Elishua loomed over him. “What do you mean? How did you do on the tests? Did he find your strengths and weaknesses? And rate them?” she demanded.

“No. Don’t think so. Or not for everything. I guess.”

“Okay. Tell me what happened.”

“I conjured some things, then found a penny, and he ran out with the sword. I want to do fire over again. Kinda screwed that up,” Tenthé spewed all at once, then showed her the coin.

Elishua glanced at it, then did a double take, and gasped.

“It can’t be! That’s impossible! Give me that!” she ordered, and Tenthé let her have it. She stared, turning the coin over and over.

“That, that’s… I’m sure that’s a Slayer copper! My dad collected coins. He used to show us pictures of ones that would make us rich. My Gods! Do you know what this is worth? Probably… more than the entire College!”

Elishua was hyperventilating. “Where did it come from? Did you conjure it? It’s a fake… isn’t it? Tell me, it’s fake.”

Instead of trying to explain, Tenthé led her back into the room and showed her the compartment. Of course, the sword was gone, but there were still several sheets of parchment lying around inside. Elishua picked up one, read a bit, then shrieked. She started pawing through the others, all the while muttering to herself. Something about a poem about a lost maiden… written by somebody. For some reason, she let the coin slide out of her hand. He snatched it up. A penny was a penny.

After a while, Tenthé got bored and left for lunch. Elishua didn’t notice.

As he passed through the waiting room, he discovered that Miss Josepha was no longer there. If Tenthé’s experience with drunks was any indication, she’d be gone for a while. Somehow, he had expected the better-off people to be different from the ones he tripped over in the Mission district, but, so far, nope. He thought about it all and concluded… nothing. He needed some time to himself, away from everything.

They might just let him walk out, but he didn’t want to run the risk of someone saying no. Having learned the hard way to always have an escape plan, he’d come up with a few. The best one involved using the service corridors, although he hadn’t had much time to do any exploring, yet. Once he was in them, he figured he’d be able to get out, somehow. To most of the world, there was only the main entrance to the College, but he was sure something like a servant’s gate existed. It had to be kind of hidden, because he’d never found one, even though it had to exist.

He wandered into the dining room and threaded through the crowd toward an inconspicuous door near the food tables.

And crowd it was. It appeared that all the students had arrived on the same day. Maybe this was how it was supposed to happen, but, of course, nobody had told him anything. They were all bigger than he was, and even though he received a few glances, no-one really paid him any attention. As he passed the food, he packed as much as he could into his cloak. No telling when he’d be back.

Tenthé reached the door, opened it a crack, and slid through. As it closed, he noticed that the door’s action was silent. The servants wouldn’t want to upset the students with any hint of what went on in the background.

The corridor he found himself in was very utilitarian. Bare wood floors and simple whitewashed walls. It was comforting; more like what he was used to. There wasn’t anyone here now, but Tenthé knew he should be quick before he was noticed.

In one direction, he heard noises from the kitchen. Probably where he should go. Looking down at his clothing, he frowned. As he was, it was obvious that he didn’t belong in this part of the College.

No real problem. He simply down-transformed them to simpler styles, homespun shirt, pants with a rope belt, and a shabby cloak. He removed his shoes and socks and put them in a pocket. This was more than he wore on the streets, but enough that he looked like a proper drudge for a fancier house.

Moving ahead, he found the kitchen to be big, bright with its magical lighting, and very busy. Pretty much perfect for his escape. Orienting himself, he decided that the door to the outside had to be on the far wall. With magic, you couldn’t be sure, but there was a good chance. If worst came to worst, he could join in and do some work as he checked out the area and figured out where everything was. He found he was actually enjoying himself.

Tenthé grabbed a bag of tubers lying conveniently close, hoisted it over his shoulder, then started out to get across the kitchen. He noticed that the chaos was actually well organized. There were two women, one short and fat, and another tall and thin, directing everyone. A number of cooks stood at various stations, and it appeared that their importance was ranked by the size of their white hats. The head cooks had big puffy ones and the people doing the actual cooking had very small ones, with a range between. The drudges were bare headed, so he fit right in. There were even a few kids a little larger than him running around, but most of them were scrubbing dishes at the sinks.

He had almost made it to the back of the kitchen when he sensed a presence beside him. He looked up into the face of the fat cook.

The issue wasn’t that he had been intercepted, or at least, not the biggest one. The problem was that this was no cook, or even a person. Now that he was close, Tenthé felt huge waves of magic ebbing and flowing about her.

She peered down at him. “And… what have we here? I know my staff and don’t know you.”

Staring back, he decided this had to be a god pretending to be the cook! Well, not exactly. The more he looked, the more convinced he became that it was the cook, but something else was in control.

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That sort of thing was definitely not supposed to happen in the City. Part of the rules everyone and everything had to follow.

The possession was well done, though. If it wasn’t for his time with the Mentals, he might not have known what to look for. Very likely the Guardians following him didn’t realize what was going on, or they would have become involved.

He had a good opinion of them. Over the years, they’d occasionally tussled over differences in interpretation of various laws and how rigorously they needed to be followed. There were no hard feelings; the Guardians were strict, but fair.

Tenthé had intended to leave, but his timeline was fluid. He faced her like he would any other deity.

“Hi. I’m Tenthé,” he said brightly. “Who are you?”

The first thing the god got wrong was she didn’t yell at him for not showing the proper respect a head cook would demand.

Instead, she chortled, “Ha-ha. There has been some gossip circling around the servants concerning a blip in the system, and I think I’ve just met it. Tell me, why are you here, passing through my kitchen?”

