"Fifty rows," said Selina. Her voice was flat. "Forty and a bit in each. Call it two thousand."
"The Academy isn't two thousand."
"No."
He made his eyes do the thing they did. The meadow jumped closer.
There were Academy uniforms, a big block of them, nearest the water. He saw a bun of chestnut hair that could only be Professor Chiborn. He saw Carlos from the cafeteria, as wide as a door. He saw August Hopper, the boy with the pocket. He saw a head that he could have found without the zoom, because Dixon Dorpal's head was hard to miss.
Then the uniforms stopped, and the rest began.
There was a man with flour up to his elbows. There was an old woman in a nightdress, and a row of farmhands, still in their boots. There was a girl of about six in pyjamas with ducks on them, sitting up as straight as a soldier.
"Those are mine," Selina said. "West farms. Millbrook. The whole of Tanner's Row, by the look. They took them out of their beds on the way past."
