Greystone grunted.
“Very well.” He laid down a piece of parchment. “Place your signature here,” Greystone said to Anne as he pointed to a blank line at the bottom of the page. “And also here… and here… and here and here.” As he spoke, he added several more pages to the pile.
The papers were out of reach, but Anne didn’t dare move her arm. “What are those for?”
“Oh, just the usual hero stuff,” said Jocelyn, drawing the papers over and shoving a quill pen into Anne’s right hand.
“Hero?” said Anne.
“Exactly.” Jocelyn counted off on her fingers. “Things like fulfillment of contract, completion of all quest-related tasks, person-of-unspecified-gender in distress contingencies, injury clauses—”
“Injury?” said Anne.
“—insurance against fire-breathing creatures, insurance against non-fire-breathing creatures, beneficiaries in the event of death—”
“Death!”
“—disposal of remains not incinerated, next of kin, et cetera, et cetera. You know, the usual. Ms. Shatterblade, you’ll need to sign some of these papers as well.”
Penelope was only too eager to sign up for adventure and moved quickly over to the table.
“Shatterblade?” said Greystone. “This is their daughter? Are you seriously proposing to enroll this girl after that business her parents were involved in? After every other academy in the Hierarchy has vowed to strike their family’s name from the records?”
Penelope’s cheeks grew as flame red as her hair.
If possible, Jocelyn stood even straighter than usual. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m proposing to do. And all Keepers are free to choose whomever they wish for party members.”
Anne didn’t comment, as per Jocelyn’s instructions, but she did do her best to convey through her posture and expression that in no uncertain terms she and Penelope were a team.
Greystone fumed and ground his teeth together, and Anne thought for sure one of the blood vessels in his forehead would burst. Then a gleam appeared in his eye.
“You can’t have an adventuring group with only two members,” he said. “The minimum requirement is three. If you are unable to provide another recruit, the council has the authority to assign—”
At that moment one of the side doors slid open, and a boy with a dour expression stepped into the room. He had light beige skin and brown eyes and appeared to be the same age as Anne and Penelope. His long dark green coat was buttoned down to the knees, and a long colorful scarf was wound loosely around his neck and under his long, straight black hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail. He walked over and stood stiffly next to Jocelyn.
“I saw you arrive and thought it best to come and find you,” the boy said to her.
“Excellent timing, dear,” Jocelyn murmured to him, and then she turned her attention back to Greystone. “Your offer to supply a third party member is very generous, Minister, but as you can see, that won’t be necessary.” She handed some additional documents to Greystone. “This is Hiro Darkflame. He studied at Cloverfield.”
Greystone perused the papers and raised an eyebrow. “Cloverfield? That’s a top preparatory school. How did you manage to acquire a student from there?”
Jocelyn smiled confidently. “I have my connections.”
If possible, Greystone scrutinized the new student’s papers even more closely than he had Anne’s. Apparently finding nothing to complain about (and being visibly annoyed by that fact), he handed the documents back. Anne finished signing the papers in front of her, and both Penelope and Hiro signed next. While Greystone watched them, Anne swiftly lifted her arm away and pressed the gauntlet against her side. The crow seemed disappointed that the light had gone away.
Once everyone finished, Greystone gave one set of copies to Jocelyn and stuffed the second set into his leather satchel.
“And what about the Bag of Chance?” he asked.
Jocelyn produced a small pouch. “Each party member requires an official role,” she explained to Anne and Penelope. “By tradition they are assigned randomly. Simply draw a token from the bag.”
She held the pouch out to Penelope first. Penelope stuck her hand in and drew out a tiny wooden token.
“Yes. Fighter,” said Penelope, looking pleased. She showed it to Anne. It had a picture of a sword with the word fighter written in plain script underneath.
Jocelyn next held the pouch out to Hiro.
“Wizard,” he read from his token, but he didn’t show it to anyone other than Jocelyn.
Anne was last. There were dozens of tokens in the bag, and she dug around until her fingers closed on one that felt especially cool to the touch. She took it out. It had a picture of a hammer on it.
