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sighting at one twelve . . .” Felicité recited the records as she wrote them in her notebook. She’d already memorized everything on the watch captain’s slate.
    Mia envied Felicité’s perfect memory. It would be so handy! She could remember numbers, but other things—especially things she shouldn’t forget, like whether she’d left her lights on—fell out of her mind as if it were a sack with a hole in it.
    â€œLockdown!” echoed from team leader to team leader, all along the walls.
    The bell in the tower began to ring out the Lockdown pattern in a steady toll. Some little kid was getting the thrill of a lifetime. Nine years ago Meredith had been on bell duty during a Lockdown that actually went to Battle Stations, when a gang of outlaws led by a fire-throwing woman had burned down half the northern plantation.
    Mia had never gotten to ring the bell for a Lockdown, though there had been one when she was at school and another when she was asleep. She was briefly jealous of the bell-ringer, then reminded herself that her own job was fun every day rather than only during emergencies.
    The sentries scrambled into defense positions as the field workers bolted for the gate. The person on wall-feeding duty, no doubt someone assigned drunk-and-disorderly community service, hastily waddled inside. It was impossible to recognize anyone through the top-to-toe protective gear. Too bad the padding did nothing to block the reek of giblets and gobbets of rancid meat.
    Mia grinned as Alfonso Medina veered away from the gate and ran alongside the wall until he was past the area covered by eater-roses. He leaped at the wall, the gecko pads on his fingers and bare toes splayed out, and rapidly scuttled upward. She loved watching him climb. It looked like so much fun.
    Then she caught Mr. Preston’s lip curling in revulsion. Everyone knew what the defense chief thought about Changed people, but it never failed to annoy Mia when she actually saw it. It was so hypocritical. No one in town refused to be treated by her father. They’d let him save their lives, then justify it by saying that he “wasn’t like other Changed people,” or that “at least he wasn’t a monster,” like Sheriff Crow or Alfonso.
    Mia glanced at Felicité, but she was giving Alfonso the same bland, polite gaze that her mother, the mayor, used. Perhaps the entire Wolfe-Preston household despised Changed people, but at least Mayor Wolfe treated everyone the same.
    The last of the field workers passed through the gates. There was no sign of pursuit, which was no surprise. Most Lockdowns turned out to be false alarms.
    â€œClose the gate!” Ms. Lowenstein shouted.
    The portcullis screeched a metallic protest as it lowered, followed by the boom of the gates. It seemed slow. Mia made a mental note to test and clock it later.
    Everyone assigned to secondary support began arriving on the ammo platforms. She was in the way.
    Mr. Preston said, “Felicité, report to the town hall command post. I’ll be there shortly.”
    Felicité tucked her notebook, quill pen, and ink bottle into her embroidered carryall. “Shall I have Wu Zetian send any messages?”
    â€œNo, keep her with you for now.” Her father took out a clean, pressed handkerchief and polished his glasses, then hurried down the steps and vanished beyond the armory.
    Felicité followed him. Tall Tommy Horst adjusted his crossbow so he could lean over and whisper to her.
    â€œNot now, Tommy.” She spoke with mock reproach, softened with a smile. Several boys nudged him and snickered, while others petted Wu Zetian as she passed by.
    Felicité’s rat is more popular than I am
, Mia thought glumly.
    Meredith poked Brisa. “Did you see the guy? Definitely our age!”
    â€œWho cares how old some dead bandit is?” Henry laughed.
    â€œHe’s not dead,” said Meredith.