by Vance Huxley
The headmaster turned over the top page, and started asking questions. Abel’s mind whirled, wondering why the PTA had become involved, while answers from the others showed they weren’t exactly calm and collected. Things went better once the creatures and characters had been explained, though both teachers seemed really interested in the background scenario. At one point Abel considered referring them to Creepio, because some of it was his idea. Jenny took over, reverting to the business plan and the link to charity. At least neither of the teachers seemed upset by any of the answers, eventually concentrating on whether the charity part really had been included in the game.
Eventually the two adults sat back and explained. The school had to be careful not to support a business venture, not unless Bonny’s Tavern hired the school hall and organised the entire event. That would include financing and complying with security and Health and Safety regulations. Stourton Comprehensive, however, could have a school event that also advertised a local charity. According to the headmaster, since many of the pupils attending would be in Tavern costumes, the local media would pick it up. The school wanted to take advantage of that, encouraging the publicity to attract sponsors for the school itself. After agreeing that Easter would be a good time for the dance, the students went back to their lessons.
Before splitting up they agreed that discussing school business and Bonny’s Tavern with teachers had to be one of the weirdest things ever. It wasn’t until then they realised neither Mr Gordon nor Mrs Poole had explained what the strange phenomenon was, or why it might have anything to do with them. The jubilation in the following days washed away any concerns about the meeting. The school announced an Easter Fancy Dress Ball, with a Bonny’s Tavern theme to support the Stourton Tavern Refuge.
The school would get their publicity, because Jenny’s dad set into making sure he got Bonny’s Tavern the maximum possible local coverage.
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Despite the rest of the school being excited about a dance, the Taverneers were more interested in reclaiming the wit from the aquarium. Jenny even skipped Acro practice to help out, something she rarely did. Four interested teenagers passed the little bits of wood with the shades so Ferryl could install them, while Zephyr hovered next to her to watch for any variations in the magic flows. There had to be some alterations to the installation, because these shades would be more active than most. A skein of thin steel wire connected the shades and glyphs to the feed supplying house magic to the wit, then Ferryl turned it into gold. After some careful inspection, a hole in the back wall, protected by glyphs, had to be where the snakes came from.
There’d already been a long discussion about the snakes, because Abel wasn’t keen on them being locked up in that hole. Unfortunately, he couldn’t allow two wild snakes to fly around the neighbourhood casting glyphs at anything that offended them. Until Ferryl could come up with a way to alter their instructions, the snakes had to go back under the aquarium. Curtains were magically hung across the hole before air glyphs tipped the snakes out and quickly snatched away the bags and curtains that swaddled them. Opening the curtain enough to invite a wind glyph attack on Rob’s bat proved they’d survived, so Ferryl activated the magical catch. The snakes were ready, but while she healed her burn, the empty shelves rose from the floor to seal the hole. Once the books were replaced, everything looked as before. Ferryl spent an hour watching the aquarium, but nothing altered. She went home with the wit, promising to put it in that night.
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Despite her age, Ferryl Shayde still enjoyed teasing and grandstanding, or the young body had led to her rediscovering them. Nobody could get a hint out of her the following day. Jenny’s dad commented about homework and Acro dancing, but Jenny insisted on coming to Brinsford to help Kelis move house. Ferryl made them wait until that chore had been dealt with.
Jenny’s dad had already sent some of his workmen to move most of the remaining furniture and belongings from Kelis’s house to the flat. Almost everything ended up in the right rooms, but needed unpacking and organising. Kelis’s mum seemed impressed when the five of them reported they’d finished organising both girls’ bedrooms, but she hadn’t seen the glyphs or the puff of wind floating furniture, boxes and their contents about. She certainly had no idea the walls and doors now contained protective hexes, because they’d all been hidden under the surface. Leaving Mrs Ventner sorting out her own room, the teenagers headed for their last meeting in the old library, the original Bonny’s Tavern.
“Firstly, it is one of my wits, and secondly it is intact.” Ferryl waited for the excited questions to calm down. “The most important information that you can use immediately is better control of shields.” A shield glowed around Ferryl, deliberately coloured, held to her body shape. Both Abel and Kelis started to warn her as Ferryl sat on one of the chairs, but it didn’t burst into flame!
