As Freckle wondered if the newest recruit was any piece less common than a pawn, she explored the paths to the entrance’s left first. She peered around each maze corner before she took it, and as she reached deeper into the gala hall, the Trial’s stench grew, its buzzing faded, and dripping sounds replaced the buzzing. When she reached a dead end at what she thought must be the building’s back, little bits of sun and rain pushed inside from the ceiling-holes above a puddle. She sloshed through the stagnant water to search for the trapdoor (not in that part of the halls), and in her continued search, both set off many more of the insulting armors and avoided a wasp’s nest.

  Softly, a tapping came from the floor to guide her to her allies and the mysterious newcomer. Freckle followed it into a dead end and backtracked. In one of the damp, stinking corridors, she gave the armor a minute to quiet itself before she followed the tapping to its source.

  She bent and brushed away grime from the tile edges with a grimace. Wherever the trapdoor’s seams were, it blended in perfectly with all the other tiles. “Give me a moment. I need to figure out how to open this.”

  The tapping became a small thump that vibrated the floor. Yet, even the knock revealed nothing of the door’s edges. “What do you mean you need a moment?” asked Uncle Dalice’s extra shadow. “We can see what type of trapdoor it is from down here. It’s not that hard!”

  “Wow, Gullshower,” Uncle Dalice said, “I didn’t know you were psychic. We may know what the trapdoor looks like from beneath, but we don’t know how well its handle held up.”

  For the moment, the newcomer said nothing as, beneath the floor, the two Freckle knew better argued with each other, using nastier words than any of the armors until Uncle Dalice hummed loud enough to almost muffle his shadow’s rips instead.

  Freckle hit the tiles. “Help me out here! I can’t find the handle. Hit its underside for me?”

  A clang resounded from beneath her feet. “Do you not see the great big metal door?”

  What a temper the shadow had. Freckle frowned and stomped on the tiles. “Of course not! It’s all tile. Do you hear this? They must have laid the current flooring directly over the emergency exit. Now, how are we supposed to get you through?”

  A woman’s voice that Freckle didn’t recognize murmured something beneath the floor. An unfamiliar man’s asked, “What’s up there with you?”

  How were there two new voices down there?

  Freckle blinked underfoot. “Who’s that?”

  “Our latest recruit had a plus one,” Uncle Dalice said, “so now we have two new recruits. I’ll introduce everyone properly when we can see you face-to-face. Anyway, what is up there with you?”

  So far, Freckle had only encountered the grimy maze, the wasp’s nest, and the magical armors. As she recounted this for the group, she slowly looked around to ensure that she wasn’t missing anything. She updated her finger-traced map on her leg to include her ally’s position beneath the sealed-off door as well.

  “Wasps?” the latest recruit asked. “Did you just say wasps?”

  So it was a new piece and her pawn of a husband, was it? Well, Freckle could work with this. The new pawn didn't seem rational, but she could always test his strategy.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Why wouldn’t there be?” the shadow asked. “The New Learning didn’t exactly call me in for pest control, did they? Like they can’t admit that any place can attract pests for me to kill!”

  “Hubby-”

  “Wasps? Did you see how they got in? What else is up there, a wasp hole? There’s a wasp-sized hole somewhere, isn’t there?”

  Pursing her lips, Freckle placed her best estimate of where exactly the wasps and the ceiling holes were in relation to her with a gentle brush against her linen shorts. “There’s a nest, and there are small holes in the ceiling letting today’s sunlight and last night’s rainwater inside. Of course there’s a puddle beneath. Is this important?”

  “Wifey, fly me to the roof? I’m getting through the ceiling!”

  “Star-gazing on the roof tonight? I want to see what the planets have to say about our success.”

  “Absolutely! Plan-adjusting routine: walk in a circle three times and announce the new plan. Star-gazing with Wifey! Star-gazing with Wifey! Star-gazing with-”

  “Newlyweds! So illogical.” Uncle Dalice’s humming escalated to loud la la las.

  Freckle frowned at the tiles. “I’m lost. What does this have to do with opening the trapdoor?”

  “The husband is fey,” Uncle Dalice’s shadow said. “He shrinks to fit through pest holes. Be wary of what he can do to you. Don’t let him turn you into a living shadow!”

  “He can shrink?” Freckle asked, but she stood rather than listening for the shadow’s reply closer to the muffling floor. “Wait, you were turned into a shadow? What were you before? Human like everyone else?”

  If the new latest recruit could shrink, Freckle understood how he’d be coming through the ceiling, and she moved to meet him. She retraced her steps through the maze, listening for the quiet drips to help her find her way back to the corridor with the holes in its ceiling.

  Around the time she was avoiding the wasp nest, there was a loud splash within the Trial, and one of the armors started shouting.

  “Useless piece of chaos! An utterly unimportant failure at everything you do! Lazy! Stupid! Your abilities aren’t worth the air you breathe!”

  She ran.

  Around the corner came a clanging.

  “Ow, ow, ow! Why’d you have to be made of iron, you piece of scrap?”

  Before she reached the dead end, a blue-auraed, wiry man (a sorrow type) with antlers like a young buck’s, crashed into the wall ahead. Green eyes met hers as he got to his feet.

  From behind him, the armor, grasping the wall with one gauntlet, punched the fairy man in the back with its other. He fell onto the floor, shrank to a wasp’s size, and closed his eyes.

  “Hubby?” the winged woman called through the ceiling. “Did you beat it?”

  Such faith in a man who Freckle saw getting beaten up by the armor that was now inching itself back toward its display. Clearly, he hadn’t even needed to fight, and yet, here he was, forcing Freckle to have to rescue him anyway.

  She stepped toward him.

  As she did, the armor turned its helmet toward her. “Criminal! Crook! Aiding and abetting a trespasser? This is how you prove that your religion is better than ours?”

  “He didn’t beat it.” With a trembling hand, Freckle picked him up and checked on him. They were only on the breaking into qualifying Trial, and someone had already....

  Was he...? His eyelids twitched, and he groaned.

  Freckle laughed. “I’ve got him!”

  “Is he okay?”

  The fairy rolled from Freckle’s hand, and landed, human-sized, on the floor. “Wifey, I’m fine! I found that elite kid, and she’s going to show me where the tile is for me to acid through!”

  Freckle clicked her tongue at the fairy. “Elite kid?”

  “Don’t you have to be?” he asked quickly. “To be let in the door? I thought the Trials were only open to humans whose parents are among the elite.”

  Of course Freckle trusted Uncle Dalice not to tell his recruits the most sensitive things about her, but how little did he tell them? “I’m twenty-two. I’m not a child. Let’s get this over with. The trapdoor’s this way.”

  The fairy wobbled along behind her. “You earned yourself enough in-store credit for a free potion! As soon as I’m open for business, I’ll tell you!”

  A potion? What did he offer? Though Freckle tried to engage him in what potions he carried and what their strategic value would be, it seemed she'd be getting a mystery potion if any at all.