Fantastic Schools: Volume 2

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Fantastic Schools: Volume 2 Page 6

by Nuttall, Christopher G.


  “But…”

  Agatha glanced to the left of the entrance at a brightly-colored playground area, something that would have looked at home at her grandson’s elementary school back in the human world. “Well, I’ll be…”

  They arrived at the doorway, vines haphazardly climbing the walls, overhanging the entrance, and merging with tree branches, both outside and within. Somehow, she was still surprised that the trees were so much taller than she remembered.

  “So you finally arrived, Miss Marchant, with your small charge, and late as usual.”

  From around the oaken door on the right, a man not much taller than Agatha appeared. Like the grandmother, he was clad entirely in black, but the tunic and trousers were stretched over a portly frame and only the jacket seemed too large, hanging on him like a cloak. Both the hair on his head and his large beard were white as woolen snow and wholly chaotic. Only the sea green eyes in his pale, wizened face carried any sense of youth.

  “You’ve gotten fat,” Agatha said in mock disdain.

  “And you are lovelier than ever, Miss Marchant.” Titus Applegate reached down to take Agatha’s hand, bending in a prelude to kissing it when she whisked her fingers away.

  “That’s Mrs. Pye now, Titus.”

  “And it’s still Grand Master Applegate to you, Mrs. Pye.” He emphasized her married appellation, mirroring her feigned annoyance.

  “Grandma.” Emily clearly communicated her embarrassment and impatience.

  “Oh, forgive me, child. This is the Head of the Tabbinshire School, Grand Master Applegate. He was the Grand Master here even when I was your age.”

  “Hi. You’re really old.”

  “Emily!” This time Agatha’s outburst was real.

  “It’s quite alright.” Then still bending slightly, he turned to the girl. “I am as old as you are young, almost as old as this ancient keep.”

  “Are you my teacher?” Her toddler’s incredulousness remained unbridled.

  Agatha opened her mouth again, but Titus interrupted. “Here comes your teacher now.”

  The trio focused on an opening at the other end of the roofless entry, their surroundings a study in granite draped by greenery.

  The woman approaching was as tall as the Grand Master, which made her tall for a woman as he was short for a man. Her hair was down to her shoulders, almost as long as Agatha’s but not quite as dark, and definitely curlier. Her slacks were a maroon so dark it was almost black, but her blouse was a brighter white than Applegate’s disordered locks. While the Grandmother tended toward the tastefully voluptuous, the teacher reminded Agatha of a ballerina, both in form and grace.

  “Mrs. Pye, Miss, uh…Watson is it? It is my pleasure to introduce you to our Head Teacher at the preschool, Miss Caressa Siegel.”

  “Mrs. Pye, a pleasure.” The young woman extended a strong feminine hand, and Agatha took it, not sure why she was experiencing discomfort.

  “Grand Master Applegate has told me so much about you.”

  “All lies, I trust.” She winked at Titus, intending to tease him but realizing that she didn’t feel at all playful.

  “All complementary, I assure you.” Miss Siegel leaned over toward the child. “You must be Emily. I’m your new teacher, Miss Siegel, and I’m sure we’re going to get along splendidly.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Em took the teacher’s hand and gave it a shake, trying to remember the manners Grandma said she was supposed to have.

  “Come along, Emily.” She kept the girl’s hand lightly clasped in hers. “The other children are already here, and we’re ready to get started.” Then she stood and looked up at Applegate. “With your permission of course, Sir.”

  “Granted,” he smiled patronizingly. Then at Emily, “Have fun, child.”

  Emily looked back as she took her first few steps with Miss Siegel, then she broke away in a dash, lunging at Agatha and tightly embracing her. “I love you, Grandma. Thank you for taking care of me.”

  “I love you, Emily. I always have, and I always will. Now go on with your teacher and meet the other children.”

  “And be good, I know.”

  “And have fun, too.” Agatha put her fingertip on the end of Emily’s nose and wiggled it.

  Giggling again, she ran back to the waiting teacher. “I will, Grandma. See you after school.”

