"Zechariah!"

Niro and I turn, surprised to look at the newcomer. It is just after the morning session, everyone is filing down the halls to lunch. Another doctor, dressed in Niro's white robes, hurries towards us, holding a rolled-up piece of parchment in the air.

"A message for you," he pants, stopping in front of us and handing the roll of parchment to Niro. "Dr. Crowley told me to give it to you. By the way, want to stop by for a drink with us tonight?"

He treats me as if I'm a hatstand. Niro looks down at the parchment as if he didn't hear anything the doctor said. He pulls the paper out of the doctor's hand and starts to unfurl it.

"Well?" says the doctor impatiently, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"No thank you," says Niro steadily. "I'm not really interested in drinking games."

Annoyance flickers across the doctor's face too, he starts to say something, but thinks better of it. Instead, he glances at me for the first time.

"Managed to use your powers, then, girl?" he says.

"Perhaps," I answer coolly. I feel Niro's hand, covered by his heavy sleeve, wrap lightly around mine, cautioning me.

Why would I need caution? I'm not someone with a bad temper, though I do tend to lose it sometimes. I shoot Niro a confused glance, but he's looking at the doctor steadily, in an almost casual way.

"Infinity has accomplished enough today," he says. "And her powers are not of your concern, Doctor."

Anger flashes across the man's face. Niro's hand does not loosen around mine. His violet eyes seem to smoulder, burn with a violent flame.

The doctor, too, seems to catch the violent flash of flame in Niro's eyes, and I see fear flicker in his face. He takes a step back, glances at me briefly, before nodding clumsily at the eight-year-old boy in front of him, about half his size and less than a third of his age. He turns and trots down the corridor.

I whistle.

Niro glances at me and shrugs. "You're the only one who doesn't turn tail and run away screaming when I do that."

"I have a stupid idea of what's dangerous and what's not, then," I say, beginning to walk down the corridor to the dining hall. "What's that message?"

Niro glances down at the piece of paper and unrolls it, squinting at the handwriting.

"Dr. Crowley," he says, and my blood goes cold. "It's alright, it's alright!" he says hastily when my face whitens. "Pretty much just what he wanted this morning. Nothing new."

He's hiding something. I can tell from his face.

"Niro," I say in a low voice. "Tell me."

He looks at me with unfathomable eyes.

"Niro."

He sighs, and hands me the paper. I pull back the rolled-up parchment and read the handwritten message, scribbled in straight, stiff script.

Zechariah,

I am writing to let you know I will be stopping by the Red Room on Saturday, which is to say, the day after tomorrow. I will be overseeing your training sessions with Infinity to ensure all is going well and to plan.

We will begin drills and enhanced training soon. I will need you and Lenora in the Command Room on Saturday afternoon. I will be looking forward to your help in the coming month.

Good day to you.

Dr. F. Crowley

I roll the paper back up and look down at Niro, beside me.

"Oh, well," I say. "What do the drills mean?"

Niro glances up, looking amazed. "Is that the only thing you have to say?"

I shrug. "Oh, it doesn't seem too much. Me unable to summon anything except a silver mist, Dr. Crowley will either keep me on to find out what it is, or he'll have me kicked out. No reason to panic."

Niro starts to say something, but ends up shaking his head, looking amused. "Well, that's unexpected."

We're almost to the dining hall now, other Eyes are filing in, dark cloaks over their habits, doubling each other. Most of them avoid Niro and me, eyeing Niro's white cloak and giving him a wide berth. Niro, though, is only watching me.

"Tell me what you're really thinking," he says.

I look down at my hands, trying to feel the warmth build up inside my fingertips again. A small spark of silver spits from my hands and sputters, going out. I shrug. "Maybe he'll get lenient and give me a day off."

"You know he won't do that," says Niro quietly.

"Well, if he wants to send me off, he'll have to do that, right?" I say. "No use trying to deny it. I'll just have to work as hard as I can and see if anything good comes out of it. If these things turn out to be fireworks, maybe I can let some off in the dining hall for entertainment. Crowley will love that."

