The Stolen Prince of Cloudburst

by Jaclyn Moriarty

  I won’t tell you the entire speech. I tried to make it entertaining, listing unexpected habits, allergies and sporting preferences of various Shadow Mages.

  Now and then Mrs Pollock made popping sounds with her lips, which was distracting, but most girls smiled or nodded along. I like to include personal stories, to make it interesting.

  For example: ‘Now, I live in a very safe neighbourhood—the mountain village of Blue Chalet—and when I’m not at home, I’m perfectly safe here at Katherine Valley. As you know, you have to do an interview to get into this school and you’d never pass that if you were a Shadow Mage.’

  (Everybody laughed softly.)

  ‘They wouldn’t interview you in the first place, actually,’ I added.

  (They smiled. That’s nice, but I prefer it when they laugh.)

  ‘The point is, in my entire life, I have almost never seen a Shadow Mage. I’ve only had two encounters.’

  (Everyone brightened, excited to hear my encounters.)

  ‘The first was when I was nine. I saw a Witch at one of Father’s university’s Family Open Days. She was sitting on a picnic blanket and eating a boiled egg.’

  Everyone’s eyes widened.

  ‘Then my father said, “No, that’s just Professor Karshoroff, she has unfortunate taste in fashion and is often mistaken for a Witch”.’

  The class laughed.

  ‘So maybe I shouldn’t call that an encounter,’ I admitted. ‘And the second …’

  Another pause.

  ‘Well, you all know this one …

  ‘Sterling Silver Foxes caused the wall of the new swimming pool to shatter, and then pretended to offer help. None of us realised that they were Sterling Silver Foxes.

  ‘None except for the brave Autumn Hillside!’

  (Everyone glanced at Autumn, and she looked shy, but I think, also pleased.)

  ‘What would have happened if Autumn had not recognised them in time?’

  I paused again, for suspense. Then I whispered: ‘They’d have stolen our laughter.’

  ‘Eh?’ said Mrs Pollock.

  That was a bit annoying of her. I was whispering loudly enough for the class to hear—it was for dramatic effect. Also, she knew perfectly well that Sterling Silver Foxes steal laughter. Everyone knows. But now people were giggling at Mrs Pollock instead of at my speech.

  I waited for them to calm down.

  ‘They are strange, the Sterling Silver Foxes,’ I continued. ‘Our laughter causes them agony, yet stealing it brings them power. Their Shadow Magic is energised by stolen laughter.

  ‘What would it mean for you if you had your laughter stolen?’

  I looked around at different faces, so people would feel like I was speaking to them personally. Some looked back at me very intensely, which was good.

  ‘First, your skin would turn a pale blue colour.

  ‘Second, you would get terrible headaches.

  ‘Third, your bones would ache, and you would be itchy.

  ‘Fourth, you would feel sad and tired most of the time.

  ‘Fifth, you would not be able to laugh ever again.’

  Once more, I looked around the room, meeting people’s eyes. Katya had turned to look out the window, so I chose somebody else’s eyes to meet.

  I lowered my voice for the next part.

  ‘And sixth,’ I said. ‘You might die.’

  Gasps.

  ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘if you get to a Faery treatment centre quickly enough, you’ll probably survive. But the treatment is painful, cannot return your laughter, and if you don’t get it in time …’

  The room was silent.

  Then Mrs Pollock popped her lips again, which broke the tension, and caused more giggles.

  ‘It is therefore very lucky,’ I said fervently, ‘that Autumn saved us from those Sterling Silver Foxes.’

  Everyone nodded vigorously.

  After that, I told a blood-curdling story about a Shadow Mage attack, and finished by lightening the mood with a story about an Elf who accidentally turned himself into a clothes peg.

  There were a couple of questions and then I said, ‘Thank you for listening,’ and everyone clapped loudly.

  Mrs Pollock said, ‘Thank you, Esther,’ and beckoned me over for a congratulatory high five.

  I sat back down.

  Dot Pecorino did her speech next, but I could not hear it.

  I think it was about cats. I do remember her making a little mew sound.

  Dot is shy. She trembled throughout the speech, ducking her head so that she was mostly speaking to her shoulder.

  ‘What?’ Mrs Pollock kept asking. ‘It’s like a teeny mouse talking!’

