“Stopping this young woman’s broom. When I was possessed.”
“Wait.” Gaius leaned forward, looking tremendously amused. His chair legs struck the floor with a clunk. “You’re the one who stopped her in mid-air? You? Mark Williams the…” He did not finish his statement. From his expression, Rachel suspected that he had planned to say something he deemed inappropriate to repeat in front of young ladies.
“Yes. That was me,” the young man replied, shame-faced.
“It’s all right,” Rachel said, eager for him to be gone. Her heart still raced, but the delay was causing her courage to ebb. “You were geased. Please. Don’t think of it again.”
“Whoa!” Gaius held up his hand. “Not so quickly. I rather think a crime of this severity demands a penalty, don’t you, Mr. Williams? As penance for your assault on this lovely young lady, you should share with the rest of us the story of how ably this freshman recovered from your attack. And by the rest of us, I mean…”
Rising to his feet, Gaius pointed his wand over his shoulder. Silver sparkles with a scent like a winter’s day burst from its sapphire tip. The leaping sprays of the fountain turned to ice. The cessation of the roar of rushing water was almost as jarring as a loud noise. Heads turned in their direction. Jumping onto his chair, Gaius struck his glass with a spoon. A chiming noise reverberated across the dining hall. People looked at him.
“Attention! Attention,” he called. “Mr. Marcus Williams has something to tell us.”
Gaius jumped down and gestured toward Mr. Williams, making a “come along now” motion with his hands. Nervously, the other young man climbed onto the chair. In a tight voice that grew louder, Mark Williams told the story of how he had stalled Miss Griffin’s broom in mid-air with a cantrip; how she had fallen, called for her broom, somersaulted, bounded up again, caught her broom, flipped onto it, and flown away.
He finished with, “Oh, and before she left, she relieved me of my wand.”
“A tiny freshman grabbed a wand from a big guy like you…how?” Gaius asked loudly.
Mark Williams’s face fell. “I was paralyzed.”
“Who paralyzed you?” Gaius waved a hand airily. “A symphony of adult sorcerers standing nearby with oboe and saxophone?”
“No. Miss Griffin whistled.”
“A freshman paralyzed you—without an instrument or a wand—while she was falling through mid-air? She paralyzed you by whistling? Then, she somersaulted, grabbed her broom, snatched your wand, and flew away?”
Murmurs of astonishment rippled through the crowd.
“Yeah. And when she got back on her broom—” Mark Williams cried, his eyes great with enthusiasm. “You should have seen her fly! It was amazing! She’s a broom goddess.”
All eyes in the dining hall focused on Rachel again. She glanced rapidly left and right, but there was nowhere to hide. At that moment, she would have done extraordinary things to gain possession of John Darling’s tarn helm and turn invisible.
Gaius cupped his hands around his mouth. “Three cheers for the Broom Goddess.”
“Hip, hip, hurray!” shouted the entire gathered company of students in the dining hall.
Rachel stood immobilized, her face as hot as the interior of the sun. Her vision blurred. She counted this as a good thing. It kept her from seeing the sea of faces turning toward her again—strangers’ faces. Nonetheless, her head was growing light. Air did not seem to be reaching her lungs. She wondered abstractly if she would faint.
Gaius’s smile saved her. His warm eyes glowed with encouragement and delight. He was proud of her. That knowledge steadied her like an anchor against the hurricane. If public acknowledgement of her prowess on a broom pleased this boy she so admired, then maybe it was not so terrible. With this thought comforting her, she was able to draw a single ragged breath.
At the head of the table, Von Dread clapped dryly. That small gesture brought her back to herself. Regaining her aplomb, Rachel curtsied. With a flourish, she reached into her pocket and presented the wands she had picked up during the fight. Sheepishly, Mr. Williams took his, a length of birch and brass tipped with a ruby. He held it up for all to see.
A fury of applause and shouts of “Broom Goddess! Broom Goddess!” rocked the dining hall. Rachel held her breath. Eventually, the fervor died down, and Mark Williams departed. Gaius sat back down in his chair. Rachel held out the rest of the wands she had collected, lengths of wood and precious metals with gems set into the tips. “What should I do with these?”
“Where are they from?” he asked.
