Professor Vidmar patted him on the back. “I asked for a work in progress, and this is quite the most ambitious one yet. Flying automatons always have some peculiar problems all their own. I think we can work on getting this lovely lady to fly this term.” Then he leaned closer to the bird and nodded in appreciation. “Nay, perhaps this week.”
This earned a collected gasp from a few of the older students.
Henry returned to his desk, and there was a strangely satisfied smile on his face. Verity for once did not feel annoyed by it. Unlike Henry, she had once had parents that loved her and encouraged her. Henry—from the little he had shared with the Seven—had not. His mother passed away in India, and his father, before his death from the effects of alcohol, beat him out of spite. So to see Henry’s bright smile as he took his seat again made Verity smile too.
This was the kind of place she had dreamed of, even when her parents were alive. A school for children like her and Henry. As the pupils stood up and began to make for the exit, she heard Vidmar call on a student. Lucky thing, she thought quickly.
Then she heard the student’s name again, but it sounded as if the page was directed at her. “Miss Simmons?”
Of course, she thought from the doorway, the cover name that Harrison had given me. She spun around and shuffled to the professor’s desk. Fortunately, Professor Vidmar did not appear upset she had ignored him, but nevertheless her heart raced a little fast.
“Sorry, Professor,” Verity said, clutching her books a little tighter, “I didn’t hear you.”
One of his dark eyebrows raised. “I was very impressed with your little mouse.”
She walked a little closer, worried something about Mickey alerted this sharp-eyed gentleman that Verity was not all she appeared to be. She stopped a few feet from him, all her street-earned instincts telling her to run while she could, but others keeping her feet glued to the ground.
“The cloaking device was most impressive, to be sure, but the smaller details—the twitching of the nose, the turn of its head—quite ingenious.” The professor leaned back against the desk and fixed her with a look which probed her as much as her creation. It was apparent something about Verity was confusing him.
Though her stomach was tied in knots, she raised her chin at his inspection, and shoved down a nervous giggle. “I’ve been working on him for years,” she said calmly.
“Yet, you see how you can make him better.” It was not a question. Vidmar gestured over to the benches which they had not yet used in class. “I sometimes allow trusted students to use the workshop outside of class hours. I think you shall be the first I extend this privilege to. Is this to your liking?”
She wanted to gabble out her excited thanks, but instead folded her hands just a fraction tighter over the bag that held Mickey. “Yes, thank you, Professor Vidmar. It is very considerate, indeed.”
In the teacher’s presence suddenly she could hear the politeness of her parents’ teaching come flooding back. An echo of the child she might have been influencing the one standing before Vidmar.
He opened his jacket and held out a key threaded through a piece of scarlet ribbon. When she stepped forward to take it, he pressed it into the palm of her hand. His striking grey eyes locked with her green ones as he spoke. “Usually, I wait until after the third week to extend this privilege, so this is a great risk I am taking, giving you this on the first day of class. I have a strange feeling you are worthy of my trust.”
Verity clenched her hand tight about the key. “I will take good care of it.”
He nodded slowly. “Very well then. If you are stopped in any of the hallways by the guardsmen, then simply show them the key and they will let you pass.”
“Guardsmen?” Verity inclined her head to one side. “There are guardsmen?”
He shrugged. “Well, that does sound rather ominous, but guardsmen are our way of making sure there are no unnecessary or unauthorised encounters between the east and west wings of the academy. You all are at rather emotional points in your life. Curious. Eager.” Vidmar rose and began to wipe away the writing from the chalkboard. “Safety, be it from dangers internal or external, always comes with a price. Here at the academy, that price is the guardsmen. We teach here, we do not coddle you young people. The world is a dangerous place after all.”
Fearing she had somehow wrecked her chances of being seen as an adult in the professor’s eyes, Verity only nodded. With his back turned to her she took the hint he had already dismissed her.
