CHAPTER SIX
I STARE STRAIGHT AHEAD AS Sophie takes the last empty seat. I can sense Marquis trying to get my attention, but I can’t move. My mind feels like it’s spinning out of control. Sophie’s parents told me she’d been missing for weeks. And suddenly she’s here. At the Department for the Defence Against Dragons. On the same day as me.
I’ve barely registered a word of what Ravensloe is saying.
‘The DDAD was set up upon the signing of the Peace Agreement, a precautionary measure to preserve us from a tragedy like the one that took place in Bulgaria …’
I slowly turn my head to glance at Sophie. She’s wearing her favourite blue jumper – the one her mother bought her last Christmas – but the sleeve is blackened and torn. Her fingernails, always so neat and clean, are bitten, and the little silver earrings that used to adorn her ears are gone.
‘. . . gathering intelligence that could help us in the event that we were forced to combat dragons …’
Sophie’s fingers run along the string round her wrist. She doesn’t look at me.
Where has she been all this time? And why does she look like she’s walked through flames? Is she a criminal, too? I jump as Ravensloe’s hand slams on my desk.
‘Vivien Featherswallow, are you quite with us?’
Sophie doesn’t move, but everyone else turns to stare at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Marquis roll his eyes.
‘Yes, sir,’ I say as if we’re at school.
When Ravensloe continues his speech, I look at Marquis.
What is going on? he mouths.
I shake my head and concentrate on Ravensloe.
‘With the government being targeted by rebel dragons and humans alike, the DDAD has suddenly become crucial to the survival of our nation’s values and way of life.’ The Deputy Prime Minister paces the floor. ‘That is why, for many months now, Prime Minister Wyvernmire has been recruiting diamond-sharp minds – strong, healthy people with a specialised skill set, who work well under pressure.’ Ravensloe pauses to look at us. ‘We believe you fit the bill.’
I wait for the polite laughter that usually follows a terrible joke, but none comes. I may work well under pressure – the years leading up to the Examination made sure of that – but a diamond-sharp mind? I’m good at languages, that’s true, but I’m only seventeen. And Marquis? I practically had to beg for him to be here.
‘Each of you have found yourselves in a situation of societal rejection,’ Ravensloe continues. ‘You are all, in one way or another, misfits.’
I flush, surprised at the sudden shame flooding through me.
Misfit.
It’s a sad word, used to describe someone whose behaviour is strange or out of place, someone who disregards the rules. I never imagined it would be used to describe me .
‘However, thanks to the generosity of our nation’s leader, you have each been given an opportunity. A chance to be someone else. A chance at redemption.’
The silence in the room is palpable. Sophie still hasn’t moved. I raise my hand.
‘We were told we would be given a job,’ I say. ‘What exactly will that involve?’
Finally, Sophie turns her head to look at me. Her gaze is cold and unrecognisable.
‘Excellent question,’ Ravensloe says.
He gestures to the Guardian, who walks over to the door and opens it. Two men and a woman walk in. One man has a long white beard; the other is tall and awkward-looking. The woman is pretty, with dark hair and red glasses that look too big for her face. Ravensloe beams at them as if they are the bearers of great news.
‘You will each be assigned one of three categories,’ he says. ‘These are your heads of categories: Professor Marcus Lumens, Mr Rob Knott and Dr Dolores Seymour.’
The woman, Dr Dolores Seymour, gives a small wave.
‘Among yourselves, there will be no class distinctions,’ says Ravensloe. ‘You are all of equal status with equal chances. However, much like in life outside Bletchley Park, contribution is key. Fail to contribute and you will be demoted.’
‘Demoted? What’s lower than misfit ?’ Marquis says jokingly, making the girl behind him giggle.
Ravensloe’s eyes swivel towards him, all trace of his smile gone.
‘Do you really want to know?’ he says softly.
I glare at Marquis, and for a second I wish I could slap that defiant smile off his face. He’s going to get us into trouble before we’ve even started. I know he’s thinking about our discussion on the train. The lives of the Third Class, the rumours about the Peace Agreement and the Class System. But I feel a strange lightness in my chest, a sense of relief. If all I need to do is work hard, then I – and my family – will be safe. I’ve been playing this game my whole life, after all. Work, grades, praise … these are the things I know.
Ravensloe clears his throat. ‘Before your arrival, you signed the Official Secrets Act, as did all persons working at the DDAD. You will not discuss your work with anyone except each other – and only if necessary. There is no place for petty conversation here. The blackouts on the windows are to be in place in every room before nightfall. Allowing the enemy to discover our location would pose a risk to our victory and indeed our lives.’
I think of the dragon attack back at St Pancras, my skin crawling at the memory of the flames licking up the Guardians’ legs.
‘The townspeople have been fed the pretext that we are here for administrative purposes only,’ Ravensloe says. ‘If any visitors to this house ask, you will perpetuate that pretext. You may not send letters or communicate with anyone outside Bletchley.’
The boy in the white collar drums his fingers impatiently on his thigh.
‘Shifts are seven hours long and you will have Sundays off. You will work with the other members of your category as a team in order to complete your mission as quickly as possible. If you provide us with the information needed to win the war, the members of each successful category will be free to reintegrate into society in the class you belonged to before you accepted this job, or at the time of the last census, whichever is higher. Any crimes you may have committed will be pardoned.’
