“Her father!” Salome exclaimed, shocked. When the man glanced her way, she managed a rather weak smile.
The false Agent left without another word. The children gathered around the box.
“Should…we open it?” Rachel asked.
“Certainly not. It is not ours,” the princess replied, mildly offended at the very idea. “We must always do what is right. No matter the cost. Virtue and honor requires this of us.”
“But…that man is evil!” Rachel insisted.
“Evil is a very strong word,” the princess said cautiously, “but I do agree that there was something less than straightforward about him. Even if he is as you say, that does not grant us the right to act wickedly.”
“I’ll open it.” Salome snatched the box from the princess, whose eyebrows arched in indignation, and opened it. Inside was an emerald and gold brooch shaped like a scarab. Rachel took a step back. The jeweled bug made her uneasy.
“Ooo, pretty!” Salome exclaimed.
Lucky the Dragon swooped over the wall and landed next to Sigfried, curling his tail around his human. “Okay, he’s leaving. I…” He looked at the startled faces of Salome and Nastasia. “Er…was I supposed to be pretending not to talk?”
Siggy rolled his eyes. “Yes.”
“Oops,” mumbled the dragon.
“Your dragon talks,” Salome murmured, her eyes larger and more luminescent than ever.
The princess opened her bag and spoke into it. “He is gone. You may come out.”
Valerie climbed out, holding her camera. The lens cap was off. “Shoot! I should have had one of you take a picture of him.”
Salome showed her the box. “He left you this. He said it was from your father.”
“M-my father.” Valerie’s face went pale. “But I haven’t seen him in…”
She reached for the box. The princess put a hand out to halt her. Valerie stopped.
“I recommend we bring this directly to the proctors,” the princess stated. “It might be booby-trapped or cursed.”
“Proctors?” asked Valerie.
“Hall monitors,” explained Rachel. “Campus security.”
“I think that choice should be up to Valerie,” Salome objected tartly.
The box trembled. The scarab darted into the air and straight at Valerie. Darkness spread from it. Shouting, Siggy leapt in front of Miss Hunt. It struck him in the chest. He shouted in pain and staggered. The scarab tried to dart around him. Sigfried dodged in its way.
Rachel wanted to help, but her limbs refused to obey her. She had no magic yet, no flute, no familiar. What could she do?
With a deafening roar, Lucky the Dragon lunged at the sooty cloud containing the scarab. A plume of fire shot out of his mouth. Darting forward, he scooped the burning brooch into his mouth. The children cheered.
“Mot it, M-Boss,” Lucky muttered. His eyes went kind of funny. “Oh, mo!”
“It’s hurting Lucky,” Sigfried cried. “Lucky! Spit it out!”
“Mot to mget it out of here mirst.” The dragon slithered up into the air and over the wall.
“Quick! After him!” Siggy shouted, his voice rough with desperation. His face was pale and slightly greenish. “We have to help Lucky!”
The dragon was the orphan boy’s only family, Rachel realized suddenly. Freed from her paralysis, she grabbed her broom. Sigfried swung up behind her.
Ahead, Lucky flew in a zig-zag motion, engaged in an internal struggle. Across the commons, students looked up, startled. Rachel scanned the lawns. Everyone was gawking fearfully. None of them came forward to help.
Out of the forest strode a college student. He was extremely tall. His cold, discerning gaze took in everything, as if he were surveying the campus with an eye to its defensibility and finding it wanting.
Rachel nearly lost control of her broom. If the princess was the most beautiful girl Rachel had ever seen, this was the most exquisite specimen of a male. He was startlingly handsome and perfectly built. The sunlight glinted off the red highlights in his dark hair. He wore full black robes and black leather gloves so thick they practically looked like gauntlets. Upon his chest blazed a golden royal crest.
He strode across the lawns toward them. Other students scurried out of his way like mice before a tiger.
Lucky the Dragon somersaulted onto the green lawns, twisting and bucking. Opening his mouth, he regurgitated the jeweled scarab. Darkness still billowed from it. In a single fluid motion, the prince pulled out a black and gold fulgurator’s wand and shot the flying brooch. Crackling white fire burnished with a golden tinge leapt from the sapphire at the wand’s tip.
