Potter Professions

The long expected Thursday had arrived. When gathering after the lunch break, the students of the four new classes would not file into their classrooms as usual. Instead, they would join in front of the administration building, right across the lawn on which people from MiraLuc were busy assembling a small arc that showed the company logo. When activated, the arc would serve as the portkey gate to the campsite in the Loire valley.

From his seat in class, Carlos had no chance of looking out the window. It didn't matter; they were in the Cherbourg building, and this building's window front was at the wrong side for watching the construction crew. But Carlos had watched them in the previous break, together with Chloé, and the picture that was stored in his mind slowly changed to a scene in which they walked through the gate side by side, to come out on the campsite.

Due to lack of better knowledge, the campsite in Carlos' mind strongly resembled the park around Groucho Headquarters in Dublin, only with a tree line where the Groucho Park was bordered by buildings. Like the Parc MiraLuc, the Groucho Park was ruled by a company rather than public authorities. Moreover, it was the only park of that kind Carlos had heard about, so for him this picture was a natural choice when imagining the unknown.

The teacher's words were lost on Carlos. He kept creating scenes of camp life in his mind, balancing out his lack of experience with fantasy supported by pictures he'd seen on TV - campfires, for example. He knew the smell of burning wood from the fireplace in Carron Lough. Would the smell be the same when sitting in open air under a nightly sky?

Reconsidering the starting scene, with himself and Chloé walking through the portkey gate, Carlos suddenly became aware that this wasn't going to happen anywhere outside his fantasy: the students were told to do the transit in the dormitory groups, who were also the groups sharing a tent. So he would pass the gate in the company of Mathieu, Roland, and Serge, while Chloé would be with her own roommates.

Carlos didn't even know their names.

He wasn't interested to meet them. But he had to, if he wanted to be together with Chloé, because the usual meeting habits didn't work in the camp.

Unless there was a more direct channel.

A phony! The solution was so simple, but stupid him hadn't thought of it before, in time to get a phony for Chloé. They'd talked about it, and Chloé had said she didn't need one because there wasn't anyone among her friends with whom she could talk on the phone.

At that point he'd dropped the idea, careful to avoid the embarrassment that was so common between the poor and the privileged. But he hadn't thought it through, and now ... Was it really too late?

Two hours, a little more than that, until the gate would open. Twenty minutes until the end of the class.

Carlos suddenly sat on tenterhooks. Had he been alone, he would have asked Madame Rappeneau, the teacher, for an early leave due to urgent family business before the journey, but there was Esmeralda sitting next to him, and her astonishment would have easily outperformed that of the teacher.

He knew - coming out the classroom door, it would take him less than five minutes to lay hands on a phony, simply because his porty would carry him to Carron Lough, and to Groucho Industries, and from there back to the castle.

But not back to Brest, because nobody had felt it important to program a portkey jump to the school. So how to return, once he'd found a phony?

Carlos knew that right now his father had a tight schedule, and it would remain that way all through the journey, in particular because Harry would have to hide himself while travelling. Aside from that, the idea of asking his father felt quite embarrassing to Carlos: Harry's first reply would be something like, "I should have thought of that myself," a result of the Japanese influence in his education, and such a remark was somehow worse than a simple, impatient, "Damn you! Couldn't you think of it earlier?"

But Carlos knew someone who would grant him this kind of straightforwardness: his mother.

Five minutes later, Madame Rappeneau won his heart forever when she said, "I don't know what else to tell you about the Loire valley, and I can save my breath about anything else, so - out with you, but quietly!"

The class barely managed to suppress their shouts of approval but was unable to keep entirely quiet. Excited murmurs and whispers went through the rows while the students collected their things and stormed out.

Right outside the classroom, Carlos and Esmeralda nodded to each other, then went different ways. For the next hours, and probably days as well, the bonds of dormitories and tents would hold tighter than those of family.

---

Carlos left the Cherbourg building still in Esmeralda's trail but then, quickly before any of his roommates could see him, he walked behind the building. The underbrush there was a good place for a phone call and a portkey jump. He took out his porty and pressed the shortkey button to call his mother.

The response was almost immediate. "Carlos?" said his mother's voice. "What's up, my dear?"

"Hi Mum - I'm really glad to catch you without waking you up. So you aren't in Canada, are you?"

For him like for anyone else in the Potter family, time zones - especially the six to eight hours between Europe and America - were factors as common as darkness in the night and low temperatures in the winter.

