"What happened with them?" Max asked Nigel.

"Oh-happens every year. Roommates blaming one another for how their rooms turned out during the configuration. My Italian's atrocious, but I believe Lucia is upset over the leaky hovel they'll be sharing. Thinks it's all Cynthia's fault-something about an English preference for miserable weather..."

Nigel frowned and glanced at Max.

"That last part's not true, by the way. We merely cope cope with miserable weather-we cope out of sheer necessity!" with miserable weather-we cope out of sheer necessity!"

Miss Awolowo restored order with a calm snippet in Italian that left Lucia in smoldering silence. Nigel took his leave as Miss Awolowo addressed the group.

"All right. Now that the configurations are complete-Lucia, stop that!-we'll take a brief tour of Rowan's grounds before we have supper. If you'd please follow me to the orchard..."

They walked around to the back of the Manse, pa.s.sing between low hedges thick with flowers, and arriving at a large stone patio. Just beyond the patio, separated by a strip of lawn, were long rows of apple trees. Max walked along with Connor and David as Miss Awolowo gathered the group by the closest tree.

"The apples!" a girl exclaimed. "They're made of gold!"

Max looked up to see a number of small apples that appeared to be cast of gold. Jesse Chu slipped past Max and stood on his tiptoes to reach one of them.

"Do not not touch that apple!" touch that apple!"

Jesse recoiled as if he had been stung. Miss Awolowo slipped past several students, lifting the hem of her dress above the gra.s.s.

"Forgive me for startling you, Jesse, but these trees are sacred. Let me explain a bit about the Rowan orchard. Omar, will you please read that plaque for me?"

A dark-skinned, studious-looking boy with gla.s.ses bent down and read the stone tablet embedded at the base of the tree.

"Fiat Lux-Cla.s.s of 1653."

"Thank you. Does anyone know the expression or why we are looking at this tree?"

A tall blond boy, whose nametag said he was Rolf from Dusseldorf, raised his hand. Max thought he must be at least fourteen.

"Fiat Lux is Latin," Rolf said in a heavy German accent. "It's translated 'Let there be light.' According to the brochure, 1653 is when Rowan graduated its first cla.s.s." is Latin," Rolf said in a heavy German accent. "It's translated 'Let there be light.' According to the brochure, 1653 is when Rowan graduated its first cla.s.s."

Miss Awolowo smiled; the boy looked very pleased with himself.

"Very good, Rolf-correct on both counts. This is a sacred tree-a Cla.s.s Tree representing Rowan's very first graduating cla.s.s. They chose Fiat Lux Fiat Lux for their cla.s.s motto, as they arrived here in a time of great darkness. There is a sacred tree in this orchard for every cla.s.s at Rowan. for their cla.s.s motto, as they arrived here in a time of great darkness. There is a sacred tree in this orchard for every cla.s.s at Rowan.

"Every year, a Cla.s.s Tree will bear one apple for each living member of that cla.s.s. When a member of that cla.s.s has pa.s.sed on, his or her apple turns to gold. Thus we remember them, and these apples we do not touch. Take a few moments and walk among them."

Fanning out with the others, Max threaded his way through the rows of trees whose golden apples gleamed brightly in the summer sun. He tried to imagine the people they represented and what they had made of their lives. After a few moments, he noticed that gold glinted from most of the trees, including some of the younger ones.

Miss Awolowo called, and they continued through the orchard and into a dense wood of ash, oak, maple, and beech. Sunlight twinkled through the leaves as they followed a meandering path through the trees before stopping at a long, low building set in a small clearing. Its windows were dark, but small puffs of white smoke issued from a chimney.

"This is the Smithy," said Miss Awolowo, pointing at a formidable-looking door of black iron. "As Apprentices, you will not yet take Devices, but during the school year you may have occasion to visit."

Connor mouthed the word "Devices?" at Max with a quizzical look. Max shrugged with a smile as Rolf shot his hand in the air.

"Speaking of cla.s.ses-when do we get our cla.s.s schedules? My parents insisted that I'm to be enrolled in advanced math."

Max saw Lucia roll her eyes.

"Cla.s.s a.s.signments will be distributed tomorrow, Rolf," Miss Awolowo answered.

She continued their tour through the forest, pointing out notable trees and deflecting questions regarding the small side paths that veered off the main way to disappear into the thick undergrowth. There were several of these, and Max was curious about them. David paused so long at one that Max had to trot back to pull him along.

"Wait a minute," said David, fishing in his pockets.

"C'mon," said Max, watching the tour disappear beyond a bend in the path.

David retrieved a coin from his pocket. He scratched at the soil and buried the coin beneath the twisty root of a sagging elm. Apparently satisfied, he brushed the dirt from his hands and hurried with Max after the others.

