Chapter 1

Lasa should have suspected that the world was changing when it rained all day on June 1, her Separation Day and also her half-birthday. It rarely rained much after April in Indiana, and never at all after Summer Solstice, and never, ever on Separation Day. It had always seemed, crazy as it sounded, that Separation was sacred even to the weather.

Nevertheless, she woke on June 1 to the sound of raindrops drumming on the roof, squirrels skittering around in the haven of the attic, and her brothers arguing in the living room.

She stumbled out of bed and managed to get out of her nightgown and into a sea-green shirt. She glanced out the window while struggling with a black skirt. What a miserable day. The weather had no right to impose on Separation. She didn't mind it, of course, but her best friend would lose all his dreams today, and it wouldn't help his mood at all that the weather was so awful. He'd probably take it as an omen, or something.

There was a sharp knock on the door, which flew open without any consent on her part, and her brothers stormed in. Shem had a pencil and a piece of paper in his hand, while Alex was using his finger to trace lines in the air. Lasa brushed pointedly at her skirt and glared at them, though it took them a moment to notice, absorbed as they were in spouting sentence fragments.

"Well, if he was able to push it off - "

"What does that have to do with - "

"Everything, I mean, the pain had to be - "

"For Christ's sake, Shem, you're the doctor here, can't you see that - "

"Hi, Lasa," Shem said abruptly. "Mom kicked us out for 'graphic violence,' whatever that means. So, since you're leaving anyway, we're borrowing your room for our discussion of architecture-related injuries. All right?"

"Use your own room," she replied, grabbing a brush off of the dresser and dragging it through her woefully tangled brown hair.

"Can't," Alex said in his "diplomat" tone. "There are boxes everywhere and Mom's been painting. Do you want us to die of inhaling paint fumes?"

"I don't think that could kill you," Shem noted, twirling his pencil. He set the paper down and continued to draw. "Plenty of warning to get out in time - it's not instantly fatal - "

Lasa grinned and looked back outside. It felt nice to have her brothers back at home from their guilds. Alex, fifteen and majoring in Government in Relation to Architecture, was still just as she remembered: dramatic, cautious, able to twist words like a politician. Shem had changed little in his two years with the Medical Guild. He remained indecisive and fascinated with blood and gore.

Just as their mother had made them to be.

Lasa definitely didn't want to see her mother this morning, not on Separation Day. Arietta Taylor had raised her three children by herself, and in the only way she knew how: illegally. Lasa, like her brothers, knew how Separation worked, though as a civilian she really shouldn't. She didn't want to be reminded of that. She wanted to pretend - just for a little while - that she was normal.*

"Bye," she told her brothers. "Tell Mom I've gone." She threw open the window and started to climb out, then returned for quick hugs. She left and ran the half-block to Joseph's house. He answered the door by opening it just as she arrived, and threw her a half-opened umbrella.

"Shoes missing," he gasped. "Just a sec!"

Lasa grinned as he disappeared around a corner, then opened the umbrella, though it was too late to do her much good. After a brief struggle, she managed to suspend the umbrella between her elbow and her side, and wrung out her shirt and hair. She left the skirt alone, since Joseph had returned by that time, hopping on one foot while stuffing the other into a sneaker. "I hate - these - shoes," he cried, and caught hold of the doorframe for balance. He surveyed the state she was in. "You could have come in, you know. Or waited 'til I came back. I would have held the umbrella for you."

"Shut up, Joseph," she said amiably.

"I just don't get why everything has to be such a challenge for you," he said as he joined her under the umbrella. "How much time have we got before we cease to be free people?"

Lasa rolled her eyes. "Not much. I'm sorry, but I woke up late."

"It's all right." He glanced around, deep suspicion in his dark eyes. "I've never seen this much rain, have you?"

"I'm younger than you," she pointed out. "If you haven't, then I haven't. It's that simple. Use your head."

"Oh, right. You're younger. By all of, what, two months? Happy half-birthday, by the way."

They walked in friendly silence toward the field where their county's Separation took place. After a while, Joseph said, "I wish you'd just tell me how it works. I know that you know."