"No, I'm not. I'm in the Chateau Saumur; it's a MABEL seminar not far from the campsite you'll reach in a while. Is everything ready at your side?"

"No, that's why I'm calling. I need a phony, Mum. I thought about how to get one, and I could get home and to Groucho Headquarters with my porty but not back to the school. Dad's busy for his own trip, so I called you."

"You need a phony? For what? Or should I ask, for whom?"

"Erm ... There's a girl, she's got one of the bracelets from Dad, like Esmeralda and I and Esmeralda's three - "

"You mean Chloé?"

"Yes, right, that's her."

With some relief, Carlos waited through the short moment of silence that followed. He wasn't really surprised to hear that his mother knew about the bracelets and about Chloé. The communication between his parents seemed to work better than for quite a while, and this thought, together with the knowledge of his mother being in a castle near the Parc MiraLuc, made the coming adventure shine in a totally different light.

His mother's voice came through the porty again. "I'll meet you at home in a minute." It was followed by the short, vibrating sound that signaled a disconnection.

Without hesitation, Carlos pressed the portkey button for Carron Lough, and an inmeasurable second later, the underbrush behind the Cherbourg building had given way to the dinner room in the south tower of Carron Lough, their family's common destination for apparition and portkey jumps straight into the castle.

He had to wait about ten minutes, rather than one, before his mother arrived. But then, he hadn't interpreted her remark in a literal sense.

She appeared several feet away and lost no time to reach him and give him a hug, which he heartily returned. Then she said, "Don't chide me for being late - I already talked with Ray; he should be here any moment now. After all, we need something better than the next best phony for that girl of yours, don't we?"

Carlos blushed. "I wasn't going to chide you - "

Another gentle push of compressed air stopped his reply: Ray Purcell stood in the entrance to the dinner room.

The old engineer took Carlos' porty, not wasting more than a few words and an equal amount of grunts for affirmative replies, then he disappeared again - with the promise of being back half an hour later.

---

Carlos' mother used her own porty to call the house-elves Dobby and Winky and ask them for something to eat - "anything that's ready within five minutes will be fine" - then she turned to Carlos again.

"So you've got yourself a girlfriend, haven't you?"

Carlos just nodded.

"And she's a witch, more than you're a wizard at the moment, thanks to your father's plotting."

Noticing how his mother had fun at her remark, Carlos said, "Yes, and she was quite concerned until she found out that we'll get our magic back in due time. She said it was my good luck that I hadn't teased her as long as I knew but she didn't. And" - he beamed at his mother - "she once read about a wizard by the name of Henri Portère, but in that story, the wizard has just two children, because her storybook is too old to know more. They're rather poor ..." His voice trailed off.

"And in all that excitement, you forgot to think of a phony for her?" His mother looked wondering. "Sweetie, that's quite uncharacteristical of you."

"Erm - somehow, the bracelets looked as if we'd be all together and that they're all we need," explained Carlos. "And - I thought about it, and asked Chloé whether she would accept a - a used porty, that's how I called it, but then she said she wouldn't know what for, and I didn't know what to reply, and before I could find something, there was the scene with that old bloke ..."

Carlos' voice trailed off once more, although way too late. He didn't think his mother knew about a teacher named Jacques Deray, and he hadn't planned to close this gap in her knowledge.

Right at this moment, their food appeared, by no means giving the impression of something fixed in five minutes' time.

They settled for their lunch and filled their dishes. Just when Carlos thought he'd escaped his slip of the tongue by sheer luck, his mother, not bothering to empty her mouth first, said, "Okay, so what about that scene with an old bloke?"

Carlos knew when he was defeated. Between bites, he told his mother the story in a compressed yet complete form. The only detail he left out had to do with Snoopy-printed panties.

Hearing about Monsieur Deray's mysterious accident, his mother's murderous glare changed to an expression of deep satisfaction. "You can say a lot against your father and his methods," she said, "but when he strikes, he strikes hard."

Carlos, who couldn't say much against his father's methods, more the opposite, nodded with shining eyes. "Chloé was so relieved! She hoped Dad would be the replacement escort teacher, until I told her that he'd be around on his own - "

Carlos stopped in mid-sentence because there was a new rush of compressed air, which announced Ray's return.

"Sit down, Ray," said Carlos' mother. Then she used her porty to order another dish from the house-elves. Looking up again, she said, "Your bracelets work fine, as I just heard."

