The Stolen Prince of Cloudburst

by Jaclyn Moriarty

  How long should I wait?

  Mrs Pollock could have strolled across to the low stone wall. She might be leaning there now, gazing down at the banks of the lake.

  Gazing at this very upturned boat. Admiring its pretty apricot colour.

  Imagine if the boat she was admiring suddenly tipped up and a girl crawled out!

  Esther Mettlestone-Staranise, to be exact.

  I would have to stay here.

  Until it was dark?

  What if Mrs Pollock liked the moonlight? She might. What if she was going to lean against the wall up there, gazing down at the upturned boat all night!

  Already I was feeling strange and cramped, and a sharp stone was pressing into my knee.

  Mrs Pollock would not stand up there all night. It made no sense.

  I decided to wait a little longer and then take a chance and—

  Footsteps down the stone steps.

  It was Mrs Pollock!

  She knew I was here!

  Crunch-crunch, crunch-crunch went the footsteps on the grass.

  A pause.

  Somebody was standing right by my boat. I tried to slow my breathing, and quieten it.

  Then another set of footsteps approached, a bit quicker and heavier this time—crunchcrunch, crunchcrunch.

  ‘All right?’ said a voice.

  Not Mrs Pollock’s, but another woman’s voice. Low and gentle. Familiar.

  ‘Yes, I’m all right,’ agreed a man’s voice, gruff. ‘What’s this about?’

  A sort of shuffling quiet.

  ‘It’s fine,’ the man said, a bit impatiently. ‘Nobody can hear us.’

  Hmm, I thought.

  ‘The girl at the school up the road—Katherine Valley Boarding School—she’s sent the bell message.’

  I recognised that voice! It was the tall, thin waitress with the apple pendant!

  ‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ complained the man. ‘That means she’s had to leave, doesn’t it? So they’ve got no protection there now?’

  There was no answer, but perhaps the woman nodded.

  ‘I knew it was a mistake trusting children with this,’ the man grumbled. ‘The child probably wanted to go to the seaside with her family.’

  I had to press my nails into my palms to stop myself screaming: ‘NOT FAIR! KATYA DIDN’T GO TO THE SEASIDE! SHE ALMOST DIED TRYING TO STAY AT THE SCHOOL PROTECTING US!’

  ‘We had to use a child,’ the woman’s voice said calmly. ‘Nobody else available. It’s the new policy. The girl asks for a new bell. Means she wants us to send somebody else up there to replace her.’

  ‘Oh, she does, does she? Twelve year olds telling us our business.’ An irritated snuffling. ‘Hang about, haven’t they got a whole conference of Spellbinders coming to the grounds of that school soon?’

  The woman tched. ‘That’s not for another month!’

  ‘Well, a month isn’t so bad,’ the man’s voice decided. ‘There haven’t been any reports of Shadow Mages close to the school, have there?’

  ‘No,’ the woman replied.

  ‘So, we leave them to it for now.’

  ‘But the school was attacked,’ the woman’s voice objected. ‘The Sterling Silver Foxes, remember?’

  ‘They were here in town then,’ the man replied in a shrugging sort of voice. ‘At the swimming pool.’

  Another pause. A rustling of paper. A slurping, sucking.

  ‘I’ll have one of those, too,’ the woman’s voice said.

  More rustling. More slurping, sucking. I think they were eating some kind of boiled sweet. Moments passed.

  ‘Do you really think it’s safe leaving the school unprotected?’ the woman asked eventually, her voice a bit garbled by sweet-sucking.

  ‘No,’ replied the man, ‘but it’s a risk we have to take.’ He slurped. ‘Nobody available.’

  A sigh from the woman.

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said. ‘Let’s hope they make it. Anyway, I’d best get back to the café. Oh, go on, you’ve forced me, I’ll take another sweet.’

  ‘I wasn’t offering!’

  Chuckles. Rustling paper.

  Slurp, slurp.

  Crunch-crunch, tramp-tramp, crunchcrunch.

  The footsteps faded up the stairs and away.

  I waited.

  Waited.

  Waited.

