Staff & Crown

by W. R. Gingell

  Melchior sat down next to Annabel by the simple expedient of removing Isabella by her collar as if she’d been Peter, and taking her place. Ignoring Annabel’s protests, he picked at the binding around her hand. His face looked particularly grim, though Annabel wasn’t sure whether that was because of the footpads or because there was blood beginning to seep through the first layers of the bandage he’d uncovered.

  “He wasn’t overcome,” she protested. “He was just a bit nervous.”

  “Well, I’ve never seen any of Raoul’s regiment trip over his own feet before.”

  “Why didn’t you get this seen to by the nurse?”

  “That’s your fault,” Annabel said, surprising Melchior into a grin.

  “I might have known. How exactly am I to blame this time?”

  “We were on our way to do something about it,” began Annabel, not entirely mendaciously, “when we were interrupted by a riot in the hallway. We tried to push our way through and there you were. Miss Cornett isn’t at all pleased with you, you know.”

  “We’ll see about that!” Melchior replied outrageously. “No, hold still, Nan! I’m not very good at this and I don’t want to do it badly.”

  “There’s a comfort,” murmured Isabella. “Nan, perhaps we should call for the little medical officer again—what was his name?”

  “Dannick,” said Annabel, to the crown of Melchior’s head. Isabella wasn’t the sort to forget names—was she trying to needle Melchior? And if so, how? Perhaps she was teasing Annabel instead. “He said he can’t do much in the way of healing, and he was afraid of making it worse. That’s why he bandaged it.”

  “Is it?” Isabella sounded innocently surprised. “And here I thought it was merely in order to have an excuse to hold your hand. By the way, Melchior, you might find it harder than you think to sweet talk Miss Cornett into forgetting a Scene. Mr. Turner is a lovely little man and she withered him earlier just for leaving a smudge of mud in the entry way.”

  “I would like to know,” said Melchior, sounding particularly annoyed, “how it is that there are so many men in this supposedly reputable all female school!”

  “Miss Cornett wonders the same thing often,” said Isabella helpfully. “Perhaps they’ll get along better than we think, Nan!”

  Annabel scowled down at her bandages, and looked up to find Melchior watching her. “Aren’t you finished yet?”

  Melchior’s eyes flicked back to her hand. “Not quite yet, no. If you would be good enough not to wriggle so much, Nan—!”

  “It tickles!”

  “Firebrand, would you kindly make tea?”

  “If one must, one must,” said Isabella. She said it very innocently, which made Annabel gaze after her in astonishment. What was she laughing at this time?

  “Nan,” said Melchior, rewrapping the bandage around a hand that was, Annabel now realised, gazing down at it, pinkishly scarred instead of red and puckered, “it is commonly thought a bad idea for the future monarch to be upon too good of terms with her soldiery.”

  “Is it?” Annabel thought about that, and said, “Yes, but how can they be expected to fight for her if they’re not on good terms with her?”

  “Pure altruism, one suspects,” said Isabella. “A better breed of man entirely!”

  “You should be more careful, Belle,” Annabel said, grinning. “That sounded a bit too much like sarcasm.”

  Isabella sighed. “Perhaps I’m losing my touch? I like to leave people in some kind of suspense, after all!”

  “Oh!” said Annabel, remembering, “and at least the soldiery remembers to make sure we eat, unlike some cats I know of!”

  Melchior frowned and put Annabel’s re-bandaged hand in her lap. “What nonsense is this? I arranged for your meals along the way.”

  “You arranged for one meal,” said Annabel. “And if you meant it for a prod at me—”

  “What prod?” demanded Melchior blankly. “I refuse to be sniffed at for things I haven’t done!”

  “Well, even if you forgot,” said Annabel, slightly mollified, “I don’t think it’s very good of you!”

  “I arranged for a midday meal each day, and for dinner and breakfast at the two overnight stops,” Melchior said firmly. “I’ve a good mind to—Just a moment! When did the highwaymen show up?

