Sophia was following Diamond.

Above them, Tar`ro relocked the gate, wrapping a seal around the bars to prove to the next guards that nobody had slipped inside unseen. Then the blimp let loose an important roar of its horn, announcing that it had cleared its berth.

Tar`ro was starting down when another newcomer approached.

“You’re late,” Seldom said.

Nobody disagreed.

For Seldom, there was comfort in rules and codes and any law that was full of important knots. The boy was growing fast, but it was a gangly growth that fit the graceless stride he used as they marched along.

The group strode out from under the landing.

A scream arrived, then a body.

Even knowing what was coming, everybody was startled. The monkey thumped down hard in front of his boy, and Good laughed as he joined the others. Two of the guards complained, but not Bits. Working at the lead, the stocky man glanced over the railing and then back at them, smiling as he always smiled. He wasn’t a happy or joyful soul, but he was often grinning. Diamond noticed the shining teeth and shining eyes, and he thought about the guard for a full half-moment. Then his brain skipped to ten other subjects of infinitely greater importance, and the Creation and this child were another breath older.

No other student looked like the boy-creature. The rest of the school didn’t have funny bones and funny hair and that weird neat way of walking on those little-toed feet. Nobody else needed bodyguards carrying hidden pistols. Surely no child in history had ever been allowed to bring his orange-headed monkey to class. But just as impressive, the local Archon had never visited this school until Diamond arrived, and now she had come here fourteen times in four hundred days.

“I’ll earn my diploma soon,” she joked during the last tour.

But Diamond’s oddness was far bigger than that.

Everybody knew how the boy could be cut and bruised and even burned, but those wounds always healed in a few recitations. Lucky people had seen that miracle a few times. Hurting the newcomer was a common game among children, and during those first days at school, Diamond was knocked down plenty and poked with his own fork. Everybody wanted to see a gouge that would seep blood for a moment or two, then scab over and vanish. Even teachers were fascinated by the tame carnage. Of course the guards put an end to that chaos. The worst children were sent home; parents were publicly insulted. Two of the Archon’s early visits were for no purpose but to assure everybody that she was proud of this school, and she reminded these decent people that they were deeply decent, and without using names, that warm and very tough little woman warned that charges would be filed and fat fines would be paid if this crap didn’t end.

But accidents couldn’t be outlawed. Diamond wasn’t graceful, and the school’s big playroom was full of climbing bars and ropes—places where mistakes found ways to be made. It was loud news that day when he slipped and broke an arm. Everybody was shouting. Everyone wanted to push close and watch. Being in the front row was an honor, teachers outnumbering students two-to-one. It meant quite a lot being able to talk later about that short strange arm, how the wrist was fractured and the little hand that was riding at the wrong angle. The celebrity boy appeared uncomfortable but not in true pain, squirming as he looked at his countless new friends, and then he smiled as if embarrassed, tugging on his hand to set the bone, the entire wrist growing hot and the bone knitting, already half-done before the angry guards pushed their way through the spellbound crowd.

But one schoolboy had tried even harder to hurt the boy.

Karlan was huge and famously mean, feared by everyone, including teachers. The world knew that Karlan used a knife to gut Diamond as a toddler and later threw him off a landing. As Karlan’s little brother, Seldom would admit to those ugly incidents. But the young brother also swore that Diamond was never hurt for long, and that was long ago, and Karlan had learned some kind of lesson, because he never went near the boy anymore.

Of course Diamond stood in the shadows of his bodyguards, and the guards had guns in deep holsters, and while Karlan enjoyed quite a few foul ideas, he was also undeniably smart.

Ordinary troubles didn’t concern the guards. Since the Creation, bullies had been shaking coins out of little pockets. But every guard had also served as a soldier for the District, defending the borders from wilderness bandits and the hypothetical foes on the reef. Soldiers appreciated order, and with at least one black blimp moored to the school, the police were on hand. Incidents happened every few days. Sometimes Karlan was involved, and sometimes it just seemed like a good idea to bring the big fellow into the chief teacher’s office for a chat. One bodyguard would collect a couple of policemen, the three of them pulling Karlan aside. That was standard. That’s how much they respected his power and menace, even when the young man never fought with them. Sharper guards noted Karlan didn’t care about the stolen money or the general misery. Those little dramas were meant to give his day spice, and the spice came with armed men, always nervous, always ready, someone putting his bravest hand around the giant forearm, finding a steady voice before muttering, “Come with us. Please.”

Diamond rarely saw his former tormentor, but that didn’t matter. Everybody in the school was safer because of the guards, and Diamond brought the guards every day, and that’s how the boy helped keep every student secure.

A chain of easy thoughts had made him into a hero.

That’s one reason why children watched for the blimp’s arrival, and that’s why several dozen of them always gathered on the walkway Diamond normally used. Being close to the famous boy was the goal. They hoped to bump elbows with him, to look close at that perfect skin, and if very lucky, trade a few words that could be added to a big story where the teller broiled at the center of attention.

The guards didn’t like groups, but little kids weren’t much trouble.

The orange-headed monkey had bigger fears, and that’s why Good always leaped onto Diamond’s left shoulder, not snarling and certainly not biting but looking quite ready to do both if this chaos grew any worse.

Master Nissim’s classroom was a local landmark. Most people remembered when the man was only the school’s butcher. His finger remembered too, its tip missing. He had a good deep teacher’s voice and odd ideas about many subjects that no reasonable head could follow, and he was the perfect tutor for an odd, odd boy.

That morning, nineteen students escorted the celebrity into the bright blue schoolhouse, straight to the Nissim’s room. Diamond usually made a point of thanking them, although there wasn’t much life in his voice. Manners were a chore, as every young boy understands. But even when his mind was wandering, Diamond remembered each face and every name, and he used their names while wishing each a very good day.

That was another piece of magic from the creature. It was impossible not to smile when you heard your name from that strange mouth.

Customs had evolved over several hundred days. But not every custom was understood, which was why a very young girl pushed close, handing Diamond a piece of jewelry that she had made without help—a clumsy colorful mess of icebeetle carapaces fused together with common white glue.

Looking at the carnage, Diamond said nothing.

Elata closed his hand, and speaking for her friend, she said, “Thank you, thank you.”

“It’s for his mother,” the girl said.

“It’s very pretty,” Elata lied.

“My name’s Prue.”

Diamond knew that already. The girl’s classroom was down the hall. She was barely a thousand days old, probably not reading yet, but she smiled at him as if he meant everything. He couldn’t help but feel good about that smile.