Rachel smiled, grateful.
It was good to have friends.
“Hi, everyone!” Salome stood behind Valerie and Siggy, her hand on her hip in her favorite provocative pose. She gave them all a huge smile, showing her perfect teeth. “I just slipped away from the evil Thaumie table to drop by and say hello to Valerie.”
Rachel glanced over at the table where Salome had been sitting with her dorm mates, Belladonna Marley and that crowd. Magdalene Chase sat by herself at the far end of their table. There was a new bruise on the tiny girl’s chin. Pain shot through Rachel. Magdalene had risked the wrath of the other Drake girls to save her. Rachel wanted to return the favor, but she had no idea how.
Leaning toward Salome, she asked softly, “That little girl. Her face is bruised. What happened to her?”
“What, you mean Eunice’s little torture poppet? She ‘ran into a door.’” Salome made air quotes, smirking and speaking with the glee girls used when sharing rumors. “Or at least that’s the way Eunice tells it.”
“Eunice?”
“Eunice Chase, Magdalene’s older sister.” Salome shrugged. “Magdalene really doesn’t belong in Drake. She should move.”
• • •
During the afternoon break, the princess had a meeting with Dean Moth. Rachel returned to the abandoned hallway, hoping to get a jump on practicing before the princess formed her club. Also, she hoped she might see her mysterious visitor.
Thinking of the boy from the hallway left a warm feeling inside her. There was something pleasant about having a secret friend—even if he was a bit unsavory. She was grateful for his help removing the orange juice off her robes and for the information she had passed to her father. Every time she recalled that he, too, had wanted to live in Dee, their shared secret glowed inside her like an ember. She wished she could do something for him: Bake him biscuits or bring him a cake.
But this was not like home, where she could ask Cook to help her make a treat for somebody. Anything she could take from the dining hall, he could get on his own.
He did not show up.
Apparently, he did go to class occasionally.
• • •
After class, Rachel grabbed Vroomie and headed for the gymnasium. The day was perfect for flying, a deep blue sky and very little wind. Clusters of purple wisteria spilled over the gym, their perfume filling the air. Rachel breathed in the lovely scent, smiling.
Professor Chanson was waiting for her. He held a broom of an unfamiliar design. She examined the custom-made broom with great interest. It had eight blades, wider than hers, and the fan was a strange shape. Mr. Chanson was an extraordinarily handsome man with hair so black it almost appeared a steely blue. He would have been intimidating except that his glasses gave him a mild-mannered appearance.
“Miss Griffin! A pleasure to see you again.” He smiled at her, flashing very white teeth. “How did your first three days of classes go?”
“Well.” Rachel rested her broom on its nose and leaned on it. “My new friend ended up at the Halls of Asclepius…but I guess it was pretty good, other than that.”
He nodded. “Yes, that was unfortunate. I am so glad to hear she has recovered. But, we did not come out here to discuss such dreary matters. We are here to fly. Hop on.”
He climbed onto his broom and lifted up off the ground very slowly. Rachel knew instantly that he must be an excellent flyer. It took great control to produce slow, steady flight. As he watched intently, she calmly put down her bookbag, mounted her broom, and copied him, rising slowly with smooth precision.
When she had risen to his level, he gave her a warm smile and said, “You are a talented young woman. How long have you been flying? Four years? Seven?”
Rachel shook her head. “I only got Vroomie, here, about a year and a half ago. But I used to spend hours watching the flyers from the Pinswallow Broom Ballet. And I’ve read every book on flying in our library.”
She did not explain that she had seen the Pinswallow Broom Ballet once, at the age of six, but she had replayed the memory every night before she went to bed for the next seven years, watching how the brooms moved, picturing the maneuvers from different angles, imagining new routines they could have performed.
His keen blue eyes widened, impressed. “Well, you’re years ahead for your age. Come, let’s fly around a bit.”
They flew over the commons and southward, soaring above the charming red, arched bridges of the Oriental gardens. They whizzed across the lily pond, skirting so low that she could see the eyes of the sea fairies looking up from below the surface. Circling around, he took her back via the Monument Garden, with its statues and fountains, and the menagerie, where the larger familiars could be housed. She caught a glimpse of a greyhound and what looked like a three-headed chimera, though maybe it was three familiars standing close together.
Continuing their circuit northward, they flew over the western dormitories. The pale chimneys and pyramidal towers of Marlowe Hall came first. Students loitered around the tree-speckled lawn, conjuring hoops and columns that shimmered and then vanished with a sensation like waking from a dream. Next was Spenser Hall with its multiple gables, which reminded Rachel of the architecture back home along the River Dart. Then the paper birches with their carpet of ferns that surrounded Dare Hall and its many spires. Sparkles of enchantment floated out some of the windows. Dare had been built by the same architect who had designed the North Wing of Gryphon Park. It looked a great deal like her home.
As she passed her room, Rachel felt the warm presence of her familiar. Glancing at her window, she saw Mistletoe gazing back at her. Sitting next to her cat, gazing out the window, was the miniature lion.
