Staff & Crown

by W. R. Gingell

Regardless of their pistols, the rest of the Old Parrasians turned to face the new threat. Annabel grimly moved on to the fifth pistol, but Isabella dragged her to the ground as a burst of something strong and possibly magical threw most of the Old Parrasians into the bushes.

  “Won’t I have words with Melchior!” Annabel heard her say. “If these stains don’t come out, I shall take it personally!”

  Annabel wriggled until she was on her stomach without considering her frock, and continued to erase pistols. She could see Melchior properly now—he might well have been flinging magic, for all she could see, but he was certainly swinging punches. Very much impressed, she asked Isabella, “Did you know he could fight? Oh, what a nice hit! I hope your nose is broken, you awful man!”

  Isabella giggled. “I believe Melchior is a little annoyed. Good heavens! Is that one dead, do you think?”

  “No,” said Annabel, who knew that clenched, open-mouthed, non-breathing posture. “He’s just winded.”

  “Is that all the pistols?” asked Isabella, her grey eyes narrowly observing the scene.

  One of the Old Parrasians helped up another, and Annabel, who had been about to shout a warning to Melchior, instead watched in astonishment as they turned away and ran for the bushes.

  “Yes—bother! They’re running!”

  “I should think so!” Isabella said. “Melchior may not have a great deal of magic, but he has a great deal of motivation, and he seems to be quite conversant with using his fists.”

  Now that Melchior was in little danger of anything worse than a punch in the nose, Annabel had the time to take in the various open-mouthed and outright adoring looks from the girls behind the wall of magic. She frowned.

  “Oh no,” she said. She made a small adjustment to it with the pencil end of the staff, shading in the invisibility of the wall until the girls disappeared into a slight haze. “I’m not having that. He’s my cat.”

  Isabella looked startled. “Nan, he’s not really—”

  “No, but he’s mine,” Annabel said, climbing to her feet and dusting herself off. “I won’t have other girls patting him on the head.”

  “Perhaps you should tell him that.”

  “Yes, but he knows that! Who else does he belong to if not to me?”

  “Who knows the minds of men, Nan? Is that the last one?”

  “Yes,” said Annabel, watching in unqualified approval as Melchior saw to the last Old Parrasian remaining. The others were running or limping through the trees the way they had come, in various states of bloody disarray, and Melchior didn’t seem inclined to pursue them.

  Instead, he strode across the now-scuffed badminton court and demanded, “Are you hurt, Nan?”

  “Just dirty,” Annabel told him cheerfully, brushing herself off and carefully replacing her pistol through the slit in her pocket. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew how to punch people, Melchior? That was awfully satisfying!”

  “I wouldn’t like you to think it was selfless,” said Melchior, after the briefest of pauses. “It merely never occurred to me as a method of self-aggrandisement when it comes to you, Nan. Judging from the bloodthirsty gleam to your eyes, I’ll need to rethink that position.”

  “Perhaps you could rethink it later,” suggested Isabella. “And perhaps we could remember that although the girls can’t see anything, they can certainly hear if we speak loudly enough.”

  Melchior, more quietly but scarcely less sarcastically, said, “If you’re suggesting a dumb show of my emotions at this moment, Firebrand—”

  “Absolutely not!” Isabella said at once. “I won’t stand for it! Merely that we move away from the blockade. Should we let them out, do you think?”

  “Not yet,” Annabel said, remembering those adoring gazes and certain she didn’t feel energetic enough to deal with that at the moment.

  To her surprise, Melchior agreed. “Let the Awesome Aunts deal with it,” he said. “They should be coming along at any moment—as soon, in fact, as they hear about it.”

  Annabel opened her mouth to remark that that would happen just as soon as the Old Parrasians told the Awesome Aunts, but it occurred to her in time that the definite connection between the Awesome Aunts and the Old Parrasians was something that Melchior didn’t know. She was still not inclined to share information with him.

  Instead, she said, “Lady Selma will probably tell them when she comes out of hiding. And speaking of coming out of hiding, how did you know what was happening?”

