In Burrough, England, there was a house on a hill. The children who lived there would wake before dawn had even begun to break, and get dressed in crisp uniforms. They would brush their hair and wash their faces, and they would all eat breakfast together. At 5:45 exactly, the older children would help the younger ones tie their shoes, and they would all walk single file down the hill and out a creaking gate. They would step into the open air market that lay beyond the gate, and make their way through the throngs of people. Their feet would crunch on the papers that always littered the ground. Most of them were government pamphlets, the words "ARE YOU OR YOUR NEIGHBORS A VICTIM OF S.A.D?" inked in large letters. Sometimes, they would be wanted posters, the visage of a freckled young man smiling eruditely up at them. Whenever the children saw these, they would fold them up and stick them in their pockets. They would burn them in the fire later that night.

The market vendors would recognize the children, and give them a wave or a "Good morning, orphans," as they passed by. The children would nod and smile, as they were taught to do. A gesture that was polite, but did not draw unwanted attention. They would pass many well dressed men and women, all of them exuding a cologne that had been associated with danger for as long as the children had lived. The government police came in all shapes and sizes, but they were always clean and crisp, shining like a brand new car. Some were so young they hadn't yet filled in their awkward, teenage form, and others so old they would move with the assistance of a cane. Some of them would smile eerily at the children, and others would ignore them. The head of the Burrough police force, Geffard, was a middle aged man, with dark skin and pearl-white teeth. He was the only police that carried a briefcase, rather than solely the silver watches his employees wore. Every day he would be stationed at the same place, the corner at the end of the market, which led towards the Burrough Youth Academy. Reclining against the wall, he would always greet the children with two questions.

"Working hard?"

"Yes sir,"

"Staying alert?"

"Yes sir,"

And then he would smile, and the children would go on their way.

At the Academy, they would go to their separate classrooms. The youngest girls would leave the group first, followed by the youngest boys. As they walked, the numbers would dwindle until only Mickey, the oldest, would enter his classroom. They did their schoolwork, kept their heads down, and raised their hand only ever so often. And when the final bell rang, they would all meet in the hallway and leave in a single file line. Geffard no longer stood by the corner, for he spent his afternoon shift elsewhere. The market was always busier after school, so the children would hold hands so as not to lose one another in the crowd. They would see their schoolmates playing hopscotch in the streets, unwilling to start the day's homework. There were many times the orphans longed to join them, but they never did. They went straight to the East Burrough Orphanage, through the gate, up the hill, and into the one place they could truly be free.

…..

In an apartment overlooking the market, a young man knelt beside his bed. His fingers worked, searching the ground for a grip on a floorboard. When he got a hold, he pulled the board up, cringing at the noise it made. He waited to see if anyone had heard, but when nothing stirred, he gingerly laid the board on his bed. Reaching into the little crevice hidden beneath it, he pulled out a small, leather pouch. He undid the drawstring, and dumped the leaves inside into his palm. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11… he counted. In the back of his head, he felt a headache begin to swell. He considered keeping one leaf to himself, brewing a pot of tea with it right now. But he dumped them all back into the bag. The children would need them more, and he didn't know how long he would be gone. Tucking the pouch in his pocket, he reached into the hole one more time, and heaved out a heavy file. Every day it grew thicker. Some day, it wouldn't be able to fit in his bag, but today was not that day. Being careful so as not to wrinkle any of the papers inside, Reynie tucked it inside his satchel and fastened the buckles securely. He couldn't risk anyone seeing the contents.

After donning a low brimmed cap, he silently slipped out of his room. He did this not because of the curfew, which had been abolished a few months earlier, but rather out of respect for his elderly neighbors, who he knew would already be asleep. He moved down the stairs with a practiced precision, knowing which boards creaked and where. When he entered the lobby, he saw Cedric, the landlord, slowly stirring a glass of iced tea, his eyes fixed on the television.

"Going out again?" Cedric didn't even bother to look at him.

"Yes, I won't be back for a couple days, maybe a few weeks" Reynie said, though he knew Cedric couldn't care less. "Hold my room for me, will you?"

