The lesson Elliot already knew droned on. The trees shook fistfuls of leaves in the wind like impatient customers waving sheaves of crumpled bills, and the wind whooshed and rustled and carried no other sound. Until it did. Until Elliot heard, faint and far away, the sound of an elven horn. He’d imagined such sounds before, but he saw Myra’s head jerk up. She’d heard it too. Elliot’s desk and chair went crashing onto the floor, the desk before him and the chair behind. Mr Dustlaid was startled enough to shout. “Sit back down, Cadet Schafer!” Elliot considered this, said: “No,” and raced out
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