"Good to know that," replied the engineer. "But let me finish with the two porties first, to have that out of the way." He dropped Carlos' porty and another one, looking similar, on the table, then he explained that the two porties had phony shortcuts to each other, and that the new one also had shortcuts to the porties of Harry and Esmeralda. The new porty further had portkey buttons for Carron Lough and the school in Brest - the same target which now could be reached with a previously unused button on Carlos' own porty.

"Hey, that's cool. Thank you," Carlos said to Ray, then reached his mother and hugged her quickly. "Thanks, Mum, that was great. I have to go - I must catch Chloé alone."

"Watch your back, Sonny - and hers too."

Carlos nodded. Ray's gesture of goodbye was the last view in the castle before he pressed the new button, to find himself at a spot which looked very much like somewhere at the Brest school, except that, for a few seconds, he didn't know where he was.

After walking a few steps, he saw that the portkey had carried him behind the Cayenne building, the one in which his father had his apartment. Apparently, Ray had used a target specification Harry had stored in the Groucho database. Carlos started to walk to the administration building.

---

Entering the canteen, he looked around for Chloé, but couldn't find her. Someone else was waving at him - Mathieu, one of his roommates, with the other two, Roland and Serge, sitting next to him.

Carlos grabbed a tray and started loading it with food. At Carron Lough, he hadn't spent enough time to still his hunger completely. Having gathered a fair amount, he joined his roommates.

"Where have you been?" asked Mathieu. "There isn't much time left, and I haven't seen you packing."

Mathieu had a tendency to fuss about every detail, and Carlos' habit of being anywhere but with his roommates was a constant source of concern for him.

"Don't you worry about that," replied Carlos, and before Mathieu had a chance to repeat his original question, he added, "That bloody bag is big enough for all of my possessions, that's about the only benefit it has."

The bloody bag was a delivery from MiraLuc - one for each student in the four classes bound for the camp. Basically a simple sports utilities bag as used by tennis players and other athletes, it had two handles that were large enough to go through with the arms and carry the bag as if it was a rucksack - the utensil they had expected from MiraLuc, at least hoped for.

"The bag's okay, and they had to provide one for each participant. Do you know how expensive rucksacks are? You can't expect ..."

Mathieu's voice didn't really fade, it only felt that way because Carlos had stopped paying attention and instead glanced around while eating.

"Shut up, Mathieu," said Serge. "Those bags will hardly survive till Sunday. And you" - he turned to Carlos - "get a grip on your food and your schedule. Your girl isn't around, and for once you really could give it a rest. Say, is that what it means to be Spanish? Always after the girls?"

Carlos stared at him, momentarily speechless. Even his chewing had stopped.

"He isn't always after the girls," said Roland before Carlos had recovered. "It's only one, and always the same." Toward Carlos, Roland added, "She's been here until a few minutes ago, and she seemed on the lookout for you."

Carlos nodded and smiled. "Thanks, Rol."

Serge only snorted. He would have been a prime candidate for bullying his roommates, had they let him do so. But Roland - thin and no challenge for anyone - had a mouth that didn't know how to be scared, and Carlos was just too busy somewhere else to serve for the purpose. This left Mathieu - but even Serge was bored after half an hour of bullying Mathieu.

"You're welcome," replied Roland. "In exchange, you can tell me where you really have been, after all. You went out the classroom with your sister, and next moment, you had disappeared."

"He's been downtown to get some rubbers," explained Serge with a nasty look. "That's his preparation for the trip - after all, you can't get them here in the school, and not in the Loire valley either."

Mathieu gasped and flushed, quicker than Carlos himself.

"But he couldn't find any," continued Serge, "because they don't manufacture sizes that small."

"I wish you had a rubber," said Roland in a quick attempt of interfering in the confrontation, "as big as you need it - around your brain, to stop it from spilling that crap."

But Serge wasn't brought off track. He kept staring at Carlos and waited for his reply, a strange smile playing on his face.

According to the established conventions, Serge's insult could only be washed off with blood - Serge's own or that of Carlos, should he turn out second winner in the seemingly inevitable fight in which a nosebleed or a broken lip would be the most likely source of that precious liquid.

"I'll come back to that at the camp," said Carlos quietly to Serge, "when we have the time for it and a place for it. In the meantime" - he hesitated a short moment, totally unaware of the dramatic effect it had on the others - "you should guard your own ass from people with or without a rubber, if you know what I mean."

Roland responded to the statement with an admiring smile, but Serge turned dark red and snarled, "You follow me outside! Now!"

"Stop shouting!" hissed Carlos low-voiced. Toward Roland and Mathieu, he added, "Actually the same goes for you; it isn't something that would only apply to Serge." Turning again to his red-faced opponenent, he said, "I mean it. It's a warning, not an insult. Got me now?"

