The Song of the Winns (13 page)

Departure

E
ven the thought that he was playing a part didn't make Solomon Honker any less intimidating. As Alex and Alice entered the classroom and sat at their desks, he didn't betray the slightest hint of the cheery mouse of the night before, not by so much as a wink or a twinkle in the eye.

“It's time to focus on your new identities,” he said without even bothering to greet them. With a nod he indicated the folders standing ready on their desks, and Alice opened the topmost file, lowered her head and began to read the story of Raz and Rita of Tornley.

Rita and Raz were the children of Jez and Webbley, though they never saw much of their father, for Jez was a Queen's Guard. He had been sent to the Gerander–Souris border in the Cranken Alps, and only came home on leave infrequently.

“Ha, look at his big ears!” Alex held up a photo and gave
a snort of laughter.

“That is your dead father you're talking about, young man,” Solomon Honker reprimanded him. “Show some respect.”

When the children were six, Jez had been stabbed and killed by a gang of Gerandan rebels trying to storm the border.

“Oh,” Alice cried out involuntarily. “Their father was killed by Gerandans!”

“Don't believe everything you read,” Solomon Honker told her. “He was actually part of a patrol that lost their way in the mountains and fell into a ravine. It just makes a better story for the folks back home if he died a hero fighting the evil Gerandans.”

Somewhat relieved, Alice resumed her reading.

Now a widow, Webbley took in washing and ironing. Six years after her husband's death, she fell ill and died. Her orphaned children, Raz and Rita, were passed from neighbors to relatives, but no one wanted to care for them full time. At last, someone had the idea of making them the responsibility of the Sourian army. Their father had given his life in service of his country, after all—let the army work out what to do with his children. And so jobs had been found for them at the palace in Cornoliana.

Alice shook her head. “Poor Rita and Raz,” she said. “What a miserable life they had.”

“Before you get too sentimental,” Solomon Honker said, “there's something you should know.”

“What's that, sir?” asked Alice.

Her teacher lowered his white head very close to hers. “They hated Gerandans,” he hissed.

Startled, Alice leaned back in her chair, but Solomon Honker leaned too. “And guess what that means?”

“I . . . I don't know, sir,” said Alice.

“It means, Rita of Tornley, that you hate Gerandans too.”

Not for the first time, Alice had a sense of how difficult their undercover operation was going to be. Being Rita meant being completely unlike herself—and being it so completely and convincingly as to fool everyone she encountered. And Alice had never been a very good actor. . . . She hadn't really questioned it before, but now she wondered why, exactly, Tobias had selected her and Alex for this very dangerous operation. Was it really just because they were the same age as Raz and Rita? It seemed beyond strange that FIG would pick two young mice at random and send them on a mission on which so much depended. Her musing was interrupted by her brother's voice.

“What happened to the real Raz and Rita?” Alex asked.

“Killed in a house fire,” said Solomon Honker briefly.

Once they had absorbed all the available material on the short lives of Raz and Rita, their teacher instructed them to open the file marked “Tornley—General.”

“Do you think we'll ever stop reading about our undercover mission and actually go on it?” Alex muttered under his breath as they plowed through a stack of reading material about life in Tornley. Flicking through
the sheaves of paper, Alice noticed a map of the town, a section on rivers and streams (including which were best for swimming), a description of the school Raz and Rita had used to attend, pictures of their neighbors, lists of—

“This afternoon,” said Solomon Honker from his desk at the front of the room.

Startled, the two young mice looked up.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“You depart this afternoon, right after lunch, so if I were you I'd try to get through as much of that information as I could.”

“Yes!” crowed Alex, who obviously wasn't concerned about details like neighbors and swimming streams.

This afternoon? Suddenly Alice felt woefully unprepared. How would she ever fool anyone that she came from Tornley? With a sense of panic, she picked up a page describing the best-known landmarks of Tornley and began to read.

“How are we getting across the border?” Alex asked Solomon Honker.

“You'll see,” their teacher replied.

“Will we have to slip across in the dead of night?”

“You'll see.”

“Will we be in disguise?”

Their teacher shook his head.

“Will we fly by owl?” Alex asked hopefully.

“Oswald's busy.”

“Do you know an eagle?”

“Young man,” said Solomon Honker, finally losing patience, “if your preparation is not complete, I will be forced to tell Tobias that the operation must be canceled and you won't be going anywhere at all.”

Alex hastily bent his head over the pages.

For the next hour there was no other sound than the rustle of papers, then Solomon Honker rose from his chair and crossed the room to stand before his pupils.

“Let us see how much you've retained. What is the favorite pastime of the children of Tornley on a hot summer's night?”

Alice, glad that he had opened with a question she could remember the answer to, put up her hand. “We go out to the cave on Whistler's Road and scare the fireflies.”

“Good, Rita. Now where did you—”

“How do we scare them?” interrupted Alex. “Do we sneak up behind them and yell ‘Boo!'?” He laughed at his own joke.

Solomon Honker tapped Alex's desk with his ruler and Alex fixed a serious look on his face.

“Where did you go swimming?”

“That's easy-cheesy,” said Alex. “Roxby Dam. I did the biggest dive bombs of any mouse there.”

Alice nudged her brother sharply with her elbow. “Alex—er, Raz,” Alice quickly corrected herself as she saw the ruler in Solomon Honker's hand twitch. “Stop joking around and concentrate. This is serious.”

She glanced up at Solomon Honker. “I think Raz meant Roxenby Dam,” she said. “Didn't you, Raz?”

Alex shrugged. “Whatever. But I still did the biggest dive bombs.”