"Why'd you do that?" asked Max.

David did not seem to hear him.

As they rounded the bend, Max heard the neighing of horses. Miss Awolowo and their cla.s.smates were circling around several long buildings and a fenced ring where a dozen unsaddled horses capered about. Beyond the buildings was a high, mossy wall with a heavy door. The wall continued out of sight; the hedge and trees behind it were very tall. Max wanted to go through the door, but Miss Awolowo kept them moving, calling out over her shoulder as she went.

"These are Rowan's stables. Beyond that wall is the Sanctuary-you'll be visiting it tomorrow. No time to stop now. Please keep up!"

The children hurried after her. She waited for them on a path that curved out of the forest and led back to the main campus. Emerging into the sunlight, Max gazed at the Manse and orchard far away to his right across the clipped lawns. The group continued along the forest's edge and gathered at a rocky outcropping above the sea.

"Wow," said Connor, reaching the edge before Max and looking down.

Max looked over his shoulder to see a large ship with three masts, creaking as it bobbed slightly in the waves. Well over a hundred feet long and looking very old, it was anch.o.r.ed to a long dock with a heavy chain. A rough stone staircase led down from where they stood to the narrow, rocky beach below. Max strained to hear Miss Awolowo's voice over the wind.

"That, children, is the Kestrel. Kestrel. You'll be hearing more about her tonight." You'll be hearing more about her tonight."

She waved to a tall man stacking driftwood down on the beach and herded the cla.s.s away from the water, back toward two imposing buildings. They were made of gray stone and faced south on the lawns between the Manse and the beach. The cla.s.s approached along their long shadows cast by the sun sinking over the woods to the west.

Max found the buildings foreboding as he approached; they loomed high above him, and their many windows were still and dark. The farther one had a tall clock tower topped by a turret and a fluttering copper weathervane. The children jumped as the clock boomed six. Miss Awolowo waited for the chimes to cease.

"These are Maggie and Old Tom, our main academic buildings. You will have most of your cla.s.ses here. Old Tom's our timekeeper, too; his chimes will often tell you where you need to be. Right now, he's telling us we're expected at the kitchens. It's been a busy afternoon and you all must be hungry. Please follow me."

Max walked and chatted with David and Connor as the three trailed the group back to the Manse.

"It's my first time out of Dublin, much less here in the States," Connor said, taking long strides with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. "I suppose the two of you live in mansions back home, eh?"

David Menlo laughed. "Yeah. My mansion's got four wheels. My mom and I live in a trailer."

Connor shrugged and turned to Max.

"How 'bout you, then? You live in a mansion?"

"No. My dad and I live in a regular house.... We're not rich," he added defensively.

"You got a computer?" asked Connor.

"Yeah."

"You got a car?"

"My dad does."

"You got a job?"

Max looked at him, confused. "No."

"Congratulations, Max, you're rich!"

Connor ran ahead to catch up with some girls. A moment later, they were all giggling. Max flushed and turned to David.

"What do you think he meant by all that 'you're rich' stuff?"

David shrugged. "I don't know-probably nothing. Connor's weird. He tried to bet me that he'd get Lucia to kiss him before school starts."

"Not a chance," Max muttered as he watched Connor walking next to Lucia and gesturing wildly. Lucia looked bored.

As Max and David strolled past the fountain, Miss Awolowo was waiting in the Manse's doorway. She tapped her watch.

"Please try to keep up, you two. Mum and Bob have been working very hard to prepare dinner for us, and your cla.s.smates are hungry. We might lose an orchard apple to Jesse if we're not quick!" try to keep up, you two. Mum and Bob have been working very hard to prepare dinner for us, and your cla.s.smates are hungry. We might lose an orchard apple to Jesse if we're not quick!"

She laughed and led them to join the others in a great hall off the foyer filled with glistening portraits. From there they descended some stone steps that curved down and down until they arrived at a large dining hall. The hall's vaulted ceiling was hung with ma.s.sive chandeliers, and the long room was furnished with many wooden tables and benches. Light, steam, and noise issued from a pair of swinging doors, at the far end.

"Now, children," said Miss Awolowo, leading them to the swinging doors, "I want to warn you that Mum and Bob are not your typical chefs...."

Max and David glanced at each other.

"They can be a bit startling at first glance, but I promise you'll grow to love them."

As they got closer, Max heard another woman's urgent whisper from beyond the doors.

"Quiet, Bob! Put that pot down! Shhh! I think they're here! Ooh! I can practically taste taste them!" them!"

"Shush yourself, Mum!" rumbled a deep voice with a strange accent. "I hear them, too. You remember to behave!"