I stare at Sophie, the edges of my vision softening.
Or at the time of the last census.
Is it fate that we’re both here together? Or is it the most outrageous stroke of luck I will ever encounter? The last census was almost a year ago, before the Examination. Before Sophie was demoted. Meaning that if her category succeeds, she’ll go back to the Second Class. Back home.
My breath catches in my throat. Will we be put in the same category? If we are, then this is my chance to give her back what I took from her. If we all succeed, Marquis, Sophie and I will go back to the Second Class together .
This is my chance to save her.
‘Are there any questions?’ Ravensloe says, stroking his beard again.
In my peripheral vision, I see the boy in the white collar raise his hand, but I’m still staring at Sophie, willing her to acknowledge me.
‘Just to be clear, Deputy Prime Minister … who exactly are we fighting in this war?’
The boy’s deep, steady voice makes me turn my head before I can stop myself. He has a Third Class accent, possibly Bristolian, but his tone is as sharp as cut glass. He sees me looking and his lips press into a crooked smile. Ravensloe narrows his eyes.
‘Anyone who plots against the state, anyone who collaborates with the rebellion, anyone who harbours the enemy, human or dragon … that is who we are fighting. Does that clear things up for you, boy?’
The smile that spread for me widens as the boy holds Ravensloe’s gaze.
‘Indeed it does. Sir.’
I look away, my heart beating faster than it was moments ago. Ravensloe clicks his fingers and Dr Dolores Seymour begins distributing files. Mine is covered in brown paper with my name scrawled across the front in black ink.
‘You will read your respective files once before they are destroyed,’ Ravensloe says.
Marquis raises an eyebrow at me as the room fills with the sound of front covers being turned. I flip my file open and begin to read.
NAME: Vivien Marie Featherswallow
SHIFT: 5 a.m.–12 p.m.
SHIFT LOCATION: Glasshouse
JOB CATEGORY: Codebreaking
Codebreaking? My eyes tear back through the words, looking for any information I might have missed, but there’s nothing. My stomach drops. Wyvernmire said she needed someone who speaks dragon tongues, a polyglot. I don’t know the first thing about codebreaking. Maybe I’ve been given the wrong file. Hushed whispers fill the room. I look across at Marquis. He’s shaking his head in disbelief. Sophie has closed her file and buried her face in her hands. Only the boy in the white collar seems serene. In fact, he almost looks amused.
‘Guardian 601 will help you locate your accommodation,’ says Ravensloe as Owen reappears at the door. ‘Shifts begin in the morning. I would advise you to bear in mind that you are undertaking top-secret government business that is to be completed with the utmost urgency. You have three months.’
Three months? Three months to win a war?
‘Unfortunately, the previous team did not heed my advice.’
A cold chill runs down my spine. So we’re not the first. I stare at the three category leaders, but their faces betray no emotion. Did they work with the previous team , too? How long, exactly, have they been preparing for this war? The other recruits are glancing round at each other, as if looking for reassurance that they simply misheard.
‘Remember, recruits, that what you do here will help determine the course of the war.’
With that, the Deputy Prime Minister and his Guardian leave the room. The category leaders begin to collect the files and my mind races. Three months. It’s not enough time, and yet it’s too long to be away from Ursa. I’m suddenly desperate to get to work, to know exactly what this job will entail.
‘Well?’ Marquis murmurs, checking the category leaders aren’t watching before approaching my desk. ‘What did you get?’
‘We’re not supposed to talk about it,’ I snap.
‘Come now, cousin,’ Marquis says with a wink. ‘For once in your life, try not being teacher’s pet.’
We’ve been here five minutes and he already wants to break the rules.
‘We signed an Official Secrets Act,’ I whisper. ‘Ravensloe said—’
‘That we can discuss our work with each other ,’ Marquis says, perching on the edge of my desk. ‘We both know you’re going to tell me. So just bloody hell get on with it.’
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘I’m a codebreaker.’
‘A what?’ Marquis says loudly.
‘ Shhh! ’ I hiss as several heads turn towards us ‘Are you not, then?’
‘No,’ Marquis replies. ‘They’ve put me in Aviation.’
I snort. ‘As in flying planes?’
‘How am I supposed to know?’ Marquis replies. ‘You did tell them I’m studying dragon anatomy, didn’t you, Viv?’
But I’m no longer listening. As the recruits begin to file out of the room, Sophie walks past us without so much as a glance.
‘Sophie!’ Marquis calls.
She ignores him and he turns back to me with a look of outrage.
‘So she hates us now?’
My heart races. ‘Why would she hate us? We haven’t seen her in months and it’s not like she knows …’
I trail off, feeling my face flush with heat.
‘Knows what?’ Marquis asks. He pulls a pre-rolled cigarette out of his boot and sticks it behind his ear.
‘Nothing,’ I mutter as we follow the recruits down the corridor.
My stomach twists into tight knots. Sophie doesn’t know how I hurt her and I never intend on letting her find out. I’ll fix what I did, and everything will go back to the way it was before.