Out in the hallway, feeling deflated, Verity found it was not Henry waiting for her, but Julia McTighe. After unexpectedly becoming roommates, the Scottish girl had apparently decided they needed to stick together. For once it was nice to have someone to talk to outside the Seven. Emma was too young to understand the strange sensation a handsome man could ignite, and Henry would have been the worst person of all to share that experience with.
Julia was leaning against the wall by the door to an empty classroom, her curly head bent. “Did he yell at you, Verity?”
The other girl shook her head. “No, in fact he gave me this.”
Julia let out a little squeal when she saw the key dangling from Verity’s fingers. “He gave you the key to the laboratory?” She dared to touch it with the tip of one finger. “Fantastic—imagine what you could do!”
The two girls walked down the hallway towards the stairs, Julia bubbling with the excitement Verity did not dare show. “Professor Vidmar is wonderful. Everyone loves his classes from what I’ve heard...though some of them,”—she leaned in closer to Verity’s ear— “say he’s a vampire.”
She was about to shrug it off, but then Verity thought of the drawn curtains, his accent, pale skin and dark hair, and the red velvet on the jacket he’d been wearing. For those with a penchant for gothic romance novels he was an ideal candidate to inherit the cloak of Dracula.
“Well if he is,” she said brightly, “I shall see him often in the hallways at night on the way to the workshop.”
Julia nudged her in the side with a giggle. “Now that, I am jealous of. Just don’t get bitten—I’d have to stab you in the heart.”
Verity smiled uncertainly while her new friend patted her on the back. She wondered if that was a joke or deadly serious, but one thing was certain: She had definitely read far too many novels.
Chapter Eight
A Hunting We Will Go
Ten days.
Moving hay bales.
Milking cows.
Shovelling shit of all kinds.
For. Ten. Days.
When Agent Thorne brought jobs to the Ministry Seven in the past, it was the kind of ballyhoo which made Christopher grin. He remembered a delightful switcheroo with them House of Usher blokes who were out to snatch a massive ruby that once belonged to Bloody Mary herself. Then there was a terrific little job they pulled on another con artist who was trying to make people believe their office building was haunted. Nothing but a little phantasmagoria, it turned out. Then there were the cases Christopher still couldn’t believe, even though he was there. Swamis who actually could move objects without touching them. Mad doctors who could turn small pups into ten-foot-tall beasties. Whenever Agent Thorne came a calling, the game—as he would usually say—was afoot.
But for ten days the strangest thing Christopher saw was two farm cats cosying up to a Border Collie as if they were borne from the same litter. The rest of his time had been labour that would put mill workers to shame. Christopher would have complained if he had more spring in his step, but he barely had the energy left to eat. When he did manage it, he only wanted to go to bed. And he did. Then the cock would crow, and he would be back at it.
It did not help one jot that Colin, Liam, and Jeremy seemed absolutely content with life in the country. Liam had probably taken more baths in his first week than all of the previous three months in London, even though Verity insisted on at least one a month. The boy just didn’t care as he was bonding with all the four-leg
ged tenants of the farm. Even the farm cats greeted him every morning when he would come out of the cottage. Colin arrived with his dander up against Mrs Summerson, but now Christopher truly regretted holding him back on that first night. Both Colin and Jeremy were completely bewitched by their slave driver, and were all too eager to help out on the farm. Something about feeling like they earned their meals for the day…
…which, Christopher had to admit, were bloody amazing. Maybe it was on account of how hard they worked, but every night each meal outdid the one from the previous night. Mrs Summerson was a right good cook.
But this was not what Christopher agreed to. Not even for a moment.
This morning he hatched a plan. He would still do the chores as expected, but he did not throw himself too intently into them this go round. He kept himself in check, managing to do what was acceptable—at least, according to Mrs Summerson’s standards—just keeping enough for himself.
Now, with his dinner done, and Colin and Jeremy nearly finished with their potatoes, Christopher felt himself ready. Or at least as ready as he could be. “A lovely dinner, Mrs Summerson.”
The old woman blinked. “Oh…well, I…thank you, Christopher.”
