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his shoulders and replied, “Yes, General Gomrey, sir!”

Turning towards the two policemen, the general nodded. “I can take this boy off your hands for at least a month. We may make a soldier out of him yet.”

The policemen smiled. The driver headed towards the door. The escort remained, raising a finger.

“There is one more thing, General. The boy must always wear gloves, for the safety of your men.”

Lifting his eyebrows again, the general glanced at Jonis’s hands, which were well-covered. He looked back at the escort. “Why? Certainly he can keep his hands to himself.”

“Yes,” the policeman replied, glancing at Jonis wryly. “But we cannot account for accidental bumps and simple handshakes. His skin is highly sensitive to touch, unfortunately to the detriment of others. He must be handled with gloves as well as keep his own skin covered. Longs sleeves and long pants.”

“That will certainly affect the military uniform, sir.” General Gomrey frowned. “Gloves are not the usual issue to recruits.”

“It will be necessary for him,” the policeman answered.

The general turned around to look at Jonis. “Are you that dangerous?”

Jonis did not know how to reply to that. He took a breath and hesitated. At last he said, “What I touch, I absorb, General Gomrey sir. It would be a good idea to listen to him.”

“Can’t you control it?” the general asked, narrowing his eyes more intently on his face.

Jonis’s chest clenched. He felt sick, explaining it. “Initially, no, General Gomrey, sir. Generally, yes, I can control it, the main force anyway. But the first touch, I—”

“You must learn to control it,” the general snapped.

“Can you control an allergic reaction, General Gomrey, sir?” Jonis replied. “It is pretty much the same thing.”

The general drew up his chest, his face changing colors. “You are being insubordinate. You will obey my orders.”

“Actually,” the policeman replied, “Jonis is correct. It is not a thing he can control completely. Some demons simply cannot control their abilities at all. The fact that he has agreed to wear gloves is the best control we have.”

“I see,” the general brusquely waved for the policemen to leave. “All right. I will take it from here.”

But the escort remained. “There is one more thing. Jonis’s property is in the van. It is a large cabinet we have sealed up. It contains a few items our dear departed magistrate left to him, along with a Bekir sword.”

“Really?” General Gomrey’s expression lightened. “It is in your vehicle?” He glanced at Jonis once. “I want to see this.”

“Yes, sir,” the police escort said. He nodded to Jonis. “Come boy. You will have to open it.”

They turned and marched back through the halls towards the outside curb. The driver already had the doors open and was hauling the cabinet out with the help of three soldiers he had recruited from the office. They set it on the gravel.

The general peered at it, pointing to the red strips of paper that sealed the doors shut. “What is that? Those are not ordinary.”

“The late Mr. Farren, the boy’s guardian, was teaching him how to make sealing spells. He was hoping the boy would become a magister.” The police escort pointed to the red paper strips. “Jonis, take these off so the general can have a look inside.”

With a silent moan, Jonis did as told. He had actually hoped to keep everyone out of the cabinet except for him. Walking over, he took out his pocketknife and slit each paper across the crack where the doors joined. Then he took out the key, stuffed it into the lock, and turned it. He opened the doors then stepped aside for the general.

General Gomrey gasped as he peered into the open cabinet. Reaching in, he took out the sword and inspected it more closely. He mostly examined the hilt and the paper seal that strapped it to the scabbard. “I see he sealed this too.”

“Yes,” the police escort said, glancing at Jonis. “Mr. Farren made him promise not to use the sword while under his tutelage. So he had him put it away.”

“Just as well,” the general replied, placing the sword, scabbard and all, back into the cabinet. Jonis breathed freer when it was inside. The general then picked up the bottles of liquid that had been stored inside with the sword. “And what is this?”

The policeman looked at Jonis to answer. He didn’t know himself.

“That is tannin fluid, General Gomrey, sir,” Jonis said.

The general lifted his eyes and took out another bottle. “And this?”

Swallowing the uncomfortable lump that was settling in his throat, Jonis tapped the lid. “Iodine. These are rare ingredients for, uh, certain cures and spells, General sir.”

The general dug out the longer scrolls that did not fit in the lower drawers and untied the ribbon. Jonis watched with pain, knowing the paper might crumble under a tight grip.

The general only unrolled it slightly. “And these?”

“Spell scrolls, General Gomrey, sir,” Jonis said. “And please do be careful with them. They’re hundreds of years old.”

The general rolled it up again and stuffed it back inside the cabinet. “I don’t like your cheek. A good soldier answers without embellishments.”

He jerked open the drawers and peered at the shorter scrolls. Picking one up, he opened it. Blinking, he examined the writing. Then he closed one eye.

Directing his question to Jonis, the general asked, “Can you read this?”

He handed over the scroll.

Unrolling it with great care, Jonis held the scroll up in his hands as delicately as possible at an angle so that the sunlight did not blind him. He read the first line aloud. “To make a lure for bird parasites: first take one calf (preferably newborn) to an open square. Stake it there while you draw a demon circle around it large enough to hold you and the calf. Then, with a clean knife dipped in honey, slit the calf’s throat and—”

“Disgusting!” The general balked, making a face at both Jonis and the scroll in his hands.