As she flew on, an uncomfortable feeling crept over her. Theoretically, she was now immune from damage by falling, thanks to her cat familiar, which would be a wonderful gift for any flyer. It would not protect her from collision damage, or from running into a wall, or a grandfather clock, but it would be of great help if she were to fall off her broom. For the gift to work, however, her bond had to be to a familiar of some presence and power, not just an ordinary animal. With a last look over her shoulder, she pushed the matter out of her mind and turned her thoughts back to flying again.
The pale birches with their curling bark opened up behind Roanoke Hall, revealing a grassy area with tree stumps from which slender new saplings grew, as if the area used to be forested and was recovering from some recent disaster. Flying over the back wall, he led her over the courtyard in the middle of Roanoke Hall. A scrimmage game of flying polo and a soccer match were under way. Students sat watching the games. Some looked up and pointed as the two of them whizzed by. Rachel grinned and waved.
On the far side were the eastern dormitories. De Vere, a somber building with arrow-slit windows, was nestled among hemlocks. Directly east of Roanoke was Drake Hall, an imposing granite structure complete with its own moat. After that came the yellow stone of Raleigh and then, finally, Dee Hall—a noble granite structure with four domed towers and statues of famous scholars decorating the top. As they passed by the real-life version of the photograph she had kept hidden under her bed, Rachel could not help gazing at it longingly.
South of that came the infirmary and an ivy-covered out-building that the proctors used for storing gear, next to which lay the path to the cottages where the staff lived. Then, they were back at the gymnasium.
Mr. Chanson landed. When Rachel landed beside him, he nodded in approval. Leaning his broom against the brick wall of the gym, he gazed at her warmly. “Well, Rachel, you are definitely a natural at flying. I have seen, maybe, one or two students who can fly as well as you in the past five years, and none of them your age. Do you play flying polo or race? If so, you should definitely support your team. Every student is assigned to a sports team for their freshman year. Sophomore year, there’s a draft. Once you get drafted, you are on that team forever. You can come and play, any day, any activity, for the rest of your life.
&n
bsp; “Whatever team gets you will be extraordinarily delighted. The last four years Laura Diggle has been dominating the broom sports for the Maenads. This is her last year, though. She is most likely going on to fly professionally. We would all like to see someone keep her humble before she goes.” He flashed Rachel a ridiculously bright smile.
“Um…” Rachel stammered, blushing slightly. “I don’t play polo or race. I don’t like…that kind of thing. Not on brooms, anyway. I did play polocrosse on my pony occasionally, but…I wasn’t very good. Mainly, I fly through hallways, around corners, and up spiral staircases. Steeplechase stuff.”
“Really? That is quite unusual flying indeed.”
Rachel replied simply. “I grew up in a very big house.”
“I know. I have visited Gryphon Park. An amazing place. Okay, I am going to give you a flight path around the campus. Follow it safely but as quickly as you can. Try and keep it fluid.”
Mr. Chanson pointed out several landmarks to which he wanted her to fly. It was a complex path, including a few tricks he wanted her to perform. None of it was difficult, however, especially as she would have no trouble remembering his exact, specific instructions. Rachel stood still, head cocked as if listening hard. She visualized every part of the route in her head. Then, she leapt on her broom and flew the course with elegant grace.
When she came back and landed, he declared, “Wow. That was extremely impressive.” He studied her for a bit. “How many children were studying on the commons?”
Rachel tilted her head, recalling. She quickly counted what she had seen. “Fifty-seven.”
His eyebrows leapt up. “You have an amazing memory. It’s quite remarkable.”
“Thank you.” She made a very small curtsey, pleased.
“Now. Down to business.” He led her into the gym to the closet where the brooms were kept. “Let me tell you what I need from my assistant. First off, I need you to keep an eye on the students who are new to flying, especially when they lift off for the first time. I may need to chase down floaters. I’d like you to keep an eye on the rest whenever I’m gone. Make sure we don’t have kids heading off to the four corners of the universe. Finally, I would like you to demonstrate basic techniques, while I am explaining them. Does that sound like something you can handle?”
“Oh, yes!” Rachel saluted. “I did something similar for my neighborhood Junior Broomsticks class back in Gryphon-on-Dart. I’m good at keeping an eye on stragglers.”
“Excellent. During the warm weather, we fly outside. During the winter, we fly in the gym. The gym changes shape to produce any gym equipment we need, including a flying track. The chambers can get bigger and smaller as needed. Ah, here come our students. Look sharp!”
The students arrived, mainly freshmen who were new to broom riding, including some of her dorm mates. Most of those attending this class had grown up in the mundane world. A few were from the World of the Wise but had not owned a broom. There were a couple of older students, too. Rachel was introduced to Merry Vesper, a lovely girl with a long golden braid, and Mylene Price, the pale redhead she had seen asleep in the infirmary. Both were Juniors in the upper school who had been too ill during their earlier years to participate in sports.
