Chapter 2

They stopped in town to get new glasses for Zacharias, and extracted a promise of delivery the next morning. When they arrived at the house, Lasa dragged herself up to bed and slept until nine the next day. She would have slept until noon quite gladly, but that option was ruined when Roger pushed her out of bed.

"Awp!" Lasa yelped. Her elbow struck the floor at the wrong angle, and pain streaked through her arm. "That hurt!"

Roger sat down on the bed. "Sorry, but you sleep like the dead. Tell me what happened yesterday. All Mr. X said was that Zacharias would be staying with us for a few days."

Lasa stood up, whacked him on the shoulder half-heartedly, and took a moment to rearrange her thoughts. "He almost drowned. I saved him. That's it, really. Is he awake?"

Roger nodded. "Yep, awake and irritable. Not a morning person, I guess."

He followed Lasa to the door, and raised his eyebrows when she tried to push him out of the room. "What are you doing?"

"It's Sunday," she reminded him. "We're taking the kids tubing. Then Dorian is teaching them to play racquetball. I'm not going to miss it just because there's a new guy in the house. Now get out. I have to change."

She eventually found her blue bathing suit under the bed, and shoved Roger into the main part of the attic so that she could change. Moments later, a knock resounded on the door.

"Roger, you hormonally-charged idiot, give me a second!"

"It's not me."

"No," came a slightly familiar and amused voice. "It's me. Felt like I ought to thank you for saving my life, or something."

"Oh!" Lasa threw open the door and stared at Zacharias, who blinked at her. He looked very different when not soaked and disheveled. His new glasses had thin silver frames and were inching their way gradually down his nose. His blond hair was brushed back, except for one strand that fell rakishly over a hazel eye. He hastily tucked it over his ear.

Rather cute, really...

She shook her head fiercely to dispel all such thoughts. "Well, you're welcome. Er. Are you coming tubing with us?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Have you forgotten so soon that I can't swim?"

"You could learn."

"No, thank you. I saw your racquetball court. I'll just practice that."

Well, this was familiar territory, at least. Lasa forgot entirely that he was attractive and that she had only met him the previous day. "Practice all you like," she said coolly. "You'll never beat me."

Zacharias smirked. "Whatever you say, Lasa. You may continue changing now. Oh, and if you didn't know, there's a peephole in the wall. Just there." He leaned into the room and pointed at a spot just above her dresser.

Roger poked the blond in the back. "Oh, come on. What kind of guy are you? You don't tell girls about stuff like that. Let me see."

Lasa smiled winningly, grabbed the book she had gotten from her mother for Christmas off of the dresser, and threw it at them. Zacharias ducked, though Roger wasn't so lucky.

Only after she had slammed the door did Lasa blush and move a picture in front of the hole, which she had never noticed before.

* * *

Lasa and Roger were both distracted while tubing, which was why, for the first time ever, they both fell off of the tubes.

"Didn't know it hurt so much," Roger groaned, dragging himself back on.

"I think you fell wrong," Lasa pointed out smugly. He pried up her fingers on the next run in retaliation for her tone. She proceeded to dunk him when she caught up with the boat.

They arrived back at the house shortly after noon, to find Mr. X waiting with the box of goggles and racquets.

One of the new apprentices put her goggles on, and squealed, "Ick, they're ugly! And they're digging into my face! It hurts!"

"Hurts more to get hit in the eye," Mr. X told her. "Hurts to get hit anywhere. Lasalle here broke Roger's arm on their first day."

Roger muttered something under his breath, then said, louder, "She hit the ball too hard. It was her fault."

Lasa smirked at him. "You should have had the sense to use the racquet. That is, after all, what it's for."

Laughing and joking, they all hiked out to the court. The wall was twenty feet high, and the ground for several yards around it was made of cement. Dorian and Mr. X were teaching this year; Rebekah had to go into town that day. Usually, she helped out. Lasa wasn't even sure that Dorian knew how to play.

Zacharias was already there, waiting.

Lasa walked slower when she saw him, quite calmly hitting a little blue ball. His goggles hung around his neck. That was in direct violation of the first rule - friends don't let friends play without goggles on. And if I ever see anyone without them on, they and their partner will do the dishes for a month.