Cedric nodded and gave him a dismissive wave. By now, he was used to Reynie disappearing for large blocks of time. Even though the room was officially rented to a Mr. Eric Seymour, Cedric had known right away that Reynie was the man on the WANTED poster. But he didn't care. Reynie seemed like a decent enough person, and he always paid his rent on time, unlike some of the other tenants. Plus, business was slow and prices were always rising. Though, Cedric did sometimes wonder why Reynie Muldoon-Perumal was wanted. The poster didn't specify beyond "Treason and Malicious Conspiration", though Reynie did not look the type to be doing anything malicious. He was sure these abrupt disappearances had something to do with his criminal charges, but he didn't ask how. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Reynie stepped out into the cool night. The sun had only just set, so he could still see the vendors packing up their stands. The schoolchildren had long gone inside, their balls and chalk lying abandoned in the cramped front yards. He minded his pace, making sure to not go too fast and appear in a rush. There were very few police at this hour, but he always remained cautious. Every time he set foot on the street, his heart pumped a little faster. As if at any minute, a Ten Man would step out from behind a corner, shock-watches glinting in the moonlight. It was only when he slipped through the East Burrough Orphanage's front gate that he let out a breath of relief. He climbed the hillside and knocked on the impressive front door. From inside he heard scrambling and an "I'll get it!". The door opened no more than a crack, and two, brown eyes peered out at him.

"What's the password?" the little girl asked. Reynie rubbed his chin in mock thought.

"Hmm, is it pretty please?" The pair of eyes blinked, contemplating.

"Let me check," she decided, and she shut the door. "He says 'pretty please'," she relayed to her friends.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Rebecca! Let the poor man in!" came the familiar voice of Mrs. Lowry. The door opened again, this time all the way, and Rebecca promptly announced, "You can come in,".

Reynie tipped his cap to her, "Thank you ever so much, miss." The little girl giggled and raced off into the living room. Looking down the carpeted hall, Reynie could see into the kitchen, where the other children were cleaning the evening dishes in a relay line. All of them ceased their work when he entered, and came to greet him. Some of the more enthused children hugged him tight, while others shook his hand or stood at a distance, merely waving. He greeted every single one of them by name.

"Step aside children, step aside," a regal voice called out. The orphans scattered as Mrs. Lowry approached. Mrs. Lowry's face was wrinkled with age, and her hairs were graying under stress. Her stomach protruded due to the wear of time, as well as three past pregnancies, none of which were successful. It had been her husband's idea to start the orphanage, and she continued to run it even after he'd passed away. She was short on help, and her eyes were never without bags, yet she always had the time to greet Reynie with a hug.

"Hello, Reynie. We missed you last night," She said as she pulled the young man into an embrace.

"And I missed all of you. But Geffard and his lackeys were throwing a raucous celebration last night. I would've had to walk straight through them." Reynie pulled off his hat and hung it on a hook by the door.

"I'm just glad you got to visit before you left. Where is it you're going now?"

Reynie smiled sadly, "It would be better if you didn't know,".

The woman rolled her eyes. "You always say that,"

"And it's always true," He reached into his pocket and brought out the leather pouch. "Here are the leaves. I hope they'll be enough until I return, but if they aren't, you can get more at…"

"The left corner of the abandoned lot just past the supermarket, I know. We've been over this thousands of times," She interrupted.

Reynie grinned sheepishly, "Yes, I suppose we have,".

Ms. Lowry left to make a pot of tea, and Reynie stepped into the living room, where the children were gathered together in a clump. As Reynie approached, he saw the two oldest girls, Trisha and Milan, playing a game of checkers in the center. Milan scanned the board chewing on her lip. Trisha sat with her arms crossed, a confident smile on her face.

"Make a move, Milan," she taunted.

"Give me a second," Milan muttered. She was in a tricky position; there were few moves she could make without sacrificing a piece. But Reynie saw one. Unable to help himself, he reached over and double jumped two of Trisha's pieces.

"King me," he said. Milan smiled at him gratefully.

"That's not fair!" Trisha exclaimed, "Milan can't have help!"

"Well why not?"

"Because that's the rules!"

Reynie smiled. "Sometimes, we need to break a few rules, especially if such rules should never have been established in the first place," The group of children looked at him, all of them confused. "Never mind," he sighed, "Come, you can finish your game later. I won't be around for much longer."

"You're dying?!" one of the younger children gasped.

"No, Tai Li, I'm not dying," he sighed and sat on the floor, as was tradition. Tai Li gave a "Phew!" and sat in the circle with the other children.

"He's just going on one of his trips," one of the boys explained.

"A trip? Like a vacation? Can I come?" Tai Li exclaimed. The young boy was newer to the orphanage, and this was the first he'd heard of Reynie's absences.

"No, not exactly," Reynie paused, thinking how best to describe it. "Tai Li, do you know why my face is on posters all over town?

The little boy nodded, proud to show off his knowledge. "It's because the police don't like you."

"That's right. Now, there are other people that the police don't like. People all around the globe. And some of these people are like you, Tai Li."

