The Second Siege by Henry H. Neff Page B

grounds.”
    Max watched the First Years fidgeting nervously at the nearby tables. His voice joined those of the older students and faculty.
    “We welcome them with open arms. We will help them on the way.”
    The assembly raised their glasses toward the First Years. Max, David, and Connor clinked glasses before draining the mouthfuls of wine and reclaiming their seats. Ms. Richter waited for the noise to die down before she continued.
    “A new school year should be greeted with renewed energy, enthusiasm, and purpose, and I hope that each of you has returned to Rowan restored in body and mind to do your best. With the exception of our newest students, each of you has undoubtedly noticed that the campus has undergone significant changes over the summer. I wish to address the cause for such changes and quell the misinformation and rumors that I know are rampant.”
    Max felt a stir of whispers through the dining hall; the older students looked grim and attentive.
    “As many of you know, a great evil has been unleashed through the long and secret efforts of the Enemy. That evil is Astaroth, the very same entity that drove us to these shores over three centuries ago. We have never faced a more formidable foe, and our field offices have already reported a dramatic rise in Enemy activity. Given these developments, things at Rowan will operate a bit differently this year, and I would like to introduce three special guests whom you will see about campus from time to time.”
    Ms. Richter gestured to the three strangers seated at the table behind her.
    “Allow me to introduce Yuri Vilyak, Commander of the Red Branch.”
    A tall, formidable-looking man with silver hair and the flat black eyes of a doll stood and smiled at Ms. Richter before bowing to polite applause.
    “What’s the Red Branch?” whispered Max.
    “I don’t know what the Red Branch is,” said David, “but I’ve seen Vilyak’s name before. He was Director before Ms. Richter. I think he was voted out of office.”
    “Amulya Jain, Chair of the Prometheus Scholars,” continued Ms. Richter.
    Ms. Richter stood aside as an Indian woman in a brilliant scarlet sari and wire-rimmed spectacles stood and bowed before the students. David sat up and squinted at the beaming, willowy woman, who now took her seat once again.
    “I’ve heard of her,” he said, glancing at Max. “The Prometheus Scholars are the very best Mystics in the world. She must be very good.”
    Max raised his eyebrows but had to swallow his question as Ms. Richter introduced the final guest, a lean middle-aged man in glasses and a black suit and tie.
    “Our last guest is not a graduate of Rowan and is indeed outside our Order altogether. I have asked him here because he is an old friend and we will have need of old friends to face the challenges ahead. Please allow me to introduce Jesper Rasmussen, Chief Architect and Engineer of the Frankfurt Workshop.”
    The man listened with an amused expression, rubbing his hand distractedly over a completely hairless head throughout Ms. Richter’s introduction.
    “Clockwork marvels,” murmured David. “That’s how Miss Kraken described the Workshop. I don’t think she likes what they do.”
    “Miss Kraken doesn’t like anything, ” said Max, glimpsing the instructor, who watched Mr. Rasmussen with thin-lipped disapproval. Cynthia shushed him from several chairs over, and Max spent the rest of Ms. Richter’s opening remarks studying the stained-glass windows and their many-colored panes while thinking of his Course training with the Agents earlier in the afternoon. They had been Junior Agents—just a few years out of Rowan—and although they had meant well, Max had found them to be patronizing before they started and painfully slow once the scenario had begun. More than once, Max had been forced to wait during his simulated mission for another member of his team to catch up as they navigated a labyrinth of tunnels and converged on the target—a