And that was just what Rebekah had told them. Mr. X, who had been standing under a tree nearby, had added that he would personally throw them in the lake with their hands tied.

Now, though, he didn't even mention this rule-breakage, just took the new kids to the other side of the wall, leaving Lasa, Roger, and Dorian to stare pointedly at Zacharias until he noticed.

"Hi," he said, without looking around. "Are we playing doubles, then?"

"Sure," Lasa said. "You can have Roger. I'll still win."

The blond spy caught the ball effortlessly and slid his goggles up to cover his eyes and glasses. "Okay. Do we have to spin for serve?"

"You can go second," Lasa said graciously. Serving second in racquetball was an advantage when playing doubles. The first team only got to have one partner serve, while the second had both. Then the game reverted to everyone serving, with the teams alternating.

He tossed the ball to her and wound the string dangling from his racquet around his wrist. "Serve, then."

Dorian took his place out-of-bounds, looking distinctly nervous. Roger stood behind Lasa, swishing his racquet through the air, as he always did before a serve. It was a nervous habit which caused him to react a bit slowly, and which Lasa fully intended to take advantage of.

She took a quick step to the left, dropped the ball, and swung her arm forward. The racquet whistled through the air and thudded against the ball, which bounced off of the wall directly at Roger's face. He raised his racquet in desperate self-defense.

"You have to hit it," Zacharias snapped, doing so. Dorian, who had nearly forgotten to step in-bounds, missed the rebound. "Our serve," the spy said triumphantly.

"Cover your own side of the court," Lasa hissed as Roger ran to fetch the ball.

"There's no rule says I have to. Besides, he's useless."

"He knows how to play, at least."

"I do know how, you realize," Dorian said haughtily. "I just choose not to utilize my extensive knowledge because it might lower your self-esteem."

Zacharias smirked.

The game wore on. The only reason Lasa was able to get any points at all was that Zacharias couldn't be everywhere at once, and Roger kept panicking whenever she managed to aim directly at him, and was half-hearted whenever it wasn't endangering his health. Dorian was every bit as awful, but had a good backhand, at least.

The score was thirteen-twelve in favor of Zacharias and Roger when the former finally made a mistake. He misjudged the ball's path, and instead of hitting it with his racquet, got smacked on the side of his hand. He dropped the racquet, which dangled from his wrist on its string, and bit his lip.

"All right?" Dorian asked, suddenly the concerned adult in charge of their well-being. "Need the first aid kit?"

"I'm fine," the blond snapped, flipping the racquet back into his hand. "Let's just play."

His ability to hit hard and fast was noticeably decreased, however, and Lasa quickly gained the upper hand. Eventually, Dorian and Roger gave up and went to sit in the shade. Lasa and Zacharias barely noticed; they had already been inching their way toward forgetting their partners and playing one-on-one.

In the end, Lasa won by a single point. "I told you so," she said. "There's a bruise on your hand, did you know?"

"I rather suspected there might be," Zacharias replied dryly, pulling off his goggles and scrutinizing his hand. "Nicely played."

"And that," Mr. X said from the sidelines to the eight new kids, "is how professionals do it."

The two turned and stared. "How long have you all been watching?" Lasa demanded.

Her teacher shrugged. "Since it was nineteen-seventeen, I think. This lot is utterly, utterly useless, so I decided to give them a tutorial in the form of a real game."

"At least no one broke their arm this time," Dorian noted. "That was messy."

"Why does everyone keep bringing that up?" Roger moaned. "It happened a long time ago and it was her fault!"

* * *

Lasa discovered many things about Zacharias that day.

He was staying in Mr. X's room, which none of the apprentices had ever so much as seen.

His hair had a tendency to flop forward, and he shook it out of his eyes with an irritated motion each time.

He smirked easily, but rarely laughed.

He, like Roger, hated potatoes. Unlike Roger, he also detested carrots, and charmed Rebekah into allowing him to have peas with dinner.

Oh, yes, the charm.

Zacharias was completely irresistible.

As soon as that thought had crossed her mind, Lasa decided that she had gone completely mad.

She was pondering this sudden rush of hormones on her way to her room when she heard voices coming from the room Roger shared with Dorian.