"Like me?"

"Yes, a psychic. And if the police were to find them, they would take them away. Do you understand?" Tai Li nodded. The boy showed no fear at the prospect of being taken away because of who he was, or perhaps the thought hadn't occurred to him.

"It's my job," Reynie continued, "to help those people, and get them to a safe place so the government can't hurt them."

Tai Li's eyes lit up with realization. "Mr. Reynie sir, was that why you came and found me?"

"That's correct. I had gotten word from my associates in Renegal that a little boy was walking around alone, claiming to be hearing voices. I came for a visit, found you, and brought you back here," Reynie smiled at the memory. He had arrived just in time, for some of the locals were planning on turning him in to a S.A.D "rehabilitation" center. "And, just Reynie is fine," he concluded.

"So will this new psychic come and live with us?" Mickey asked.

"Maybe, maybe not. I'll bring them wherever is safest."

"How many people like me are there?" Tai Li wondered aloud.

"Well, we don't know. We thought psychics were incredibly rare, but I've already relocated 372 of them. Here, let me show you." Reynie opened his satchel and pulled out the binder. Every child slid a bit closer as he flipped open the front cover. Inside was a thick stack of papers, all still with crisp corners.

"These are all psychics?" one girl asked

"That's way more than 372…" another whispered.

"It's not just psychics I have catalogued here. It's every member of the rebellion, every ally, every potential member."

One of the youngest girls, Mary, picked up a page and squinted at it. "I can't read this. Is it in Tamil?" After learning of Reynie's ability to speak Tamil, Mary had begged him to teach it to her. They had only had a few lessons, but Mary learned rather quickly.

"No, it's encoded. A completely original code, almost impossible to break. I hope at least. In the wrong hands, this information could destroy the rebellion in one blow. There are some people who would do anything to get their hands on this information," And me, Reynie thought, though he didn't mention this aloud.

Mrs. Lowry interrupted their conversation by arriving with two cups of tea. One she handed to Tai Li, the other to Reynie. "Drink up," she instructed.

Tai Li grimaced. "Do I have to? It tastes funny."

"You already know I put honey in it to temper the bitterness. If you'd like me to stop, do let me know. I'm sure I can find another use for it." Tai Li nodded and quickly downed the drink. Reynie twisted the cup in his hand awkwardly

"Mrs. Lowry, I'm afraid I must refuse. Those leaves are meant for Tai Li's use during my absence," Reynie protested.

"Reynie dear, the only thing your mouth should be doing is sipping tea. I will not stand for that wretched Curtain getting the better of any of my children and that includes those blasted subliminal messages," In her outburst, Mrs. Lowry seemed to not notice her reference to Reynie as her son, and he did not bring it up. He simply sipped his tea. A sense of relief washed over him as the drink rushed through his system, expelling the headache, at least for a few more hours. The rebellion had long ago discovered the beneficial effects of Ferbosa Hydrangia, or as it was more commonly known, the Re-leaf (dubbed by Kate Wetherall, herself). Just eating the bitter leaf itself was enough to make the Whisperer-induced voices go away, as well as their side effects. But boiling the plant produced the same results (and it was much easier to swallow in this form) so Re-leaf tea had become the rebellion's official beverage. Even members whose minds didn't resist the messages drank it to keep a level head. It had been years since Reynie had an incident triggered by tea neglect, and he wasn't eager to experience the onslaught of voices yet again.

Reynie drained his cup and slid the file back into his satchel. "I think it's best if we drop this subject for now. Anyone want to hear a story?"

"Oo, tell us the diamond story!" Milan spoke up.

Reynie chuckled, "I've told that one a million times. You all know the ending already."

"Okay," Mickey said, "Tell us how you got that scar. That's one we haven't heard yet."

Reynie reached towards his face, and touched the wound. It wasn't large, just a line that ran from his left ear to the tip of his chin.

"Maybe I should tell the diamond story," He was met with protests from all the children. They were curious now.

"Children! Quiet down!" Mrs. Lowry reprimanded.

"But Mrs. Lowry, you always say we deserve to know the truth. That the truth is more important than anything else," Trisha stood up, arms crossed. Mrs. Lowry opened her mouth to protest, but Reynie raised a hand.

"It's okay. Trisha's right. They deserve to know". He turned to the orphans now. "Do you know who the Baker's Dozen are?" They shook their heads at him. "Good. You shouldn't ever have to worry about them. The Bakers Dozen are the 13 most dangerous Ten Men, er, police. They take their orders directly from Mr. Curtain, and have been loyal to him ever since I was as young as all of you. Several years ago, when I still worked closely with my family, and when that was still possible, me and Kate were captured by them. You don't need the details, but it was then that I got this scar." The children looked at him with somber eyes. "Of course," Reynie forced a smile, "everything turned out okay. I'm here with all of you now, aren't I?"

