When the rest of the student body returned from their break and, presumably the funeral of Lord Glenlen, Orenda took to having her meals delivered to her apartments. The others had grown so disagreeable that she found herself unable to eat in peace. Class itself was a chore, especially classes in which she was forced to interact with others in group projects or partnerships, and in those subjects, she found herself lagging behind to such an extent that Felaern offered to tutor her himself, but she denied him and spent most of her time locked in the tower away from the general nonsense.

Felearn had never removed his books from his former study, as Orenda had never made such a request, so she scanned the shelves until she found the volume she had been looking for- the student registry.

Then she took out her parchment, and in her neat handwriting, honed from years spent in libraries, began to copy names.

It was completely as if Felearn had no idea that he should ever suspect a student or member of the facility would ever be looking for connections among the nobility. Given what she had learned about titles in her etiquette and history classes, the power structure was almost too easy to trace; Orenda suspected that it was Felearn’s pride that had caused him to list titles beside names, not only of students, but of parents, and of emergency contacts.

Slowly but surely a pattern began to emerge.

Orenda had been correct, so long ago, when she had told Ali that killing Lady Glenlen would do nothing but create a power void that would be instantly filled.

Poor Tolith would never have a chance. If something happened to his mother, he would be at the whims of guardians and advisors. Orenda knew him well enough to know that he would never be a leader, not in any real sense. His list of emergency contacts alone took nearly two full pages and Orenda realized, with a pang of regret, that this was information she could have likely gotten much sooner, had she only realized what a resource he could have been.

Half of them didn’t even speak of the structure of the nobility; noble titles were replaced with military ranks. His father had been in the navy, before marrying Lady Glenlen, he had said. Was he even a nobleman? What had the story been there?

But this was the very thing the Knights needed, and she put Tolith and his pain from her mind, as best she could, as she diligently copied lists of names that spoke of the way power was arranged and would be transferred, power that had been stolen, and could be taken back, by crossing names off a list.

The only part of her new isolation that hurt to any real extent was Kassie. Orenda had, for some reason, believed that her behavior would not change like the others, but she quickly found that she was mistaken. Kassie never said anything outright to her but she began a plan of avoidance. If she saw Orenda outside of class, she would pretend that she hadn’t, and that she had pressing business in some empty classroom or down a deserted hallway. If they had to interact for some reason during class, she was polite enough, but her friendliness had retreated to a colder, more professional level.

Orenda often found herself walking hallways that, were they not completely deserted, certainly gave her plenty of room to breathe.

On her free days when she took her baths in the laundry room, she always had a tightly folded piece of paper to pass along to Bubbider, and thought of the irony of what was written within.

Never write down names, Orenda. If you are human, never write anything at all.

Tolith apparently had wished to converse with her further, and had taken Quiroris’s advice to heart, because Orenda began to receive frequent letters, delivered by the headmaster himself, often opened, and Orenda suspected, pre-read for her, the contents inspected to see if they were up to the standards Quiroris must have had.

She had to admit that she did not find the contents particularly interesting. Tolith lived in his mother’s mansion attending lavish balls and being presented with various honors; he had private tutors now and very rarely seemed to leave the grounds. He had been given his title in the ceremony he had invited her to, but which she suspected his mother would have been upset, had she even been able to attend, which she was not. She no longer left the school grounds.

Tolith did not seem to care much for his tutors, nor his advisors, nor in any real sense his mother. Often, these letters spoke of some distant, visiting relative or friend, and always Orenda carefully copied the name onto some new list, to be delivered to Bubbider, to somehow make it to someone high up in the Knights of Order, where it would surely do something, at some point. It had to be doing something. There had to be a reason.

Tolith, at least, would eventually have some respite. He was getting married, and would be moving to take over his father’s title and estate. Because of course he was. That was the only thing that could have ever happened, really. Orenda was not sure she would have even recognized him, after their years apart. He had been in that house surrounded by noble earth elves for so long she suspected that he had cemented his place among them. He was always going to be a frightened little nobleman; there was nothing for it.

She had never written his name on her list.