  “Ah,” said Isabella. “Now there’s a thing to think about.”

  Annabel blinked. “They didn’t want anyone to be expecting me, but they weren’t quite sure when they would be attacking, either, so they went along telling all the stops to cancel dinners and lunches.”

  Melchior sat up very straight, his eyes gleaming. “Careless of ’em!”

  “On the contrary,” said Isabella. “If we hadn’t got away, it probably wouldn’t have occurred to you to check on the meals you’d arranged. And none of the inns knew they were expecting the queen heir, so they wouldn’t have confided the information.”

  “Very useful for me.”

  “Useful for us,” Annabel corrected.

  “Nonsense,” Melchior said. “You’re not allowed to leave the school grounds except on half days. You’ll be confined to your rooms for a week.”

  “Only if we’re caught.”

  “Firebrand, what did I tell you about being a bad influence? There’s no need for either of you to leave the school grounds—as a matter of fact, I’d far prefer that you remain here. At least there’s some safety here. I can do all the outside investigating that’s necessary.”

  Annabel made a disgusted noise and muttered, “Typical!”

  “I’m sorry, did you mutter?” One of Melchior’s brows was up. “One would think, Nan, that you enjoyed being in peril.”

  “I don’t,” said Annabel bluntly. “But I like to be able to know for myself that something nasty isn’t about to drop on me. And after all the years you spent murmuring in my ear about stirring myself and doing things, I think it’s a bit much for you to be discouraging me from doing things now!”

  “If I remember rightly, you were very nearly killed by Mordion several times.”

  “If I remember rightly—”

  “Good heavens, it’s like a play!” said Isabella, looking avidly from one to the other. “Have some tea, Nan. If you feel that you simply must hurl it in his face, do wait for a few minutes until it cools.”

  “Throw it in his—”

  “Of course, you could always slap him.”

  “Oh, shut up!” Annabel said, grinning. “Drink your tea and stop needling people. You were bad enough with Miss Cornett.”

  “That’s because I was annoyed,” Isabella said. “If people are going to hang on your sleeve, they should at least be honest about it!”

  “I don’t understand how you can be useful to your little—I mean to your papa at all. You always tell people the truth!”

  “Yes, and very useful I’ve found it,” agreed Isabella. “Half the time people don’t believe me, you know.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” said Annabel. “I’ve never met someone as dishonestly honest as you.”

  “I’m one of a kind,” Isabella said simply. “Aren’t you glad you met me?”

  Annabel looked at Melchior over the rim of her teacup. “You should learn from Isabella. She’s always honest.”

  “Always—What exactly is it, Nan, that you suspect I’m not telling you?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking, would I? Stop answering questions with questions.”

  Melchior’s brow rose. “If I haven’t told you something, it’s for a very good reason.”

  “I want to know why you’ve snuck into my school,” Annabel said. “And if you don’t tell me why I’m going to be very queenly and annoyed with you.”

  “You’re not queen yet,” said Melchior, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back at his ease. He sipped his tea and smiled insincerely at Annabel.

  Annabel allowed her face to become just a little bit blanker. “There’s also the question,” she added, “of
what you and Luck were talking about in the village that day.”

  “I like queenly you,” said Isabella, taking two biscuits at once with an even more innocent air than usual. “It’s a bit like normal you, but more beef in the gravy.”

  Annabel spluttered a laugh that ruined her blank face.

  “There are times, Nan,” said Melchior, “when it is not expedient to tell the queen everything. And before you’re queen, there are more of those times.”

  “I see!” said Annabel, more stiffly. She stood up. “Well, if that’s the case, I don’t see why we should sit here drinking tea, Belle! We might as well keep going on with our own investigations.”

  “And if it comes to that,” said Melchior, rising along with her, “I would like to know how you knew about my meeting with Luck.”

  “There are times—” began Annabel. “Oh, never mind! It’s none of your business anyway! Come on, Belle! We’ll go back to what we were doing when Melchior interrupted.”

