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DANIEL WHEATLEY

seems like only yesterday it was your brother sitting where you
are. We expect some great things from you!”
A change came over Cedwick at the mention of his brother.
His lips quivered and tightened, smiling in a way that had no
joy in it. It was so slight and well-hidden that Zanna wouldn’t
have noticed unless she already knew it well. She did the exact
same thing anytime someone mentioned her father. “I’m looking
forward to it,” he said thinly.
“Excellent!” Dr. Fitzie’s enormously giddy eyes turned to
Zanna. “And you, Ms. Mayeld? You’ve had quite the adventur-
ous past few days. Did you receive the key we sent you?”
“Yes,” Zanna said. “I got it just ne.”
“Splendid,” Dr. Fitzie said. “I do hope you haven’t had to
use it. A Weierstrass transform can be a tad . . . feisty. But
it’s a surere way to pick out an illusion, as long as whoever
made it didn’t write it in discrete calculus. Which most people
never bother with.” She tapped at the side of her nose. “Let’s
see Physics and Chemistry claim that, hmm? I do hope you
consider Mathematics for your specialization.” She gestured
to the theoretical shapes bobbing around them. “You’re quite
the natural. All of you.”
Cedwick made a sound of disgust as soon as Dr. Fitzie was
out of earshot. “As if. I’m going to specialize in physics.”
“I think mathematics is quite fun,” Beatrice said softly, draw-
ing out a tetrahedron.
Cedwick rolled his eyes. “Fine, but you won’t get accepted
into the Primers by specializing in mathematics.”
“Oh no,” Zanna muttered sarcastically. From what she had
seen of Lord Hemmington that morning, it hardly seemed like
a sacrice. Luckily, Cedwick didn’t feel compelled to further
discuss his opinions on the proper specialization, leaving Zanna
free to make geometric shapes with Beatrice until Dr. Fitzie

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