"How could I possibly?" she asked innocently. "I'm a civilian. We aren't supposed to know. It's against the law."

Joseph sighed. "Your mother told you, of course. If you were really my friend, you'd tell me what guild I'm going into."

"Just because my mother breaks the law doesn't mean I should."

"You're such a geek, Lasa. Break the rules. It's fun." He smiled winningly.

She paused, wondering how much she could tell him. "Well, I'm going to be in the Aqueous Guild."

He raised his eyebrows and glanced at her. "You can't swim."

"I'll learn. Do you really want to know?"

"Let me think...yes?"

He would probably hurt someone over it, or at least deliver some very pointed comments to the nearest authority figure. She spent a moment finger-combing her hair, wondering what the best way to tell him was. She decided that there simply wasn't a good way.

"You're in the Priesthood."

He dropped the umbrella, and she made a desperate grab for it. The wind blew it away, and in the chase, they were both completely soaked. Lasa managed to get it back up, and then slung her arm around Joseph's shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I know it's not what you want."

He stared straight ahead, unblinking in his shock. "But I'm not even a Christian."

"Right," Lasa said. "You're an atheist. Last week you were a self-proclaimed prophet. You like religion."

"As a hobby, not a career! Whose idea was it for the government to choose professions, anyway? I'll kill her."

"That might be hard, since she's been dead for over a hundred years. Didn't you pay attention in History?"

"It was a rhetorical question. Didn't you pay attention in Literature?"

He grinned at her, but there was still a troubled look in his brown eyes. Lasa stared at the ground and carefully sidestepped the larger puddles. She imagined that it would hurt to have one's dreams shattered, but she didn't know. She'd never had dreams.

Her mother had seen to that.

They reached the field at the edge of town, where over a hundred community servants rushed about, still struggling to raise tents. Several twelve-year-olds and their families stood shivering in the rain. Others were under the tents, and many were in line to get into the largest tent of all. There were twenty-four flags denoting the meeting places for the guilds. Lasa counted, and suddenly wished that she had talked to her mother. It had never been properly explained to her why there were twenty-four guilds when there should be, according to the rules of Separation, twenty-six.*

Lasa dragged Joseph into the line, shivering. At least they were mostly protected from more rain by the umbrella. Many people were from out-of-town and hadn't brought umbrellas; they seemed resigned to being soaked through. Probably some enterprising umbrella-salesmen would show up eventually.

At the opening of the tent, two women handed out clipboards and pencils. There was a form attached to the clipboard to be filled out. Lasa glanced up. There were benches set up in ten rows along the edges of the tent, and four desks in the middle. There was hardly even room to move, but she and Joseph found a vacant spot near the back and began to fill out their forms.

Joseph's pencil broke almost immediately, and he had to go get a new one. When he returned, he complained, "The pencil, the rain - it's all against me, you see. The world doesn't want me to be a priest."

Lasa shook her head. "I knew you'd say that." She carefully printed "Lasalle Angelina Taylor" on the blank asking for her name. "Don't worry. They're probably just going to send me to Lake Michigan. I can visit you on weekends, I guess."

"Bah." He completed his form and snapped the pencil in half, glaring at it. "Ready?"

They got up and joined the line for one of the desks. There was a harassed-looking man sitting behind it. When their turn finally came, Joseph handed the man his form and glanced at Lasa. She could see in his eyes that he hoped she had been kidding.

She wished that she had been.

"Priesthood," the man said finally. "They're meeting in the southwest corner under the red and green banner. Enjoy."

"Ugh," Joseph moaned. "Good luck. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye," she murmured, handing her own form to the man. He checked that it was complete, then did the quick mental arithmetic at which Lasa herself was quite proficient. "Aqueous Guild, northwest corner, the blue and green banner."

She left, twirling the umbrella idly, her feet squelching in the mud. She didn't recognize anyone and suddenly felt very much alone. At least the umbrella was insurance that she would see Joseph again, in order to give it back.

There were nine other children standing under the blue and green flag, as well as three adults. One was a woman, and she handed Lasa a packet of papers wrapped in plastic to shield it from the rain. "That's your housing and guild information," she said, smiling a little too brightly. "If you'll just give me your name and date of birth..."