  Then I lifted the boat and crawled out.

  Mrs Pollock was nowhere to be seen but Mrs Pollock had vanished from my mind.

  They were not going to send another Spellbinder.

  I had not saved the school at all.

  I tipped sideways and caught myself on the boat.

  Let’s hope they make it, the woman had said.

  I can’t remember getting back to the school.

  Well, actually, I can remember, I just thought that would be a dramatic line.

  Nothing happened worth describing anyway. Nobody at the front of the school. I clambered over the gate, dropped to my stomach again, and crawled along at high speed. Slipped into a side door, tidied my hair, and walked along the corridor.

  I had made it. And it had all been for nothing.

  I’d have to change my uniform now, of course—I pelted up the stairs, and almost bumped straight into Mrs Pollock coming down. She had a windswept, tousled look about her and pinkish cheeks, so she must have only just got back from town herself.

  ‘Hello, Esther,’ she smiled.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Pollock.’

  I carried on up the stairs. She carried on down.

  But on the bottom step, she turned back. ‘Esther?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Pollock?’

  My heart: thud-thud-thud.

  ‘What have you done to your uniform?’

  I looked down at it, breathing out in relief. Streaks of mud and grass, torn and crumpled. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I was playing in the gardens, and I fell. I’m going upstairs now—to change.’

  She nodded slowly, then a grin lit up her face. ‘It’s like a piece of art, your uniform! All those greens and browns!’

  ‘It is!’ I agreed, and we both laughed loudly.

  Then Mrs Pollock carried on, and so did I.

  I had a bath, dressed in my other uniform, placed the ruined one in the laundry hamper, and went to the small recreation room. I felt calmer now—baths always soothe me and, after all the suspense, laughing with Mrs Pollock on the stairs had been strangely beautiful.

  In the recreation room, a small crowd of girls was gathered around the Rattlestone twins.

  ‘Oh, she’s beautiful!’ Zoe Fawnwell was crowing. ‘You’re so lucky to have her as a cousin. I mean, you can see how royal she is, it shines out of her ears. And that cauliflower! What a cutie. I love how she’s put a bow on its head.’

  It was a magazine. Stars and Their Pets. The twins were turning pages slowly, pointing out photos of a young woman with a cauliflower cuddled in her arms.

  Autumn, who was sitting alongside the twins, was nodding politely, but a teeny dimple kept jumping into her cheek. I could tell she was working hard to hide it.

  ‘Did you have cauliflowers in the Whispering Kingdom, Autumn?’ Tatty asked her suddenly, using a loving sort of voice.

  ‘Yes,’ Autumn replied.

  ‘Did you have pets in the Whispering Kingdom?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you have—’

  ‘How did you get that magazine?’ I interrupted. ‘Did you get a Leave Pass after all?’ I hadn’t seen the twins in town.

  Hetty and Tatty shook their heads, looking up from the glossy pages. ‘Mrs Pollock got it! She just came up here to give it to us! She went into town especially for us! She is the nicest teacher we ever had!’

  ‘She is!’ all the Grade 6 girls agreed. ‘And so funny!’

  I nodded. Mrs Pollock was thoughtful, to buy the magazine for the twins.

  If she hadn’t done it, of course, I would not have seen her in town, and I would not have run down by the lake and hidden beneath the boa
t, and I would never have overheard that conversation.

  Right now, I would happily believe I had saved the school.

  That was annoying of Mrs Pollock, although not really her fault. She couldn’t have known the unexpected consequences of her jaunt.

  Mrs Pollock was thoughtful and funny. We were always laughing in class. She and I had just laughed on the staircase. Another teacher would have scolded me for the state of my uniform, but she had said it was a piece of art!

  I took a deep breath and decided to be cheerful, like Mrs Pollock.

  I’d done what Katya had asked. I’d delivered the message.

  If I hadn’t heard that conversation, I wouldn’t know the message hadn’t worked.

  I would pretend I hadn’t heard.

  On the way to dinner that night, I glanced into the mailroom, towards my own pigeonhole, as usual, and turned away, as usual—never anything there—

  And then I stopped.