“I need, ah… time. The College, um, yeah… I need some time to myself.”

The cook laughed. “What’s it been since you woke up? A few days? Hardly long enough to become jaded. Classes haven’t even started yet.”

She leaned forward and poked at his shield, squealed, and jumped back.

“Oops, ouch! What was that?” she asked.

Not waiting for an answer, she moved around, examining him. “I see… interesting.”

Although he should be used to it, Tenthé was annoyed that no-one was treating him like a person. He may have been somewhat spoiled since he’d established himself in the Mission District, where he had gained some respect. Plus, he was much stronger than he used to be. He reinforced his shield and lined up a few offensive spells, intending to leave. No matter what.

“Sorry lady, you are nice and all that, but just let me by and we’ll all be okay.”

He also had a gut feeling that this god might not be all that powerful, at least not in a fight. Tenthé was sure he could beat it, but he held back from forcing his way past. When he was a stupid little kid, he would have charged in with no question, but now he hesitated. The other people in the kitchen didn’t deserve to get hurt or even die just because he couldn’t control himself.

The cook began projecting a feeling of warmth and home at him, which was a huge mistake. That was exactly what the Mentals did, and he was extremely sensitive to that kind of manipulation.

Tenthé took a deep breath and shoved the attack back on the cook. She let out a surprised gasp and flinched, but before the fight could escalate into something worse, the figure of the Guard materialized, looming over everything. A massive hand swept down and scooped him up. Tenthé could have resisted, but didn’t.

Its deep voice boomed, “Tenthé… STOP! We… are… not your enemies! She’s simply a… cook! We only… have a concern about… you!”

Immediately, Tenthé dialed down his readiness. One thing he had learned from the many battles he’d been in, was to adapt quickly. Although the Guard apparently thought the cook was nothing more than she seemed, it wasn’t his job to correct its impression. Not unless he saw an advantage. Knowing something that your opponent didn’t was often worth more than sharing.

As the Guard’s hand rose, Tenthé could see a lot more of the magical landscape. In this plane, the College resembled a glass model. He could make out the figures of people and Guardians walking through the rooms and hallways. The wards showing up as colored blobs, sheets, and misty clouds, with some stuck in place, and others drifting through the buildings and across the grounds. As he played around with his eyesight, he found that the layout of the buildings wasn’t exactly the same for the Guardians as it was for everyone else.

Being himself, he took the opportunity to look for places where this complexity might have left small avenues and gaps that he could exploit. Before he got very far, a huge tug jerked at his new tattoo. He blinked and found himself by the pond next to the Turtle God.

“Tenthé,” it said, “You’re an anomaly.”

Tenthé had no idea what that meant. He waited. Knowing gods as he did, it was impossible for one to let silence linger.

The Turtle didn’t disappoint.

“None of those you have met are your enemies. While it is also true that they aren’t necessarily your friends either, I ask that you bear with things for now, and not jump to conclusions. My opinion is that it would be better if you swim with the flow, for the short term. Maybe not. I am only a god, you know! Ha-ha-ha!”

Gods always thought they were hilarious. Tenthé faked listening while he examined the magic that had brought him here. Apparently, he hadn’t really been pulled anywhere, but was still in the Guard’s hand. Tenthé was impressed. Far-speaking, even over this small distance, was notoriously unreliable.

The god continued blathering on while Tenthé wondered what was going on.

Everything made no sense! Why were two of the newer gods talking to him, and how did the Guard play in all this? And the Guardians. He’d gone a long time just kicking around the streets in the City with no-one paying him much attention, and now, all of a sudden, there were people and gods everywhere!

It suddenly struck him; for some reason, he was important! Ever since the old gods had sent him on that stupid quest, things had started to happen. If he were the suspicious type, he might guess it had all been set up of some sort.

And, no question about it, he was the suspicious type.

Even more now, he had to get somewhere where he could think everything over without being rushed, hounded by Elishua, watched by the Guard, lied to by Turtle, and whatever this mystery god inside the cook was doing.

While he had been thinking, the Turtle had gone away and he was back in the hand of the Guard. Tenthé hoped that while he’d been automatically smiling and nodding at the Turtle, he hadn’t agreed to anything too important.

After a few moments of looking up into the Guard’s face, he made a request.

“Can you put me down outside the College somewhere? I need time to think. Really. I’ll be good and come back.”

There was some chance he wasn’t even lying.

Without comment, the massive being dropped him back into the kitchen, which was now empty except for the fat cook and probably every Guardian in the College. She was scanning the room and jumped when he appeared next to her. Tenthé didn’t know if it was an act or not.

The cook quickly composed herself and smiled at him.

“Tenthé, we are not your enemies,” she started.

Hmm… that phrase was starting to sound awfully familiar.

“All we want to do is help. By all accounts, you’ve had a hard and lonely life, but here you can have friends if you allow it. Remember, you’ll always be welcome in my kitchen, so no need to sneak in.”

She pointed to an innocuous alcove and continued, “If it’s so important for you to leave, there’s a door in there that leads to a stable at the rear of the next building. When you want to return, just go there and the wards’ll let you in.”

Before she’d even finished, the aforementioned door slammed shut behind Tenthé’s rapidly receding form.

The cook stared after him for a few seconds, then blinked and shook herself before looking around, appearing a bit befuddled.

“Hey! What is going on?” she asked the empty room. “We have a schedule to keep! This is no time to take a break!”

With this, she scurried off to herd everyone back to work.