  “See you, my love.” The grandmother exaggerated her wave as she watched the child and Miss Siegel disappear through the door on the other end of the great hall. For a moment, darkness enveloped the two receding figures, then Agatha heard the expected laughter and cheering of children at play.

  Turning to Titus, “Playground equipment?”

  He blushed at her question and nervously tugged at his collar with an index finger. “Well, you know kids these days. They see all the toys the pleb children have, and…”

  “Excuse me, ‘Patrician.’ I’ll not have you referring to my in-laws using such a bigoted…” Agatha put her nose within an inch of her former master’s, murderous venom dripping from her voice, and red rage in her eyes.

  “Sorry. I forgot myself. I meant…you know.”

  “Oh, I know…” She turned away from him, choking down the lump in her throat. Then she spun back. “Why do you think I don’t visit here very often…Enderwren, I mean?”

  Applegate’s features softened. He raised a hand to put on her shoulder, then lowered it again. “I feel as if I lost you as a friend a long time ago.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s…complicated.” Then she gently pressed the palms of her hands against his chest. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been gone too long.”

  “I’ve always been your friend, Aggie.” He embraced her like a loveable teddy bear, an image very rarely associated with the school’s ancestral head.

  “And look at you.” He held her at arm’s length. “Why except for one streak of gray, your hair remains as silky and luxurious as a raven’s wing. And your figure…”

  “Why you old lecherous…you’ve known me since I was Emily’s age. Have you always been in the habit of hitting on your female students?” She pushed his hands away, but she was grinning.

  “Why, Mrs. Pye, you wound me. First of all, you haven’t been my student in far too many years. Secondly, at my age, such thoughts are firmly relegated to fantasy. My mind can still appreciate, but my body has failed me with the passage of time. Even my senses for…”

  “Well, we’ll leave out your senses for now, failing or otherwise.”

  “So, you married Hiram Pye. Of all the people you could have chosen…”

  “And my husband is another subject we’ll not be broaching, thank you very much.” She hadn’t meant to lose her temper again, but even the mention of Hiram brought up a cornucopia of complex emotions.

  “Very well. But you had a child, a daughter.”

  “I have a lot of children and grandchildren, Titus. Right now, I’m worried about Emily.”

  “Yes, I got your letter. She is a lot like your daughter Angelique, isn’t she…and a lot like you, I think.”

  “Why do you think I’m worried?”

  “You turned out alright, and as for Angel…”

  “She made her choice, and now she’s living with the consequences.”

  “You mean the plebi…uh, the man from the human world, her husband. Does he know?”

  “Not everything, but enough to scare the pants off of him, at least when Emily kindles the fireplace without matches, or flies without the benefit of aircraft or even wings, or…”

  “I’m not so sure you were as advanced at her age.”

  “I wasn’t, but the Lords of Chaos help me, Angelique was, and it terrified the both of us.” She paused, and Titus patiently waited, knowing there was more.

  “This teacher, Caressa Seagull.”

  “Siegel.”

  “Right. How good is she, I mean really? Nothing short of the best will even have a chance at handling a child with Emily’s potential.”

&n
bsp; He finally put his hand on her shoulder. “The best, I can assure you.”

  “She reminds me of someone. Should I know her?”

  “I doubt it. She’s a provincial girl. Not trained here, but she might as well have been. Flawless control of her abilities. I’ve hardly ever seen a finer hand on a wand.”

  “Except that wretched tart Kamalei Iyabo.” She chuckled humorlessly.

  “Oh, don’t remind me. She damn near destroyed the school, and nearly spirited away the finest students of that generation, including you as I recall.”

  “Shoot I was only twelve at the time.”

  “And a loner even then. Disenfranchised from your family…”

  “The school was my family.”

  “One you almost abandoned.”

  “I saw through that witch finally, and stopped her.”

  “I believe a few of your fellow students lent a hand, and perhaps I had something to do with it.” He looked at her askance.

  “Yes. You’re right.” Agatha’s smile was shy. “I’ve been away for so long, even my memory of those days has begun to fade.”