"Lasalle Taylor, January 1, 2218," Lasa replied, pulling out the first few papers. It was difficult to keep hold of everything, but she managed to skim the first page. Her eyes widened. "Hang on, this can't be right. It says North Carolina. I can't go to North Carolina, I have to - "

The woman shook her head sympathetically. "There's a reason they call it Separation, you know. Don't worry, they'll have a nice lake for you. I hear the weather's great. They've been sending a lot of the new kids out to the coast lately."

Lasa looked up, her blue eyes now wet with tears rather than rain. "I have to stay here. My best friend - "

One of the new boys poked her in the back. "North Carolina? Me, too. She says we're all friends now. And she's right, that's why it's called Separation - "

"No!" Lasa cried. "That's not it at all! This isn't fair!"

The boy shrugged. "You know what they say. No one's ever happy."

"I thought I would be! And I was! But...North Carolina?"

"It's a harsh life sometimes. But someone's got to deal with all that water, and it happens to be us. Hurrah for the most useless guild ever!"

Lasa stared down at the paper and noticed that her hands were shaking rather badly. So this was what loss felt like...

It was all her mother's fault.

* * *

They were part of a caravan to North Carolina that left that evening at six. Joseph, looking pale in his new white and green priest's robes, turned up and hugged Lasa fiercely.

"I'll miss you," he whispered.

"How can they split us up this way?" Lasa moaned, burying her face in his shoulder.

"They're the government. I guess they can do what they like."

"They shouldn't be allowed to."

He stepped back and waved feebly as he headed off. His own caravan was somewhere on the other side of town, she supposed. Lasa looked away, and saw her mother approaching.

"Lasa," Arietta Taylor said quietly to her daughter. "I really am sorry."

"You chose this for me," Lasa muttered. "It's all your fault. Why couldn't you have let me be something else? I don't want to go to North Carolina."

"It's necessary. You'll understand in time, dear. Farewell."

Lasa climbed into the carriage, where six other children already sat - four girls, two boys. Lasa chose the remaining window seat, then drew her legs back as another boy clambered in - the one she had met under the flag. He sat beside her and stretched languidly.

"I remember you," he said conversationally. "Lasalle, right? I'm Roger Moran OMFG. Did you all read the information? We're going to be housemates for the next four years. Thrilling, isn't it? Oh, the things we'll get up to..."

Another girl giggled. Lasa gave Roger a weak grin. "So, eight kids? How many adults?"

"Three. One for the boys, one for the girls, and a third to act as an extra lifeguard. At least, that's what it says."

Lasa gazed out the window as Roger continued to spout random facts like a fountain to anyone who would listen. She wasn't happy about this, not at all.

North Carolina. What a ridiculous place to be sent.

* * *

It was nearly a month before the caravan reached the coast. Their carriage took them to a lake only a few miles from the ocean. Lasa began to think, somewhere along the way, that maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

The lake was nearly a mile wide, and twice that from north to south. The sunlight glittered on the surface and sent strange shadow-patterns through the leaves on the trees. The carriage dropped them off at the end of an oak-lined drive. The driver helped them to remove their luggage, not that there was much of it, while Lasa tried in vain to remove the tic-tac-toe marks from the walls, and Roger checked under the cushions for the missing cards from his deck. OMFG DESCRIPTION

The other seven chatted excitedly as they started up the walk, but Lasa didn't join in, preferring to silently gaze upon her new home. The house was two stories high, painted a soft reddish-brown, and appeared to have a decent-sized attic. Off to one side was a basketball court, and beyond that Lasa could see a lone cement wall. She couldn't imagine what it was for, but before she could speculate, they reached the door.

Three people met them there, two men and a woman. The first man hung back and didn't speak, just gazed at them darkly over the tops of his sunglasses. The other man smiled and ushered them inside, while the woman remained expressionless.

