The guards counted them through the Arena gate at the first bell, one name at a time.
Ear read the list from a board tucked under his arm. He did not look up when he said each name, and each student answered with a single word. “Ansel.”
“Here.” “Corran.” “Here.” Dorran said “Present” in a whisper, then looked sorry for it.
Calen came last. He answered for himself.
Orrin, Calen. Rank four, on paper. He heard the Ministry’s words in his head every time a guard read his name. He did not let them into his voice.
“Orrin,” said Ear. He looked at the board, then at Calen’s coat, then at the rope on the far side of the gate. “Behind the rope, Instructor. Not past it.”
“Behind the rope,” said Calen.
A thin official at the rope turned to look at him. He wore a silver pin on his collar. “Instructor?” he said. “Is that the paper title, or the true one?”