“Blacksmith?” she read.
Greystone frowned. “The standard beginning party is supposed to be fighter, wizard, and thief.”
“Well, as I’m sure you’ll agree, this group is anything but standard,” said Jocelyn. “And it is called the Bag of Chance, after all.” Greystone raised an eyebrow, but Jocelyn quickly continued. “Splendid, everyone. Well done. I’m sure you’ll all settle into your new roles in no time. Was there anything else, Minister?”
Greystone handed Anne a pamphlet. “This is your copy of the Wizards’ Council’s official Rules for Quests. It should answer all your Keeper-related questions.”
“What if it doesn’t?” asked Anne, weighing the thinness of the pamphlet against the multitude of thoughts buzzing around inside her head.
“Then you’re obviously asking the wrong questions,” he said coldly.
“Well, don’t let us keep you,” said Jocelyn. “I know what a busy individual you are.”
Greystone gathered his satchel. “Come, Neeva,” he commanded, and the crow perched on his shoulder once again. With that, he brushed past the group with a swish of his cape and exited the building.
“Is it me, or is that guy a little intense?” said Penelope.
Jocelyn smiled at Anne. “That was excellent work, my dear. You’re a natural, if I do say so myself.”
Anne blushed, unused to praise of any sort from an adult. “Why didn’t you want the minister to see the medallion?”
“Because while there is very little he can do about the gauntlet itself, it is highly illegal to possess an active prophecy medallion without a permit.”
Hiro’s eyes widened. “She has an active medallion?”
“Not now, Mr. Darkflame,” said Jocelyn, and she led them back outside. “I work very hard not to give the council any reason to stick its nose into our business, and it’s an open secret that Lord Greystone despises the current academy system.”
“What’s the current system?” asked Penelope.
“The Wizards’ Council oversees everything related to magick, quests, and prophecies. The academies have to adhere to their regulations and file the required paperwork, but otherwise the council has little say in how each individual academy is actually run. Greystone wants to change that. He’s been trying to abolish the independent academies one by one and bring them all under the direct control of the council. Some say he’s even sabotaging them, ensuring recruits either transfer out or flunk out. Dozens have closed already.”
Penelope looked around. “Say, where are the other students, anyway?”
“That’s my point,” said Jocelyn. “You three are this academy’s only remaining students. We once had hundreds of aspiring adventurers and dozens of professors, but now there’s just a handful of us left. That’s why we’re so glad you’re here. If you fail, this academy will be forced to shut its doors forever.”
Anne’s chest tightened. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind, with one revelation after another, but knowing that the fate of Jocelyn’s academy depended on her as well made Anne more anxious than ever.
“Well, we won’t fail, then,” said Penelope. “We’ll study like crazy and pass any test Lord Stonehead wants to throw at us.”
; Jocelyn smiled. “That’s a lovely sentiment, dear, but I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” She stopped them at the base of a five-story tower. “Keepers typically don’t go on a prophecy quest until they’ve had three years of intense study. If you’ve activated one now, you’ll have to undertake it with no training whatsoever. And if you fail the quest, you fail the academy.”
“We might fail?” squeaked Hiro.
“Not now, Mr. Darkflame,” said Jocelyn.
Anne swallowed. “So where are we going?”
“To the one place where we can hopefully get some answers,” said Jocelyn, pointing to the top of the tower. “I’m taking you to see the cat.”
THE FOLLOWING EXCERPT IS TAKEN FROM THE COMPLETELY INCOMPLETE DIRECTORY OF QUEST ACADEMIES:
The Death Mountain Quest Academy has had many nonhuman headmasters and headmistresses over the course of its existence. Dozens of dwarves and elves have served in the top position, along with gnomes and ogres and at least three sentient trees. Then there was the famous Equestrian Council, a group of five horses who served as co-heads until it became clear they couldn’t get anything done. Every time one of them tabled a motion, the others always voted “neigh.”
There was also one summer afternoon when for three-quarters of an hour everyone believed the current headmaster had transformed into a cherry pie. It turned out he’d merely snuck off for a nap and left his lunch on his chair.