“Drake students who were geased. I collected them during the fight.”
“Give them to Vlad. He’ll know who they belong to.” Gaius gestured at Von Dread, who regarded her with the slightest hint of approval on his otherwise impassive face.
She stepped around Gaius and held out the wands with only a hint of uncertainty. “Mr. Von Dread, these belong to students from your hall.”
Dread stood and accepted them. “Thank you, Miss Griffin. I will see they are returned.”
Vladimir Von Dread was tremendously imposing and so handsome it almost hurt to look at him, like staring directly at the sun. But he seemed almost like a normal human being as he nodded graciously. She felt secretly pleased to be the object of his calm attention.
Dread sat again, and Rachel went back to Gaius, determined to speak to him before they could be interrupted again. She hovered beside his shoulder.
“That offer you made me?” she spoke rapidly. “Is it still open?”
“Which offer? Oh, if you mean…” Gaius half stood up. “Yes!”
“I accept.”
“That’s great! You won’t be sorry!”
They shone enormous smiles at each other. Rachel wondered if he would kiss her or even hug her. He had carried her when they were running from the meteor that Dean Moth had conjured to strike Mordeau the dragon, and he had swung her around afterward, in joyous adulation. Both those occasions, however, had been fleeting. They had never hugged properly, not the kind of embrace in which his arms surrounded her, and she leaned against him.
She waited, but he did not rise. He just gave her a knee-liquefying smile. She ached to touch his shoulder, or run her fingers through his glistening chestnut hair, but she was too shy.
Still, she had a boyfriend!
The thought made her giddy.
“Rachel! Rachel!” The princess and a gaggle of their girlfriends poured around her, exclaiming over Mark Williams’s tale. Joy hugged her exuberantly. Zoë gave her shoulder a friendly punch. Kitten Fabian, one of Rachel’s three roommates, and their dorm-mate Brunhilda Winters both gave her big smiles. The princess stood by graciously, nodding her approval.
“Your courage becomes you, Rachel,” Nastasia said simply.
“That was amazing!” Joy cried. “All I did was nearly get stabbed!”
“I had hoped to be the Broom Goddess,” sighed Brunhilda, who preferred to be called Hildy. The cheerful, blond cheerleader from California was a newcomer to the World of the Wise. She had fallen in love with brooms, however, during her first flying class. She flew very well for a beginner. “But if it had to be anyone else, then it should be you: our teachy-weachy. Or is it teachy-witchy?”
When Gaius and Von Dread looked at her blankly, Zoë explained in her light New Zealand accent, “Rachel’s Mr. Chanson’s student assistant.”
“Ah.” Dread nodded in approval. “The P.E. teacher.”
Rising again, Dread stood before the princess. “I would like to thank you and your companions. It has been told to me that you took steps to save the lives of my comrades and myself. If there is any service I may perform on your behalf, please do not hesitate to ask.”
“I only did as duty dictated, Mr. Von Dread.”
“Nonetheless, Miss Romanov, the debt remains. I shall honor it.” Dread clasped his hands behind his back. He cleared his throat. “Earlier today. Did you have a vision of me?”
“I did, Mr. Von
Dread,” Nastasia replied stiffly, brushing the same spot on her forehead she had been touching all evening. “But I am not inclined to share it with you, as you would thereby benefit from your flagrant violation of my father’s orders.”
“Ah. I see.” He bowed and returned to his seat.
The others stared at this exchange, puzzled, but Rachel played back her memory of Von Dread’s rescue of Nastasia and Joy from the moat waters flooding the summoning vault beneath Drake Hall. He had removed his right glove before he cast the cantrip to wake the water and turn in into a sentient creature. As he reached around the princess to grab Joy, her memory showed that the back of his bare hand had trailed across the princess’s forehead.
That would have been enough to cause Nastasia to have one of her strange visions that apparently sent her into other worlds. It also would have caused her to disobey her father’s order never to touch the naked skin of Vladimir Von Dread.
Kitten Fabian peered at the frozen fountain. She was a short girl, fierce and sweet, with straight brown hair and a mess of freckles. The tiny Lion who had warned Rachel that Valerie needed help—the Lion that Gaius had seen as bigger than the universe—was Kitten’s familiar.
