St. Gervais.”
“Sounds good.”
“And, um - did you bring anything else to wear?”
Al glanced briefly at his standard issue brown outdoor pants, gold shirt, and light academy jacket.
“Sure, I have a change.”
“No, I mean - you know, not issue?”
“Why shouldn’t I wear issue?”
Al asked, noticing, suddenly, that none of the rest of them were.
“In case we run into Normals,” Milla said, very simply.
Al shrugged.
“What if we do? I’m not ashamed of the Corps.”
“It’s not that,” Brett said.
“It’s just better - I mean, you can never tell what Normals will do.”
“Hey,” Al said, with a rare burst of old pride.
“We’re Cadre Prime. Let them do their worst.”
The moment he said it, it rang wrong, awkward, and he was sorry he’d said it. But Brett’s eyes widened, and he said, “Well, yeah! Darn right! I forgot, we’ve got the winner of the Karges award with us. With you, we can handle anything.”
“Come on, Al, you sit by me,” Julia said as they went through the sliding door and onto the train.
The first leg of the hike was a breeze, though AI found he had to pace himself down so the others could keep up. As a result, he found himself springing up slopes, then waiting for the others. It was clear that, even physically, he trained harder than they did.
As the day wore on, a little of the awkwardness wore off. After all, they had grown up together, even if he hadn’t seen them a lot lately. They were cadre. They had faced the Grins together. He was used to them. The same couldn’t be said for the other academy students.
Oh, some were from the secundus or tertius cadres, but even they had grown up mostly as Normals or in the Basement. Most of them-almost all of those in his classes-were actually later, hadn’t gotten their psi until they were twelve or older. He hadn’t really tried to make friends with most of them; they thought he was weird, he could tell. Or were maybe even a little afraid of him. That was probably for the best - it left him more time to train, to better prepare himself for the Major Academy.
The hike was pleasant. Wildflowers spangled the sunlit meadows and upland pastures, and the forest was an evergreen cathedral. Al had rarely been in the woods - a few picnics and field trips when they had been kids, not once since entering the Minor Academy. It was something he kept meaning to do, but never quite felt he had the time for.
They were taking a rest against an old stone wall - for a moment silent, perhaps in appreciation of the day-when they heard voices coming up the trail behind them. Al could sense weak, undisciplined minds - Normals, of course. He started to shut them out, then out of curiosity he didn’t. He hadn’t had much contact with Normals. They came over the hill soon enough.
Five young men, maybe a few years older than he. Two were tall and lanky, enough alike that they might be brothers. One was no taller than Al, but a good deal thicker, almost bull-dog-like, with a single, long, black eyebrow. The other two were of middle build, a redhead and a blond. They were chattering cheerfully about something in French, and briefly acknowledged the telepaths with almost imperceptible nods as they passed.
All but one, Bulldog-boy, whose gaze, tracking with interest over the girls, suddenly fastened on Al.
“Q’est-ce que c’est que c,a?” he asked, rather abruptly.
He was pointing at Al’s academy clothing.
“Eh?”
He jabbed the finger as if spearing something.
“What’s the matter, you? Can’t read my mind in French?”
His friends had turned now.
“Viens, Antoine,” one of the lanky ones said.
“No, no,” Antoine snapped, waving them back.
“For so long I have wanted to meet one of these little prodigies. Are all of you mindscrewers, or do you just carry this one as a pet?” he asked Brett and the others.
Al tightened his lips and said nothing, but Brett answered him in French.
“Look, fellows, we’re just
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