Roland was quicker than the baffled-looking Serge. "What do you know?" he asked Carlos, looking a bit paler than usual.

"I ... what do you know?"

"Nothing specific, and until your remark, I'd thought my fantasy was playing tricks with me." Roland gave an apologetic smile. "You know that I see and hear things nobody would think possible, and I've heard a few remarks that made me wondering, that's all. And you?"

"Nothing specific either - a bit more than you, but don't ask me. All I can say is, stick together and trust no one." Carlos looked at Serge. "I was supposed to keep my mouth shut, but you ... Anyway, you should be grateful."

Roland said, "You have someone you trust, I can see it."

"Yes - my sister, and her friends, and her dog, and the girl I'm going to look for now, because I have something to protect her, but not a rubber ..." He smirked toward Serge. "This evening in our tent, I might be ready to answer the question - provided you didn't spill the news all through the school."

Watched by his three roommates, he stood up to carry his tray to the transport belt. He might have eaten a bit more under different circumstances, but together with what he'd gotten at home, he would make it to supper before starving, while his sense of rhetorics forbade him to spoil the moment.

* * *

Esmeralda shouldered the large bag. Next moment, she wondered whether she really needed all the stuff she'd packed in there. But she consoled herself quickly; after all, they just had to carry their luggage to the small arc in front of the Brest building.

Bolo was dancing around her; the dog's excitement had grown all through the last hour of packing, and had reached a peak when Esmeralda had put the collar around his neck. She rarely used a leash and didn't plan to keep it longer than necessary, but for the short moment of public appearance, it just looked better.

Glancing around, she saw that her roommates would need another minute or so, and a few more in the case of Odile, who was physically unable to be in time. She hooked the leash to the collar.

"I'll wait downstairs. Let's go, Bolo."

In the staircase, the dog's pulling, in combination with the unfamiliar weight on her back, almost made her fall and sprain her ankle. "Hold it!" she shouted at the dog, achieving a limited impact on Bolo's excitement.

Sitting down on the steps outside, she had a moment of recollection, although it wasn't welcome at all. She wanted to storm to the temporary linkport and finally find out whether she would be able to take Bolo to the camp. She wasn't sure, because she hadn't asked.

And if not ...

Dominique's voice could be heard in the staircase. A moment later, the girl stepped out, immediately followed by Natalie. Before Esmeralda could ask when they might expect Odile, she heard a clank upstairs and something that sounded like a short obscenity, and probably had been.

Odile almost in time - should she take it as an omen? Or was it the other way around and this miracle had used up today's quota?

They walked toward the meeting point, exchanging remarks about heavy bags and resuming the discussion that had been running for days: whether a camp was extra cool or totally outdated. It didn't matter; their own excitement grew with every step.

The place in front of the Brest building looked crowded. Esmeralda saw two men in the MiraLuc dress - light-grey shirts with neckties in yellow and blue, making them look like a cross between boy scout and flight attendant. They stood close to the linkport arc and seemed to be the only calm people around.

Monsieur Jeunet and Madame Verneuil, the two escorting teachers, stood there with clipboards in their hands. From their behaviour, you could think the four classes were about to enter a transatlantic clipper, rather than just walk through the linkport gate. The two teachers were looking and counting and checking off groups; just as Esmeralda with her group arrived, another group took formation in front of the gate and then disappeared in it.

The two MiraLuc guides had watched them step through. Now they turned around, apparently waiting for the next group. One of them looked at Esmeralda, then at Bolo, something like disbelief in his face. Next moment, he said something to Monsieur Jeunet.

The teacher turned around, looked at Bolo, then at Esmeralda, then turned to the MiraLuc employee to give an answer. After another response, he came to their group.

"I'm sorry, but the dog can't come with you. Take him back to the public corral; the people there will take care of him until Sunday."

Odile said, "The dog sleeps in our dormitory, so he's part of our dormitory group, isn't he?"

"Erm ..." Monsieur Jeunet looked uneasy; quite obviously it hadn't been his own decision. He glanced toward the MiraLuc employee, apparently in search of support.

The linkport guide came closer. "I'm sorry, young lady - no dogs in the linkport. Only students."

"Why not? The dog can travel other linkports, too."

"Maybe so, but this linkport is only built for humans."

Esmeralda stared at him, looking calmer to the outside than she really felt. "That's a lie. There aren't any linkports with such a limitation."

