Staff & Crown

by W. R. Gingell

  “Exactly what I would like to know, Nan,” said Melchior. “Are you determined to know every fact of which I am master?”

  “Yes! Well, at the very least I should know if they’re just footpads, or Old Parrasians, or—”

  “Very well. None of the footpads admitted to any sort of political bias, but we’re certain they were hired, so that’s no surprise.”

  “Yes, they said that when they tried to kidnap us.”

  “Then, Nan, on this point you know as much as I. I sent Raoul back the way you both came; he visited each of the stops at which you should have had a meal waiting, including the ones at which you did have a meal. In each case, none of the hosts could remember someone sending a message or coming in person to break the promise.”

  “Then how were the meals cancelled?”

  “Raoul seems to think that someone interfered with the record books at each inn.”

  “Why?”

  “For the very simple reason, Nan, that at each stop where I had booked a meal for you, the records book has either mysteriously vanished, been dropped into a bucket of milk, or is missing a page. A little too much to put down to coincidence, Raoul thought.”

  “I should think he would!” said Annabel. There was something else that she wanted to ask—something important that had occurred to her earlier after Melchior answered one of her questions. Now, if only she could remember what it was!

  “No one caught sight of so much as a face or the sound of a voice in the commission of those accidents, either,” said Melchior, before she had a chance to do so. He added, “I trust, Nan—I really trust—that you and the Firebrand won’t spend the entirety of the lesson tomorrow staring at me again! I thought that I was inured to the open-mouthed wonder of the little girls in First Form, and I even managed well with the saucy ones in Second and Third Forms, but I really can’t deal with the sort of unnerving stares the Fourth Form is capable of!”

  “What have you been doing to make the Second and Third girls saucy?” Annabel demanded. “They’re not saucy with the Deportment Master!”

  “I like to think, Nan,” said Melchior, “that despite all I may be lacking, I am at least better looking than the Deportment Master!”

  “That’s not much to boast about,” said Annabel. She hadn’t taken to the Deportment Master. He pursed his lips far too much for her taste, and when he looked at her he gave the distinct impression that he’d smelled something nasty. He gave the same look to Isabella, but at least he didn’t purse his lips at her. Annabel had the feeling that while the Deportment Master disliked Isabella, he found her deportment at least to be irreproachable; Annabel, he evidently both disliked and found lacking.

  “Be that as it may, I would appreciate it if you both turned your eyes elsewhere during the lesson,” Melchior said firmly.

  “All the other girls were staring at you,” Annabel said. She felt particularly argumentative tonight. “Why shouldn’t we?”

  Melchior’s eyes glinted. “Well, Nan, if you find me to be so irresistible that you can’t take your eyes off me, who am I to object?”

  Annabel gave a surprised giggle. “What rubbish! You know perfectly well we were only trying to put you off your lesson!”

  “If, in fact,” continued Melchior, without regarding this in the slightest, “the hardship caused by seeing me only once a day is too great—”

  “It’s twice, actually, and it’s not a hardship—”

  “—if the hardship is too great, my door is always open, and my chairs are always available.”

  “I have my own chairs,” Annabel said. “Actually. Isabella picked them out, so they’re very fashionable.”

  “Don’t tell me the Firebrand has also smuggled in chairs?”

  “I didn’t ask her where they came from,” said Annabel. “That’s the sort of question better not asked when it comes to Belle. She’ll tell me if she wants me to know. But if it comes to that, I’m pretty certain the chairs are different from the ones in the other girls’ suites.”

  “Ah!” sighed Melchior, apparently at random. “I fancy it’s not meant as an insult, after all!”

  “What insult?”

  “Never mind. I don’t think I can bring myself to mention it. What I chiefly dislike about you, Nan, is your ability to drag me down to the level of a brangling child with you.”

  “If you’re suggesting that I’m a brangling child—”

  “Not a suggestion; an observation.”

  “Then I think you’re being very rude.”