“That’s what Redwolf did!” Abel moved his head side to side, but couldn’t see if the shield went into the chair or not.
“The flows are right. It is a real shield.”
The glow flowed out to include the chair. “There are two ways to sit on a seat and keep a shield up. The simplest involves adjusting the shield so part of it is just below your skin, exactly where you first cast it.” Ferryl stood up, smiling, and one edge of the globe shrank until the glow disappeared from one arm, then came back. “Once inside my skin, you can’t see it. An attack would inflict superficial damage, perhaps shallow cuts, and any heat or physical force would be felt, although the effect would be reduced.”
Everyone had to try, but it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Casting a shield meant imagining the whole thing inside their skin, then pushing out to relocate and enhance the natural defences of their ward. Now everyone tried to imagine not doing so, but only on an arm. They were all keen to learn, because this would let them make phone calls without dropping the whole shield. A shield cut phone and radio signals, and Zephyr’s tether, and according to Ferryl it would interrupt a sorcerer’s tether but not break it. The alternative, pushing the shield out to deliberately incorporate a chair, for instance, might be much harder. There wasn’t a natural magical boundary such as that around a person. Nobody would be practicing on real chairs in case they burst into flame, but Rob suggested using the plastic milk crates in the little cave.
Nobody would use the chairs and desk from Bonny’s Tavern for anything, because tomorrow they would be stored until someone came up with a new location. So would a large number of Mr Ventner’s tools, the ones neither Rob’s nor Jenny’s dad bought. Jenny’s dad sent a couple of men to unbolt or unscrew the bigger tools, and move everything useful to the shop. The shelves and worktops had been dismantled and put in a skip, because the bank wanted the garage cleared.
The agents renting out the flat and shop had agreed to Mrs Ventner putting the tools and furniture in the shop, temporarily. Every time something like that came up Kelis shot Abel a suspicious glance, but he ignored her. The health food had all gone, taken by a large van, but all the racks were still in place. Abel still hadn’t decided how to deal with the rest of the space, though the shop itself would make a terrific Bonny’s Tavern. That would also blow his cover.
While they all played a last game of Bonny’s Tavern, without cheating, just for old time’s sake, Rob brought them up to date on the animated toadstools. Melanie could now see magical creatures, but still swore a few of them looked like toadstools. Unfortunately, those only appeared at night, outside the fence at the bottom of the garden, so nobody else had seen them. Ferryl racked her brains but nothing magical looked like a toadstool. Abel had helped Rob to set several fae-traps, but didn’t catch anything unusual. Since the creatures never came past the fence, and the school dance was approaching fast, Abel almost forgot about them.
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Two days before the school dance, Abel wished he’d thought more about the meeting with the head teachers than the dance itself. This time none of the other Taverneers were waiting outside t
he headmaster’s study. When he was invited in and found Curtis the ex-bully stood in front of the headmaster’s desk, Abel realised this could be real trouble.
“Good morning, Abel. I see you recognise this young man.”
“Good morning, sir. Yes, his name is Curtis.”
“You are either Abel or the sorcerer, according to him. I don’t usually get involved in something like this, because it isn’t strictly school business, but Curtis’s parents asked me to intervene.” The headmaster didn’t seem very pleased, but Abel still couldn’t work out how much trouble he was in. “It seems he is one of those who play this game, Bonny’s Tavern.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No, sir, because he has been banned. That is rather strange. How exactly does a child end up banned from playing a game that the whole school has access to?” Mr. Gordon leant forward. “More to the point, how can you possibly enforce it?”
“He only asked me to stop, sir.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Curtis. Well, Abel?”
“I asked him to stop, sir.”
“Now he refuses to play the game, even on his own at home, until you say he can. What will you do if I insist he plays Bonny’s Tavern, right now, in my office?” From the look on Mr Gordon’s face, that might have been meant to show Curtis that Abel couldn’t do anything, but Curtis’s eyes were fastened on Abel’s arm and he looked horrified.