He toasted her with his ale and then polished off the drink. “This was what me and the lads needed.”
And there it was. The raised eyebrow. “Beg your pardon?”
“Mrs Summerson, we are here at the behest of Her Majesty’s government,” and Christopher felt a delightful surge of pride. He liked using them fancy words like “behest,” which Agent Thorne wielded all the time. “We have been asked to investigate peculiar occurrences, not tend to a farm. We need to be getting on about our business.”
“Is that so?” The old farm woman nodded, her expression not faltering as she dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Well, Agent Thorne informed me I was to keep you safe and sound. He did not mention any sort of investigation on your part.”
He had listened to Agent Thorne enough times in discussions like this, particularly with nefarious blokes. Right now, Mrs Summerson was looking truly nefarious. “Then, I believe, this puts us at an empath.”
“Nice one,” Colin whispered to him.
“I believe you mean an impasse,” Mrs Summerson stated, lacing her fingers before her. “A rather awkward impasse, I am afraid. You have what you believe to be your grand mission for Queen, country, and Empire. I have my orders from Agent Thorne…” and then she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper, “…along with endless moors surrounding us and darkness the likes of which would boggle that city-addled brain of yours.” Mrs Summerson then sat up and took stock of all three children sitting before her. “And here I thought we had reached an understanding.”
“We have, mum.” Christopher then pushed himself away from the table and bolted for the front door. He caught a glimpse of the last remaining pair of Starlights hanging on the coat peg and snatched them up as he shouted over his shoulder, “Time for some natty-narking, lads!”
Mrs Summerson rose from her seat. “Now see here...”
But before she could clarify what she meant by ‘here’, Colin and Jeremy slipped past her and outside the door. Liam was still chatting away to the pig, and barely noticed them.
Christopher jerked his head to the remaining two boys. “Right then, I want a proper butchers at this Delancy Academy. You up for that, lads?”
They all nodded solemnly, but he could sense some hesitancy from them, and he completely understood. This moor thing all around them was still an unknown quantity, even thought they’d been here for days.
“Let’s be honest—we ain’t in Shoreditch. No pubs to dash into, no whores to duck under the skirts of. We still got our wits and our plates of meat, right?”
“We just have to scrunch down more,” Colin offered. “And there’s plenty of rocks to hide up against like the doorways back home.”
They all nodded, and some relieved smiles broke out on their faces. One thing they had learned to do was adapt to situations.
“Then let’s get on with it,” Christopher said.
“Wot about Liam?” Colin asked, jerking his head to where the young boy was scratching the pig behind the ears.
Christopher shrugged. Before he could answer, the wind shifted, and his stomach roiled. What was it about that bloody pig? Swallowing back the bile in his mouth, Christopher said, “This is just a looky loo. We’ll bring him along next time.”
Behind them Summerson slammed the door shut, effectively giving up on the boys. That suited them just fine. Christopher gave a quick double-whistle to the barn, and Jeremy appeared with the other pair of Starlights resting across his forehead. Jonathan sprinted alongside him up to where they stood.
“You got the map wot Agent Thorne gave us?” Christopher asked. Colin reached inside his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper that offered them a bit of bearings. Stuffing the goggles into his own coat pockets, he pointed to the path leading away from the farmhouse. “Right then, chuckaboos, we’re off.”
After about half an hour, the four of them had returned to the ‘main’ road and continued to followed it over a couple of rises. Christopher glanced around at the others and saw they were suffering from sore legs and boredom.
The road was not made to be walked by anything that did not have hooves, and there were no buses or streetcars to climb upon. Their path went up and down and was comprised mostly of angular rocks. Nothing at all like the paving stones of London town.
None of them wanted to be the first to complain though. Colin stubbed his toe, and let out a raucous “Bloody hell!” but he didn’t suggest turning back.
Jonathan whispered to Jeremy. Jeremy whispered to Colin. Colin turned back to Christopher. “Where is this academy, eh? It’s getting dark.” He shivered. “An’ a bit chilly.”