“May I ask you what you did to the fountain?” Kitten asked Gaius. Her lovely English accent sounded delightfully familiar to Rachel’s ears.
“Froze it.” Gaius tipped his chair back and tapped on the ice. A frozen arc of spray fell to the ground with a chime-like tinkling. “So people could hear over the noise. It’ll melt.”
“Jolly good.” Kitten touched the frozen fountain experimentally. More ice cascaded to the ground with more chime-like tinkling. “Rather smashing of you, really.”
Nastasia took Rachel’s arm. “Are you coming with us?”
Rachel wanted to stay with Gaius, but if she went with the girls, perhaps Nastasia would share her vision. She sympathized with the princess’s desire not to let the Bavaria prince profit from his perfidy. Yet, she yearned to know who Von Dread had been before he came to Earth.
With a sigh, Rachel let the princess lead her away. The other girls followed.
It saddened her to leave without a kiss goodbye. She had not even had a chance to introduce her new boyfriend to her friends. She threw him a lingering glance goodbye.
Gaius winked at her.
Chapter Twelve:
The Beggar King
The night was chilly. The first stars were rising. A breeze sent the early autumn leaves rustling across the gravel paths as the girls crossed the bridge that arched over the reflecting lake and headed across the lawns to visit Valerie Hunt.
The infirmary, a brick building with white marble columns, stood between the eastern dorms and the gymnasium. The floors were green marble veined with black. Blue tiles, painted with silver arcane symbols, covered the walls. Overhead, puffy white clouds decorated a domed ceiling of periwinkle blue. From it hung a clockwork orrery. Each heavenly body rotated independently, allowing the nurse to alter the celestial influences that had been imbued by alchemy into the tiny sun and planets, so as to create, within the chamber, the date and time most propitious for the healing needed. In the center of the chamber, a fountain gurgled.
Flame-orange curtains separated the cots from one another. Four beds were in use, the curtains around them pulled closed. Rachel pushed one curtain back with her broom. Inside, Misty Lark lay asleep, curled around her tiny unicorn. Siggy’s friend and sparring buddy, Seth Peregrine, sat beside her in a chair, head lolled to one side. His mouth hung open, snoring. Rachel quickly let the curtain fall shut.
“Siggy?” she called softly.
“Over here,” he answered from behind another curtain.
Rachel and the other girls from Dare Hall crowded around Valerie’s bed, where she rested, recovering from the severe blood loss she had suffered earlier in the day when she had tried to break the geas she was under by sheer effort of will. She sat holding Sigfried’s hand, looking wan but resolved. Her Norwegian elk hound, Payback, lay stretched across the bed on her other side. The dog’s black nose was pressed against Valerie’s cheek.
A breeze from the open window stirred the chimes that hung over the bed. Their light tones rang out cheerfully. Tiny green sparkles formed around them and drifted toward the patient. Above the headboard hovered a glass ball that burned with green health-giving fire. In the corner, Siggy sat beside a tall, antique mirror with a golden hue—the dean’s thinking glass.
“I offered to kill Strega, but she said ‘no,’” pouted Siggy. Under his breath, he muttered, “I shouldn’t have asked her first.”
Valerie flashed them a brave smile. She held Siggy’s hand in both of hers. “Can’t have you going off to the slammer. A jailbird boyfriend would be most embarrassing for the daughter of a cop. Besides, didn’t Lucky already burn his face off? I hear he’s at the Healing Halls of Asclepius in New York. They’ve sent Agents to arrest him.”
“What happened?” asked Joy.
“Dr. Mordeau’s assistant, Jonah Strega, hurt her,” Rachel said quickly, before Siggy or the princess could blurt out anything more distressing.
Valerie shot her a grateful glance.
“You mean the same guy who nearly stabbed me?” Joy cried. “What a creep! The princess saved me. She’s the most amazing girl in the whole universe.” She grabbed Nastasia’s arm, beaming. The princess looked pained, but she did not push Joy away. Joy continued, “If it weren’t for the princess, birds would not sing, and fireflies would not glow.”
“Please,” the princess murmured, dismayed, “such exaggeration is not becoming.”
Joy ignored her and continued praising.