“It is for demon hunting, General Gomrey, sir.” Jonis lowered the scroll. “To lure anything that’s demonic you have to resort to extreme measures.”

Those standing around them regarded Jonis with apprehension. Some of the soldiers inched away, their silence becoming palpable. Jonis could hear the echoes of the drill sergeants from across the training grounds. A bird flew by, skimming the ground in a twitter.

“Have you ever done this, demon?” the general asked him, taking a forceful step closer.

Jonis rolled up the scroll and handed it back to him. “No, General Gomrey, sir. That was the first time I ever opened that particular scroll. I was studying the herbal remedies when my guardian was murdered. I hadn’t gotten to that drawer.”

Silence. Uncomfortable for all, though Jonis felt their accusing gazes pierce him like executioner’s knives, making him wish he could just lock himself in that cabinet with his sword. The general contemplated the scroll in his hands. However, he finally put it back into the cabinet and shut it. He extended his hand to Jonis.

“Give me the key.”

Jonis sighed and took the key to the cabinet out of his pocket. He placed it in the general’s palm.

Closing his fist on the key, the general turned back towards the building. “That cabinet will be locked in storage until you prove worthy of it. In the meantime, follow me. I will take you to the registrar.”

Whatever it was, the tension had broken.

Jonis felt pats on his back and head from both policemen as they passed by him to their vehicle.

One of them stopped and extended a hand for a shake. “Good luck, boy. Make the village of Harsall proud.”

Jonis carefully gripped the man’s hand. He felt one firm shake of unexpected regard that offset all the other aversive behavior he had been subjected to during the trip up. But then the policeman let go and hopped into the passenger’s side of the police van, grinning with a small, relieved wave out the window. Watching them, Jonis remained where he was.

The engine started. The van reversed and pulled out of the parking lot with that steamy chugging sound he had gotten quite sick of on the trip up. Now he wished he were going with them. His old life was entirely slipping away. All that was left was the echo of the drill sergeants and the cry of the soldiers in return.

“This way, and don’t dawdle,” the corporal from the front desk ordered. He waved for Jonis to follow the general.

Jonis sighed and turned. The general waited at the door. His eyes were sharply fixed on the Cordril as if he was now his particular project.

Instead of taking the right side door, they turned left, not returning to the general’s office. The halls they went through were painted the same ripe wheat color as the front desk. The tile was cheaper quality, and the doors were all glass. Jonis could see in each room. Some of the rooms were loaded with office workers busily copying documents on their new mimeograph machines, while also filling out paperwork by hand. Other rooms were stuffed with files upon files with a clerk sorting and retrieving these files for the nearby offices. One office had a set of wide doors with writing on it. New Recruits: Registrar’s Office. The private that had marched with them opened the doors for the general then stepped aside to allow Jonis to accompany them.

“Welcome, General Gomrey.” The man at the desk greeted them with a smile. He was not in military uniform but was dressed in a formal business suit that reminded Jonis very much of an official from Danslik who had visited their village school once. That man had been so puffed up, Jonis thought that if a pin had been touched to his skin, he’d pop. This man seemed no better.

“What can I do for you?” the man asked.

“Yes,” the general looked around. “Can you tell me where Lieutenant Chappel went to? I need to register this new recruit.”

The puffed-up official peered down his nose at Jonis. Then he took another look. Lowering his eyes in a gaping stare, he leaned toward the general. “Did you know that boy has blue eyes?”

“I am well aware of that, thank you,” the general replied. “Now where is Lieutenant Chappel?”

“Chappel? Oh, he’s gone out to meet the bus. The regular recruits have come in.” The official recoiled from the boy as if he had leprosy.  “But this, sir, this boy has demon eyes! You aren’t seriously considering letting him in the army, are you?”

General Gomrey ignored him. “Go out and inform the lieutenant that I am waiting for him here.”

The man gave Jonis one last look and rushed out the door.

“Wait here, and do not touch anything,” the general said to Jonis.

“Yes, General Gomrey, sir,” Jonis replied, feeling as if he were on parade for the next man to gawk.

The door opened again, but the lieutenant did not return. A corporal marched in, grabbed a clipboard, and turned to go out. When he saw the general, he stopped once and saluted. “Good afternoon, General Gomrey. Can I help you?”

“Get the lieutenant, Corporal,” the general said with a nod.

“Yes, General Gomrey, sir.” The corporal ran out, letting the door swing shut.

They waited.

Breathless, a lieutenant ran into the room and saluted immediately. “Sorry, General, I have a full house today. You wanted to speak to me?”

But his eyes fell on Jonis. His mouth popped open. He pointed. “What is that?”

“That is a new recruit,” General Gomrey answered. He motioned for Jonis to approach with a head jerk. “Go with Lieutenant Chappel, boy. Do as he instructs, and take care to keep your hands to yourself.”

Jonis nodded. “Yes, General Gomrey, sir.”

He walked to where the dazed lieutenant stood.

Lieutenant Chappel blinked then went past Jonis to the general. He pointed back. “He has blue eyes! The last blue-eyed creature I saw was a Cordril in Harmas. They had executed him for impregnating the whores there. They had to kill a generation of his spawn before they

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