  “I don’t think so,” Melchior said. “There’s no reason for either of you to be wandering around the school at this time of day.”

  “It’s none of your business if we’re wandering the school!” Annabel said indignantly.

  “I hate to remind you, Nan—”

  “Oh, do you.”

  “I hate to remind you, but I am, in fact, a master here.” Melchior smiled gently at them both. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if I had to report two students for sneaking out on their first night?”

  “Well!” said Isabella. “Nan, I do think your taste in pets could be better!”

  “He’s just getting old and pernickety,” Annabel snapped. “Let’s go back to our suite.”

  Melchior, smiling faintly in a way that made Annabel want to hit him, followed them to the door and said, “Allow me to accompany you.”

  Annabel looked at him resentfully. “We don’t need your company.”

  “I hesitate to annoy you, Nan,” said Melchior, “but I really must insist.”

  “Oh, do you,” muttered Annabel again. “Belle, let’s go.”

  “Very well,” said Isabella. “But if your pet is going to follow us all the way to our suite, shouldn’t we give it something to eat before we put it out?”

  “It can fend for itself,” Annabel said, marching on ahead of the faintly smirking Melchior.

  Melchior continued to follow them until they reached the door to their suite. He didn’t leave—and neither, Annabel noted sourly, did his smirk—until they had opened the door and closed it behind them.

  “It’s no use trying to go out later, either,” Annabel grumbled. “He’ll just loiter in the hall until he thinks it’s safe.”

  She glanced at Isabella, aware of a distinct lack of expected outrage from her general vicinity, and saw a thoughtful expression on her face.

  “Belle?”

  “Dear me!” said Isabella slowly, looking around the room. “How very odd!”

  “What’s odd?”

  “Oh, well; I suppose it’s not that odd,” admitted Isabella. “Only I didn’t expect it so very soon. I hope that you didn’t leave anything important in our suite, Nan; I very much fear that someone has been digging through our things.”

  Annabel frowned and gazed around the main room. “I don’t have anything important except the staff, and I always have that with me. What makes you say th—oh, never mind.”

  Isabella blinked twice, rapidly. “I’ve a feeling we’re not talking about the same thing,” she said. “What makes you think someone has been in the room, Nan?”

  “Well!” said Annabel in surprise. “The maids have already been, haven’t they?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Then why is our coal scuttle messy again? It was clean before. Someone has jostled it.” Annabel gazed at it suspiciously, then frowned. “Why? What did you notice?”

  “It’s not so much what I noticed as the fact that a trap I set has been sprung.”

  “A trap? You set a trap?”

  “I always leave a feather in the doorjamb before I leave the room,” said Isabella. “Actually, it’s more of a habit than anything, so I didn’t really think about it.”

  “What does a feather—” began Annabel; and then she remembered the tiny blue feather that had caught up in the hallway carpet a few feet away from the door. “Oh! That’s very clever!”

  “I thought so,” agreed Isabella. “I learnt some form of that one rather a long time ago, and sometimes when I’m travelling with Papa there are places that don’t have magical security, so…”

  “You’ll have to teach me things like that,” said Annabel. “It’s no use learning how to speak and negotiate and plan if people can sneak into my rooms whenever they want to. And magical security is no good for me, anyway.”

  Isabella, who was sorting very slowly through the hat-making things she’d left out on her bureau top, turned one hat over and sighed. “It’s not the sort of thing you expect to happen at a place like Trenthams,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “They’ve gone through our things as well, Nan.”

  “Rude!” said Annabel, but she couldn’t help feeling a kind of respect as well. “Who do you think is bold enough to go through someone else’s room on the first day of the term?”

  “Off hand, I’d say there are about three in the school,” Isabella said. Her grey eyes were very narrow.

  “That’s all very well,” Annabel said, “but what if it’s someone not in the school?”

