The woman looked up from her report. "I’m Major Stroud," she said. "When that creature appeared, did you recognise it?"
"Not exactly," Owen said. "But it reminded me of something. There was a book in the Ferrers library when I was younger, an illustrated reference on monsters. There was a section on humanoid ones like that. It said they had a vital core, high in the upper torso."
"Is that how you knew where to strike?"
"It’s how I knew to look," Owen said. "I still had to find it. When I hit its chest, bone came up to protect it. It was thickest in one place. I thought that was probably where the core was, so I kept breaking that spot until I could see it."
Pike leaned back in his chair. "Remembering something you read as a boy is one thing," he said. "Using it while that thing was trying to tear you apart is another. You’d already been thrown into a tree by then."
Owen didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.
"Did you notice anything else about it?" the Commandant asked. "Anything at all that struck you as unusual?"
Owen hesitated.
He had wondered whether he ought to mention it. It sounded absurd, even in his own head. But they had asked.
"After I shot it," he said, "I went to make sure it was dead. It wasn’t and itwas still breathing." He paused. "There were tears running out of its eyes. It looked straight at me. And then it said, ’Thank you.’ Then it died."
Stroud’s pen stopped moving.
"You’re certain," she said. "Those were the words."
"Yes."
"It was dying," Pike said slowly. "Badly. Its jaw was a ruin. Could it have been a noise? Something the body did on its own that sounded like speech?"
"It was very faint," Owen said. "But I heard it. They were words."
Nobody spoke.
Owen saw the three of them glance at one another. It was brief, but it was there.
"That isn’t something those creatures are known to do," Stroud said at last. "Everything we know about them says there’s no reason left in them at all."
"Put it in the record," the Commandant said. "All of it, exactly as he’s told it."
Stroud bent and began to write again.
Pike shifted in his chair. "There’s one more thing," he said. "The projections showed you fighting with a sword the whole examination. Then, just before that creature died, you were holding something else entirely. What was it?"
"It’s called a firearm," Owen said.
The three of them looked at him without any sign of recognition.
"It’s a ranged weapon," he went on. "It fires small pieces of metal. Bullets. In a way, it does the same job as a bow. But it doesn’t work anything like one."
"And it’s part of your armament?" Stroud asked. "Another form of it?"
Owen had known this question was coming since the moment he sat down.
He couldn’t deny it. They had watched it appear in his hands. But he wasn’t going to tell them about the Infinite Arsenal, either.
"My armament can manifest in more than one way," he said. "It always could. The firearm is something I’ve only recently been able to summon."
It was true, as far as it went. It also matched everything they had seen.
Stroud looked at him for a long moment, then wrote something down.
Pike was still watching him with obvious interest. "Whatever it is," he said, "it hit that thing from a very long way off. And it went through bone your sword had to hammer at."
"It’s unusual," the Commandant said. "I imagine the Academy will want to see more of what it can do. During training, and in your assessments." He looked at Owen. "But not now. You’ve only just been healed, and we have more pressing matters."
He didn’t have to say what they were. A creature that should never have been in those grounds. A barrier that had kept everyone out. A boy who would never leave that forest.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Lord Owen," the Commandant said. "The investigation is still ongoing. We may need to speak with you again, if more questions come up. But for now, you’re free to go."
Owen stood, bowed to the three of them, and left with the soldier who had brought him.
* * *
The sun had nearly gone by the time they came back outside.
"All the candidates who are fit have been told to gather on the main parade ground, sir," the soldier said. "The examination is being formally closed. Anyone still being treated is being looked after separately. They’ll be given instructions later."
He led Owen there.
The parade ground was a wide paved square, with administrative buildings and training halls standing on every side of it. Academy banners hung above the doorways, and the lamps around its edges had already been lit, throwing pools of yellow light across the stone.
It was filling with candidates.
Hundreds of them were drifting in under the watch of soldiers and instructors. Many of them still wore the clothes they had hunted in all day, torn and stained. Some had fresh bandages on their arms or heads. They moved slowly, and their faces were drawn and tired.
"—fifty-third. Fifty-third. Three points. Three—"
"That Stalker should have been mine. I had it, and that boy with the axes just—"
"Someone died. I heard someone actually died out there."
"It wasn’t meant to be in there. Whatever it was, it was much stronger than anything else—"
"Did you hear that bang near the end? What was that?"
"No idea. Nobody I asked knew."
Owen moved through them. A few people glanced at him. Most were far too tired to notice anyone.
"Close up at the front!" one of the instructors shouted. "Fill those gaps! You, over to the left, with the others!"
Not everyone understood at first. Some of the candidates shuffled in the wrong direction. Others kept talking.
"I said close up. That means now. And that means quiet."
It was quiet after that.
Slowly, the crowd took the shape of rows. Owen took his place and looked along the lines. It was easy to see who had been drilled before and who hadn’t. Some of the candidates had squared their shoulders and fallen in without having to be told twice. Others were glancing at their neighbours, trying to copy how they stood.
"Candidates!" a senior instructor called out. "Attention!"
The last few murmurs died away.
The Commandant stepped up onto the raised platform at the head of the square. A line of senior officers stood behind him. He looked out over the rows for a long moment before he spoke.
He didn’t begin with congratulations.
"Before anything else," he said, "there is something this Academy must acknowledge."
His voice carried across the whole square.
"During the examination, one of you was killed. His name was Tobin Marr. He encountered a monster that was never meant to be in those grounds. It was not among the creatures approved for this examination. It did not appear in the survey of those grounds. How it came to be inside them is being investigated now."
He let that settle.
"The creature is dead. It is no longer a threat to anyone here. But this Academy was responsible for those grounds, and for every one of you inside them. A candidate died in our examination. That is a failure, and it is ours. It will not be dismissed. We will find out how that creature got in, and we will make sure it never happens again."
A change went through the rows.
Some of the candidates lowered their heads. Others turned to look at each other, their faces shocked. Plenty of them had heard only rumours until now.
Off to the side of the square, near the soldiers who had been in the forest, Owen saw Celia.
Her face was very pale. When Tobin’s name was spoken, she looked down at the ground and didn’t lift her eyes again.
Jonas wasn’t with her. The healers must still have him.
"I ask that you all stand in silence," the Commandant said, "in memory of Tobin Marr."
The square went still.
There was nothing left to hear except the breeze tugging at the banners, and somewhere far off, beyond the halls, the faint sounds of the Academy going on with its evening.
Owen bowed his head.
He had never known Tobin. He had never even seen his face. What he remembered was Celia bursting out of the trees, her face wet with tears, screaming at them to run. Jonas swaying on his feet, trying to get the words out.
Owen had killed the thing that did it. Perhaps that had saved someone else. But it hadn’t brought Tobin back.