  Everyone giggled.

  ‘Is your shoulder more interested in your words than we are, Dot?’ Mrs Pollock wondered.

  Again, the class laughed.

  Dot straightened up.

  ‘Still can’t hear you!’ Mrs Pollock crowed. ‘Is it my old lady hearing? Should I stand closer?’ She sidled up beside Dot and placed her ear by Dot’s mouth.

  Dot stopped.

  ‘Nope.’ Mrs Pollock slid away. ‘No difference. Carry on, Dot. We’ll take wild guesses.’

  I looked around. Some girls smiled at me, and some mouthed, ‘Good speech.’ Durba gave me a thumbs-up.

  Katya was still staring out the window.

  Strange. She usually focuses on speeches, even ones you can’t hear. Even if only to scoff at whatever the person is saying.

  The part of my speech about Sterling Silver Foxes had gone well, I decided. Everyone had stared at me, wide-eyed.

  Everybody except Katya.

  I glanced over at her again. Still gazing towards the window.

  Maybe she wanted some fresh air?

  She did look quite pale, actually. You could see the veins on her face, purple lines against drastically white skin. Her skin is usually a soft brown colour but now it was so white it was almost—

  I felt as if a great clump of snow had fallen onto my head.

  Blue.

  So white it was almost blue.

  An image crept into my mind: Katya running around the swimming pool, towards the broken glass, towards the approaching Sterling Silver Foxes, wanting to help the little girls in her chess team.

  Ice-cold rivulets swarmed down my neck.

  So white it was almost blue. Now that I studied her, Katya’s skin did have the faintest blue tinge to it.

  First, your skin would turn a pale blue colour.

  But it must be the light! If her skin had turned blue, other people would have noticed!

  Second, you would get terrible headaches.

  Another memory: Katya pressing her fingertips to her forehead.

  Third, your bones would ache and you would itch.

  Katya in our dormitory saying: ‘I can’t sleep. My ankles and knees are hurting.’

  Katya at the dance class saying: ‘My eyes are itchy.’

  Fourth, you would feel sad and tired most of the time. Fifth, you would never laugh again.

  Katya gazing at the window.

  And sixth, you might die.

  Out the front of the room, Dot Pecorino had just finished her speech. ‘Does anyone have any questions?’ she murmured.

  ‘I do,’ I said, standing up.

  But I was not looking at Dot Pecorino.

  ‘Katya,’ I said. ‘Did the Sterling Silver Foxes steal your laughter?’

  Katya tipped forward, burying her face in her arms.

  Mrs Pollock whooped with laughter.

  That made me jump.

  ‘Theatrics in the classroom!’ she hooted.

  Katya’s head remained in her arms. Her shoulders shook.

  Mrs Pollock sighed. ‘Esther, you’d better take Katya to the nurse to see why she’s so upset. Can you two manage that or must we have more …’ Here, she leapt to her feet, jumped up and down, and shouted in a babyish voice, ‘“Katya! Are you a Sterling Silver Fox?’” And more of this?’ Mrs Pollock
wrapped her arms around the back of a chair and pretending to sob loudly.

  I had not jumped like that, my voice is not babyish, and I had not asked Katya if she was a Sterling Silver Fox. Plus, Katya had not sobbed aloud.

  Still. Everybody laughed.

  I wondered how I was going to take Katya to the nurse if she remained sitting with her head in her arms. But she slowly stood, and followed me out, shoulders hunched, head bowed.

  ‘Just go straight to the nurse’s office, since it’s nothing serious,’ Mrs Pollock called behind us. ‘Don’t worry about a pass.’

  Katya shuffled along. I touched her shoulder, and she glanced at me, trying to smile through her tears.

  It made me want to give her a hug, that little smile.

  In the corridor light, her face was still pale, but I could not see any blue. I’d probably imagined it! She was probably just sad: her laughter was still there, deep inside her, waiting for happiness to return.

  We climbed the stairs, one slow thud at a time.

  At the nurse’s office, I knocked and there was an irritated sound. ‘I’m eating!’ called the nurse’s muffled voice. ‘You’d better have a pass!’