The rusty-orange and white mouse just sighed and said, “At least Raz is bringing a certain authenticity to the role. That can be helpful.” He smoothed his bow tie as if to calm himself, then asked, “And when is market day?”

“Wednesday,” replied Alice promptly.

“What kind of cheese do they sell there?” Alex butted in.

“Raz, I hardly think anyone will want to know about the cheeses of Tornley,” his sister objected.

“I would,” Alex persisted stubbornly.

Before Alice could point out that not everyone was as obsessed with cheese as Alex, Solomon Honker said, “Mozzarella.”

“Excuse me, sir?” said Alice.

“Tornley is famous for its mozzarella.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Alex, giving his sister a smug look.

The morning wore on in the same way, with Solomon Honker giving them piles of information to read and memorize. As well as the lives of Raz and Rita and life in Tornley, they studied the geography of Gerander, the ranks of Queen's Guards in the Sourian army, and the differences between Sourian and Gerandan cuisine. Alex acquitted himself very well in this last category, though as Solomon Honker reminded them, “All you need to do is say that Sourian food is delicious and Gerandan food tastes like dirt and you'll be believable.”

At last, their teacher tapped his desk three times with his ruler and said, “Well, that's all we have time for. I just hope it's enough.” Alice was slightly alarmed to see the worried look creasing Solomon Honker's white brow.

Tentatively she raised her hand and asked the question that had been bothering her all morning.

“Sir, what will the Sourians do if they catch us spying on them?”

Silence filled the room as Solomon Honker gently laid down his ruler. Just when Alice was starting to think he hadn't heard her question, he said quietly, “Don't get caught.” Alice felt the fear that had been nibbling at the edges of her mind settle like a stone in her chest.

Solomon Honker glanced at his watch and said, “You'd better get along and have some lunch. I'll meet you by the cafeteria steps in one hour.”

As they hurried across the oval (Alex was determined not to miss out on the Camembert this time), Alice anxiously tried to recall their lessons of the morning. So much depended on what they had learned, but her brain felt empty.

“Alex, what were the names of our neighbors in Tornley?”

Alex just shrugged. “Who cares? They didn't offer to take us in when our parents died, did they? Come on, sis.”

Although this wasn't the answer she'd been hoping for, Alice found herself comforted by her brother's breezy confidence. Solomon Honker was right: Raz mightn't
have all the answers, but in a way that would make his performance quite convincing. After all, Alex wasn't very good at answers either, and she never questioned it, just accepted that he was a bit careless with details.

The cafeteria was crowded and noisy, with a long line winding back from the buffet.

“Oh no,” groaned Alex. “I'll never get to try the Stetson Camembert at this rate.”

Alice scanned the room for their aunt and uncle. There were so many mice bustling about with trays of food and sheaves of papers that it took her several minutes to spot them. They were seated near the edge of the room, and Alice saw her aunt shake her head as a dark brown mouse approached with a tray of food, obviously hoping to sit there.

She waved madly in their direction until Uncle Ebenezer spotted her. He stood up, beckoning. “I've already got your lunch,” he called.

Alice and Alex pushed through the crowd to the table and slumped into the two empty seats.

“Uncle Ebenezer, you're my hero!” Alex exclaimed. One of the trays was piled high with cheeses of all descriptions, including a large wedge of Stetson Camembert.

“Ah, well, I don't know when you'll be back in Shetlock, so I thought I'd get you a sampler of our best cheeses. See this hard one here? It's from the slopes of Mount Sharpnest. . . .”

As her uncle and brother talked cheese, Alice stared at
the salad sandwich her uncle had thoughtfully selected for her. Fear had filled the place in her stomach where hunger should be. She pushed the plate away.

“How was your first morning as a codebreaker, Aunt Beezer?” she asked.

Her aunt beamed. “Fascinating,” she said. “It's going to be very challenging, but I'll be working with some of the finest mathematical brains of Shetlock and Souris. And how was your morning?” Aunt Beezer's smile dimmed and her eyes were troubled. “Tobias sent a message to say that you're leaving this afternoon. Do you feel ready?” She glanced at Alice's uneaten sandwich.

Alice lifted a shoulder and gave a wan smile. “I guess so. Solomon Honker was very thorough. But I do feel a bit . . . a bit scared,” she confessed.

“I'm not surprised,” Beezer said. “Alice, you don't have to do this, you know. No one would think any less of you if you decided to pull out of the mission.”

For a moment Alice was tempted. Yes, she and Alex could pull out (for surely they wouldn't send Raz without his twin). FIG could find another way. But then she remembered what Tobias said: there was no other option. And she knew that if she didn't do everything she could to help free Gerander, she could never live with herself.

She looked at her aunt and forced a smile. “All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good mice to do nothing,” she said.

Beezer smiled back; Alice was quoting one of Uncle Ebenezer's favorite sayings.

“We'll be fine,” Alice continued. Adopting her brother's breezy manner, she added, “We can outwit any Sourian.” (Except Sophia and Horace, she amended privately, with a quiver.)

When Alex had devoured the last of his cheese platter, Alice pushed her chair back from the table. “I think it's time,” she said.

Together the four of them skirted the hall until they were standing on the steps of the cafeteria. When Alice saw Solomon Honker striding toward them she wondered if he was still their stern teacher or had once more become the friendly mouse they had encountered briefly the night before.

“You're ready?” he asked his pupils. “Good.” He tapped the air with a white envelope he held. His manner was serious, but not stern. It occurred to Alice that perhaps they hadn't even met the real Solomon Honker yet. Maybe they had only seen him playing roles, like she and Alex were about to play roles. It was an interesting thought, one she filed away for future consideration.