“No, sir! It’s my fault, sir. If I’m good I’ll be let back in.” Curtis shut up and swallowed hard. “Sir.”
“If you are good? As far as I’m aware, I deal with discipline at Stourton Comprehensive.” Mr Gordon leant back. “This might be a good time to ask for a parent, young Conroy.”
Not a chance. Abel really didn’t want his mum wondering about the game. “No need, sir. The players have certain standards. If someone doesn’t meet them, they aren’t allowed to play for a while.”
“For three months.” A knock sounded on the door. “Come in.” Mrs Poole, the deputy head, came in with a sheaf of papers in her hand. “So far we have confirmed that Curtis has broken some rule, and the banning is real. Did you get any sort of sense out of the other schools?” Abel’s head whirled, what other schools?
“None of the junior schools are involved. The college and St. Agatha’s have both noticed similar phenomena, though St. Agatha’s isn’t as bad to start with.” Mrs Poole spread some of the papers out but Abel couldn’t read them upside down. “There don’t seem to be as many players in the other two locations, and the staff hadn’t connected the game with the reduction until I asked.”
The headmaster looked through whatever he’d been given, then fixed Curtis with a look. “I’m going to make what is definitely not a wild guess. You were bullying or stealing.” Despite an appealing glance from Curtis, Abel couldn’t help. “There’s no point in looking at Abel, he’s got his own questions to answer. If it helps you to make up your mind, I don’t think I’ll have to talk to your parents about it. Well?”
“Yes, sir. I threatened some of the others and took money from them. I’ve stopped now.” Curtis’s glance went from Mr Gordon to Abel to Mrs Poole and then dropped to the floor.
Mrs Poole nodded, tapping one of the papers, then turned to Abel. “What happens if they don’t stop?” As Abel opened his mouth to ask who they were, she narrowed her eyes. “Petty thieves and bullies, verbal and physical, and possibly racists and those dealing in drugs.”
“I don’t know because it’s not me doing the whatever. Some of the game players want to carry the ideals into real life. I’m sorry if they’ve caused trouble.” Both teachers were still looking at him, so Abel racked his brains for something more. “I’ll talk to them at the next meeting.”
“So you really are in charge.” Mr Gordon put a finger on one of the papers. “Either the white wizard or the Wind Chaser?”
“It’s a joke, the white wizard part. Wind Chaser is just a game character, not even a major one.” Abel still couldn’t get his head round it. What had been said, and did they think the Tavern were a gang of some sort? “We’re not a gang, just people who play a game, sir, miss.”
“Cult was the word that came to mind when this blew up, but it isn’t. I’d like to work out exactly what this Tavern is, but first I have a request.” From the tone of voice, Mr Gordon wasn’t taking no as an answer. “Will you allow Curtis back into your Tavern so he can attend the Easter dance?”
“No, sir! It’s my fault, sir. I don’t want to go. I didn’t ask. Sir.” Curtis stood stiff as a board, going the same sort of colour Abel had managed too many times in the past.
The chuckle from Mr Gordon came as a big relief, to Abel at least. “No you didn’t but your mother did. She came in to ask me why you were banned, and you aren’t. You didn’t tell her anything, but you’ve been complaining there hasn’t been a place for everyone to gather and wear their costumes. Then when the dance was announced, you didn’t want to go. The next time you argue over whose fault it is, keep your voice down.” Mr Gordon turned to Abel. “I’m assuming Natalie Cutler was his accomplice?”
“Natalie, but I don’t know her surname, sir.”
“Maybe not, but I doubt she’ll be here on Thursday evening. Since neither Natalie or her parents have approached me, that’s not my concern. So, back to the question. Will you allow young Curtis to rejoin your little club? He seems to be sufficiently penitent.” The tone and look meant Abel had some really difficult questions to answer if he said no, not least of them how he’d enforce it.
“Just for one night, please? I’ll work in the refuge every weekend?” Curtis flinched from the scowl as Mr Gordon turned towards him, but Abel jumped in quick.