But now she wrote: Lady Shalendra Glenlen Viscountess of the Far Coast, though she was not sure why, as she certainly was not, not yet. The wedding itself would be held in the temple there, in that remote location by the wastelands with its forests full of tigers, and its gardens full of beautiful animals, where Tolith had once sailed on his father’s ships because he had once had a father who had loved him, in a place that Orenda never had seen and would never see, but that she imagined had, at least in the past, made him happy. It would likely be a beautiful wedding.

She was not surprised that this letter, announcing the great changes in his life, location, and love, was the last one that she ever received. She wrote back to the mansion using Felearn’s stationary, as she always did, and the name of the school rather than her own, as Tolith had requested, and when she received no reply, she went back to the registry of students and looked up his father’s address and sent another letter, addressing this one in her own name, wishing him well in his new life.

But it would do her no good to expect a reply that would never come. She had learned that lesson with Johnny.

If not for Bubbider, Orenda would have lived in complete isolation. There is a special kind of sorrow that comes from being alone in a crowd, and it pressed upon her more and more each day. She had often had difficulty making friends, had grown up without them at the workhouse, and had always had more luck with adults than people her own age. She also could not allow herself to feel self-pity over loneliness when she thought of Ali, and certainly not during the rare moments when she spoke to him.

He did, occasionally, make her think that he was still gathering intelligence. He would speak on various naval or military officials- but those reports were rare. Mostly he became more and more obsessed with the voice in Lady Glenlen’s room.

“He knows my name,” Ali told her one night, his sunken face flickering through the flames of the scry, “He’s always known my name. I know it’s a djinn, Rendy, I know that’s how she’s stayed in power for so long. These elves are bloodthirsty. She only has one heir. Someone would have killed her by now. That thing is protecting her. He’s being forced to do it. He hates her. I think she can’t hear him. I think she feels something, but I don’t think she can hear the voice.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Orenda asked.

“Because he told me that he was once in love with a human slave,” Ali said, “he admitted that he had helped him escape, and that he would never be found. He said that this human was living near the capital, right under Xandra’s nose. He said that he would escape and return to him. He said he would see elves dead for what they had done to his beloved. He named names. And she did nothing. She made no reply, she made no attempt to catch this man who had escaped, despite the djinn saying his name.”

“What is his name?” Orenda asked, intrigued.

“You’ll never believe it,” Ali whispered, “It seems a myth.”

“Still, it would be good information to pass along,” Orenda told him.

“The Djinn is in love with the white rabbit,” Ali explained, “He’s in love with Xaxac. And he told me why the rabbit is white.”

“What does that mean?” Orenda asked.

“Have you ever heard of sterilite?” Ali asked.

“I have heard it mentioned,” Orenda said, “In particularly old books, and by astronomers, but I’m not sure it’s real. I’m not sure how metal would come to be on Xren from the stars.”

“Sometimes the sky falls,” Ali said, “that’s what shooting stars are. And when the sky falls, it can be used to neutralize all magic. Sterilite is heaven sent.”

“I don’t believe it,” Orenda told him.

“I didn’t believe in djinns either,” Ali said, “Yet here we are.”

“That’s true,” she agreed, “did he say anything else?”

“He says a great many things, Orenda. He says that he has phenomenal power, and when he escapes the heavens themselves will open and weep with his rage. He says that the sky fell once before, a long time ago, during the rebellion of Morgani Magnus and caused a great ice age. He says that Magnus was right, and he hopes he can stop ‘that fool boy’, but he has foreseen that he can’t. He says that he can see the future, but he has no guarantees that his visions will come to pass.”

“Well that’s just having a thought then,” Orenda said, “That isn’t a prophecy. Any fool can do that.”

“I’m only telling you what he says,” Ali said, looking to and fro as he often did, “I can’t stay much longer.”

“Has he made any predictions?” Orenda asked.

“He predicts that the White Rabbit is in danger from something called the Kabaal, but I don’t know what that is. He says that he has to get out, to protect him. I’m not exactly in a place where I can research anything. Perhaps you can try to find out if it has something to do with Xandra?”

“I’ll do my best,” Orenda frowned, “But I’ve become rather familiar with the earth elves and I’ve never heard of that organization.”

“I’m so close, Rendy,” Ali told her. “I have to go. But the revolution is coming. This will all be worth it, one day. Our children will grow up in a free world.”

“Godspeed, Ali,” Orenda said, “Goodnight.”