"Welcome to the Aqueous Guild," she said. "Five girls, I see. You're in my charge; I'm Rebekah. Boys, that's Dorian, he'll take care of you. The other one is Mr. X." She gave the man with sunglasses an amused look. "We'll be your teachers for the next four years. I assume that by now you've read the rules; if not, do so. Dorian and I are new to this, so please don't mess this job up for us. Mr. X is a Wavespeaker."

The others looked rather intimidated; not Lasa. "What's a Wavespeaker?" she asked.

"It's a way of life," Mr. X growled. "Spend the day having fun, because your lessons start tomorrow." He vanished into another room, and Rebekah and Dorian started assigning rooms.

Lasa's room was on the second floor and adjoined to another. Rebekah opened the connecting door and spoke to both girls at once. "Everything you need is in the trunks at the end of your beds. There are two boys on this floor. Dorian's got a room up in the attic, and he'll hear any funny business, all right? I'll see you down at the lake in a little while, if you want to go swimming."

Rebekah left, and the other girl gave Lasa a shy smile. She left the door open and began unpacking. Lasa smiled back, though the girl didn't notice, and got to work hanging up her clothes in the closet. She missed her dresser already - things that would usually be separated in drawers were apparently meant to be stuck together in the trunk. There were three bathing suits provided, along with toiletries and a pair of sandals. The sandals were a little big, but that was okay. She'd grow into them.

Dorian and Roger stopped by her room, dressed for a swim. "Coming, Lasa?" Roger asked. "We're going tubing."

"I can't swim," she said.

"Oh, it's easy," Dorian said. "Rebekah will teach you, and for the time being, you can wear a life jacket."

"Okay," she decided, and closed both doors. She changed quickly. Now was as good a time as any to learn.

* * *

Despite the fact that the eleven residents of the house were more or less isolated, Lasa simply couldn't get very close to the others. She and Roger were friends, but the other boys had no interest in girls, and the girls themselves spent far too much time giggling over how terribly attractive their housemate, Bill Diamond, was. It was a good reminder for Lasa of why she generally hated other members of her gender.

Rebekah proved to be an adept teacher, while Dorian made them laugh with his ridiculous antics. They swam whenever it wasn't snowing, which was most days, and had school lessons in the mornings. Mr. X generally did very little except lecture on history and the different guilds.

"What d'you think a Wavespeaker is?" Roger asked Lasa one day when they were walking out to the wall she had noticed. It was actually a racquetball court, as they had discovered within a few weeks of their arrival, and the game had made the years pass quickly.

She shrugged. "Nothing special, probably. It's just Mr. X being dramatic."

"We should ask Rebekah," Roger said. "She'll tell us."

"It's a major, isn't it? So we'll get told when we're sixteen and we have to pick. Don't worry about it."

He jumped up to touch a tree branch that hung over their heads. "I just don't think it's fair that he keeps secrets."

"It's not a secret, it's just - "

"Mr. X being dramatic, I know. You always say that, Las. Besides, it's only six months until you turn sixteen, and Bill and Cassidy are already there. Why haven't they told us anything about it?"

She sighed and ran a hand through her tangled hair. It had grown long in the three years they had spent in the Aqueous Guild, and was nearly impossible to tame now. "You're paranoid, you know that?"

"I just don't understand - "

"You want to understand everything, and it's impossible."

He shrugged. "Not a bad pursuit, though. Knowledge is power."

"Power corrupts."

Roger cleared his throat. "Anyway. Any clue what you're going to major in?"

They arrived at the court. Lasa pulled a pair of goggles out of the box where they were kept, and squinted at them. "I'm not sure yet. Being a Wavespeaker could be interesting. I mean, the title at least is cool, and Mr. X doesn't seem to do anything hard." The goggles, as usual, were filthy, and she wiped them on her shirt. "Maybe Mr. X will teach me. Then I won't have to leave."

Roger was blessed with an excellent memory. "You didn't want to leave Indiana, though. Couldn't you go back?"

She shrugged. "This is home now." There was a sudden stab of guilty pain. She hadn't gone back to Indiana since the first Christmas after Separation, and hadn't thought about Joseph or her family since then.

At least she was going home at Christmas this year. She could see them all, catch up on what they'd been up to in the past three and a half years.