  Isabella shook her head. “Unlikely. The security here is really very good, if you don’t consider how ridiculously trusting they are with their students and teachers, and—”

  “Ah,” said Annabel.

  Isabella, in quite a different voice, said, “Oh.”

  “I think we can assume that Melchior isn’t the only interloper, then,” Annabel said. “Are there other new teachers this term?”

  “I must confess my ignorance, Nan,” said Isabella. “How very annoying! I knew that there would be some inconveniences to coming back after two years, but I didn’t consider this particular one. Three of the teachers are new to me, but they may well have been here for the last two years. I shall make enquiries.”

  “I’d also like to know how many of the other girls have something like smuggling garters,” Annabel added.

  “Not to mention how many of them are good enough magic users to be able to bypass the magic sensors and bring something wickedly dangerous into Trenthams.”

  Annabel hesitated. “Are any of them really ruthless enough to really try and hurt me, though? They’re all awfully young!”

  “And how young were you when you disposed of Mordion?” Isabella reminded her.

  Annabel looked around, frowning. Another question had occurred to her. “What do you think they were looking for, anyway?”

  “That’s a good point.” Isabella looked around, too; her eyes catalogued everything in a brief moment, and came back to rest on Annabel. “They’ve been careful not to make a mess, so I think we can assume they don’t want us to know they’ve been in here.”

  Annabel grinned. “It’s a bit insulting, isn’t it?”

  “My feelings exactly. Imagine thinking we wouldn’t notice!”

  “Maybe they wanted the staff?”

  “Perhaps,” Isabella said slowly. “But if so, why? It’s a curious thing for someone to try and steal—especially when they could simply try to kill you again. Even a staff wielding queen can be taken by surprise if you’ve got enough money for a really good assassin.”

  “And if they’re good enough to slip into our room without anyone catching them, why not just leave a useful assassin here?” agreed Annabel.

  Isabella giggled suddenly. “Oh, well! An assassins is a useful thing to have around the place, after all! So long as it matches the décor!”

  6

  The first official day of school at Trenthams didn’t occur, much to Annabel’s surprise, until all the girls had been there for two days.

 
; “They like to give us a chance to settle in,” said Isabella, at breakfast that morning. “Not to mention a chance to find all the right classrooms. For example, we will begin our day with Advanced Polite Conversation, move from there to Carriage on Horseback, which is a bit of a bother, but what else can we do?”

  Annabel put down her biscuit and said with more than a little suspicion, “All right, what else can we do?”

  “The question was rhetorical, Nan.”

  “Was it.”

  “Goodness me, when you do that with your voice, it’s absolutely squashing,” said Isabella said, without sounding squashed. “Just like what you do with your face. I say that it’s a rhetorical question because I’ve already done something about it. I abhor horses and I refuse to Improve my Carriage on one.”

  “You already—What did you do?”

  “The good thing about the lessons here at Trenthams,” Isabella said complacently, “is that there are two of each for every year level. They do it to add to the feeling of exclusivity at the school—smaller classes, you understand—while still making very good money taking in a decent amount of students. Girls are assigned to one or the other, and if there are two teachers for each particular version of the class, they always hate each other.”

  “Why? Oh. They each want to have the best class.”

  “That, or the most socially sparkling,” nodded Isabella.

  “Do you mean that you just don’t go to either? Won’t one of them notice when you don’t show up?”

  “Oh no,” said Isabella. “I simply make sure that each of the teachers thinks I’m on the other one’s schedule by erasing my name altogether. Provided it’s not the same teacher doing both classes, it’s beautifully complete.”

  “You—”

  “I erased your name, too. Aren’t you thankful to me, Nan?”

  “Very!” Annabel said, without any attempt at concealing the relief in her voice. “I don’t like horses much, either.”

  “You’re fortunate,” Isabella assured her. “Horses don’t like me, and I can assure you that that is far worse.”

  “Oh well, I suppose there has to be something you can’t charm,” Annabel said, grinning.