The guide's face darkened. He looked scowling at Esmeralda, then opened his mouth, but swallowed his remark at the last instant. Quickly regaining his expressionless stare, he just said, "Only students," before turning around and stepping back to the small arc. There he stood, arms crossed over his chest.

"You might be right or not," said Madame Verneuil after a moment of silence to Esmeralda, "but you see, it won't help you. So please take the dog back. Leave your bag here; your roommates can have an eye on it."

Not bothering to drop her bag first, Esmeralda took her porty out and pressed the button for her father. His reply came almost instantly. "Yes?"

"Prof - this is Esmeralda Chang calling. We're at the linkport arc. Those people say my dog can't come with us because he can't go through the gate. Could you please come and take care of him?"

"Comin'." The connection closed.

Madame Verneuil asked, "Who did you call?"

"Monsieur le Professeur Pri'chard. He's got a liking for the dog, and the dog for him. He'll help us."

Monsieur Jeunet looked relieved, Madame Verneuil looked appreciative, and Esmeralda wondered what exactly would happen.

---

A pull at Bolo's leash made her look up. Her father was approaching them. Considering the few moments since her call, and the direction where he came from, he seemed to have apparated behind the Brest building and walked only the last steps.

Reaching their group, he gave his two colleagues a wave and a smile, then turned to Esmeralda. "Now what's the matter?"

She pointed to the MiraLuc guide. "This man says the linkport is only for students, not for dogs. I said there aren't any such linkports, but he wouldn't let us through."

"Well, if he's right, I'll keep the dog until Sunday, but maybe it's a misunderstanding. Let's see." Monsieur Pri'chard motioned them to follow and walked to the gate.

Bolo followed him so instantly that Esmeralda was in a hurry to follow herself, hoping it looked normal. Behind her, she could hear noises of excitement from the other three girls.

The MiraLuc guide watched the procession come closer. He made a single step, then he stood blocking the entrance to the linkport gate.

"Good afternoon," said Monsieur Pri'chard to him. "You think there's a problem with a dog passing through this gate?"

"No problem at all, because he won't pass. Only students."

"Well, if you're right, he will fail, since that's how linkports respond to unsupported bodies. So why not just give it a try, then we know for sure?"

"I know for sure, that's enough."

The guide stared at Monsieur Pri'chard with open hostility, and it seemed as if only the reputation of the company he represented kept him from telling the unwelcome teacher to get lost.

"There's nothing as convincing as proof," said Monsieur Pri'chard with a cheer that sounded terribly wrong in Esmeralda's ears. He made a movement toward the guide, who responded by opening his folded arms - maybe to push him away, or pull him still closer to explain in full detail what he'd meant. At any rate, for an instant the two men looked as if getting ready to dance, then somehow the guide stumbled with a short cough against his fellow guide, who grabbed him for support, only to realize that his colleague was momentarily unable to stand on his own feet.

"Sorry!" called Monsieur Pri'chard and bent down to have a look at the guide, who started looking bluish-pale in the face. From there, he turned to Esmeralda. "Just try it - hurry."

Esmeralda, old hand in portkey travelling of all kinds, pulled on the leash, said, "C'mon, Bolo," and stepped forward.

A second later, she stood on a large meadow: the school buildings were gone, and just in time, she remembered to step forward, so her friends would not stumble into her when coming through.

* * *

When Carlos arrived at the meeting point together with his roommates, he still had the new porty in his pockets. There hadn't been an opportunity to meet with Chloé, short of entering the St.-Nazaire building and knocking at her door - a thought he'd dropped at once. Now, looking around, he couldn't detect the girl either.

Instead, he could watch the scene with his father and the man from MiraLuc.

From his position, Carlos couldn't see details, and altogether the scene didn't strike much attention, in particular since his father, still bent low besides the MiraLuc man, urged Monsieur Jeunet and Madame Verneuil to continue sending groups through the portkey gate. But Carlos felt little doubt that something had happened between his father and that man, and from past experiences, some disagreement about the dog was his first guess.

He stepped forward. "Monsieur! Monsieur le Professeur Jeunet! Can we go through?"

"No, you wait till it's your turn!"

"And when - "

Carlos made no attempt to finish his question. What he saw in Monsieur Jeunet's face, and what he saw in Madame Verneuil's face looking at her colleague, told him that the male teacher was a nitpicker, fussing around inefficiently, and only patience could improve things.

Carlos returned to the rest of his group. "We have to wait until he manages - and for all I can see here, dusk might fall before he gets a handle on things."

