The Exiled Gem

Mabel in a Mouse-trap

With such statements, half the spy-population was bound to run away out of fear. Why did they have to specify "things worse than death". And "tortures worse than the physical one". What could they do to prepare for them. How could they prepare for things worse than death?

Francis Albartan was one of our best spies, but he feared death and torture. He did hundreds of good, brave and noble deeds. But one day, he opened his mouth to the enemy. Till this date, he is remembered a coward and traitor, no matter how much good he did. You too remember this, Third Years, all your good deeds will be washed off if you are not loyal. Loyalty is the jewel of a Soldier.

Just two minutes ago, they were going on about "spies are not soldiers". Talk of mood swings. But Alexandra had to agree upon this one. A single bad deed was the one which a person was  remembered for. No matter how much good they could have done. Like she, would perhaps be remembered as "Alexandra, the princess who killed a prince".

Then again, she had done no particularly "good" things that could be remembered, either.

I hate how you all think being a spy is difficult. It is not. We are all spies in our own lives. We spy on our fears, afraid of approaching or facing them. We live running away from out weaknesses. We always are curious. In the end, if we are lucky, we are able to put the pieces together and understand the mystery of life. That's all you have to do. Spy. Run. Search. Put the pieces together. And yes, luck is important. But it is a folly to depend upon luck. A folly to count upon it.

Who could know this better than Alexandra? Luck was dicey as a volcano. One moment, dormant and calm. The next - BOOM!

Hard work is important. Knowledge is important. Yes, a lot. But attitude? It is the most important of them all. Attitude is not a negative trait. A healthy, good attitude is the finest gem one can posses. If you posses the perfect attitude, nothing, nobody can bring you down.

All these words swirled in Alexandra's head, making her feel, for the first time in the past nineteen years, that she was doing something important. Something she was born for, something that made her count. Days and nights merged into each other, more and more training, more and more learning. Alexandra wondered how all of this could be useful. And if they were, she found it impossible to imagine the circumstances she would have to be in, to be able to use these.

And the worst part was that she found the boys' friendliness even more intimidating than all their bullying. She tried harder to avoid them, staying in libraries till eight, skipping lunch or breakfast. Whatever, if only she didn't have to face a friendly, good Watson smiling down upon her. 

The classes, on the other hand were so important that arriving late for even one meant detention. And no easy, simple jobs were meted out. It was all difficult and knee-wrenching work. Like when Owen had overslept, he had had to clean the whole, colossal lake (secretly though, the other boys had helped him with it). And when Watson had lit a fire under a fifth-year's chair, as the senior had been snoring away to glory when he should have been teaching them, Watson had had to clean mouse traps.

Mouse traps. 

The Council, that summer, had become infested with mice. The staff considered them ugly, stinky, useless pests and had put up mouse traps almost everywhere to entrap them. It was a thin wooden board with an all-sided jagged blade hanging above, as soon as any pressure was put on the wooden board, the blade snapped shut, entrapping the mouse inside, fenced off by sharp blade on all sides. Alexandra thought it was a bit cruel, because in case a mouse started escaping as soon as it had stepped on board, the blade would still snap shut, severing the poor creature into two.