Rachel leaned forward. She knew about Eternal Flame, but she had never seen it. Tended by the Vestal Virgins, it burned the wicked but did not harm the innocent.
The blast struck the scarab. The metallic insect twitched and became rigid. Rachel waited with bated breath. The prince shot it a second time, a bolt of lightning leaping from the sapphire tip. The scarab brooch lay charred upon the grass. Kneeling, he poked it with his wand. As the last of the darkness dispersed, he ran a finger through it, brought it to his nose, and sniffed.
Raising his wand, he gazed speculatively toward Lucky. Rachel shouted and waved her hands. The prince glanced up at her, frowning. Their gazes met. Something Rachel had never felt before, akin to a shiver but both more wonderful and more terrible, passed through her. He nodded and turned away, lowering his wand.
“Wow! Who is that?” Siggy asked, his voice aglow with hero worship.
Even without seeing the details of the crest on his chest, Rachel knew the answer. There was only one person he could be.
“Vladimir Von Dread,” she replied. “The Prince of Bavaria.”
Chapter Five:
The Dubious Process of Bonding with Familiars
“Really! I’m fine!” Sigfried protested for the tenth time.
Rachel watched with concern from the side of the bed upon which the nurse had insisted Siggy rest. On the far side of the bed, the princess perched gracefully upon a chair, her lovely brow furrowed with concern. When he arrived, Siggy had been looking unnaturally pale and somewhat green. The nurse had immediately played enchanted healing music on her long silver flute. He now looked considerably better.
Nurse Moth was from the French branch of the far-flung Moth family. She was a nervous, quick, bird-like woman with a large nose. She wore a nun’s habit and a wimple. Rachel recognized the white-on-white outfit as belonging to the Order of Asclepius.
The infirmary had green marble floors. Arcane healing symbols had been traced in silver on the pale blue tile walls. Overhead, painted puffy white clouds decorated a domed ceiling of periwinkle blue. An orrery hung there, the clockwork sun and planets able to rotate independently, so that the date and time could be adjusted for the room, to alter the celestial influences for healing purposes.
Flame-colored curtains separated the cots. Purple and green dragon-vein agate set into the beds were imbued with healing enchantments. Above each headboard hovered a glass ball burning with green health-giving fire. Chimes hung by the open windows, ringing in the breeze. In the center, a fountain gurgled.
Nurse Moth held up her scrutiny sticks, two rounded lengths of wood that were carved with runes and set with gems of various colors. As the nurse ran the sticks up and down Siggy’s body, a few of the gems flashed brightly.
“It is always wise to check. With the black magic, one never knows,” Nurse Moth said in her French accent. She pronounced the like zee. “Just be still. It will be over soon.”
“Soon by glacier years,” Siggy muttered through clenched teeth.
The nurse tsked and continued her examination.
Finally, an ice age later, she straightened, rubbing her back. “I find nothing. Sit. I will get you a drink.”
“That…wasn’t so bad.” Siggy looked faintly surprised and rather pleased.
The nurse continued, “In fifteen minutes, if you still feel fine, you may g
o to the Familiar Bonding Ceremony. But if you feel ill today, so much as an itch or a cough or a sniffle, come see me immediately, non?”
Siggy nodded. “No…er…I mean, yes.”
The nurse bustled off to her office.
Sigfried leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice. “Do you think we’ll get in trouble?”
“For saving Valerie?” Rachel’s brows arched in surprised. “Why would we get in trouble for saving someone?”
“With adults, you never know.” Siggy looked around suspiciously, as if expecting accusing adults to spring out of the walls and come for them.
The princess laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Fear not, young man. If anything should go amiss, I will go speak with the dean. She and the Grand Inquisitor of the Wisecraft are friends of my family.”
“Wow,” Rachel murmured, impressed. “Your family has some very highly placed friends! The Grand Inquisitor is my father’s boss!”
At the far end of the room, Valerie Hunt and Salome Iscariot were being questioned by two proctors, whom Rachel recognized, as she had met them the previous day. Mr. Fuentes was a rather good-looking young man of Spanish descent with a big friendly smile. Mr. Scott was shorter and blond with a more serious cast of features.
“I wish I knew what they were saying,” Rachel mused. She hated being left out of the loop, especially from things that were happening right in front of her.