  A glow of white.

  An envelope.

  There was an envelope in my mailbox!

  I ducked into the room, tried to slow myself down, partly so that I would not seem overexcited, and partly so I wouldn’t slam into all the other girls who were moving towards their own mailboxes—and reached it.

  Yes, a white envelope.

  Georgia or Hsiang had finally replied to me!

  Or maybe Father was able to contact us again!

  Could it even be Mother? She rarely sent us things at boarding school, but you never knew!

  I pulled out the envelope.

  ESTHER, it said on the front.

  Oh.

  Not addressed to Katherine Valley Boarding School.

  No stamp.

  It was from somebody in the school.

  I opened the envelope, and took out a piece of paper. Here is what it said:

  Esther,

  I was very disappointed to see the state of your uniform today. You need to learn to respect your property. DEMERIT.

  Please note that this is your second demerit. If you get a third, it will mean a Friday night detention.

  Mrs Pollock

  That night, I had the dream five times.

  Lying on a blanket, it starts to rain.

  Wake up with a thundering heart.

  Sit up in bed.

  Look around wildly. Calm myself. Go back to sleep.

  Lying on a blanket, it starts to rain.

  Wake up feeling that my chest had been trampled.

  Sit up in bed.

  And so on.

  New rule, I thought after the fifth time. No more sleep.

  I walked down the corridor to the window overlooking the back gardens.

  Down at the Old Schoolhouse, lights flitted behind the windows, as usual.

  I was worn out by my confusion.

  I did not understand the dream, or why it kept recurring.

  I did not understand why Mrs Pollock kept giving me C minuses and threatening me with detentions. She was lovely, kind and wise, so she must have a good reason, but what was it? Could she see something cracked and broken inside me?

  And finally, most importantly, I did not understand about the Shadow Mages.

  On the one hand, the authorities had sent an undercover Spellbinder to protect us, Sterling Silver Foxes had attacked us at the swimming pool, and Katya had seemed very worried about abandoning us. Let’s hope they make it, the waitress had said. All that made the situation seem very serious.

  On the other hand, everybody, including Principal Hortense, believed that Shadow Mages would not come around the mountains, and that if there were any, it was only a few, a sprinkling, a handful. Let’s hope they make it, the waitress had said, but she and her friend had been eating sweets, relaxed and happy.

  Surely there was no danger, was there?

  My mind turned circles, faster and faster, until it whirled me into a dreamless sleep.

  I woke in the corridor, blinked a moment, and leapt to my feet.

  I threw on my clothes and ran to the library. It was very early on a Saturday morning, but Carlos was there, twirling in his seat, looking at the ceiling—he does that when he’s contemplating life. Clean-shaven today, which made him look boyish.

  ‘Carlos,’ I said. ‘Do you have newspapers in the library?’

  ‘Right over there.’ He twirled away from me and pointed over his shoulder at the stack by the library door.

  ‘Those are just the Katherine Valley Times,’ I said. ‘Do you have others? From the other valleys and mountain villages around us?’

  Carlos spun once more. ‘Am I the greatest librarian in all the Kingdoms and Empires?’ he demanded.

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘So of course I keep newspapers from the surrounding areas.’ Spin, spin. He must have been getting dizzy. But his face was serene each time it spun by me. ‘The lower drawers over in D-row. Most recent at the front. Help yourself.’

  I pulled out all the copies of the Nicholas Valley News, the Darling Mountain Sideshow, the Chrysanthemum Village Herald, and the Big Valley Daily from the last year, rustled them over to my table and began turning pages.

  My hands were soon smudged black from the ink.

  As I turned the pages, I took notes in an exercise book.

  Half an hour later, I stopped.

  I looked at my notes.

  Feb 3 – Darling Mtn – attack by Radish Gnomes at roadside fruit & veg store – three people injured

  Feb 17 – Chrys. Village – sighting of Witch coven, midnight, by town lake

  Feb 28 – Nicholas Valley – reports of Siren calls during school lunch hour three days in a row; children forced to eat indoors (very restless)

  And that was just February.