Only once in all of its history, however, has the academy ever been led by a cat.
The Cat and the Quest
Anne, Penelope, and Hiro followed Jocelyn to the top of the tower, where there was a large oak door with a plaque over it that read HEAD OFFICE. Sitting behind a small desk next to the door was a short, burly, ruddy-cheeked man with a thick, unkempt beard. He wore a rusty breastplate and a dented helm, and he carried enough weapons to put the armory of most small villages to shame, which gave him the overall appearance of a receptionist who took no prisoners.
“Everyone, this is Captain Yngvi Copperhelm,” said Jocelyn.
Copperhelm grunted, which Anne took for “hello.”
Jocelyn pointed to the door. “We’re here to see the headmistress.”
“It’s her morning naptime,” said Copperhelm.
“Well, her nap will just have to be interrupted, I’m afraid. We’re here on a matter of great urgency.”
Copperhelm surveyed the group. “Let me guess. Someone received their gauntlet, and the first thing they did was go and stick a prophecy medallion in it.”
Anne’s cheeks grew warm. “It’s not my—that’s not how it happened.” She placed a hand over the medallion, which was flashing even faster now.
“Actually, we’re not certain yet that the medallion is active,” said Jocelyn.
Copperhelm slid out of his chair and walked around to the front of the desk, mumbling as he went. “Crazy recruits… no common sense… probably blow the place up… and look at me… used to lead troops into battle… now I’m secretary to a cat… hardest part of my day is digging lost toys out from behind the shelf and cleaning the litter box.”
He stopped in front of Anne, the top of his head barely level with her shoulders. From one of his many belt pouches he produced two items: a small tube of stiff leather with a curved piece of glass at both ends, and a dinner fork with a bent prong.
“Let’s have a look at it, then,” he said.
Anne held out her gauntlet-hand. Copperhelm held one end of the tube in front of his eye, leaned close to the gauntlet, and probed the medallion with the bent prong of the fork.
“Well?” said Jocelyn.
“It’s active, all right,” said Copperhelm. He prodded the medallion several more times. “Looks like the sparrow got caught in a loop trying to read the medallion. Not surprising given that scratch across the top. Should be a quick fix, though. Presuming it doesn’t explode first.”
“They explode?” said Anne.
“He’s joking, dear,” said Jocelyn. “Mostly.” She turned to Hiro. “I need to consult with the captain for a moment. Mr. Darkflame, would you please introduce Anne and Ms. Shatterblade to our headmistress? Also, you may try the level stones, if you wish. They’re in the desk. Top drawer on the right-hand side. We’ll join you shortly.”
Hiro nodded and turned to Anne and Penelope. “Follow me,” he said in what Anne considered an unnecessarily officious tone given that they had all heard Jocelyn’s instructions. He opened the large door and led Anne and Penelope into the head office.
The bright morning sun streamed in through seven large windows. Between the windows, shelves were stuffed with ancient tomes, scrolls, and dozens of balls of yarn. The inner wall of the office was covered with paintings, both portraits and landscapes. The “headmistress” in question was curled up on a richly embroidered cushion lying on the desk in the center of the room. She had orange fur except for a white belly and paws, and in every way possible resembled a typical alley cat. The cat yawned, but otherwise seemed disinclined to move or in any way acknowledge their presence.
Hiro walked over to the desk and cleared his throat. “Please allow me to introduce the current headmistress of the Death Mountain Quest Academy, Her Royal Highness Princess Fluffington Whiskers of the Mousetrapper Clan.” As if the title wasn’t pompous enough on its own, Hiro enunciated the words as though he were speaking them inside some royal palace.
“Nice to meet you, Fluffy,” said Penelope.
The cat hissed at her.
“She prefers to be addressed as Princess Whiskers,” said Hiro. Penelope rolled her eyes at both him and the cat.
Anne fidgeted with the sleeve of her coat, searching for the right words. “But… it’s a cat.”
