Free The Song of the Winns by Frances Watts

mustaches.”
    Alice looked at him incredulously. “I’m a girl, Alex. Why would I wear a mustache?”
    â€œIt was just an idea,” Alex said defensively.
    â€œA stupid one,” Alice muttered. “Come on, we’re in here,” and she climbed the three steps into block 2.
    They walked up the corridor to the door marked 2B, and Alice knocked tentatively.
    â€œCome in,” a voice called.
    Alice pushed open the door to find an ordinary classroom, much like the ones at their school back in Smiggins. There was a whiteboard at the front of the room, and four rows of desks facing it. There was a bank of windows down one side of the room, and the other side had windows looking onto the corridor. The back wall was covered in hand-drawn posters of cheeses of the different regions of Shetlock. (Alex, Alice noticed, was looking at these appreciatively.) A soft thwack drew her attention to the white mouse in a blue bow tie sitting at the teacher’s desk next to the whiteboard, lightly tapping the desk with a long wooden ruler. She hadn’t seen him at first, as he was almost dwarfed by two piles of folders stacked as high as his ears.
    â€œGood afternoon,” he said briskly. “You must be Razand Rita. I’m Solomon Honker—but you may call me ‘sir.’” He stood up and Alice saw that although his top half was white, from the waist down he was a rusty orange. “Thank you for being so punctual. We have a lot of ground to cover and only a short time in which to cover it, so we’ll need to begin immediately. I’m still finalizing the details of your transport into Gerander, but you will need to be ready to depart as soon as that’s arranged.”
    â€œSorry,” Alex said, “I think there’s been some mistake. My name’s Al—”
    Bang!
    Alice jumped, startled, as Solomon Honker rapped his desk sharply with the ruler. “In this room, you are Raz”—he pointed the ruler at Alex—“and you’re Rita,” he told Alice. “Understand?”
    The two young mice nodded mutely.
    â€œDo you understand?” Solomon Honker repeated more loudly.
    â€œYes, sir,” Alice squeaked.
    â€œGood.”
    Solomon Honker waved his ruler at two desks in the center of the front row, and Alice and Alex hurried over.
    â€œRaz?” Alex muttered in Alice’s ear as they took their seats. “Raz? What kind of ridiculous name is Raz?”
    â€œIt’s your name, young man,” said Solomon Honker, who obviously had exceptional hearing. “And you’d better get used to it.”
    â€œYes, sir,” Alex said quickly.
    â€œAs I was saying, there’s a lot to get through.” SolomonHonker tapped one towering pile of folders then the other. “You’ll need to understand the political situation in Souris, Gerander, and Shetlock in order to grasp the context in which you’ll be operating. You’ll have to learn all about your new identities and cover stories, as well as the culture and geography of Souris and, in particular, Tornley, the town you come from.”
    â€œWe come from Smiggins,” Alex corrected him.
    Bang! went the ruler.
    â€œYoung man,” said Solomon Honker sternly, “I don’t know how things are done in Shetlock, but in a Sourian classroom the pupils do—not—speak—without—first—raising—their—hand.” Solomon Honker smacked the desk with his ruler in time with the words.
    â€œBut this is a Shetlock classroom,” Alex objected.
    â€œWhat is your name?” Solomon Honker demanded.
    â€œAl—”
    Bang!
    â€œRaz,” Alex said.
    â€œAnd where are you from?”
    â€œT-Tornley,” Alex stammered. “In Souris.”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Solomon Honker. “You are from Souris. And this is a Sourian classroom. The day after tomorrow, you must travel behind enemy lines