  “As I’ve grown older, a failing memory has become a comfort.”

  “All I have are my memories. If I lose them…”

  “You have the family you always wanted. Little Emily, her brother Daniel, their parents. Aren’t you happy?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll be happier if your school can find a way to help Emily not make the mistakes I’ve made.”

  “Who has ever been able to stop our children and their children from our own mistakes?” Once again, he was the paternal teddy bear, but too late. Agatha was mentally searching for whatever he’d said that had distracted her.

  “Where’s the rest of the school? I just realized…”

  “It’s been relocated elsewhere. Miss Siegel suggested that exposing preschool age children to the older students, it’s such a tender and impressionable time in their lives, would be too difficult…ruin their sense of innocence as their talent in the arts emerges. Oh, don’t fret. Go through the Keeper’s Tower, and you’ll find the doorway to the rest of Tabbinshire. Want a tour of the old place?”

  “Some other time, Titus. I’ve got some errands to run while Emily’s in school. I’ll be back in a few hours.” She took his hand off her shoulder and held it in hers. “Do me a favor.”

  “Of course, Agatha.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d personally keep an eye on Emily.”

  “But Miss Siegel and her staff…”

  “Please, Titus. I don’t beg, but I’ll do it for her.”

  “Rest assured. She’s in good hands. But, naturally, I’ll keep a weather eye out.”

  “You’re a gem.” She kissed him on the cheek, and he once again blushed.

  “You’ll start tongues wagging.”

  She turned to leave, then looked back at him over her shoulder. “You wish.” Batting her eyelashes like an experienced femme fatale, which she was, Agatha Pye started walking back down the flagstone path, departing the school.

  An appreciative Grand Master Applegate gazed at her rounded, swaying bottom for much longer than he should have.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was back in what she thought of as the ordinary world, the plebian world as Titus no doubt continued to consider it. Her deep blue SUV was sitting like an internal combustion sentinel on a suburban side street off of McMillan, the east and west thoroughfare between West Boise and Meridian. Sedans and pickup trucks whizzed by a few hundred feet away as she pressed the fob opening the driver’s door with twin chirps.

  Then she remembered. “The last time I smelled such a scent was…no, it can’t be her. She must be dead by now. Anyway, it doesn’t smell exactly the same.” She opened the door and hoisted herself inside. “Talking about old times with that foolish Titus…”

  Agatha turned over the engine and put her Toyota into gear, while a restless spirit inside tormented her. A small, unhappy voice kept saying that leaving Emily at the school was the worst mistake she had ever made. Ignoring the irritating little beast, she pulled onto McMillan and then took a left onto Cloverdale, nervously fingering the grocery list sitting on the passenger seat.

  Some weeks later, Grand Master Titus Applegate ambled out of the Keeper’s Tower, having spent a good part of his morning terrorizing the upperclassmen and their instructors. The fire in his bosom, that had forged his school under an iron will had cooled with the passing years, but best not allow that to become public knowledge. The mid-autumn chill bothered him now, when it didn’t used to. Pausing, he looked out of the open gates to see sunlight reflecting off of the small portion of the lake visible from the preschool’s vantage point. He recalled his own youth when he scampered by those shores before climbing the hills and sneaking peaks at the Druids who once worshipped here.

  “Best be keeping my promise to Agatha once more,” he muttered. He turned his opulent bulk and entered the hall under vines he knew must wither soon at the approach of winter, wondering how soon his own winter would claim him. As he approached the closed classroom door, he heard wild squeals and the unabashed laughter of the young cherubs within. “Now what are they up to?”

  Titus, having chosen his gambit, suddenly thrust open the door, his face a frightful aspect. “And just what is all this commotion, children? Miss Siegel, I hope you can explain.” He was particularly proud of the apocalyptic tremor he injected into his words.

  He saw the head teacher standing in front of her desk, delicate finger poised across full, pursed lips, a slight hiss issuing from between them. In the same instant, eleven toddlers scrambled for their seats, some knocking their desks slightly askew in their rows, while others jostled their inkwells. A tiny march of seconds passed, and each sat silently, radiant with feigned innocence, while Miss Siegel’s face shone beatific purity. Applegate knew they were up to something.