Mary lunged at him, hugging him around the neck. "Oh dear," he sighed, patting her on the back. "I didn't mean to frighten anyone," he shot an apologetic glance at Mrs. Lowry, but she just shook her head.

"Will the Baker's Dozen ever come here?"

"I hope they do, cause I've got two fists that would like to meet them."

Reynie set Mary back down. "No one is going to be fighting the Baker's Dozen because no one is going to be meeting the Bakers Dozen. There's only 13 of them, and they have much more important things to do than snoop around a small European town." Some of the children sat down, dejected. Others smiled, relieved.

"And Reynie has much more important things to do than talk to you children all night," Mrs. Lowry hustled the children to their feet. "Go on, get to bed," The children filed away, some lingering for goodbye hugs. Tai Li squeezed Reynie the tightest before running after his older roommates.

"That was a bit hasty, don't you think?" Reynie said, half joking, to Mrs. Lowry.

"Reynie, we need to talk," Her voice was dead serious, and Reynie quickly lost his smile.

"Of course, what is it?"

Mrs. Lowry opened her mouth to speak, stopped, and packed the silver tray she'd brought the tea in on. Reynie followed her through the living room and into the large kitchen. Everything about the orphanage was big, as it was previously a summer home for the wealthy. Many such estates existed in England, and this particular one had been owned by Mrs. Lowry's father, a tycoonist who had gathered extreme wealth before his passing. He left both of his daughters a great inheritance, and part of Mrs. Lowry's share was the house. Mrs. Lowry hardly spoke of her sister, who had taken her share of the money and left the family on the very day of the funeral.

Mrs. Lowry dumped the two cups into sudsy water and scrubbed them with a ferocity Reynie hadn't seen from her.

"Mrs. Lowry?" She was washing the tray now.

"Mrs. Lowry, what is going on?" He placed a hand on her shoulder. She ceased her washing, and dried her hands on a nearby towel.

"There have been rumors, Reynie," She admitted

"Rumors? About what?"

"Changes. Big changes are coming. And not just in Burrough; all across the world."

Reynie frowned, "I haven't heard any rumors."

"Because you stay locked up in that apartment all day! You have a good head on your shoulders, Reynie, but your intuition is worthless if you aren't using it!"

Reynie opened his mouth, but Mrs. Lowry had worked herself into a fury, putting away clean dishes at a rapid pace. "If you walked along those streets, you would notice them. The hushed conspiracies, the changes in the police's demeanor. You would know something is wrong," A porcelain plate slipped from her hand and shattered on the ground. Reynie took Mrs. Lowry by the shoulders and guided her away from the mess.

"I'll get a broom," He squeezed her shoulder affectionately.

As he swept the broken pieces up, Mrs. Lowry shakily poured herself a glass of water. When the mess had been cleaned up, Reynie took her shaking hand.

"I don't think you should leave for wherever it is you're going," she said after swallowing the last of her drink.

"Mrs. Lowry, I appreciate your concern, but it's just the Whisperer. This has happened before, remember?"

She shook her head, "It's not like those other times. This is real, not some manipulation. Reynie, it isn't safe,"

"If what you're saying is true," Reynie soothed, "then it may be even more important that I leave. This psychic may be in even greater trouble,"

"No, just stay here, please. This is not the time to be moving around. And if you get captured…" she trailed off.

"That won't happen," Reynie took her glass and refilled it.

"How could I tell the children if something happened to you?"

"You won't have to tell them anything. Please, drink." Mrs. Lowry took the glass but didn't sip from it.

"This house has several hidden rooms. You can stay here, until everything calms down."

Reynie rested an arm on her shoulder. "Mrs. Lowry, please. You have to trust me. We've had scares like these before, and everything's always turned out okay. In a week's time, I'll be back and telling you and the children all about my trip,"

Mrs. Lowry stared down into her glass of water, her hand still shaking. Reynie took the cup from her and set it on the counter, not wanting another spill to happen.

"I promise. Everything's going to be okay,"

Reynie left and made his way into the foyer. As he grabbed his hat off the hook he'd left it on, he heard Mrs. Lowry enter from behind him.

"Son,"

Reynie turned to look her in the eye.

"Stay safe,"

Reynie gave her his most confident smile. "I will. I promise." And he stepped out the door, and into the night.