on her wrist despite her irritation with Professor Evans and his opinions on women. “But if things were different, if I had Traded last night, what would happen now?”
Professor Evans took his time thinking that over. “Probably one of two things, with one being much more likely than the other. You would experience similar episodes. Even if you are able to master your condition, you will find yourself in a difficult situation, given that you have neither family nor fortune. Or, and this is much more likely, you would be attacked by a manticore, which would consume whatever magic dwells within you, and you would die.”
Thalia flinched.
Professor Evans grew gentle. “Solitaire children often dream of being Traders. I did myself, can you believe it? But it is better this way, isn’t it?”
“Where do manticores come from?” Thalia had heard of manticores. She knew they preyed on young Traders. She knew they were cunning and relentless. “How will I know one when I see it?”
“If you see it,” Professor Evans said. “I told you they are rare. A manticore is the fruit of Trader intermarriage. Given the emphasis Trader families put on the dangers of inbreeding, it is considered more desirable to have a child with a Solitaire, or even a Sylvestri, than to risk giving birth to a manticore by binding family lines too tightly.”
“Inbreeding,” Thalia echoed faintly. That sounded disgusting.
Professor Evans continued. “A Trader takes two shapes, their human form and the form of the animal to which they Trade. A manticore has two shapes, their own dreadful form and the imitation of a human to which they shift.”
“So a manticore is really a Trader,” said Thalia.
“Never say that to a Trader unless you wish to offend them,” said Professor Evans, “but in a sense, you’re right. Solitaires and Sylvestri dislike the manticore, but they have almost nothing to fear from them. Traders, on the other hand, loathe the manticore. The manticore returns the sentiment. Traders wish to destroy all manticores forever. A manticore preys on the magic found in Traders too young to control their transformation. Once the Trader can control the Trades, the manticore cannot feed upon them any longer.”
“So manticores eat young Traders,” Thalia repeated.
Professor Evans shook his head. “They consume their magic. The body remains, almost untouched. They eat the intangible. Where a manticore has fully fed, what remains cannot sustain life any longer.”
Thalia cleared her throat. “That’s horrible.”
“To us, it is. To Traders, it is unspeakable. They go to great lengths to protect their young from the risk of a manticore attack. All the larger cities employ a Skinner specifically to deal with any manticore that dares to venture into civilization. Freelance Skinners work more remote places. All are promised reward.”
“What are Skinners?” Thalia had seen the term in newspapers, but the dismissive way the professor pronounced the term made it clear he thought there were better jobs to have.
“Just people. They can come from any background, but most often a Skinner will be a Solitaire who has the senses of a hunter and no other honest way to earn money.” Professor Evans added, “Any further questions?”
“Just one,” said Nutall. “Are there any members of the faculty we could speak to who are actually Traders themselves?”
Professor Evans chuckled. “Very wise to seek a second opinion. Unfortunately, Traders in academia are rare. There are none on the faculty here. It is an unusual Trader who loves learning so much they will spend their limited time finding it. They know it will be the first thing they lose when their days of clarity come to an end.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Professor Evans.” Thalia had endured about as much honesty as she could stomach for now. She rose and held out her hand.
Professor Evans rose as Nutall did and leaned across his desk to shake hands with them in turn. “Thank you for consulting me. I hope you will keep me advised of further developments. I may decide to write a paper on the theme of Solitaire children with one Trader parent.”
Thalia was glad to leave the professor’s house behind. On the street outside, she drew a few deep breaths to banish her anger and the smell of pipe tobacco. “What now?”
Nutall gave her a crooked smile. “Now we catch a train. No more Siege Perilous for you. Tonight, we’ll make do with the snake transformation.”
“No!” Thalia caught his sleeve and shook Nutall’s arm in her excitement. “Tonight we’ll try the Bullet Catch!”