The Gray House

“Ultimately,” Godmother said, “we shall have to rely on your judgment. If you are certain that none of your charges represent a threat to the others at the time of graduation, it is incumbent upon us to try and share your conviction, and refrain from undertaking any additional measures.”

“I have no such certainty,” Ralph said.

“Just as I expected.”

“But I am also not certain that your so-called considered measures won’t make the situation worse.”

“Neither are we. We just prefer action to inaction.”

“Sometimes action is worse than inaction.”

Shark turned his head from side to side, as if tracking a tennis ball in play. Godmother lowered her glasses to the tip of her nose and pierced Ralph with a schoolmarm glance.

“Is it your position that a graduating student is irreparably harmed by the very fact of the graduation happening a few days earlier than planned?”

“Depends on the student,” Ralph said and stumbled, realizing that he’d just walked into a carefully prepared trap.

“Are you implying”—Godmother’s nostrils flared in anticipation—“that there are those who will be harmed by it and those who might not?”

“You could say that.”

“But wouldn’t you agree that it is precisely the person who is so ill-adapted to life outside the House that a mere change in the manner of his graduation could prove disastrous for him, that it is this person who represents a clear danger to his peers?”

Ralph was silent.

Shark smirked. Raptor avoided Ralph’s gaze. Godmother reached across the table and placed her hand on Ralph’s arm.

“There will be no voting,” she said firmly. “You will reach your own decision, and we will all abide by it. Who is the most dangerous? Only you, their counselor, are familiar with them well enough to answer that, to make that choice. And it therefore falls on you to guard them, to the extent possible, against grievous harm.”

That night Ralph attempted to get drunk. He was drinking alone, locked up in his office, and almost succeeded, but the desired oblivion eluded him, leaving behind only a dull headache and a sullen apathy.

Deciding to leave was simple. As he was packing and typing up the notice, he’d felt uneasy because of the suddenness of it all, but at the same time never doubted that what he was doing was right. That under the circumstances it was the only available option. Talking to Godmother had robbed him of that sureness. Deep in his heart Ralph realized that agreeing to participate in Shark and Godmother’s scheme was a sellout. Betrayal of one for the benefit of many was still a betrayal.

That right to choose, so graciously bestowed on him, was pure torture, all the more unbearable because in reality there was only one choice. He had no doubt that Blind was indeed dangerous, and would become extremely so at the moment of graduation. He also had no doubt that removing him from the House would only make matters worse. Someone would have to pay. He had a pretty good idea who that someone was, and it definitely wasn’t Godmother. Could that be the reason she was trying to make him stay? They needed a scapegoat, and Ralph was perfect for the assignment.

“A goat,” he whispered to himself. “You are so useful, my friend, you’ll make a nice goat . . . or maybe a lamb. A stupid sacrificial lamb.”

He cringed, realizing that he was behaving like a drunk, when he wasn’t drunk at all. A little, maybe. But mentally running through the conversation with Sphinx once Blind had been removed from the House was sobering him up quicker than a cold shower.

Getting comprehensively sloshed and meeting Sphinx with inane, drunk blabbering wasn’t going to cut it. Maybe he should listen to Darling and remove Sphinx as well? Ralph counted off the hierarchical structure of the Fourth on his fingers. Next step down from Sphinx they had—no, not Noble, but Tabaqui, strange as it may have seemed. As Ralph imagined Jackal in the position of the Master of the House he smiled, but the smile quickly became a fixed scowl. If that happened, drinking or not drinking would not make the slightest difference. Might as well really barricade themselves up on the third and wait. Tabaqui would disassemble the House brick by brick and only then agree to negotiate the terms of their surrender—if they were lucky. By that time everyone would be clamoring for Blind’s return. Did this mean he had to remove Jackal too?

Ralph went to the bathroom, stuck his head under the faucet, and then furiously rubbed his face with a towel.

Going over the list was completely pointless. Every single one of them was dangerous. Including that tacit mute, Alexander. It was not a good idea to push them. He had to make Shark understand that, and then let him duke it out with Godmother.