* * *

Alex, Shem, and Joseph met her down at the caravan stop on December 23. The latter's robes were hemmed now with dark red. "I've been promoted," he said, after a quick hug. "I'm teaching a class, starting in February. Being a Journeyman has its perks, I guess. Isn't that excellent? What about you? Oh, they don't have the same promotion system in your guild, do they? What's up? Do you have a major yet? I bought you a present."

"Okay," she managed. Her eyes flickered over to her brothers, who were snickering. "It's cold. Let's go back to my house."

Lasa and Joseph walked together, exchanging gossip. After a bit, Shem caught up to them. "Las, did you hear about the computer?"

Lasa rolled her eyes. "Are they trying that again? It never works."

"They've got perfect plans this time - have had for years, I guess, but it took ages to get past the political red tape. President Callahan authorized it in August. They're trying to have it done in time for Independence Day two years from now. It's supposed to be dramatic irony, I guess."

"Mom must be furious."

"Yeah, that's why I'm telling you. She's been yelling at us for not doing so well. Apparently, Animal Attack Specialists are completely useless, and overseers of construction just aren't high up enough in the government."

Alex made a face. "I enjoy it and the money isn't bad. Isn't that what counts?"

* * *

Christmas wasn't as much fun as Lasa had expected. It was colder in Indiana, she and Joseph didn't have very much to talk about anymore, and her mother just kept whining about "those morons in the Education Guild."

Her brothers, not knowing what teenage girls wanted, bought her clothes. Joseph had procured for her a copy of The Codex of Christian Teachings and had written amusing comments in the margins. Her mother also gave her a book, in private; it was written in what appeared to be Latin, and was delivered with the cryptic comment, "You might be needing this."

Lasa was surprised to find herself enjoying the thought of returning to Roger and North Carolina.

Upon her return in the middle of January, Mr. X took her aside and gave her the obligatory speech about majors. He seemed more preoccupied than usual - he was actually being straightforward for once.

"So," he concluded, "if you're dissatisfied with the profession you choose now, you'll be given a chance to switch at eighteen. Beyond that, you're stuck. What'll it be?"

"I'd like to be a Wavespeaker," she replied immediately. "And I'd love for you to teach me, sir."

Something akin to emotion flickered across his eyes, but it was gone before she could really be sure she had seen it. "Normally, students do not choose their teachers," he said gruffly. "However, since Roger has expressed interest in doing the same, perhaps you two could train together. It saves us the hassle of moving you."

"Now you have to tell us exactly what Wavespeakers do," she said triumphantly.

He blinked, and said severely, "Don't count on it. We shall see if you can determine, from the lessons I teach, what it is that I am preparing you for."

She shook her head as he stormed away. That man was extremely strange.

Roger, after his birthday, joined Lasa in her new lessons. He was the last of the eight to turn sixteen; the others had already left to pursue their own careers. Though it took some doing, by the time the eight new children arrived toward the end of June, Lasa had a small but adequate room in the attic. They hadn't found enough space for Roger's room, so he was in with Dorian until the extension was completed. The situation was complicated, and caused Roger to bring the subject up at dinner.

"Just how many of these houses are there?"

"What?" Rebekah asked. This was the general response to Roger's sudden questions.

"Well, there's more kids coming every year, when they turn twelve. Eight to a house, right? Well, there were ten just from our county. I mean, you're talking about over a hundred from Indiana alone, on average, not to mention forty-nine other states. If most kids are getting sent to the coast, and you have a four-year cycle of houses, plus places for the older people to train - that's an awful lot of people. So, how many houses?"

Rebekah sighed. "I have no idea. Just eat your potatoes."

Roger looked at his plate in disgust. "I'd really rather have carrots."

On July 5, Mr. X insisted that Lasa take her first lifeguarding test in the ocean. He refused to relent, even when it began to rain.

Lasa hadn't driven the motorboats very often, and it only made her more nervous that Mr. X sat in the cabin, where he couldn't help her easily if she made a mistake. The wind whipped her hair back and raindrops stung her skin. Eventually, Mr. X rapped on the cabin window, and she stopped the boat, shivering, as he came out to join her.

