Tuck stayed at Mission Training for two days. He looked much better after he'd gotten cleaned up and been given a uniform. He explained that he'd had some problems getting here � problems with the Barons. This led to a barrage of questions from the Captains, all of whom wanted to hear the latest war stories.

The tales Tuck told were surprisingly bland. None of them involved the imprisonment in any way, and they seemed as if they were being summarized instead of recounted to their full glory. I didn't know Tuck well, but just looking at him I could tell that he was hiding the best parts, though as to why anyone would do this I had no clue. I wondered if the Captains could see through him as easily as I could, but they didn't seem to be able to. Captain Gill has always told me I have an amazing ability to "read" into people's minds. I thought he might have been a little suspicious, since he asked several questions about today's war policies and plans for the future. As Tuck had never been to a Captains' meeting, he had no idea how to answer these questions, and avoided them as well as possible. I could tell when he was making up answers. It was sort of funny.

I felt bad keeping the fact that this wasn't Captain Quent a secret from Captain Gill, who was the one who'd brought me here. I kept telling myself that I'd known Captain Gill for three years and Tuck for less than three days, and Captain Gill had a right to know. But I was a missioneer now, and I had to obey my Captain's orders.

Even though he wasn't really my Captain.

My feelings about leaving Mission Training were very mixed. I was embarking on my dream journey, but I was also leaving all the security of my past. I was about to begin a whole new life. Captain Gill always told the Senior classes that though Mission Training would help us prepare for missions, it could never prepare us completely for the experience. That morning; dressed in uniform and carrying a heavy pack, a bow, and a quiver on my back; hugging my dearest friends and teachers, who were really the only people I had in my life; and telling them good-bye, a true and permanent farewell; knowing I would never see Captain Gill, Randa, even old Lenwick: any of them, ever again, forever; I began to understand for the first time what he meant. Upon that realization the bond I had with Captain Gill expanded to a new level. As I was finally beginning to truly see what he'd been showing me all this time, it was as if he went from being my teacher to my father. This strengthening of our bond made it dozens of times harder for me to break away. I would have loved just to stay at Mission Training and explore our new friendship and kinship, but I knew that wasn't how it was meant to be. The bond hasn't strengthened so I can stay with him, I told myself forcefully, it's gotten so strong so that we both know we'll never forget.

It was the most sentimental moment of my life. And I didn't appreciate the way Tuck hurried things along. I know he was anxious to leave so he could let up his "Captain" act, but he should have at least had some more patience. I was saying good-bye to my entire life, after all. In the end he did relent and stop pressuring me to hurry, but I could tell he was annoyed. Which only left me annoyed with him as well.

My annoyance eliminated any sense of timidity I felt towards Tuck, and as soon as we were far enough into the wilderness and away from the small civilized area in which the school was located for my sadness and loneliness to be under control I asked him why he was keeping so many secrets.

"What secrets?" Tuck asked casually, neither stopping nor shifting his gaze from straight out ahead at the short grass and flat gray rocks over which we were treading.

"I'm not stupid, you know," I told him, letting my irritation show. "I know you've been hiding things from everyone. I hoped you at least planned to tell me."

"I know you're not stupid," Tuck said arrogantly. "Otherwise you wouldn't have been the top graduate in your class."

I could see his tactic for evading my questions. I was going to have to ask him what I wanted to know directly.

"Why did you leave out parts of all the stories you told?"

I hoped my question would provoke a reaction, but Tuck didn't even flinch. "I wasn't leaving anything out," he insisted calmly.

"You're lying," I said flatly. I was astonished by my own boldness, and proud of myself at the same time.

Tuck finally stopped marching, an action for which I was glad, since he walked very fast. "How do you know I'm lying?" he asked me with genuine curiosity.

"I � I don't know," I stammered, suddenly caught off guard. I looked at the ground and twisted my bootheel into a patch of grass sprung up between two rocks. "I mean, I don't know how I know. It's just obvious to me."

Tuck gave me a half-smile. "And I pride myself on being a great liar."

"Well, you are a good liar," I pointed out. "You fooled everyone at the school into thinking you were Captain Quent."

"Everyone except you, Bryt. You knew from the start that I wasn't a Captain."

"But that wasn't because I could read your thoughts or anything!" I argued. "That was just because you were so young!" As soon as I'd said it I wished I hadn't. But luckily, Tuck didn't seem to take offense.

"I bet I'm older than you," he challenged, grinning boyishly.

"I bet you are, too," I said, adding silently to myself, especially since I'm really two years too young to graduate.

Tuck began walking again. "Fair enough," he said. "I won't ask how old you are."

"I'm nineteen," I told him, just to prove I wasn't afraid to tell him my age.

"Twenty-four," he said indifferently, focusing only on picking Spike up out of a small mudhole that she'd fallen into and didn't seem to want to leave. He looked like he was about to say something, but I interrupted too quickly.

"You still haven't answered my question," I reminded him, not letting him outsmart me.

"What question?" Tuck asked dumbly.

"You know what question!" I said indignantly. "Why were you keeping secrets from everyone? And if your memory is really worse than mine, we're in trouble!"

Tuck looked puzzled. "I have a good memory. Close to a photographic one. I'm a charter."

"Good," I replied, satisfied. "We should make a good team, then. Now answer my question."

"You mean about the war stories?" he asked. "Why I kept parts secret?" When I nodded, he continued. "I � I just think that stuff is private." He shrugged. "I mean, getting enjoyment out of horrors that have happened on the battlefield? It just seems to trivialize the whole war. I don't like people smiling when I tell them stories about death. And the feelings I had then are mine and mine alone. No one who hasn't had to go through it has the right to get a cheap thrill out of it."

"But the Captains all did fight," I pointed out. "And none of them have been active for years. They'll probably never actually experience battle again."

"Poor them," Tuck said, his voice once again dry and hard. I was frustrated. I'd finally gotten the man to warm up to me a little, and by insisting to know his secrets I'd put him back into his icy state. But I had a right to know why he was lying to me, myself stubbornly pointed out.

"Don't you like fighting the Barons? Performing missions against them?" I asked him.

"Not particularly."

"Then...why are you a missioneer?" I asked, hustling to keep up with him, knowing I might be pressing too far.

"Because I want to make a difference." His voice was as cold and emotionless as usual.

"Can you make a difference without fighting?"

Tuck just stopped and looked at me. His stare was still icy, but not quite so hard. It didn't make me uncomfortable, which was fortunate because it seemed he stared at me for a long time.

"I don't think you can," he said finally, dismissively, and continued following Spike toward the tall yellow grass of the river.