He retreated a few steps more, took out his porty, and called his sister to hear more about the little incident.

Esmeralda confirmed both of his assumptions, that the man from MiraLuc had made trouble because of the dog, that he'd lied, actually, and that their father had solved the problem in his own, unceremonial way.

"Can you see - "

Carlos had meant to ask his sister about Chloé, but a wave from Roland made him cancel the connection and join the other boys.

Roland, simultaneously bypassing machismo and male incompetence, had simply asked Madame Verneuil which tent was waiting for the students from Room 214 in the Toulon building. After getting the answer - twenty-one - he'd asked whether they could move on, and earned a nod.

Passing a sour-looking MiraLuc guide, who avoided glancing over to Carlos' father as much as Carlos himself, the four boys went through the gate in rapid succession, either because they were experienced linkport travellers or pretended to be.

Another MiraLuc guide, at this side of the gate a young woman who welcomed them with a smile, gently pushed them forward to make room for the next students. Carlos made a few steps to be out of the way, then stopped to look around.

They stood on a meadow which was almost plain, only slightly sloped upward to the borderline of a forest. To the right, more trees formed another borderline, although that part of the forest seemed lighter, and the light gray of a building shimmered through. To the left, the grass stretched farther, and only after some seconds, Carlos noticed the river right behind.

Within their view, tents stood everywhere and in all degrees of completion. They showed all colours of the rainbow and all shapes, with the only common factor that four people plus luggage had to fit in. Apparently, MiraLuc had decided to use the camp for something like a tent exhibition.

---

Wandering along, noticing a variety of formats, from a simple roof-shaped tent over trekking iglus to the typical high-walled camping site tent, it took them a little while to realize that the tents stood in small groups, forming islands in the surrounding grass.

There was a campsite chart not far from the entry gate. Studying it, they found the spot that was marked as "21" in a group close to the tree line. When they reached it, they saw that hers was a dome-shaped trekking tent which sported a long and spacious porch. The tent itself was built up completely, while the porch still needed some work to appear properly stretched and fixed.

Glancing inside, they agreed that the tent offered enough room for them but only for sleeping, not for anything else. This sleeping, though, needed some more preparations because there were neither sleeping bags nor air mattresses.

Carlos had dumped his bag in the porch. "Let's go get our sleeping stuff," he called.

"And where?"

"See that huge white thing down there? There are lots of people, and those who leave are carrying stuff."

"We need more things," said Mathieu importantly. He was the only one who had some camping experience.

Serge stared at him. "Like what?"

"Lights. Water in a can. Plastic cups to drink."

"Wiseass. If you're so clever, why don't you go and fetch it?"

In an instant of premonition, Carlos saw three days ahead in which he'd try to meet Chloé as often as possible, with the consequence that he'd be absent as often as possible, with the result that Serge would behave as if in Bully Heaven. He turned to face him.

"Asshole. If you're so stupid, why don't you go and shut up?"

Serge stared at him, astonishment giving way to disbelief, then to a nasty anticipation. "That was a bad mistake you made, Latino. A very bad mistake." He made a step.

Carlos wondered himself what had made him start the confrontation right now. A fight had been hanging in the air for a little while, although he'd thought he'd have other things on his mind in the camp. Maybe his father's example had made him act on impulse.

He said, "You think you're stronger than me, don't you?"

"Course I am. In a moment you'll - "

"Course you are. But I'm obliged to tell you that I'm an aikido adept."

"What?"

"I know aikido - what you might call kung fu. And people who know that have promised to warn their opponents because that's like having a hidden weapon, you know."

Serge stared; uncertainty had mixed into his expectant beaming. In the corner of his eyes, Carlos could see the wide-eyed face of Roland.

"I kid you not," assured Carlos. "So maybe we should do it tomorrow, in the grass, and now go and fetch our stuff. And since you're the strongest, you should be the one who carries the water."

Serge still stared at moment, suspicion on his face. When Carlos didn't grin, he seemed to drop the thought of being teased. Then, as if caught by a formerly hidden honour, he said, "All right, I'll do it. I'll be the one who carries our water - even for you, Latino."

Carlos nodded, thinking by himself that it was more of a formerly hidden stupidity that manifested itself here, although it wasn't impossible that Roland had known it all the time and only he, Carlos, had failed to notice because his interest was somewhere else.

Walking toward the crowded place, he wondered briefly which outcome of the fight would be better. It wasn't impossible that a barely winning Serge might be more tolerable than a second winner. Next moment, he remembered his father's admonition to start a fight only with the intention of coming out first. He had a few moments to ponder this thought, then the issues at hand shifted other topics to the background of his mind.