Christopher pulled out his goggles and took the pair off Jeremy’s head and passed them to Colin. “Maybe these Starlights will help.”
Colin slipped them on and wiggled his fingers in front of their lenses. “So you gots yourself a plan for tonight? We tryin’ to get in touch with Henry, Emma, and Verity?”
“Why else would we set out in tha’ middle of the bloody country if’n not for tha’?”
Jeremy whispered to Jonathan, then Jonathan whispered back to Jeremy. Jeremy nodded, and then whispered something to Colin. “We could be providin’ support,” Colin said. “Ya know, in secret, like? Just ta’ make sure the academy is safe.”
Christopher slipped the goggles on, resting them on his forehead for a moment. “You think that is what Agent Thorne wanted us to do?” he asked Jonathan. “There could be clues we might come across out here Verity, Emma, and Henry could miss.”
Jonathan whispered to Jeremy. Jeremy whispered to Colin. “Good point.”
With the flick of a small switch just over his left eye lens, the details of the road, the moors, and the rise ahead flickered into view. He felt a hand take his arm, and Christopher looked over to Colin who had one of the twins on his arm.
“Limited range here,” Colin said. “These things might as well be protos.”
“Better than nothin’, Colin,” Christopher said. “Let me see the map.”
Colin handed Christopher the one provided by Thorne, and as Summerson had eluded, the school where Verity, Henry, and Emma were attending, should be just visible on the horizon. Clearing one of the many rises, the academy appeared in the distance, perched on top of the tallest rises. From where they stood, it looked right posh, even through the Starlight Goggles.
Christopher did not like the ball of emotion also gathering in his stomach. He knew it all too well. He’d been a scrawny kid, coughing, sickly, and when the other kids wanted to play games around the neighbourhood, he had never been picked. The sting of that rejection was still vivid to him, and now staring at the Delancy Academy on the hill, he felt it again. Verity and Henry had their reasons, but Emma had been chosen to go with them. She was alright, for a
girl, he supposed, and he would admit she had better manners than he did. Emma wasn’t any smarter than him. It was no secret she liked to mimic Verity, and play around with gears and such. She wasn’t a proper clankerton. Not like Verity.
“Don’t envy them, lads,” Christopher said, setting his face in a sneer. “They’re up there all trying to act posh and stuff.”
“Beside, we’ve got this, don’t we?” Colin broke in, holding up a long thin cylinder. It must have been tucked in his pocket. Colin brandished it around like it was made of gold.
A scuffle broke out as each of the other boys tried to take it off him. Colin swore, even though he could easily evade the twins’ attempt to snatch the device as they were not wearing Starlights. As Christopher was, he snatched the device out of Colin’s grasp. Pressing his hand against the boy’s forehead, he effectively held him off.
“Where did you get this?” Christopher demanded, even as Colin wriggled back and forth to try and get it back.
The youngest boy finally gave up and stood, arms crossed glaring at Christopher. “I got it off Mrs Summerson. Found it in the side table by the door.”
“Pretty slick there,” the older boy had to admit. “Never even seen you do it.”
Once the fighting had dissipated, the others crowded in to see what Colin had gotten hold of. He had to slap a few hands, but he was able to pull out the telescope, remove his own goggles, and put it to his eye. It was Ministry issue, so it wasn’t a common or garden device. Its optics switched immediately to Starlight Mode with a single twist.
Ignoring the groans and complaints, he was able to swing it around, sighting different spots on the moors. The trouble was there wasn’t much to look at except rocks, grass, and more rocks. Then sudden movement caught his attention. Fiddling around with the circular dials on the outside of the device, increasing the power of the lenses within the telescope, he was able to turn the odd shape into a glowing outline of a man. He was lying on his stomach against the ground, and though he was a strange grey colour in the telescope, the long rifle he had pointed out in front of him was not.
The Curse of the Silver Pharaoh Page 9