  I opened the door, and put my head in. Nurse Sydelle was holding a sandwich. Bits of lettuce and cheese spilled from it. A half-slice of tomato was pasted to the side of her mouth.

  ‘Well, have you?’ she demanded. ‘Got a pass?’ The tomato began to slide towards her chin, and she caught it with her tongue and ate it. ‘I’ll be cross if you don’t. I’m cross even if you do, as I’ve told Ms Ubud I like to eat at this time of the day.’ She glared, the sandwich hovering.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘We haven’t got a—’

  ‘Right then! Out! Don’t let me see you here again until you have one! Good gracious, I mean to—’

  ‘But Mrs Pollock said not to worry about getting a pass,’ I explained. ‘She said to bring Katya right here.’

  ‘Oh she did, did she? Well, Mrs Pollock doesn’t make the rules. Very clear, the rules are. Students are to get a pass from the secretary before they knock on my door. How am I supposed to run this office if you all just dash in here at the drop of—’

  Katya pushed past me, into the room.

  ‘Nurse Sydelle,’ she said in a clear, strong voice. ‘The Sterling Silver Foxes stole my laughter.’

  Nurse Sydelle dropped her sandwich.

  It didn’t take Nurse Sydelle long to recover her cranky mood.

  For a moment, she stared at Katya, wide-eyed. Then she opened a drawer and rummaged around in it.

  ‘What makes you think your laughter’s been stolen?’ she grumbled, as she rummaged. ‘Feeling blue, are we? Esther, give Katya a tickle and see if you can’t get a giggle out of her. Probably nothing the matter with you.’

  She gave up on that drawer, slammed it closed, and opened the next one down.

  I glanced uncertainly at Katya, wondering if I was really supposed to tickle her, but Katya shook her head at me and stepped further into the office.

  ‘I just know,’ she said. ‘I’ve known for a while.’

  ‘Headaches?’ Nurse Sydelle asked—rummage, rummage, slam! Next drawer—rummage, rummage. ‘Itchiness? Blue facial mark—ah ha! Here it is!’

  She held up a silver cylinder, the length of a fountain pen but a little thicker.

  ‘Faery lamp,’ she told us, clicking a button on the end and shining a pale light onto Katya’s face.

  As soon as she did this, blue squiggles like bright little worms seemed to jump onto Katya’s face.

  All over her face. Just beneath the skin, crossing her nose, crowding her cheeks, lined up above her eyebrows, blue squiggles everywhere.

  Nurse Sydelle clicked the light off instantly. Her hand jumped away from Katya.

  ‘Blue markings,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll say there are. Right—’ And once again she was rummaging crankily. This time she opened the door of a cabinet and riffled around on each shelf. ‘You say you’ve known this for a while, Katya? Whyever would you not come and see me sooner then? You do know how serious this can be if untreated? When I say serious, I mean very, well, I mean … Here it is!’

  Her hand pounced onto a tiny glass bottle. ‘Drink this, Katya. All of it. It will make you feel dreadful, I’m afraid, but that’s the way with stolen-laughter treatment. Need help with the lid?’

  Katya shook her head, unscrewing the lid and holding it to her mouth. She paused.

  Nurse Sydelle snapped: ‘Drink it! Now! Or honestly, based on those facial markings, you’ll be dead by—’ She glanced at the clock on her office wall, ‘—dinner. I’ve only ever seen cases this advanced in textbooks. Drink!’

  Katya tipped the bottle back, and Nurse Sydelle turned to me. ‘She’ll need to go straight to bed,’ she said. ‘She’s going to feel really ill for a bit then she’ll fall into a deep sleep. Katya, when you wake up, you’ll be far from here. I’m running down to the office to make arrangements.’ Nurse Sydelle stood, gathering papers.

  ‘Arrangements?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, that’s an emergency dose she just took—won’t last long—she needs to get to a Faery treatment centre. The closest one that could deal with this is two Kingdoms away. I wonder if they can get an automobile to collect her, but—’

  Katya made a small screeching sound, and began scratching at her own chest with both hands.

  ‘Hurting already, is it?’ Nurse Sydelle, sounded a little kinder. ‘Yes, it’s horrible—the medicine goes to battle with the Shadow Magic, see. Is that why you didn’t tell us sooner? Were you afraid of the treatment?’