"I think it means 'truth,'" Roger said. "Veritas, truth?"

"Yes...makes sense. In Spanish it's verdad. Not such a stretch."

Lasa poked her head into the room and saw Roger and Zacharias, their heads bent over a book. "Um, hi. What's up?"

"We're deciphering the book you threw at us," Roger said happily.

"His mother studied Latin and I speak Spanish and French," Zacharias added. "Both are Latin-based. It's difficult, but interesting."

Lasa went to kneel beside the bed, and was forced to read upside-down. "What have you got so far?"

"We think that the title is The Real History of the War. We think that the dedication reads 'To the truth and all who are witnesses of it.' That's all, so far."

Roger had a piece of paper, and was taking down the English translation as they decided on it. "This would be easier with a Latin-to-English dictionary," he muttered. "Where'd you get this, anyway?"

"My mother gave it to me. I couldn't read it, though. So it's Latin?"

Zacharias pulled his glasses off and wiped them on his shirt. "It's so hard to tell. See, it looks like Latin, but I'm recognizing words that are most emphatically Spanish. Not to mention that the grammar is all screwed up. It looks like someone tried to translate the words literally, which is stupid but makes our task easier, if we can get our hands on a dictionary."

"Why don't you try the library?"

"Closed," they said together, and Roger added, "All week, because of Independence Day."

Zacharias jammed his glasses back onto his nose and brushed irritably at a strand of hair that fell over his eye. "You have anything else like this?"

"The only other book I own is the Codex."

"Why?"

"It was a gift."

"Hmm."

She wasn't much use with the translation, and eventually gave up on them and went to her own room. She hadn't read the Codex of Christian Teachings and Joseph's comments on it since...oh, it had to be since February, at least. She found it under the bed and sat down to read it.

God, she missed him.

"Lasa."

She glanced up. "Zacharias."

The blond leaned against the doorframe, staring straight ahead. "You should burn that book."

"What, the Codex?"

"No, the other one." He was speaking fast, as if he was afraid of being caught. "It's dangerous. It's the truth, it really is. And people don't want to know the truth about the War. People don't want to believe it exists."

"I don't burn books," Lasa informed him. "Every book can teach us something."

She saw him stiffen, and was instantly sorry. His voice was low and very different when he replied, "Even the books that teach people it's all right to kill?"

He was gone before she could think of a suitable reply.

* * *

It was two days later when the boathouse burned.

It started while they were at dinner. Roger was rambling on and on about what a shame it was that cars had been taken away when they heard the soft "whomph" from outside. Zacharias flinched. One of the apprentices, a rather nervous girl, dropped her fork. After a moment of startled silence, most of the company attempted to rush the windows.

Zacharias and Mr. X were the only ones with the sense to run immediately to the door.

The others joined them outside after a moment to watch the merry blaze that had been their boathouse.

"I've been telling the Guildhall for years that that thing is a fire hazard," Dorian said shakily.

Rebekah stared, open-mouthed, then barked, "Kids, get the fire extinguishers. Start a bucket chain."

The apprentices moved faster than Lasa had believed possible of them. She started to follow, intending to join the bucket chain, but her eyes fell on Zacharias.

The fire glinted on his glasses, masking whatever look might have been in his eyes. His lips were moving without making a sound. Lasa was about to run over and shake him out of it when he shouted, "That's it!" and dashed past her, into the house. Through the open door, she saw him rapidly sidestep an apprentice lugging a fire extinguisher and continue into Mr. X's room.

The fire extinguishers worked quite well, but Rebekah insisted that the ruins be drenched completely in order to douse any remaining embers.

"We can get new equipment from the guild within a week," she assured the apprentices. "You can do extra lessons until then. Dorian, how soon can the Architecture Guild get out here?"

"Day after tomorrow, I'd expect."

"Go into town now, then. Take Roger. Place orders - "

"I've got a good idea of what has to be done."

"Remind them that our extension needs finishing, too."

Roger, who was dragging what remained of the motorboat out of the debris, dropped it in excitement. "We're going into town? At night?"

"No games, no music, no drinking, no girls," Rebekah said immediately.

"No fun," Roger muttered glumly.