Niro can't help himself; he begins to chortle, muffling his voice by shoving a handful of fabric from his hood into his mouth. He's still laughing when we take our seats at the Enhanced table, watching the Eyes settle down at their Kaleidoscope, Gold and Violet tables, each marked by colour.

It's cabbage and potatoes today, bland, nothing interesting in it. It's a boring meal, but it'll have to do. I spoon the potatoes into my mouth ravenously, listening to the sound of clinking kitchenware. We're not allowed knives, only a fork and spoon. They're not afraid that we'll start fighting the guards with the knives, though, they're afraid that we find some other escape. An escape we can open in ourselves.

I bolt my food down; this morning's exercise has left me drained. Niro, however, starts picking at his food, staring at it, pushing his cabbage around his plate with his fork.

"What?" I say to him through a mouthful of potato. "Not hungry?"

Niro doesn't say anything.

"Niro." I watch him closely, and suddenly think of my question from earlier, the one he left unanswered. "What are the drills?"

He groans and puts his face into his hands.

"Niro?"

Sighing, he looks up, pushing his plate away as he does so. He looks at me fully in the face. "You sure you want to hear this?" he asks me.

I raise my eyebrows, not even bothering to answer. He sighs again.

"The drills have only been conducted once in my time here," he begins. "Last time was about five years ago, when the other side was gathering strength. We were prepared to engage to full-fledged war. Crowley and the doctors, they started whipping us into shape, getting us into formations, drills, everything, so we'd be ready to face the other side. I was in the Command Room then, helping them draw up battle plans, getting ready for the other side to attack."

"What happened, then?" I ask him.

"False alarm," Niro shrugs. "Turns out a scout was feeding Crowley false information. Not on purpose, of course, but I heard they took it badly. Didn't see him since the day he begged Crowley to let him stay on, as a scout, a caretaker, anything."

Niro pauses, then glances at me, his violet eyes softening. "His name was Phillip."

"You knew him?" I say, surprised.

"Phillip and I had a... history," he admits. "When I was here at first, he was good to me, snuck me food, got me extra blankets in winter, that sort of thing. He got caught once, I think, but they didn't punish him too harshly for that. I was sorry to see him go."

Looking at Niro's face, I'm willing to bet that he was more than sorry to see this Phillip banished.

Niro's voice returns to a brisk, businesslike tone. "Well, anyway, the drills are conducted when they want to keep us in shape, in formation, for an attack or a defence of something."

"Does that mean," I say, with a sense of dawning horror, "that they're going to engage in war?"

"That's what I think," says Niro. "Probably why Crowley has taken a sudden interest in your powers, too. Wants to see if he can use you as a weapon, see if I can train you into one in time." Niro spits bitterly onto his plate. "Idiot."

I stare at my plate, stunned into silence. My appetite is suddenly gone.

Niro looks up at me, concerned by my sudden silence. "Hey, you okay?"

I shake my head, trying to find my voice. "It's just -"

BAM.

An enormous bang, like a gunshot, rings out through the yard outside, cutting me off. I look up, surprised, and Niro leaps to his feet as the dining hall suddenly goes silent before, all of a sudden, exploding into chatter and confusion.

"Silence!" orders one of the guards.

No one pays any attention to him, all of the Eyes streaming towards the windows. I make to follow the throng when Niro seizes my arm.

"Not here," he says. He has to shout into my ear so I can hear. "Come on, somewhere else, where we can see better."

I stumble along behind him as he drags me out of the ensuing chaos of the dining hall. The guards, still trying to retain order, barely notice as we tear out of the doors and into the corridor. Niro drags me along the hallway, and I realise he's trying to pull me towards one of the male toilets.

I fight back. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Not in there," he shouts back. "There!"

He's pointing at a small, dank staircase behind the toilets. It's dark, it looks damp, but Niro tugs me towards it anyway. I set my hands on the handrail, hurry up as fast as my long dark cloak will allow me to. I wind up two, three, four floors and burst, panting, onto the rooftop.