“I’m sure the other players will agree to that.” Now he got the scowl.
Though Mr Gordon still had some scowl left for Curtis. “I’m sure they will. Curtis, I would appreciate it if you don’t tell the rest of the students about this meeting, or I might have to take official notice of your past misdeeds. That means you don’t tell Natalie, because I’d rather not find her parents on my doorstep tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“I’m not terribly impressed with the reason you ended up banned, and I really hope there’ll be no repeats.” Mr Gordon glanced at Abel. “The school have their own ways of dealing with such things, a little more robust than being banned from playing games. Off you go and remember, no gossiping.” Curtis got out sharpish, but Abel felt sure he wasn’t going to be so lucky. “If you won’t be calling in your mother, perhaps you should sit down, young man. This could take some time.”
It did, but Abel finally found out about the mystery phenomena. Schools tried to estimate the amount of unreported bullying, violence, racist behaviour, theft, problems with integrating, self-abuse, the list went on. Stourton Comprehensive had noticed a very strange trend. Even if the teachers couldn’t catch all the culprits, they had a good idea who most of them were, and most of the suspected bullies in the school had stopped. Perhaps all of them Mrs Poole admitted, and pilfering had reduced to almost nothing. She had been putting together remarks from parents, pupils, and snatches of overheard conversations along with a regrouping of some social groups.
“Does your game disapprove of litter, Abel?” Mr Gordon’s question came out of the blue, catching Abel still trying to think of the answers he expected to need pretty soon. After all, he could hardly admit Zephyr had been bored, so she’d hung around the lockers and some classrooms and solved the pilfering problem. For a moment he almost smiled, because he’d definitely stopped the goblins from littering in Brinsford.
“No, sir. Why?” Too late to bite his tongue.
“Because apart from your gang signs, that shield with a flower, the level of both graffiti and litter has dropped off. Any idea why?” At least both teachers looked curious, as if they had no idea.
Abel knew the reason for the lack of litter, but not the graffiti. “The sign is supposed to be magical protection, sir, not a gang sig
n. I’ll ask the players to stop putting it on walls.” They wouldn’t need to draw it in view any more. As a side effect of reaching into earth to make it more rock-like, then putting a locking glyph in it, several Taverners could now place hexes beneath the surface. Others found it funny to practice air glyphs by blowing litter into bins. It had become a game, combining precision and careful timing so they weren’t spotted. “I’ll ask them to scrub the others off.”
“Those on the computers, photocopiers and the overhead projector as well? There’s a little shield on every single one in the school, except those in this office and the teachers’ common room.” Mr Gordon stopped and his eyes narrowed. “Correction, my printer seems to have acquired one. No doubt it’ll be in permanent marker like all the rest.”
“We swapped it out when it broke down.” Mrs Poole shook her head at Abel. “You really have no idea, do you? I’ll ask the players, you say. If you weren’t a minor I’d make a small wager about the amount of graffiti disappearing once you’ve asked. I remember you from year nine English Language, Abel Conroy. Shy, blushed at the slightest opportunity, and almost melted into the woodwork if you were asked to stand up and speak. Now there are a significant number of children who consider you or one of your close friends a hero or role model of some sort.” Her sudden, bright smile seemed totally genuine. “Actually you are a hero, for saving Jenny Forester.”
“It’s just a game, I swear. Kelis and Rob did as much designing as I did, and then Jenny joined in, and Fay.” Hero? Abel really wanted to cast a veil and have a good look at those papers.
“The Parent-Teachers have asked others, very quietly, what they have overheard or been told. Several of our pupils are very proud of what they are doing, and not shy about telling their parents. Abel Conroy, Kelis Ventner, Robert Tyler and Jenny Forester are the people who set the rules. Somehow the new girl, Fay Shayde, is given the same sort of respect by a large number of them. Not just here either. Teachers at St. Agatha’s and the college have asked who you are.” Finally Mrs Poole held up one of the bits of paper, but not long enough for Abel to read it. “Once they looked into it, several of the more violent pupils seem to have quietened down, and there’s been a small but significant downtick in pilfering.”