Beckerman were both banned from participation in the Inter-School Tournament.”

Henry’s mouth went dry.

“And why was that?” Lord Ewing asked.

“Professor Lingua issued the punishment after the boys found a cheat page in one of their assignments and did not come forward immediately.”

Henry and Adam exchanged a look of horror.

They were done for, Henry knew. Imperfect marks, previous disciplinary actions, and not one professor to speak on their behalf.

“Misters Beckerman and Grim have also been the object of theft on two separate occasions,” Headmaster Winter continued.

“Regrettable, certainly regrettable,” Lord Ewing muttered, scribbling notes onto a third sheet of paper. “Am I to take it that these boys are generally disliked by their fellow students?”

“They are not popular students, no,” Headmaster Winter conceded, “but they are friends with my daughter, Francesca, and also with former first-year student Rohan Mehta.”

“Former?” Lord Ewing asked.

“He was expelled last week after being caught stealing by their head of year,” Headmaster Winter said. “Surely you received my letter of concern over the incident.”

“Wait,” Adam said. Henry stared curiously at his friend.

Lord Ewing harrumphed.

“Yes, Adam?” Headmaster Winter said.

“About what you just said, sir,” Adam continued, swallowing nervously, “about Rohan? He didn’t steal anything. He was set up. And so were we, with the cheat page in Professor Lingua’s class.”

“It’s true, sir,” Henry said.

“And why would someone do that?” Lord Ewing asked doubtfully.

“Because,” Henry said, knowing that it was then or never, that this very well might be his final chance to be believed, “they stood to gain if we were expelled from the academy. At least, that was the reason at first. But then we saw proof when we were in the Nordlands that the Partisan students are being trained in combat, and it became even more important to discredit us so that no one would believe the truth: sir, the Nordlands have violated the Longsword Treaty.”

Shock played over the faces of the members of the board of trustees. Lord Ewing dropped his pen in surprise.

“Why didn’t you boys come to see me about this?” the headmaster asked.

“I spoke with Sir Frederick first,” Henry said, “and he didn’t believe me. I thought no one would believe me if Sir Frederick didn’t. I also told Professor Stratford.”

“Sorry, which professor?” a sallow man with a large, pitted red nose asked.

“Stratford,” Headmaster Winter said, wincing. “My daughter’s tutor. He was fired last night and has already left the school grounds.”

“How convenient,” the man with the nose that rather resembled a strawberry said, “that these boys have devised an excuse for their behavior, the validity of which rests on the shoulders of two men who are currently impossible to track down.”

“I’m not making it up,” Henry said. “There’s a combat training room at Partisan, in the first-floor corridor, hidden in the wall paneling near the fish statue. It’s full of illegal weapons. Halberds and crossbows and who knows what else. They have dummies with targets painted on and charts ranking the students in different types of combat. I saw it myself.”

As Henry spoke, the members of the board exchanged nervous glances. Because this boy in front of them, his cheeks scrubbed pink and his nerves on display, seemed absolutely confident about what he had seen, and where. The level of detail with which he spoke about this combat training room was troubling. And it wouldn’t do if they dismissed what could be their only warning before the beginning of a fearsome and terrible war …

“Stuff and nonsense,” the man with the strawberry-shaped nose said dismissively, but the other members of the board did not seem to share his sentiments.

“I’ve never known Mr. Grim to be anything but truthful,” Headmaster Winter said with an encouraging smile in Henry and Adam’s direction.

“Perhaps,” Lord Ewing said, his voice coming out in a squeak, “we should send someone to the Nordlands to verify Mr. Grim’s claims. If there is a violation to the Longsword Treaty, that’s serious news indeed.”

“Pish posh, Ewing!” the man with the strawberry nose said, sniffing loudly. “I’ll go myself. I wager there’s nothing to see, but at least I’ll put an end to this rubbish.”

“Viscount DuBeous has volunteered to journey to the Partisan School this evening to investigate claims of combat training,” Headmaster Winter said. “Does anyone on the board object?”

Silence.

“Permission granted, Viscount,” Headmaster Winter said. “And now, we’ll recess this meeting of the board until the viscount’s return—hopefully by tomorrow afternoon, hmmm?”

“If it takes that long,” Viscount DuBeous said with a dismissive sniff of his massive red nose.

Henry looked to Adam and