“It’s a bit unorthodox,” said Hiro, sounding less like a fellow student and more like a tour guide. He even began pacing. “The academy was in serious debt a few years ago, and a wealthy donor offered to help it out on the condition that, after the donor’s death, her beloved cat be appointed as the next headmistress.”
“And the academy agreed to that?” said Anne.
Hiro blushed slightly. “I think they were counting on the donor living a lot longer. If it helps any, from what I hear, she attended a very prestigious post-secondary school.”
“Let me guess. Yours?” said Penelope.
Hiro sniffed. “Blackbriar College, actually. The donor funded it as well.”
Anne tilted her head and studied the cat from a different angle. “So, is she, like, magickal or something?”
Hiro shook his head. “No, nothing like that. She’s an ordinary domestic shorthair breed, just one who happens to have an advanced degree in educational theory and practice.”
He opened the top drawer on the right side of the desk and took out a cloth pouch. Holding it carefully in his hand, he moved to the other end of the desk and slowly dumped the contents onto the table. Twelve small polished blue stones tumbled out, numbered one through twelve.
“These are level stones,” he explained as he lined them up in order. “Each one vibrates at a different magickal frequency, corresponding to the different quest levels. Twelve in all. When you match the correct stone to the medallion, it glows.” He picked up the closest stone, the one with the number twelve etched into it, and held it against the medallion. “Like that,” he said.
The stone remained unchanged.
“I hate to point this out to you, but nothing is happening,” said Penelope.
Hiro placed the stone back at the end of the line. “That’s actually a good thing. Few adventurers ever attain the skills necessary to tackle a Level Twelve quest.” Somehow when he said “few adventurers,” he made it sound very much like he was referring only to Anne and Penelope and not himself. “Hopefully your medallion is a Level One quest, or at worst a Level Tw—”
Something flew across the desk and scattered the stones.
Princess Whiskers.
“Hey, cut that out!” said Hiro while Penelope suppressed a smirk.
But the cat kept batting the stones, even flinging some of them off the desk. Hiro managed to snatch away the number one stone before she could get to it, and he held it against the medallion. As with the number twelve stone, there was no change.
“Hmmm, so not a Level One, either,” he said, this time with a genuine hint of concern in his voice. “But I’m sure it will turn out to be a Level Two at most. From everything I’ve read, which includes some of the top researchers in quest theory, that would be considered quite advanced for beginners, but with extra classes I’m sure you’d be fine.” Again, Anne noted that he didn’t seem to include himself among the “beginners.”
“Extra classes?” Penelope whispered to Anne. “Who is this guy?”
Hiro scanned the desk and the floor. “Now where did the number two stone get to?”
Hiro and Penelope knelt on the floor and began searching. Anne was about to join them when she noticed that Princess Whiskers had nudged two of the stones remaining on the desk closer together, the number three and the number ten. The cat sat hunched on the desk, staring at them intently. Anne picked up the number three stone and hesitantly set it on the medallion.
To her relief, it, too, elicited no reaction.
Anne placed the stone back on the desk next to the number ten, but as the gauntlet passed over them, a flash of light erupted from the two stones. Curious, she moved the gauntlet back and held it in place. Both stones began to glow steadily.
“Found it!” exclaimed Penelope from under the desk. She crawled out and stood, holding the number two stone triumphantly in her raised fist before handing it smugly over to Hiro.
“Um,” said Anne, pointing to the table. “I think you might want to have a look at this.”
Hiro looked at the two glowing stones and gasped.
“Doesn’t three plus ten equal thirteen?” asked Penelope.
“But—but there’s no such thing as a Level Thirteen quest,” said Hiro.
“For which you should be thankful,” said Copperhelm, marching into the room alongside Jocelyn. They joined Anne, Penelope, and Hiro (and the cat) at the desk. “In fact, at this stage in your careers, anything above even a Level Three or Four quest would chew you up and spit out the pieces. And that’s assuming there would be any pieces left to spit out. Which there probably wouldn’t be.”
The Adventurer's Guide to Successful Escapes Page 6