"All right," he said, loudly so as to be heard over the storm. "I'll jump in. You can count to one hundred, then come after me. If you run me over, I will never forgive you. Understand?"

"Isn't this dangerous?" she shouted back.

"Absolutely not. We can still see the shore, and we'll have life jackets." He checked the buckles on his, then dove over the side.

Lasa leaned against the steering wheel and looked around. The storm wasn't too bad, though the waves were high enough to splash onto the deck. There was no visible lightning, though thunder occasionally rumbled in the dark sky. This was such a bad day for a test...

She spied something in the waves and ran to the side to look, grabbing her lifejacket on the way. She really should have put it on earlier, she reflected, but...

Her eyes hadn't deceived her. There was a person in the water who wasn't Mr. X.

She clipped only one of the buckles before jumping in - feet first, because she mistrusted diving. The shock of the cold, salty water brought her to her senses, and too late she remembered the life preserver and the fact that an unattended boat was not a happy boat.

Lasa was good at swimming, and reached the person quickly. It was a boy with blond hair and sunburnt skin. She assumed that he was unconscious, and caught hold of him, wondering how exactly she would managed to drag him back to the boat without a life preserver for him.

A wave broke over them, and he gasped, his eyes fluttering open. "What?" he cried, and looped an arm through a rope on her lifejacket. He coughed. "Where'd you come from? Where are we going?"

She didn't answer, preferring to save her breath. Another wave smacked into them, and she nearly lost her grip on his arm.

"Where's your boat?" the boy yelled.

"I think it's lost," she shouted back. "Which way is shore?"

"You're awful at this," he informed her. Before he could say anything else, she spotted the motorboat, floating steadily away from them. She made her way for it. It wasn't easy - her legs kept getting entangled with his, and she couldn't use both hands - but they caught up. She grabbed hold of the ladder just as her muscles decided that she didn't deserve their services anymore.

She managed to gain control over her body long enough to drag the boy onto the deck, then say down, rubbing her aching arms. "I have to find my teacher," she said dully, trying to think through the burning of salt in her eyes.

A few minutes later, Mr. X climbed over the edge. Aside from the tremor in his arms when he hoisted himself up and being utterly soaked, he seemed unaffected by the storm. He surveyed the two, then pointed to the cabin. "Get inside. Honestly, children these days." The boy gave him a look of mild surprise, while Lasa merely envied her teacher for his ability to do things like that - battle waves in a storm and still come out looking superior to everyone.

Once inside, Mr. X opened a cabinet and took out some towels. He instructed them to strip. Lasa blushed, while the blond boy backed away.

"In front of men?" Lasa shrieked.

"In front of an impressionable girl?" the boy cried. "No, thanks. I'm fine. Really. I'm just tired and wet, and suddenly wishing I could swim."

Lasa accepted a towel and dried her hair off. She was well aware that it was sticking up in all directions, but the boy caught her glare and wisely didn't mention it. He wrung out his shirt, leaving it wrinkled and damp. "I'm Zacharias Mathari," he said.

Mr. X nodded thoughtfully. "And what, Mr. Mathari, were you doing in the ocean in the middle of a storm?"

"It's not the middle of the ocean. I was thinking, that's all, and working."

"Working?" Lasa asked. He had to be around her age, so how could he have a job?

"Yes. I was trying to break a code. All my notes are lost." He wiped at his eyes, which were red from the salt. "My glasses, too. Can we stop and place an order for new ones in the nearest town?"

Breaking a code. Lasa realized after a moment what that would make him. "You're a Codebreaker! A spy!"

"Yeah. What'd you think I was, a farmer? Honestly. You're from the Aqueous Guild, then?"

"Yes." Lasa felt rather numb. She'd never met a spy before, and her mother hadn't said very good things about them. "I'm Lasalle Taylor. This is Mr. X. He's - "

" - suddenly realized exactly who you are." Mr. X frowned. "Would you like to tell me, Mr. Mathari, what the most brilliant Codebreaker in America is doing in North Carolina?"

Zacharias shrugged coolly, completely ignoring Lasa. "That's classified, I'm afraid."