The students froze as they heard a bloodcurdling giggle from just behind the door. A pear-shaped boy, who was closest, whimpered and edged away. Miss Awolowo stepped past him.

"Mum? Bob? It's Ndidi. Could you come out, please, and meet the new cla.s.s?"

The pear-shaped boy scurried to the back as the woman's voice cackled and shrieked. "Oh, they're here, they're here! The darlings are here!"

The door flew open, flattening Miss Awolowo. The children screamed as a panting, gray-skinned woman as short and stout as a pot-bellied stove burst from the kitchen to envelop Jesse in a fierce embrace. Jesse's legs buckled; he fainted into her arms. Her shiny face looked the children over, grinning hideously to reveal a mouthful of smooth crocodile teeth.

"Oh, Ndidi! You've outdone yourself. They're wonderful! Oh, they're so wonderful and plump plump!"

The panting woman crushed Jesse against her side and reached out with her free hand to squeeze Cynthia's ample arm as if she were examining a tomato. The red-headed English girl buried her face in Lucia's shoulder, and Lucia swatted furiously at the woman's hand while Max looked on in horror.

Suddenly, a strong voice filled the hall.

"Mum! Release that poor boy and stop pinching that young lady!"

Immediately, the woman whipped her hands behind her back, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Jesse slid to the ground.

"I was only welcoming the children, Ms. Richter," the woman mumbled.

Max turned to glimpse the unseen speaker, but several taller cla.s.smates blocked his view. Ms. Richter sounded important; she was a person accustomed to giving orders. A second later, the name came back to him-it was her name at the bottom of his letters.

His cla.s.smates parted as she came closer.

"That was not a welcome, Mum. That was an ambush. Totally unacceptable for a reformed reformed hag. It simply won't be tolerated. Please apologize to the children and Ndidi." hag. It simply won't be tolerated. Please apologize to the children and Ndidi."

The hag stared sheepishly at the floor. "I just got excited, Ms. Richter. I wouldn't really have eaten them."

"Well, I should hope not, Mum," said Ms. Richter. "You promised there wouldn't be any more incidents, and I took you at your word. I won't ask again for your apology...."

"Oh, I'm sorry sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Mum bawled, bolting back into the kitchen past Miss Awolowo, who had slowly regained her feet. The door swung wildly back and forth. The same deep voice Max had heard before boomed out from the kitchen.

"I told her to behave herself, Director!"

Ms. Richter advanced slowly, and Max could now see her clearly. She was tall and had pretty, if severe, features that reminded Max of a photo he'd once seen of a frontier family. It was a hard face, a face accustomed to work. Her hair was gray, as was the suit jacket draped over her arm. She sighed and smiled at the students around her. When she spoke again, it was in a gentler voice.

"h.e.l.lo, children. I'm Ms. Richter. Welcome to Rowan."

She turned to Miss Awolowo, who was now standing by the door.

"Ndidi, thank you for covering for me while I was away."

Miss Awolowo nodded gracefully. Ms. Richter replied in kind before saying brightly, "Let's go meet Rowan's chefs, shall we?" She strode through the swinging door. Miss Awolowo steadied a woozy Jesse and motioned for the rest to follow.

Inside was an enormous kitchen where great clouds of steam rose and hissed from copper pots. Max smelled a delicious aroma. Moving forward to make room for more cla.s.smates, he smacked into Lucia, who had stopped short in front of him.

Max saw the reason.

A lanky old man, ten feet tall with yellowing skin, sank an enormous butcher's knife into a thick cutting board and smoothed his spattered ap.r.o.n.

The First Years screamed and stampeded for the exit. Ms. Richter's and Miss Awolowo's voices rang out above the commotion.

"Children! It's all right. It's all right! This is Bob. He's our head chef!"

Max tried to avoid getting trampled in the doorway, bracing himself in the jamb and pushing back against Jesse, who attempted to tunnel through him into the dining hall. Lucia scurried under an industrial sink, covering her eyes and muttering in Italian. David screamed and bolted past Bob, disappearing into the side pantry. He slammed the door shut behind him, triggering what sounded to be an avalanche of fallen items. Miss Awolowo and Ms. Richter herded the children back with a quiet word here, a firm tug there. When Ms. Richter finally pried Omar off her leg, she called to the huge man, who was now sitting on a reinforced stool and cleaning his monocle.

"I'm so sorry, Bob. I suppose it's to be expected after Mum frightened them so."

"Perfectly understandable, Director. Take your time."

From his seat, Bob reached a long arm over toward a gas range and stirred a bubbling cream sauce until the children had crowded behind Ms. Richter and Miss Awolowo. Connor whispered something to Lucia, who sniffled and crawled from beneath the sink to join them.

"What is it?" Rolf hissed. "Is it dangerous?"