  “I’ve got little spells all around Trenthams,” Melchior said. “If any kind of threatening magic breaks out, I get a warning. If the staff does something—”

  “You come right away to see what I’ve done,” said Annabel, nodding. She accepted Melchior’s help over the last of the hill, but instead of leading her back toward the school, he drew her toward the covered gardens.

  “Exactly so,” he said. “I can’t say that I was expecting to see you holding off seven Old Parrasians with a pistol, however.”

  “Oh, are we going into the gardens?” asked Isabella. “How unusual. I suppose it’s best to stay away from the school until they sort everything out themselves, but I would have thought we were all a bit tired of the heat.”

  “This part of the garden is covered,” Melchior said, without releasing Nan’s hand. Instead, he tucked it through the crook of his arm. “Nan, I hate to ask, but did the Old Parrasians happen to see—”

  “Yes,” said Annabel baldly. “Sorry. They know it looks like a pencil.”

  “It’s a bit of a bother, isn’t it?” Isabella said reflectively.

  “Yes,” Annabel said glumly. “But what could I do when they were about to threaten the other girls? I couldn’t let them shoot anyone just to get their hands on the staff, could I?”

  “I think not,” agreed Isabella. “Besides, Nan, one could always say that although they now know what the staff looks like, they don’t have it; and I’m certain they would have had it if they’d started offering to shoot the girls. You did well.”

  Annabel sighed. “I suppose I could ask it to change, or draw it to change, but then I’d have to learn to use it again. I know how to use it when it’s like this.”

  “There’s no need to change how it looks,” Melchior said. He was frowning down at his black and silver waistcoat, where a tear in the fabric left spiky silver threads sticking out. He sighed, too. “Nan, this was a new made waistcoat.”

  “Sorry,” said Annabel, removing her hand from Melchior’s arm and patting his head by reflex. He twitched his head away, narrowing his eyes at her, and Annabel made a face back at him.

  “A pat on the head,” he said coldly, “is hardly enough to compensate for damage to a new waistcoat.”

  “Oh,” said Annabel. She tiptoed and kissed him on the cheek instead. “Sorry.”

  “You shouldn’t give him ideas, Nan,” warned Isabella. “As my Aunt Oddu says—”

  “I’ll thank you to stay out of this, Firebrand!”

  “Yes, but Aunt Oddu is very concerned about the Ascendancy of the Male in Polite Society, and—”

  “I’ll thank your Aunt Oddu to stay out of it, too.”

  “Oh, but Aunt Oddu never stays out of things,” Isabella said. “Particularly not when it comes to the Ascendancy of the Male in Polite Society.”

  “I suppose you spent a lot of time with her when you were growing up,” Annabel said. She poked the loose threads back into Melchior’s waistcoat, which both made him jump and surprised him into silence. She drew the threads back in with the pencil staff as she pinched the material firmly together. “There,” she said. “The staff has probably never been used for such a purpose before. I hope you’re satisfied.”

  “Very,” said Melchior, and Annabel could have supposed him to be Blackfoot again for the briefest moment, because he had certainly almost purred.

  Isabella made a small, disapproving tsk sound. “Well, Aunt Oddu wouldn’t approve at all.”

  “Firebrand—”

/>   “Very well!” hastily said Isabella. Her grey eyes were dancing despite the disapproving nature of her remarks, and now she grinned. “Shall I leave you both alone?”

  “Yes,” said Melchior.

  At the same time, Annabel said in surprise, “Why?”

  “Dear me! Perhaps Aunt Oddu would approve after all!”

  “Firebrand,” said Melchior between his teeth. “I will give you until precisely the count of five—”

  “I’m off, I’m off!” Isabella waved at them airily and floated away down another avenue that led toward the school building.

  Left alone with Melchior, Annabel would have asked what it was they had to discuss, but Melchior didn’t give her a chance. He took her hand again without asking and pulled her away from the other avenue with enough firmness to make it clear to Annabel that it wouldn’t be much use making a fuss unless she really didn’t want to go with him. Since she didn’t mind, Annabel didn’t make a fuss.