  “Oh, undoubtedly. Very well, Nan; if you didn’t come here to seek information—”

  “I did!” objected Annabel. “I just didn’t come to give it!”

  “If you didn’t come here to seek information,” continued Melchior firmly, “exactly why did you heed my signals?”

  “To tell you to stop winking at me, first of all,” Annabel said. “And we need you to check our suite, Melchior. Someone went through it on the first day, poking their nose into our things. We know they didn’t take anything, but we want to be sure they didn’t leave anything.”

  “I did that during lunch today,” Melchior said. “I found a nice little piece of listening magic above your dressing table, and another over the Firebrand’s table. I won’t ask how you knew someone had been in your room since I’m quite sure that was the Firebrand, too, but—”

  Offended, Annabel said, “Actually, I was able to discover that much for myself, thank you.”

  “Oh, well done, Nan!” said Melchior easily.

  The praise might have been more welcome if it hadn’t been for the carefully congratulatory manner of it. Like a grown up talking to a baby, thought Annabel, very much annoyed.

  “There’s no need to sound so surprised,” she said. “You and Isabella aren’t the only ones who can see things, after all.”

  “Of course not,” Melchior said, even more affably. “Don’t tell me: they pulled all your things out of your drawers?”

  “They were,” said Annabel icily, “very careful!”

  “Of course!” Melchior said, more affably still. “I would never suggest otherwise!”

  Annabel eyed him in dislike. “I think I preferred it when you were a cat.”

  “I believe I’ve already mentioned that I’m no longer a cat. You should remember that.”

  “Oh should I?” Annabel snapped, and went away to her suite again.

  It wasn’t until she was sitting at her dressing table later that night, that she remembered. She said in exasperation, “Oh bother the man!”

  Isabella’s grey eyes flicked up from her hat and met Annabel’s eyes in the mirror, amused and understanding all at once. “What is it, Nan?”

  “I was so annoyed and Melchior talked so much that I didn’t get a chance to ask him what had changed! And I just know he did it on purpose!”

  “Very likely,” Isabella said. “What do you mean, changed?”

  “That’s the thing,” Annabel complained. “I don’t know exactly. Up until a few months ago, very few people knew about me. It was part of the conditions for my leaving Poly and Luck after two years and staying with Melchior for the year before I came to Trenthams.”

  “And up until a few months ago, nobody did know?”

  “Not many did,” Annabel said. “There might have been one or two who suspected, and there were a lot of people curious about me anyway, because of Melchior, and because I was staying with him. One or two definitely knew, but they were meant to know.”

  Isabella nodded. “The Head Guard, I suppose; my little Papa, of course; and possibly the minister for Economics, a few privy council memebers, and the State Secretary. Nobody would have told him, of course, but I’m certain he learns things via osmosis.”

  “Yes; I stayed with each of them for a month or so, getting to know them and learning certain things,” Annabel agreed. “And I can understand people beginning to talk about that, too. But then, three months ago, I began to get invited to parties, and visited,
and bothered until I didn’t know what to do. And just now Melchior said that things had changed a little. I want to know what he meant by it.”

  “I see,” Isabella said slowly. “Obviously, things have changed, and just as obviously, Melchior knows at least a little bit about it. Is that what he didn’t tell you?”

  “Yes,” said Annabel, in annoyance. “I was so irritated that he wasn’t telling me everything he learned about our attack that he talked right past it and I didn’t get the chance to ask again. I didn’t even think to ask again! Oh, it’s annoying!”

  “I shouldn’t worry too much,” Isabella said comfortingly. “Melchior is awfully hard to pin down to anything, and I think he knows you very well—though obviously not as well as he thinks he does! We’ll plan an informational assault later; something that works with your strengths.”

  “I haven’t got any strengths,” said Annabel gloomily. “That’s why Peter and Melchior could always talk rings around me.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Isabella, “but I’m certain that if anyone can make Melchior give up information, it’s you. We simply have to find the right way of doing it. I’ll think something up, don’t you worry!”