“Do you really?” Siggy’s eyes gleamed. “We…are friends, right?”
“Right!” Rachel turned to Nastasia. “Would you like to be our friend, too?”
Nastasia tilted her head and gave the proposition due consideration. “A well-born girl and a hero? Both appropriate friends for a young woman of my station.” She gave a little nod, blushing slightly. “I believe our being friends would be most agreeable indeed.”
“We are all friends, then,” Rachel raised her eyebrows in hopeful inquiry.
“Right!” Siggy spat in his palm and held it out toward the girls.
Ah. Another flick of a flame decision. How was her friendship with Sigfried to be? Was she going to let her new friend daunt her? Or was she going to prove her mettle? Taking a deep breath, she grabbed his goopy hand and shook.
Siggy looked impressed. “Now you are one of the boys.”
Rachel grinned. Surreptitiously, she wiped her wet hand on her robes.
“Noblesse oblige,” Nastasia murmured. Her blue, blue eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and revulsion. With the resolve of a martyr refusing to show weakness in front of a firing squad, she shook Siggy’s still-moist hand.
“Very good. We’re all friends!” Rachel grinned, relieved that making friends had not proved as hard as she had first feared. “Now we can do important things together, like figure out why someone was trying to hurt Valerie! About the proctors over there…” She glanced in the direction of the door. The two proctors had stepped aside and were speaking privately to each other. Or so they thought. “Siggy, you were saying?”
Siggy tipped his head down and half-closed his eyes. “The dark-haired guy is saying—”
“His name is Mr. Fuentes,” Rachel supplied.
Siggy said, “Fuentes is saying: ‘…new kinds of magic. This ensorcelling paper sounds like yet another new magic. Maybe the scarab, too.’” Siggy paused. “Now the blond guy…”
Rachel said quickly, “His name is Mr. Scott.”
“Scott is saying, ‘How are the Agents supposed to keep people safe if they are constantly faced with magic no one has seen before. Some of it is very dangerous.’
“Now, Fuentes is saying, ‘I don’t know, Buddy. But it sure makes our job harder.’
“Now, Scott: ‘You can say that again!’” Siggy paused and then continued as Scott did. “‘Do you think there could be something to that report—that someone on campus intends harm to the students?’
“Now, Fuentes: ‘Nah. If so, why would’ve they risked something so obvious as sending an operative from outside? Why not just attack Miss Hunt surreptitiously?’
“Now, Scott: ‘Could the last of the Morthbrood be behind this? It’s rumored that the ones who turned State’s evidence gave the total number at three more than were apprehended.’”
Siggy whispered to the girls, “Does he mean Moth Brood? Like Nurse Moth?”
Rachel shook her head quickly. “No. The Morthbrood are an ancient organization of bad sorcerers. The Moths, on the other hand, are a huge family of the Wise descended from Lord Moth, an intimate of the fairy king and queen.”
Siggy continued, “Fuentes: ‘Aw, I don’t know. People have been jumping at the shadow of the Terrible Five for over twenty years now. Isn’t it time for a new Big Bad? Not every bad German is a Nazi. Not every black magician’s a Morthbrood. Next thing we know, they’ll be claiming Veltdammerung is still around. Come on. Let’s go report to the boss.’”
Siggy’s voice fell silent.
“How are you doing that?” Rachel whispered in awe.
Siggy grinned. “Let’s just say I have sharp hearing.”
• • •
The Familiar Bonding Ceremony was held just after breakfast in the Oriental gardens with its flowering trees and picturesque arching bridges. Tiny waterfalls separated a series of koi ponds. A traditional shishi odoshi made a rhythmic tock noise, as pooling water caused the bamboo arm to swing from its up to its down position. When the wind blew, Japanese bells chimed.
In the center of the garden stood an ivory archway. Jagged-leafed ivy grew over it, except at the very top where the Roanoke coat-of-arms was displayed: a seven-branched tree atop a winged floating island. Standing torches, their flames dancing merrily, marked the pathway leading to the arch.