---

What he had called huge white thing was a tent that looked as if all hundred-and-twenty or so students might find room inside, and probably this was true, once the tent's current purpose of a hardware store was fulfilled. The walls were rolled up at all sides, opening the view to a ring-shaped desk in the center, where some MiraLuc people were handing out bundles that had to be sleeping bags, air mattresses, and other stuff. Inside the ring, there was something like a double door, and only after a moment, Carlos became aware that these doors had to be linkport gates to a real store, which could be located anywhere.

Watching, they noticed that the students gave small pieces of something in exchange for the bundles they received. Stepping around under the tent's roof, they found a kind of a cash register where a woman in the MiraLuc costume asked for their tent number. When Roland answered, "Twenty-one," she looked in a list, checked them off, and handed each of them a plastic ring with a small pile of tags on it, and a booklet entitled "Camp MiraLuc - What You Have to Know."

The tags had different colours. As they learned from the booklet, the two white ones had to be delivered when receiving the sleeping bag and the air mattress. Yellow tags were for other materials including lights, cans of water, or tent nails, hammers, and axes when it came to preparing campfires. Green tags were exchanged for food, red ones for sweets, and blue ones for stuff like shampoo, toothpaste, but also if a student needed clothes as replacement for something lost or damaged.

Roland, who apparently could read twice as fast as his roommates, said, "You can win more of them - especially red ones. They offer it for all kinds of services. They call it the 'social impulse'."

He looked up and stared at Carlos. "You can win some by playing servant for a tent of girls - bringing them water, collecting their garbage and so."

"I guess we should settle our own tent first," replied Carlos and walked to the desk where they could trade tags for bundles.

During the next hour, they fitted their tent out with the equipment they would need for living there in the three days ahead. The MiraLuc people had everything, for example cartridges of compressed air to inflate the air mattresses within seconds and without getting dizzy from doing it with the mouth and the own breath. One cartridge was enough for their group - and it took a yellow tag, which meant one of them had to pay for it.

Carlos did it. Mathieu paid for a light that would hang in the tent, Serge paid for the water he carried up to their spot, and Roland paid for the parts that were required to complete the build-up of the porch. By then, they had caught the principle - tent groups had to develop their internal social impulse to handle the everyday chores, a fact they all registered with mixed feelings.

By then, they'd also noticed that the next-tent neighbors weren't those they could find next door at their own floor in the Toulon building. No doubt, MiraLuc wrote SOCIALIZING with large capitals.

On the other hand, they didn't go as far as mixing boys and girls in the same island of tents. There were only boys around them - sixteen altogether, in four tents.

They had another hour to make themselves familiar with the surroundings before the first official meeting would take place. Carlos decided to go looking for Chloé.

---

Camp charts could be found at several places, but they only showed tent numbers, no identification of the inhabitants. There were about thirty tents altogether, arranged in six islands - certainly not too much to scan all of them, but seeing the tents didn't mean seeing the people inside, and poking his head into every tent was an idea Carlos abandoned at once.

He found the tent with Esmeralda and her friends easily, because there was a dog lying in the entrance who looked as if coming closer was a big mistake. But of course the dog was extremely pleased to see Carlos, and next moment, Esmeralda's head poked out of the tent, in which Carlos could hear giggling voices.

"Oh - it's you," Esmeralda said. "What tent are you in?"

"Twenty-one."

"Ah, okay. This one's eleven, in case you didn't notice, and if you want to know where to find Chloé, hers is seventeen." Esmeralda pointed toward another island closer to the side with the buildings. "Over there."

"Great ... Thanks."

Esmeralda's expression told him that they were still almost-twins, knowing each other well enough to answer questions not yet asked, and that this case was special anyway, and that - aside from anything else - the bearers of six bracelets had to stick together. All those messages were sent without a word, and next moment, Esmeralda disappeared again inside the tent, which was of the luxury camping variety.

Carlos walked to the island Esmeralda had indicated, and found the tent number seventeen all right. It looked empty; no sound was coming from inside. After standing there for two minutes, Carlos knew that it was indeed empty. Being among the first to arrive, the four girls had probably started their own excursion.

What now? Waiting here seemed stupid; there wasn't any indication that the girls would return sooner than required for the meeting. On the other hand, walking around might just guarantee that he and Chloé would continue missing each other until -

"Carlos! Here!"

Glancing up, he saw the familiar figure at some distance, waving and almost running toward him. A moment later, Chloé had reached him.