  She did say, however, “Isn’t it more proper for me to be walking along with my hand in the crook of your arm?”

  Melchior threw a look down at her. “If you’re minded to make remarks about the Firebrand’s Aunt Oddu as well, Nan—”

  “I don’t know her,” Annabel said peaceably. “So I can’t make remarks about her. I wasn’t complaining, I was just asking.”

  “Considering the dreadful behaviour you exhibited toward me just last night,” began Melchior, “I should think that my holding your hand for a few moments is hardly the depths of depravity.”

  “Oh, yes,” Annabel said. “Sorry about that.”

  “Are you?” Melchior gazed down at her again, his eyes curious. “I’m really not sure whether I should be insulted or not.”

  “I don’t know why you should be insulted,” Annabel said, putting her nose in the air. “You’re not the one always being scolded and pushed out the door for being too affectionate. I should feel insulted.”

  “I should like very much to know whether you actually do feel insulted,” Melchior retorted. “I’ve seen no evidence of it!”

  “I suppose I should just cling around your neck when you tell me not to do it, or when you tell me to go away,” remarked Annabel. “Well, I won’t.”

  That made Melchior’s eyes deepen in colour with amusement. “Until you want more information, I suppose.”

  “Until then,” agreed Annabel, this time more cheerfully. It didn’t sound as though he was angry, even if he had sent her away in disgrace last night. In fact, it almost sounded as though he hadn’t minded at all—or that he had enjoyed the closeness as much as she had done.

  Well, she thought, mulling that over, no matter how prickly he was being now, there was no one she preferred to be around than Melchior, and the same was probably true of him. They had spent too many years together to be wanting to be apart for long. No matter how much Melchior pushed her away, he probably missed her just as much as she had missed him.

  She said accusingly, “I don’t think you minded me hugging you last night.”

  “When, Nan,” said Melchior, with a smile dancing not only on his lips but in his eyes, “when did I say that I minded?”

  “You pushed me out the door,” she pointed out. “Actually, I think it’s a bit much for you to be walking me around by the hand when you pushed me out of your room last night.”

  “At some stage in the near future, I’ll explain it to you. For now, resign yourself to being walked around by the hand while we have some discussion, if you please, Nan.”

  “So we do have something to discuss!” Annabel said, in mild triumph. “I thought you were just trying to annoy me. What are we discussing?”

  Melchior closed his eyes briefly, and said plaintively, “I’m certainly insulted. Very well, since you’re so inclined to humour me, shall we begin with the new safety measures that are so obviously wanting, or the fact that you seem to have incorporated half of the school’s servant staff into your own personal spy network?”

  16

  It hadn’t occurred to Annabel that any of the girls might have been concerned about her, so it was something of a surprise to her at breakfast the next morning when most of the girls who had attended the badminton court approached her table during the meal.

  More, none of them directly said they had been concerned—or that they were glad she was uninjured. Most of them simply approached, curtseyed, and continued on to their tables. One or two of them brought small presents of candied fruit or chocolates, and said some variation of It’s nice to see you this morning, Miss Ammett, as if she had been confined to her room for a week. Since Annabel had been aware, if not interested, in her classes on Advanced Polite Conversation, she understood by this that each of the girls was, in their own way, happy to see her alive and uninjured.

  “I call that a good day’s work,” said Isabella happily, after the latest of these. “And I don’t think Lady Selma can say the same! She was in very little danger, but at the first sign of it, she abandoned her supporters. Trenthams girls, even the most devious of them, are the sort to remember that kind of thing.”

  “Oh,” said Annabel. She had noticed Lady Selma and Lady Caro sitting at their usual table together, and if she had been asked to say what was different about it, she might have said it was a little less busy than usual. “Do you think the other girls will be more inclined to support me now, then?”

  “Certainly. They’ve seen that you’re ready to defend them at the cost of your own life. Most of them appreciate that. It’s not the killing blow I would like it to be, but it has certainly made our job somewhat easier. We’ll still need to fight, but we’re certainly not at a disadvantage. Yes, Nan; I call that a very good day’s work!”