  “It’s all right for you to say don’t worry,” Annabel said, “but when you say don’t worry it makes me think you’re up to something, and that’s worrying.”

  “I’m always up to something, Nan; it’s best that you know that now.”

  “I already know it,” said Annabel. “Why do you think I’m so worried!”

  There was a weight on the side of Annabel’s bed when she woke the next morning. From the direction of that weight, Isabella’s voice said thoughtfully, “Do you suppose Melchior is here to chase the informational leak he was very carefully not talking about yesterday?”

  Annabel groaned. “I haven’t had breakfast yet, Belle! I haven’t even gotten up!”

  “It’s good to discuss problems before breakfast,” said Isabella. “It aids the digestion. You should really get up; elegant young ladies may sleep until noon, but Trenthams ladies aren’t elegant young ladies until they graduate. Until then, we must force ourselves up at eight o’clock, eat breakfast at nine, and attend classes from ten o’clock.”

  “Informational leak,” mumbled Annabel, gazing up at the ceiling with blurred eyes. She blinked a few times, yawned, and made herself sit up. “Do you mean, he thinks the source of the leak is here? At Trenthams?”

  “Not as such,” Isabella said. “I had an idea he might be chasing the effects of the leak.”

  “Now that more people seem to know about me, you mean? That’s a good point. But what effects is he looking for, I wonder? Apart from threats and attacks, that is. We already knew about that, and if that’s all it was, shouldn’t he have made sure he was closer to me? Or put guards in here with us?”

  “Yes, and that’s what is so interesting,” Isabella agreed, brushing her hair. “It makes me think, Nan, that there is a lot more we don’t know.”

  “I already know there’s a lot more we don’t know,” grumbled Annabel. “That’s why I’m so annoyed with Melchior. All right, if the Royalists found out that I might be the queen heir, what would they do?”

  Isabella tied off the end of her plait. “Celebrate, most likely.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought. Though some of them are a bit—actually, some of them are really scary. I got the impression that they’d prefer me to be living somewhere more…well, Royalist-friendly.”

  Isabella turned away from the mirror. “Really? Now that is interesting! I’ve obviously been out of the country for too long. We already know that the Old Parrasians are very annoyed by you, of course; it’s very likely they were behind the footpads on the way here. Do you suppose they’ve sneaked someone into the school?”

  “I think that’s what Melchior thinks, anyway,” Annabel said. It was a cooler morning despite the fact that it was well into summer, and she resented having to get up. Nevertheless, get up she did. Nowadays there were nearly as many things she had to do that she didn’t want to do, as there had been when she was younger; she had simply gotten better at doing them anyway. “That’s what Melchior was always best at—counter espionage. Do you know, when he first knew Poly he was in four different factions at once? The Royalists thought he was one of them—oh well, and I suppose he was, in a sense—undercover in the Wizard party, and the Wizards were convinced he was one of them but was spying out the Old Parrasians. Actually, he was in Black Velvet the whole time, but a member of each of the others, too.”

  “I suspected something of that,” Isabella nodded. “And if it comes to that, I’ve always suspected that he had his own reasons for being in Black Velvet, too.”

  “He was looking for Poly,” agreed Annabel. She had guessed quite some time ago that in the past, Melchior had been very fond of Poly. The thought had made a small, niggling annoyance in the back of her mind for the first year she spent with Poly and Luck, until it became obvious that whatever had been in the past, Poly was entirely wrapped up with Luck and Onepiece. More importantly, it was clear that while Melchior was still fond of Poly, he no longer had the kind of feelings that had caused him, several years earlier, to fling himself into magical scrapes of the worst kind in her aid. Melchior, in fact, had told her as much himself.

  Isabella, entirely astonished, said blankly, “You know about that?”

  “Mm,” murmured Annabel, brushing her hair. “He told me a little while ago. He was supposed to rescue her instead of Luck, but Luck got in first. I’m pretty sure that’s why he joined Black Velvet in the first place.”