"I'm glad to find you," she said. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"To the riverbanks - my roommates and I, we've been there already, so we'll be to ourselves."

"Mind if I fetch Bolo to come with us?"

"Of course not. A propos - how did Dona Gata take it that she had to stay back?"

A fine sting of guilt ran through Carlos. In the frenzy of the morning, hurrying to get the phony for Chloé, he hadn't found any time to pity his pet. But then, you couldn't take cats with you, like you could with dogs.

"The concierge promised me to look after her."

They reached the tent number eleven. After a hesitant "Hello" from Carlos, Dominique's head peeked out, and after a few sentences of negotiation, Bolo followed them toward the Loire riverbanks - hesitantly first, because guarding a tent was a dream job, but the dog quickly relaxed and had started sniffing everywhere long before they reached the water.

The water looked reasonably clean, so Carlos took a stick off the ground and threw it in the river, the signal for Bolo to catch it.

The dog jumped in eagerly. Living at the shore of the Irish Sea, Bolo knew the difference between saltwater and sweetwater. Coming out for the first time, he looked delighted and dropped the stick to Carlos' feet, almost yipping in expectation.

Watching Bolo's next turn, Chloé said, "Your sister mightn't be too enthusiastic about a wet dog in the tent lobby."

"He'll be dry again in no time - " Carlos stopped himself, then started again. "You can ask her yourself."

"Sure I can, but why should I?" Chloé apparently didn't know what he was trying to say, about two hundred yards away from Esmeralda's tent.

Carlos grabbed in his pockets and came up with the new porty on his palm. "Here - call her and ask her."

Chloé stared at him, at the porty, back at him. He could read in her face that she knew what the porty was supposed to mean; even so, she had to ask.

"Is this yours?"

"No." He gave her the new porty so he could fetch his own. "See, that's mine. Now call her."

"That's ... how do I call her?"

"The green button there - press it, and when you're asked, say who you want to talk to."

"That's all?"

"There are shortkey buttons, too, and before we walk back I'll show you on mine when setting a button to yours, but the normal way is just as I said. Try it."

Reluctantly, Chloé pressed the button, and almost jumped when a friendly voice asked her whom she wanted to call.

"Er ... Esmeralda, er ..."

"Chang," seconded Carlos.

"Yes, right, Esmeralda Chang."

"You are a new member in the Groucho phony network. Please identify yourself," said the voice.

"Er ..." Seeing Carlos' confirming nod, Chloé said, "My name's Chloé Broussard."

"Thank you, Chloé Broussard. Just a second, please."

"Sorry," whispered Carlos. "It's been so long, I've totally forgotten about this first-time registration."

Next second, Esmeralda's voice was heard. "Chloé, you? So did my brother finally have the - well, never mind. What's up?"

"Er - it's basically a test, but I'm supposed to ask you what you think of Bolo jumping in and out of the water."

"Ew ... Do you know a drying spell?"

"No, sorry."

"Pity ... Then hang him on the clothesline." Next instant, giggling of other voices could be heard through the speaker.

Chloé chuckled. "Will do." She glanced at Carlos. "How do I cancel the connection?"

"Same button."

Before Chloé could do it, a vibrating sound told Carlos that Esmeralda had disconnected from the other side. He explained what the sound meant; then, watched by Chloé, he programmed a shortkey button on his own porty for hers, and then tutored her steps as she did the inverse on her device.

Having finished the task, she looked up. "Why did you do that?"

"Because - when I noticed that you can contact my - erm, I mean, Monsieur Pri'chard any time but only as an alarm, and we had no way of talking to each other when separated, it was almost too late. And here, these buttons - er, did I tell you that this is a porty, not a phony?"

"Did you?"

"You know what a porty is, don't you? You have to press two buttons for a jump, to avoid a jump by accident. The red one here activates the target buttons - here, look, you can press the target buttons alone, and then the display tells you their destinations. Here, that's the one for the school, and this one here's for - erm, where we live, in case you must escape - "

"Where you live? You mean in Ireland?"

"Yes, right, but we can't test it now, because the camp here isn't programmed in as any target, so we'd have no way of coming back."

Chloé stared at the display as if transfixed. Carlos couldn't see it, but he knew that the words "Carron Lough" would be visible. After a few seconds, Chloé looked up again.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Er ... which one?"

"The one about - " She stopped herself and shook her head. "Never mind that now. Do you think we could call - er, Monsieur Pri'chard and ask him for a drying spell?"