Siggy fetched some more chairs. The girls found places around the bed to put them and made way for Beauregard, the princess’s Tasmanian tiger familiar, who had stalked up beside her. They all chatted cheerfully, describing their day. Valerie listened but did not say much. She seemed grateful for the distraction but also weary. Rachel smiled and chatted, but her thoughts were on Gaius and her new status as a girlfriend.
Part of her wanted to shout this out loud, telling everyone. Why have friends, if she could not share such important news? But she held back. The princess had expressed such disapproval of Gaius Valiant that Rachel felt reluctant to tell her.
Eventually, Kitten and Hildy took their leave, and Zoë went to visit with Scott and Misty, who were now awake. That left Rachel, Siggy, Nastasia, Valerie, and Joy.
The moment the others were gone, Rachel leaned forward, her eyes shining. “Valerie, what you did to that beastly Eunice, that was excellent!”
“Oh, you saw that, did you? I hated finding out that I was the snitch, but we’d already guessed that.” Valerie chuckled maliciously. She picked up her camera, adjusted the lens, and snapped a picture of the orrery above them. “It felt so good to bring Eunice down a few pegs. She’s a huge bully. Have you seen the way she treats her little sister? She’s such a bi—” Valerie’s voice cut off as the nurse walked by.
“Her behavior toward Magdalene has been deplorable!” Nastasia agreed firmly. “I hope the authorities find some appropriate penalty.”
Valerie adjusted her camera again and snapped another picture of the ceiling. “We’re just the Inner Circle here now, right? Sigfried’s been telling me everything. Have we learned anything new?”
Ah. A good opening to ask about the thing she left Gaius in hopes of hearing.
“Von Dread touched the princess while he was rescuing her.” Rachel traced with her toe the swirls of the pattern on the section of Valerie’s comforter that hung down over the side of the bed. “He wanted to know about her vision, but she wouldn’t tell him.”
All eyes turned to Nastasia, who sat petting her Tasmanian tiger.
“Can you tell us what you saw?” Sigfried asked.
“Or show us?” Valerie gestured at the thinking glass with the hand that held her camera. Beside her, Payback’s curly tail thumped. She stroked the dogs head and ears with her free hand. �
��Siggy tried to use this one. But neither of us knows the attunement spell. But you used it earlier, Nastasia. Attunement spells last till midnight, right?”
“I believe so,” said the princess.
Rising, Nastasia moved to the antique mirror. Beauregard rose and stood protectively at her side. Nastasia placed her hand against the thinking glass’s surface, and a picture formed. Portions were blurry. The perspective looked wrong. Still, the main scene was clear, except during the moment when the flash from Valerie’s camera reflected off the glass.
Knights in brightly-colored armor and spangled-robed magicians gathered in a semi-circle on a hilltop, facing a domed temple or shrine. Each knight wore armor of a single color that shone like a gem: ruby, amethyst, emerald—except for one who wore a golden helmet along with his sapphire armor. Over this, they wore long surcoats emblazoned with heraldic symbols. The knights and their steeds were gathered in two groups that eyed each other warily. A huge green ogre, carrying a tree trunk for a club, stood between the two groups.
To the left of the knights stood the magicians. Tall sorcerers in starry robes and pointed hats leaned on their jewel-tipped staffs. In their midst, three enchantresses in gowns of rich brocade and velvet stood together, holding the rail of a chariot pulled by winged serpents. One wore white, one red, one black.
To the right of the knights was a group of rag-tag men, with vests and baggy pants, wide brimmed hats and gold earrings. A few of them were mounted. They surrounded a flag, a wide strip of blue above a wide strip of green with a red, sixteen-spoked wheel in the center. Checking the library of her memory, Rachel recalled that this was the flag of the Romani people.
At the very top of the hill, in front of the domed shrine, four beings on horseback faced the gathered crowd—a gaunt figure carrying a balance on a black horse; a fierce soldier with a sword on a red horse; a kingly figure, wearing a seven-pointed crown of gold set with seven gems that twinkled like stars and carrying a bow, on a white horse; and a hooded figure with a scythe on a horse that was the pale color of the deathly ill.
The Raven, The Elf, and Rachel (A Book of Unexpected Enlightenment 2) Page 13