  My list went on for page after page.

  All over the mountains, Shadow Mages were either attacking or lurking. Every article claimed that this was ‘rare’ or ‘freakish’ or ‘most unusual’.

  But it was none of those things. Not anymore.

  It was not just a handful. Not a one-off.

  There were Shadow Mages all around the mountains.

  And our school was not protected …

  I was the only one who knew this, and I could not pretend I didn’t know.

  I had promised Katya I wouldn’t tell anybody, but this was too important.

  I ran down the steps to breakfast, skidding to a stop at the dining hall door. I decided I would wave wildly at Imogen and Astrid until they saw, then beckon them out into the corridor.

  My sisters always know what to do.

  But Imogen was not at her table.

  Of course not. She and Pelagia had left early that morning for the swimming tournament. Mr Dar-Healey’s class was going to be taught by Principal Hortense while they were away.

  I searched the Grade 4 table for Astrid instead—and couldn’t see her either.

  Well, of course not. She’d gone away early that morning with the mayor and his team.

  Slowly, I walked into the dining room. Slowly, I buttered my toast.

  Right.

  Here was the problem.

  Shadow Mages could attack our school at any moment.

  Principal Hortense believed that a student in Grade 6 was protecting us with a Spellbinding, and that there weren’t many Shadow Mages around anyway.

  Neither thing was true.

  It always bothers me in books when a character has a problem, or a secret, and they don’t tell anybody.

  Sometimes I actually shout at the book: Just TELL somebody! Who CARES that you promised? This is MORE IMPORTANT!

  You might be doing the same thing to me right now.

  All right, fine.

  Who do you think I should tell?

  The Principal, obviously! (you are bellowing—or maybe you’re sighing out the words.) Or a different teacher! Mustafa, the gardener!

  Anybody.

  Okay, now imagine the conversation with Principal Hortense.

  ‘Hello, just letting you know that t
here is no longer a Spellbinder protecting our school.’

  ‘How do you know this, Esther?’ Principal Hortense would enquire. (Eventually. I mean, first she would blather or sing, cry or water a plant and ask me to repeat myself seventeen times.)

  ‘I just know.’

  ‘And why is our Spellbinder no longer protecting our school?’

  ‘She isn’t here anymore.’

  Tick, tock, tick, tock.

  That is the sound of a clock ticking while Principal Hortense thinks for a minute.

  ‘But the only Grade 6 girl who has left the school is Katya!’ Principal Hortense realises. ‘So Katya is the Spellbinder?! How marvellous! I’d never have guessed!’

  The fact is, I couldn’t tell anybody the problem without giving away Katya’s identity.

  Everybody knows that you don’t give away Spellbinders’ identities. Mrs Pollock had reminded me of that when I wrote my introduction letter to her.

  She’d been right to scold me. I knew that now. I’d been trying to impress her, as I wanted her to like me.

  But you just don’t do it.

  Never.

  Not to anybody.

  The more people who know, the greater the danger of Shadow Mages discovering the truth. When the Spellbinder was sleeping, or sick, or weak in any way—as Katya was now—the Shadow Mages would attack them. Or they would capture a member of the Spellbinder’s family and hold them to ransom.

  Even Katya’s brother, Stefan, didn’t know Katya’s secret! How could I tell PrincipalHortense? She’d probably accidentally tell Imogen’s class as soon as she walked in today!

  If I told another student, they’d only tell a teacher, and if I told a teacher, they’d have to tell Principal Hortense.

  So, you see?

  There was nobody to tell.

  I hope you understand and have stopped shouting at me.

  There was only one solution.

  For the next four weeks, I would protect the school myself.

  For the rest of that Saturday, I read through the notes I’d taken when I did my speech on Shadow Mages. I returned to the library and read more. I wrote lists and lists of ideas in notebooks.

  On Sunday, I stole a hessian sack from the storage room and filled it with supplies. Some I took from the kitchen, some from the gardening shed, some from the stationery cupboard, the greenhouse, the music room, and so on. I nearly got caught about seven times.