  “Do you think the Awesome Aunts will acknowledge the fuss yesterday, or will they ignore it completely?”

  “They’re more likely to pass over it gracefully—make a reference to an Unfortunate Disagreeableness or a Slight Fuss—and try to pretend it was the smallest of disturbances. The girls will tell their parents, of course, but the Aunts will be ready for it by then.”

  “And nobody will think of taking their daughters out of school while the queen heir is attending, anyway,” Annabel said, with the feeling that she had become hopelessly jaded. “Even if no one is sure who the real queen heir actually is.”

  “Naturally. Which reminds me—we really need to prepare for half-term when there’s a moment free from lessons and Old Parrasian attacks.”

  “Oh yes,” said Annabel gloomily. “The parents. Do you know, I thought the castle would be the standard for awful and life-threatening experiences, but I think Trenthams might actually be worse.”

  “Speaking of the castle,” said Isabella, sipping her morning juice tranquilly, “when exactly is it supposed to come back?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” said Annabel. It hadn’t been possible to keep track of the days, even for Melchior, since neither of them had any idea when the castle had appeared again in the first place. “But I think it should come back at about half-term, too.”

  And that, she thought, a little sourly, was exactly like life at Trenthams—no chance to catch a breath.

  “They’ll be wanting to crown you straight away, I should think.”

  “Melchior says he’ll introduce me to the parliament first. Officially, that is. At least half of them already know.”

  Isabella made a face. “What a bore! Necessary, of course, but still a bore. You should ask Poly to tell you what happened on the day she was introduced! Now there’s a nice, stirring tale for you!”

  “That?” Annabel grinned suddenly. “She told me. Actually, I was pretty curious about how she avoided being made queen, with everything that happened.”

  “It wasn’t for lack of trying on the part of Wizard Council, I can tell you! As for the Old Parrasians—well, they tried to convince her, brainwash her, and kidnap her. I think one or two of them even tried to kill her. A bit foolish when Luck was looking after her, but sti
ll.”

  “A bit foolish of them considering what she can do, too!” said Annabel. “Anyway, it’s pretty rude of them to be trying to threaten me as well, in that case! At least I’m queen heir by Right of Choice; Poly was just mistaken for the Civetan Princess!”

  “I don’t think the Old Parrasians care about Right of Choice, Rorkin or no Rorkin,” said Isabella. “Not if the Chosen Royal in question isn’t an old Parras-line Royal. They’re not very reasonable people. You would think, Nan, that three hundred years would be enough time to do away with the bad feelings that invasion invariably excites, but when it comes to Royalists and Old Parrasians, it seems like it was yesterday.”

  “I suppose it’s just a matter of surviving Trenthams until half term, then,” Annabel said. “Poly and Luck said they’d come along to support me in parliament, so I’m not afraid of being killed there, at any rate.”

  Isabella sniffed. “Not unless you die a slow death of boredom, annoyance, and nit-picking.”

  “At least it’s a different parliament now,” said Annabel peaceably. “Not so many wizards all together, for one thing.”

  “A parliament is still largely a parliament,” Isabella said dryly. “A little more diverse these days, at least, but it’s still a vast, slow-moving machine that can’t be brought to see what’s under its own nose until you’ve shown it several times. They might not be obstructive by design now, but they certainly are by sheer incompetence.”

  “Yes,” said Annabel. She still felt vaguely resentful about the amount of work she was going to be responsible for as soon as the crown was on her brow. “Melchior has been showing me how to do paperwork and make speeches for the last three years.”

  “Aren’t you glad you’ll have such a good ambassador!” said Isabella. “Just think how nice it will be not to have to worry about that appointment, at least!”

  “I’m very grateful,” said Annabel, and tried very hard not to roll her eyes. “By the way, did you see the bicycle girls this morning?”

  “Of course. They’re rather good at what they do, Nan; they didn’t stop at all while they were in sight from our windows. One presumes they must have stopped where the wall dips in a little, since that’s nearby where Dannick saw the maid retrieving a note. A very nice little drop, I think. One of them needs only to stop and tie a shoe or adjust her hat, and the thing is done!”