Zacharias reappeared then, juggling the book, several papers, and a pen. His glasses were askew, his eyes gleaming. "I know what it means!" he cried, and promptly dropped everything.

Roger and Lasa were at his side in an instant. The blond fell to his knees and flipped through the book, then pointed to a passage that looked no different from any other.

"That verb. The one we couldn't get. It's the past tense of quemar, that's Spanish, it means 'to burn.' So the whole thing is really talking about how the White House burned in 2093."

Lasa shook her head. "No. The White House didn't burn. There was a bomb. Are you sure the word isn't 'bomb'? Or 'explode'?"

"No, it's talking about a fire. No explosives. Just arson. Don't you see? It's the truth. The other history books say it was a bomb because the terrorists, the enemy, they used bombs. But this was an inside job, it was - "

"Roger, let's go," Dorian called.

"What are you kids doing?" Mr. X asked. Lasa jumped; he was right behind her.

"Classified espionage business," Zacharias said, gathering up his materials again and straightening his glasses. "Before you get that construction crew in here, I suggest getting the Justice Guild to inspect the wreckage."

Lasa couldn't see the point of that, but Mr. X apparently did. "Do you know what you're suggesting?" he demanded.

"Of course. I always know what I mean." Zacharias gestured in the direction of Roger and Dorian, who were halfway down the drive already. "Grab a bicycle and go after them - or did the bikes all burn, too?"

Mr. X stared at the blond for a moment, then ran after Dorian and Roger.

* * *

After all the excitement, no one wanted to finish dinner. Lasa and a few of the apprentices went out to play racquetball. It was fully dark by the time they grew bored and returned to the house.

Lasa, weary and wanting nothing more than to fall into bed, was not pleased to find Zacharias's notes strewn around her room, and The Real History of the War open on her pillow.

She stormed back down to the dining room, where Zacharias and four of the apprentices were playing a card game. "Hi, Lasa," he said without looking up. "You want us to deal you in? Spades," he added, setting an eight on the face-up pile in the middle of the table.

"Why are your things in my room?" she demanded.

"Because that frightening teacher of yours is getting suspicious." Zacharias smirked at one of the apprentices, who was pulling cards from the deck and growing increasingly distressed. "Just keep them for a bit. I won't be here much longer - I'll take them with me when I go."

Three days. It had been three days since she had saved his life, and already she couldn't imagine life without him. "That's my book. You're not taking my book."

The apprentice shrieked in consternation, cards spilling from her hands. "You rigged it!"

"I did not."

After a moment, Lasa realized that Zacharias was no longer paying attention to her. She wanted to yell at him, but a wave of exhaustion swamped her, and instead she spun and dragged herself back up to her room. She threw the book into the main part of the attic and left the notes on the floor. What did it matter who read the notes - or the book, for that matter? It was just a history book.

It wasn't as if it was really real.

* * *

Joseph staggered into the room and collapsed on the floor, groaning.

Ysranna Moran raised her eyebrows in his direction, then turned back to her mirror and continued applying her lipstick.

"That's it," Joseph gasped. "I quit. No more. I shall flee, flee to Alaska, where this stupid temple can't torment me anymore."

"Oh, please. It's only a class. We've all been through it."

"They hate me, Izzy. One of them threw an egg at me today. I'm lucky he was such a bad shot. Then they chased me through the halls, intending, no doubt, to tear me limb from limb. They're vicious little monsters. I have to get out of here before they turn me into a bloodsucking demon."

Ysranna set her lipstick down and dragged her fingers through her red hair. "You'll be kicked out anyway, if you're caught in a girl's room."

"I don't care, I don't care. You'll have to smuggle me out. It's like a jailbreak. It'll be fun."

Ysranna had been Joseph's mentor and best friend since the day she'd met him, in one of her first classes. He had been the only one who laughed whenever she mentioned the resurrection, the only one who truly didn't care that he didn't believe. The only one, in fact, with a sense of humor.

He would probably be thrown out any day now. She would definitely miss him when it happened, but subversion of the faithful was grounds for what was called "termination." As far as she could tell, it simply meant being shipped out of the country, not anything more sinister.

Joseph pulled himself onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. "You're all dressed up. Are you going out with that idiot from your history class?"