  A pause, then Katya whispered, ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Go on, then.’ Nurse Sydelle clapped her hands at me. ‘Put her to bed! I’ll be back!’

  She ducked around behind us and ran from her office. Her footsteps pattered quickly along the corridor and down the stairs.

  Katya was gazing at the office doorway.

  ‘Can you walk?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Katya murmured, and then she stumbled forward, clutching her stomach. ‘No,’ she whimpered. ‘No, I can’t. Please. Help me.’

  We staggered to our dormitory.

  Katya was like a blanket that has gotten drenched and muddy in a thunderstorm, making it limp and heavy. She kept slipping from my arms towards the floor. I let her slump onto her bed, and reached under her pillow for her pyjamas.

  She was shivering violently now.

  Next I had to help her out of school uniform and into her pyjamas.

  ‘Let’s begin with your shoes,’ I decided. I tried using the voice my father uses when one of us is ill. ‘Oh darling,’ I said. ‘It’s all right, it’s going to be all right.’

  It wasn’t though. Even if she lived, she’d never laugh again.

  I spoke quickly over that thought. ‘The nurse said you’d fall asleep soon, and that will stop the hurting. I can see why you didn’t go to her sooner—the treatment does seem awful, darling.’

  I pulled off one of her lace-up shoes. Actually, I could not see why she hadn’t told somebody sooner. It’s true that the treatment was making her miserable now but surely dying would be miserable-er?

  Strange, too, because Katya had always been a brave, bold sort. Look at how she’d run around to try to help her little chess-team girls. I pulled off her second shoe and checked her face—she was biting her lip so hard it was bleeding. Trying not to cry out loud. See? Brave.

  ‘If only Matron had been here,’ I said.

  I peeled off one of Katya’s socks.

  ‘As she’s got Faery in her, I bet she would have noticed sooner,’ I continued, peeling off the second sock. ‘I feel terrible because I noticed you were sad, but I didn’t even think of—well, anyway, now, darling, let’s get this uniform—’

  Wait.

  Had I seen that?

  I looked back down.

  Katya’s bare feet. Her toenails—

  ‘Katya,’ I murmured.

  Her toenails were
blue.

  Katya had wound her arms around her stomach and was rocking back and forth on the bed. I could still see her toenails. Still blue.

  Stolen laughter causes blue markings on your face.

  Did it also cause blue markings on toenails?

  I hadn’t read that anywhere.

  ‘Katya,’ I said again. ‘Darling, your toenails—’ As I looked, the toenails faded back to their regular colour.

  Katya had stilled. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed at this point, still clutching her stomach. But there was a strange, sudden stillness to her.

  I looked at her face, and she looked back steadily.

  I knew what it meant to have blue toenails.

  I’ve spent enough time staring at my own toenails, checking, longing—

  ‘Katya,’ I whispered, checking the open doorway, making sure nobody was about. ‘Katya, are you a Spellbinder?’

  Katya carried on looking at me steadily.

  ‘Are you the Spellbinder?’ I asked, in wonder. ‘The one who …’

  Slowly, she tucked her bare feet under the covers, out of sight.

  ‘You are,’ I said, suddenly certain. I thought fast as I continued helping her to change. ‘You’re the one who’s put a Spellbinding around our school.’ I checked over my shoulder again. ‘And you’ve been reinforcing it.’

  ‘How do you know about that?’ Katya murmured. Between us, we managed to get her into her pyjamas. She slid under the covers. ‘Esther,’ she said, looking up from her pillow. ‘Nobody’s meant to know. How …?’

  ‘Oh.’ I waved my hand dismissively.

  She smiled. ‘Eavesdropping …’ Then her smile twisted into a terrible grimace. ‘It really hurts,’ she admitted, breathlessly.

  ‘Poor darling.’ I stroked her hair. It was too bumpy to stroke. The little coiled buns she’d been wearing since Mrs Pollock came to class in a pink wig. How uncomfortable they must be! I pulled out the pins and untangled the buns so that Katya’s curls sprang out again. I stroked the curls instead. This seemed to calm her a little.

  ‘And that’s why you ran around the pool that day,’ I realised. ‘Not just to help your chess team. You were meaning to Spellbind the Sterling Silver Foxes!’