  “Nan,” Isabella said curiously, “What did you say when he told you that?”

  Annabel thought about that for a few moments. “I think I told him I wasn’t surprised. He’s the only person I know who could be involved with four political groups who each think he’s on their side while he’s actually there to do what he wants to do. He’s sneaky like that.”

  Isabella giggled. “Did you really tell him that?”

  “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “No reason at all. I merely wished to corroborate. Did he say anything else about Poly?”

  “Just that he wasn’t in love with her any more,” Annabel said. “But I already knew that, so I don’t know why he told me.”

  “I imagine he had his reasons,” Isabella said, her eyes dancing. She was amused at something, but Annabel was too sleepy to fathom it out. “Do let’s get dressed and go to breakfast, Nan. I’ve a feeling today will be a lovely day!”

  “What’s so lovely about it?” Annabel asked gloomily. Isabella had already laid out a dress for her—or had the maids?—and she was torn between putting it on because it was easiest, or protesting on principle that she was capable of choosing her own dresses.

  “Oh, I always enjoy a little Spectator Sport,” said Isabella.

  “Bother,” she said, a little later, in the dining hall.

  Annabel might not have taken notice of that small, thoughtful word if it hadn’t been for the unexpected undercurrent of anger to Isabella’s voice. She had heard a note of annoyance there, upon occasion, but never actual anger.

  She looked up. “What’s wrong?”

  “The table,” Isabella said, just a little grimly.

  The table looked as it had looked since the start of the week; two chairs, two place settings, and a few sauces and seasonings. There might have been less of those today, but not noticeably; the only real difference Annabel could see was that the table linen was now a different colour.

  “We shall not sit here today, Nan,” said Isabella. “There has evidently been a Mistake Made. Let’s sit over here instead.”

  “That table isn’t any different,” protested Annabel. “Except for two more seats. What’s wrong with our old one?”

  “Never you mind,” Isabella said darkly. “It must be a mistake, just as I said.”

  Annabel allowed herself to be herded to another table, but t
hey had only just shaken out their napkins when the Meal Matron appeared at their table.

  “Let’s have none of that, Miss,” she said, possessing herself of Annabel’s normal, pink napkin and replacing it with another blue one. She was looking at Annabel, but Annabel had the feeling she was talking to Isabella.

  “Are you quite sure you haven’t made a mistake?” There it was again, that slight undertone of anger to Isabella’s usually light voice. “Blue napkins seem…unnecessary for Nan.”

  “I’ve nothing to say, blue or pink,” said Matron sharply, “except that I’ve got my orders, and orders are that it’s blue napkins for Miss Ammett.”

  “Why does it matter whether it’s blue or pink?” demanded Annabel, hopelessly confused. “What does a blue napkin mean?”

  “It means, Miss,” said Matron—entirely, correctly polite and yet entirely, viciously satisfied— “that you’re to be put on a reducing diet. And it’s no good trying to change your seats again, either, because all the dining staff know about it, now.”

  “A reducing diet?” said Annabel blankly; but Matron had already gone.

  “The absolute cheek of it!” said Isabella, in amazement. “Who decided this, I should like to know! At any rate, we shan’t submit!”

  “Oh, we might as well,” said Annabel wearily. “It’s no use making a fuss about it. It was probably Melchior, if it comes to that; they wouldn’t do it without his permission, anyway.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so poorly of him! Well! There is certainly more than one way to tie one’s boot-laces, after all! We shall see!”

  Breakfast with blue table linen, Annabel soon discovered, was a vastly different thing to breakfast with pink table linen. Instead of the vast food trollies that trundled deliciously scented trays to the other tables, there was a single, small trolley that carried one full meal and a much smaller one. That full meal was put in front of Isabella, and the smell of it crept over Annabel’s much sparser plate of breakfast to jolt her stomach into regretful growling.