"As a matter of fact, all the senior journeyman have leave to go into the city. We're going clubbing."

Joseph sat up, eyes wide. "What, like dancing? And drinking? The uppers let you do that?"

"They don't know, do they? They would never suspect innocent Christian children of such immoral practices. They think we're going shopping or something." Ysranna found her sandals under the bed and slipped them on. "Don't do anything stupid enough to get you terminated, Joseph."

"Fine. But if I'm murdered by my students, promise that you'll get them terminated." He shook his head. "No, termination's too good for them. Get them thirty-six hour vigil in the chapel. I'd laugh at that."

"Except you'd be dead," she pointed out. "And you don't believe in the afterlife."

"Technical difficulty. I'm working on that." Joseph pouted. "You know, I came here for consolation, and now you're abandoning me."

"No one's abandoning anyone. I'll see you at morning service tomorrow."

He muttered something and shuffled out of the room. Ysranna smiled to herself and returned to the mirror to check her make-up.

Hopefully, it would be awhile yet before Joseph was terminated.

* * *

Lasa rarely saw Roger or Zacharias in the days that followed. They were usually off somewhere, working on translating her book. She was pressed into service by her teachers, and spent much of her time assisting the new kids with their lessons.

She found Roger one evening watching the workers from the Architecture Guild pack up their tools for the night. "How's it going?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Whoever wrote that book was more devious than we thought. The pages are out of order, and they aren't numbered. Well, they are, but it's with Egyptian hieroglyphs, and we haven't been able to find a reliable translation book yet, so we're manually connecting sentences."

"That can't be much fun."

"It's not. Zacharias seems to enjoy it, though." Neither of them spoke for a moment; then Roger continued thoughtfully, "Why do you think he hasn't left yet?"

"I don't know. Maybe he thinks I won't let him take the book, and he wants to finish with it?"

"Maybe."

They were silent for a moment; then Roger said, "I hope they finish the extension soon. I'm getting sick of sharing a room with Dorian."

* * *

Zacharias had been with them for almost three weeks when the next change occured.

Lasa and Rebekah were dragging the boxes of goggles and racquets from the court to the newly-completed boathouse when they saw a lone figure trudging up the drive. "Are we expecting anyone?" Lasa asked, squinting. She could hardly see the person in the dying light.

"I don't think so," Rebekah said. After a minute, she added, "Well, it could be someone from the Guildhall - they have to check up on us, and it's often done without warning."

"Hmm." Lasa thought that the figure was too short to be an adult from the Guildhall, but anything was possible, and she didn't voice her opinion.

By the time they had finished putting away the boxes, the person had reached the front door. Someone opened it, and in the sudden flood of light, Lasa saw clearly that the newcomer was female, a girl of perhaps sixteen with long, dark hair.

Rebekah and Lasa walked up behind the girl. It was obvious, when they were closer, that she was ill; her back was hunched, her hands on the doorframe to support herself. The apprentice who had answered the door stepped back and looked over the girl's shoulder, exchanging a bewildered glance with Rebekah.

"Zacharias," the girl gasped. "Is he here?"

The apprentice, being a twelve-year-old, didn't answer her question; instead he ran to the stairs and shouted, "Zacharias! Someone here for you!"

Almost immediately, the blond slid down the banister. "What?" he cried, and fell silent when he caught sight of the girl. Lasa saw recognition flicker across his face, and a strange look of fear in his eyes.

The girl staggered into the house, closely followed by Lasa and Rebekah. "Oh, Zac," she moaned. "I've been looking everywhere..."

She shivered violently, and then collapsed. Zacharias reacted without thinking, and caught her.

"I demand to know what's going on," Mr. X said, coming out of his room. Lasa shut the front door behind her and looked around; the entire population of her house had appeared by now. Roger was leaning on the banister halfway down the stairs.

"I'm not...sure," Zacharias said, gently laying the girl on the floor. "I think...I'm not sure. I have to...I have to go."

He fled back up the stairs, with Roger close on his heels.

Rebekah tilted her head to the side. "I suppose we'll have to put her in my bed." She sighed in resignation. "This housing situation is getting to be a problem. They'd better finish the extension soon."