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draw any more attention to myself—more attention than serving as the only female Archon in history draws all by itself.
    I need to stay quiet if I’m to do my true work. I don’t know what that work will entail, so I’m not willing to name it just yet—not even to myself. Quiet is what I shall become. A quiet little mouse scurrying in and out of the Hall’s secret places.

V .
Junius 24
Year 242, A.H .
    “You can’t be happy about this reassignment of your education, Archon Eva,” Archon Theo says as he leads me away. “I know how archaic I seem to a young Archon.”
    Is he baiting me? I think about how Eamon would respond, and I say, “I follow the authority and commands of my superiors. Happy doesn’t factor into my thoughts, Archon Theo.” I’m thankful that I’m walking behind the wizened old man; it allows me to keep my eyes hidden while I utter a complete untruth.
    “The perfect response. Very nice, Archon Eva. Such stoicism and obedience will serve you well in this Hall.” He turns around abruptly. His rheumy eyes look me up anddown. “Just like your father.”
    Turning back around, he signals me to follow him down a sharp turn off the corridor. He walks quickly for a man of his years and girth, maybe trying to prove that he’s still vital. “The Lex does not permit diagrams of the Hall of Archons. We must protect our Relics and our study of them by every means. You must rely on your internal sense of direction and your memory to guide you through our labyrinthine hallways.” He chuckles. “But I’m guessing that if you won the Laurels, you’ve got a pretty well-developed sense of direction.”
    “Yes, Archon Theo.”
    “Good. You’ll need it in this maze. You will have much to learn in a short time, and you can’t waste a tick by getting lost. Understood?”
    “Understood, Archon Theo.”
    The passage narrows, its ice walls more rough-hewn. He points out a bright room, full of long tables strewn with objects. My heart quickens: the Conservation Chamber. Two unfamiliar Archons hover over the strange artifacts, examining them with a tool I’ve never seen before. It is black and C-shaped with a tube at the top. The Archons slide bits and pieces under the tube, then peer down the other end. The tool looks like a Relic itself, as if it should be studied rather than doing the studying. But Theo’s pace is fast, and I don’t have the chance to linger and watch them work.
    Just as I commit that chamber to memory, Theo points out others. We twist down endless hallways, turning in one direction or another at what appear to be random forks—passing the Receiving Chamber, the Chamber of Equipment, the Examination Chamber, the Chamber of Records,the Map Chamber, and on and on. All places I’ve heard my father mention over the years, but of which I had no clear sense. Now his world is becoming mine.
    I also notice that the connecting corridors are cut with at least one arched hole in the ice walls, like ice-windows without the ice-glass. All open onto an interior courtyard. Their placement helps me organize the layout of the Hall of Archons in my mind.
    There’s a roar from the courtyard, and I strain for a glimpse.
    Theo pauses as well. “That’s the Yard. It’s used for the teaching of advanced ice climbing and excavation techniques. You will have the chance to train there later this afternoon, after the Midday Bell.”
    I nod, and he hurries toward the only staircase I’ve seen so far. Two guards carrying bows and arrows, knives, and other weaponry stand at the base of the stairs. No other place in the Hall or its corridors is similarly protected.
    Theo stops. Waving grandly, he says, “The Offices of the Chief and the Vault of Archons are located up there.”
    I nod, but I’m suspicious. Why are we making a special stop here?
    “Most Archons—especially our most junior—have no need to mount these stairs. The Offices of the Chief are not the place for them, nor is the Vault of