Niro comes up behind me, panting just like I am, but grabs me by the arm and draws me towards the side of the roof. A railing is placed there, but nothing else. The rooftop overlooks the yard enclosed by the wall, I can see every corner of the green field.

A truck is parked at the edge of the field, just within the iron gate. I can see a few guards there, trying to unload something from the truck. The driver sits in the front seat and shouts something at them that I can't hear. The guards, fighting and struggling, manage to force the object they're moving a few steps down the ramp leading up to the truck.

I gasp. It's not an object, it's a person, a person dressed in a blue suit and black trousers, black gloves and boots, covering every inch of his skin. I can see him better now, as the guards drag him out of the truck and into the open. A bag has been pulled over his head, so I can't see his face.

He's struggling, hard, I see him fight back at the guards holding him. His flailing arms hit one in the face, it draws blood from the guard's nose. He's shouting, I think, but his voice is muffled by the bag. Struggling to contain him, the guards begin to shove their prisoner across the yard.

"Another prisoner," I say to Niro. "What colour do you think he'll be in?"

Niro doesn't answer me.

"Niro?" I turn to look at him, and he's gone pale. His normally coffee-coloured skin has turned a greyish tinge, his eyes are bulging and horrified.

"What is it?" I ask the boy next to me. Suddenly he looks less like my instructor and more like a child.

He looks up at me, I can see his struggle to keep his face calm, but his eyes remained traumatised, like a wild animal's. "Nothing," he says quickly, "nothing."

"What colour do you think he'll be in?" I ask, again.

This time his violet eyes survey me with a strange air. He looks at me for another second before he speaks, in a surprisingly firm and certain voice.

"None."

"What do you mean, none?" I ask Niro as we scamper down the dark staircase back to the ground.

"You'll find out soon enough," says Niro darkly, and he's beginning to recover from shock, though I can see the trauma still in his face. "It'll come out."

"What -"

"Doesn't matter, now," says Niro. "Let's go see if we can catch a glimpse of what the recruit looks like."

Recruit, recruit. That's what the doctors say, to make themselves feel better over what they're doing. We aren't prisoners the guards captured and hold in this fortress; we are recruits, here so that we can learn how to use our powers. They avoid the truth, they tell themselves this story. Niro doesn't use this word unless he can't help it, usually he uses it only in front of doctors, to make them feel he's on their side. Truth is, he's just as lusting for escape as the rest of us.

He doesn't want to be used. Neither do I. He must be upset, now, to suddenly admit that we are recruits made by Solum, that we're the most important cards in their game.

I feel rather than walk my way back to the dining hall, so that the guards won't notice that we're gone. The Eyes are still pressed up against the windows, trying to get another look at the prisoner. The guards are shouting for silence.

"Better go help them," Niro mutters in my ear, "in case Dr. Crowley sues me for, ah, not fulfilling my duty."

He slips away, leaving me standing in a corner, watching the ensuing chaos quietly. The prisoner is out of sight now, the Eyes are returning, subdued, to their seats. I cast a random glance out of the doors, and stare.

The guards are forcing the prisoner down the hallway, his face still covered by the black bag. I watch them silently, four guards trying to hold back the struggling recruit, two holding on to his arms, another around his chest, the last one trying to avoid his kicking legs. I watch them from beneath my black mantle, directing towards them my blinkered sight, peering down the white tunnels of cloth. Niro is making his way back towards me.

Then, the prisoner under the bag throws a well-aimed back-handed blow at one of the guards restraining him, and in that sudden moment of surprise, he manages to wrestle his way free. He staggers blindly towards me, hands groping for the black cloth that covers his face, he yanks it upwards -

And then Niro is there, groping for my hand, I can see the guards, they haul the prisoner down. They drag him away, yanking and pulling, until he's out of my blinkered sight.

"Mad animal," Niro murmurs, but I can tell he doesn't agree.

"Yeah," I say back, but we both know that I don't mean it, either.