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grabbed the handle of the heavy mahogany door with both hands and pulled, then entered the teaching theater.
    Class was not in session, but she saw Glade’s notations on the digital boards spread across the front of the room, and him sitting at a desk in the center. As usual he was engrossed in maps and manuscripts spread across the large surface in front of him. She stopped. Her shoulders tightened.
    Bodhi sat across from Glade at another table off to the right. He must have heard the door closing behind her and looked up. He lowered the data cube from his vision. A smile crossed his face, then disappeared as she moved closer.
    Selah sauntered down the long length of stairs, staring back at Bodhi as she descended to the front of the funnel-shaped room. He seemed a little thinner, or was it her imagination? She’d seen him a half hour ago, but his gauntness hadn’t made an impression. His blond hair was forever in need of a major trim, his mark showing between the loose curls blocking part of his face. His eyes were still clear multi-hues of blue . . . but his cheeks had started to contract. She wanted to walk to him, but she stopped at her father’s desk.
    â€œGlade, I haven’t seen you in a few days. Have you been holed up here the whole time?”
    No answer. The documents possessed his full concentration.
    She knocked on the table surface.
    He flinched, and a shock of dark hair slid from behind his right ear and obscured his face. He pushed the hair back inplace and looked up. For being at least 150, Glade looked no older than forty. With his olive complexion and green eyes, he was a stunning example of a middle-aged man, but he had no interest in a social life—to the distress of a certain local woman who had tried to invite Selah and him to dinner.
    â€œOh, it’s about time you got here. I thought I told Bodhi to tell you to hurry.” He turned back to the map.
    Selah jerked her head in Bodhi’s direction and scowled. “He didn’t—”
    â€œI didn’t have a chance to tell her—”
    â€œBefore he had to leave!” Selah pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at Bodhi.
    Glade looked up again. “Bodhi, I would like to talk to my daughter alone. Meanwhile, check on our travel arrangements, please.”
    Bodhi rose from the table and ambled close as he moved toward the door at the other end of the digital boards. He looked down at her as he passed. She felt his breath on her face . . . and then he was gone. Her breath caught.
    She looked back at Glade, who was again absorbed in studying a map. She slid onto the stool beside his desk and sneaked a glance at the old maps and charts in front of him, wrinkling her nose at their musty smell. She decided to play along. “What did you want me for? Why didn’t you just mind-jump with me?”
    Glade pressed his index finger to the yellowed map and looked up. “Please don’t connect with me through thoughts. It unnerves me to feel someone probing my mind after so many years of having the ability suppressed while I was inthe Mountain. But I needed to tell you that Bodhi is going with me on this trip, and so is Taraji as our navigator. So you won’t have training sessions for a few days.”
    Selah straightened and lifted her chin. “I’ve passed my training and moved on to the next phase of individual sets, so I don’t have a defined schedule. I’m self-directed.” Selah waved a finger. “Why are you taking Bodhi? And don’t think you got away with sneaking in a trip announcement that way. Where are you going?”
    â€œBodhi has decided he has no other destination, and all men need jobs to live. He understands it’s in his best interest to help me in helping you. I have maintained 150 years of funds that are more than sufficient to pay his worth,” Glade said.
    Selah’s heart pounded against her ribs. She worked hard at containing