CHAPTER 3.1

THE CLOCK WAS TICKING.

   Jack and his quartermaster had thirty minutes to identify a stolen artifact, track t down within the arena maze, and steal it back again, out from under the Wardens' big noses. This was the second round of the hunt-the pinnacle of the Trackers Games. It all came back from the ministry regulations, volume one, section six, rule nineteen. Competition breeds excellence.

   Four groups comprised the agents of the ministry. Trackers like jack were the firstborn sons of the four founding lines,the only agents to manifest the unique, hereditary tracker Sherlocks, well trained in a host of skills and knowledge that came in handy in the field. Wardens guarded the artifacts, ad sometimes the people, that the Trackers and quartermasters recovered on behalf of the crown. And clerks pushed paper, managed offices, and generally kept the entire house of cards from falling. All of them, from the lowest apprentice clerk all the way up to the Ministry of Trackers, whose identity remained a closely guarded secret, came together each December for the Trackers Games.

   This year's game were Jack's first.

    There had been other events like warden wrestling, cane fencing, and the apprentice clerk deduction challenge, but the hunt was the centerpiece-three rounds of that Gwen liked to call one sided game of catue the flag. Tradition-ally a tracker/quartermaster pair went up against a team of four wardens. The wardens stole an artifact and hid it somewhere within the multilevel labyrinth, and the tracker and his quartermaster had to get it back. Three rounds on three succesive nights, best two out of three, and the Tracker Cup was the prize.

   The wardens had claimed it every year for the last decade.

   Thanks to Section Thirteen, no tracker had set foot in the arena for ten years, leaving the quartermasters to fend for them selves. The infamous regulation protected the ministry from the phenomenon of bad luck and the damage it might do when combined with the considerable abilities of a full-fledged tracker. Each of the four members of the thirteenth genertion-jacks generation-had been exiled to the corners of the earth. At that time, the twelves came back to the keep for the occational mission, but mostly they lived the fourteens,to teach them the sills they had not been permitted to teach their own sons.

   But jack had thrown a wrench into the whole plan. He had stumbled-or rather he had been shoved-back into ministry affairs.

   early a year before,a french psychopath calling himself a clockmaker had kidnapped Jack's father and treatend to burn London to the ground, forcing jack to uncover his hidden past. After jack had stopped the madman, the ministry of trackers had grudgingly opted the to train him. He knew too much. His abilities had manifested early. Jack was dangerous, and sending him out into the wild unchecked was simply not an option. Now, against what many-icluding jack-cosidered better judgement,someone had opted to throw him into the hunt as well.''Where've you been?'' Ashley Pendleton pushed off from a stoe facade not far from the mahogany door, leaning on a wolf's-head cane as he stepped down to the cobble-stones. There was nothing wrong with his legs. Canes were a sign of accomplishment among trackers and quartermasters, and at seventeen ash was the eldest and most accomplished of a journeyman quartermasters.he gave jack a conspirator's wink. ''I was begining to think the old had changed her mind.''

  ''She can hear us, you know,'' said jack, glancing up at the drones.

   Ash scrunched his nose. ''She does't mind.''

   ''Maybe for you.''

    If jack was the embarrassing son of the ministry of trackers kept hidden in the dark, Ash was their poster child-tall and dashing, with a flawless black coplexio and a wining smile. Girls swooned when he passed. Boys fell into step behind him. Only ash with his undeniable charm could get away with referring to Mrs. Hudson-the ultimate clerk,the matron of the ministry-as the old girl. And only ash could have convinced her to allow jack to compete beside him.

   The quartermaster wrapped an arm around Jack's shoulders and hurried him along the curving lane. ''Don't look so worried. No one's ever been killed In the hunt.'' he grinned, tipping up his newsboy cap with the tip of his cane. ''severely wounded, sure, but ever killed. we've taken the first round, jack. Trackers and quartermasterss, together again. One more quick win and the cup will finally return to its proper place.''

   ''Right.Quick.'' jack let out a nervous chuckle. They had won the previous round, when the area maze had been a wharf district straight out of duckens, but there had been next to useless. He didn't see this round going any better.

   They passed beneath a wrought-iron arch into a small cemetery, the starting point for the nights maze. Something there would be missing-something unexpected.Ash paused at the edge of the gravestones and stooped down to Jack's height. ''listen, I know you're nervous. Years ago, there would have been four trackers to choose from, and the oldest or the best would have represented our team in the hunt. But right now, you're all we've got.''

   ''you call that a pep talk?"

'''you didn't let me finish. I don't care that you're young,

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