  “Good morning, Grand Master.” Caressa seemed slightly out of breath. “Children, greet our Grand Master.”

  In unison, the children and teaching assistants who were standing in the back of the room all chanted, “Good Morning, Grand Master.”

  Titus let his eyes scan over Linza, Ziva, and Jett, who had all been students at the school, and were now apprenticing under Miss Siegel. Linza and Ziva were sisters, one and a half years apart in age, and fair of features and complexion. Ziva, the younger, was more adventurous, and relied on Linza the older to help contain her impetuousness. Jett was said to have his eye on Ziva, and, as his name suggested, he was a dark as a Nubian. Many of the young women had cast their intentions upon the handsome lad, but it was Ziva who had claimed his heart.

  Of the children, Applegate allowed his gaze to wander until he arrived at Emily. As was common with her, she was dressed primarily in pink, her overalls being shade of flamingo feathers. Today, her hair bore twin pigtails, again bound in pink ribbons. Titus still couldn’t decide if this was the child’s favorite color or her mother’s. It certainly hadn’t been Agatha’s choice.

  “How is Emily Watson doing this morning?” He figured it couldn’t hurt to ask, though he had to avoid the appearance of favoritism.

  “Fine, Grand Master Apples…” The children momentarily twittered at Emily’s mistake, until Miss Siegel’s glower silenced them. “I mean Applegate. How are you?”

  “Fine as well, Miss Watson.” He continued to play the part of the ominous and dignified school’s Head Master, though inside, he was laughing at the little girl’s ersatz maturity.

  Applegate strode up and down the aisles, nudging the occasional desk back into place with one corpulent thigh. He paced past the three apprentice teachers, each of them standing at attention like soldiers on the parade ground. Finally, he arrived back at the front of the classroom and faced Miss Siegel.

  “And how are you this morning, Head Teacher?”

  “Well, Grand Master Applegate. Thank you for asking.”

  He could tell she wasn’t intimidated by him. Yes, he was her superior,
but having never attended Tabbinshire, she had not once fallen under his imperial influence as a child. At one time, he had been able to know the thoughts of everyone around him, just by their posture, facial expression, and scent. Now, he possessed a sense of those nearby mainly by his past knowledge of them. Most folks, after all, were creatures of habit.

  Caressa Siegel was a bit of a mystery. Her performance as a teacher was outstanding, and her references, though from distant lands and a few more remote dimensions, commendable. But of the actual fabric of her personality, the essence of her nature, he could read nothing.

  “I heard uproarious laughter just prior to my entry, Miss Siegel, and saw you shushing the children as I opened the door. Anything you’d care to relate about the incident?” He attempted to transfix her under his inspection.

  “Merely one of the children telling a joke, Grand Master. You know how expressive preschoolers can be.”

  Titus heard a bit of rustling behind him and whispers from Linza and Jett, probably quieting the students before they once again found something hilarious.

  “I see.” He counted down five seconds allowing silence to hang between them. “Very well, carry on.” He turned to face the classroom, seeing Emily, as well as Leon, Tamika, Rocco, and several of the others wrestling to keep straight faces. “Mind your teachers, children. They are here to instruct you in most serious matters.” Hearing himself, Titus almost laughed aloud. “Good day.” He spun to face Caressa again. “Good day, Miss Siegel.”

  “Good day to you, Grand Master.”

  “Good day, Grand Master,” echoed the children.

  After closing the door behind him, he waited and listened, but the teacher must have anticipated this, so he heard nothing. Then he strolled back across the courtyard toward the tower. He could feel his tummy rumbling as he approached the door. “Must be time for second breakfast,” he mused. Then he remembered that Cookie had been baking sweet cakes this morning. Yes, they would go quite well with some strawberry jam and dandelion tea.

  Miss Siegel clapped her hands twice to get everyone’s attention. “Children, this is exactly what I mean about starting a commotion. The Grand Master or other visitors might enter our class at any moment.”

 

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