dresses in infinite varieties of dull brown and always kept her hair covered with a large white cap. But it was the buckteeth that really left a lasting impressionteeth that Titus did not believe to be naturally overlarge.
To his relief, Mrs. Hancock, speaking with a boy on her left, did not appear to notice Fairfaxs attention. To his further relief, Fairfax did not stare long. In fact, did not stare at all. If Titus had not been specifically looking for it, he might not even have noticed that she had peeked at Mrs. Hancock.
Fairfax resumed her non-eating, chewing a spear of asparagus as if it were a piece of firewood. Now Mrs. Hancock turnedand gazed at the back of Fairfaxs head.
Titus quickly looked down. His heart pounded. It was possible a woman would realize sooner that Fairfax was a girl. Did Mrs. Hancock already suspect something, or did she pay attention because Fairfax was nominally Tituss best friend and must be kept under close watch?
Would you pass me the salt? Wintervale asked Fairfax.
The saltcellar was right next to Fairfax, a small pewter dish. But dishes from any self-respecting kitchen in the Domain would already be seasoned just right for each person at the table. Unless she helped with the cooking, she wouldnt even know what salt looked like.
But before he could act, she reached out with perfect assurance, took a pinch of salt to sprinkle on her fried smelt, and handed the saltcellar to Wintervale.
Titus stared at her in astonishment. The look she returned was one of pure contempt.
Soon she and Wintervale were again chin-deep in cricket talk. Titus managed to carry on a creditable conversation with Kashkari. But he could not concentrate, his awareness saturated with the sound of Fairfax and Wintervale relishing each others company.
That, and the more-than-occasional looks Mrs. Hancock cast their way.
The cricket talk did not stop at the end of supper, but continued in Fairfaxs room, a chat to which Titus was emphatically not invited.
He opened a cabinet next to his bed. Inside the cabinet was a late-model Hansen writing ball, a typewriter that resembled a mechanical porcupine, with keys arranged on a brass hemisphere. He loaded a sheet of paper into the semicylindrical frame beneath the hemisphere.
The keys began moving, driving the short pistons beneath them to form the words and sentences that made up Dalberts daily report to Titus.
The report, partly in shorthand, partly in code, would have made no sense to Tituss schoolmatesor most mages, for that matter. But to Titus, a half page conveyed as much information as an entire English broadsheet.