The group leaving the infirmary arrived a little late. Rachel looked around eagerly, drinking in everything. In addition to sixty upper school freshmen—all of whom were older than Rachel, some by as much as two years—there were also some college freshmen who had not attended the upper school. Also present were a handful of returning students who wished to bond with a new familiar. Looking around, Rachel noted that while the subfusc uniform was popular, many other students also wore full academic robes, as did the tutor. Apparently, the girls from Drake were wrong that robes were only worn by royalty and poverty cases.
A heavyset man with a short brown beard stepped forward. He was dressed in black and green robes, the color of a professional canticler, and a green tassel hung from his square, black scholar’s cap. “Greetings. I am Mr. Hieronymus Tuck, one of the Language tutors here at Roanoke Academy. Yes, I am the descendant of Friar Tuck of Robin Hood fame. No, I do not know what a Friar is, either.”
Rachel checked her memory of dictionaries she had flipped through—from libraries of the Wise and from mundane libraries her parents had taken her to visit in England. None of them explained the word Friar. The best definition she could find was: a title of respect used in the past. She frowned. This was not the first word of its kind she had come upon. Words no one—Wise or Unwary, magical or mundane—seemed able to explain. Steeple, for instance. Fingers could be steepled, and brooms could be steeplechasers. But no dictionary or encyclopedia explained the word steeple itself.
It was a mystery for her to ponder—similar to the mystery of why there was a statue of a woman with bird wings in the forest, but no mention of any such fey creature in any field guide or encyclopedia.
“Today, you will be bonded with your familiars. Your familiar is an essential part of Conjuring, one of the seven great Arts of sorcery taught at our esteemed institution. It is also useful for thaumaturgy and warding, two of our other Arts. Only at Roanoke can you study all seven of the Sorcerous Arts. The other magic schools in the world only teach one or two. To learn elsewhere what is taught at Roanoke, you would have to attend school for twenty-eight consecutive years.”
Groans rose from the assembled students.
Mr. Tuck continued, “As many of you know, familiars grant their masters and mistresses speci
al gifts, depending on their species. Cats grant an inability to be hurt by falling and are popular with flyers. Masters of rat familiars can find their way out of mazes. Owls grant gifts over the night, and toads give an affinity with the earth and elements, which is why they are popular with alchemists. Each familiar has a gift to give. May the gods smile upon each of you, so that you each find that your familiar’s gift complements your own.
“This ceremony provides other benefits as well. I shall leave you to find them out for yourselves. Line up. When I call your name, take your familiar and walk through the ivory arch. When you reach the far side, you will be bonded.”
With so many animals, Rachel was amazed that no dogs chased the rabbits and no cats chased the birds. Most were well-behaved, though someone’s ferret did chase someone else’s tiny fennel fox. Of course, familiars were much more intelligent than the mundane animals they resembled, which was what made it possible to incorporate them into the society of the Wise.
Rachel stood in line with Siggy, the princess, Salome, and Valerie, who was snapping pictures of everything. Between the supernaturally beautiful princess, the famous boy, and the dragon, they were the center of a great deal of attention. The group of them all had their familiars now. Lucky was wrapped around Sigfried. Valerie was accompanied by Payback, who had a yellow bandana tied around her furry neck. A giant python slithered over Salome’s shoulders and around her arms, giving the boys something to pretend to stare at as they checked out its mistress.
Princess Nastasia explained with a gracious air that—while she had considered the three traditional familiars, devils, dingoes, and roos—she had gone instead with the Tasmanian tiger, an animal extinct in the mundane world, but still very much alive in Magical Australia. The downside was, however, that because she did not know anyone else who had chosen a Tasmanian tigers as a familiar, she did not know what its associated gift might be. Rachel found the creature terribly interesting. It looked like a cross between a tiger and a wolf. It even had a marsupial pouch, one of only two animals, the princess explained, where even the male has a pouch.
Rachel herself held her black and white cat very tightly, lest he squirm out of her arms and vanish into the underbrush. Mistletoe was a rangy cat with huge jowls, a battered ear, and scars from many a catfight. The other students looked calm and expectant. Rachel was not so sanguine. Mistletoe’s mother had been Moonbeam, the worthy companion of her beloved grandfather and a descendant of a long line of famous familiars. Many of Moonbeam’s children had gone on to be outstanding in their own right. Rachel’s father and her sisters and brother all had offspring of her grandfather’s cat.
The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 1) Page 5