The group moved out to the track, which was to the south, between the gymnasium and the Oriental gardens. Mr. Chanson had them break into two groups, those who had cat familiars and those who did not. The second group, he instructed to don floating vests. As this second group struggled to strap on their vests, Rachel jumped on her broom and demonstrated the basics of leaning and maneuvering, as Mr. Chanson described them. Some of the students picked it up quickly. Others had trouble. She watched with amusement as Siggy and cheerleader Brunhilda Winters flew for the first time. Brunhilda took to her bristleless like a fish, who had been raised on land, coming home to a river. Siggy also did well for a beginner, though he kept trying to do tricks far beyond his ability. Rachel had to save him once. He was hanging upside down from the bottom of a red Flycycle.
Of the two older students, Merry took to the broom immediately. Her familiar, a reindeer, watched her dubiously from the ground. Mylene did well for about twenty minutes. Then, she grew lightheaded, her face pale, and had to go lie down in the infirmary.
The only real surprise was Sakura Suzuki. Rachel’s dorm mate came from an ancient line of sorcerers, who traced their lineage to the Japanese sun goddess. She was an orphan, raised by her aunt and uncle. A tall girl with glasses, she had tied bells into her long pig tails that tinkled as she attempted to fly. Rachel had expected someone from such an ancient sorcery family to be a natural, but Sakura could not get a broom to work properly, even though Mr. Chanson switched her bristleless twice.
Failing to perform cantrips or enchantments suggested lack of magical talent. But not being able to get a broom to fly? That did not even make sense. The bristleless did not rely on Sakura’s talent any more than a mundane car depended upon the endurance of the driver.
Thinking about it, Rachel realized that Sakura had had trouble in other classes, too. She failed to accomplish tasks other students did with ease. Even stranger, she sometimes produced unlikely results. Rachel had never heard of such a thing.
As Rachel contemplated this, the broom Sakura was struggling with bucked and dumped her. With a whoosh, it shot forward, rocketing away at an extremely high speed. Rachel darted after it, but it outstripped her. Rachel gaped. No simple Flycycle should have been able to fly faster than her steeplechaser. Ever.
“Varenga!” Mr. Chanson stretched out his hand. The racing broom swerved and returned to his grasp.
“Wow!” Rachel murmured, impressed.
There was a cantrip she wanted to learn!
Chapter Fourteen:
The Alarming Report of Nastasia Romanov
The class ended, and the students departed. Mr. Chanson beamed as he thanked Rachel for “her excellent help and participation.” She curtsied and hurried off to gather up the students’ brooms and put them away in the broom closet. Then, she left to rejoin her friends.
She found them gathered downstairs in the Dare Hall music room to hear the princess’s news. Rachel and Nastasia were joined by Siggy, Joy, Valerie, and Kitten. Joy and Kitten had been with them in the dorm, so Nastasia invited them along. Nastasia had invited their other roommate, Astrid, but the shy girl had declined. Siggy had invited Valerie.
The music room was downstairs, below ground level. It was a vast area designed for concerts, with a low raised dais that served as a stage, which could be hidden behind red velvet curtains. A grand piano sat next to a drum set and some music stands. The walls were of wood paneling, positioned around the stage area so as to optimize acoustics. The middle of the chamber was open space. To the right were racks of folding chairs and a door leading to a workshop for repairing instruments. On the far left, a fire burned merrily in a large fireplace. Comfy armchairs had been placed in a semi-circle around a blue and purple braided rug. The air smelled of pine smoke and sawdust.
The students gathered by the fireplace. The princess’s Tasmanian tiger padded around the room sniffing things and rubbing his cheek against them. Lucky the Dragon flickered in and out among the chairs, occasionally pausing to let one of the girls pet him. Joy’s huge fluffy white cat played with a piece of string that she dangled for him. Kitten’s tiny lion rested on the warm flagstones before the hearth. Valerie stretched out on a thick shag rug, her head resting on Payback’s stomach. Only Rachel’s familiar, the elusive Mistletoe, was not present.
The princess sat very straight, her back not touching the chair. She looked like a young queen enthroned among her subjects, her golden ringlets spread out around her like a royal mantle. Joy sat on the floor between her and Sigfried. In one hand, she held the string for her cat. In the other, she clutched a pink and blue Witch Baby—a bobble-headed rag doll that was a popular collectable item among the children of the Wise. Rachel had glimpsed at least six of the multi-colored Witch Babies on Joy’
s bed and three on Wendy’s bed. Kitten had one, too.
Rachel did not own any herself, but Laurel had received two as gifts. Dolls were not Laurel’s thing. Her sister had shorn their hair, painted their faces with black lipstick like Goths, and attached strings to them, so she could fly around on her broom at night and dangle the ghastly toys in front of the windows of Unwary children—much to Rachel’s parents’ dismay.
Folding her hands neatly in her lap, the princess cleared her throat. “You may all be curious as to what happened to me.”
“That’s the understatement of the century!” murmured Valerie. She sat up and opened her notebook, pencil poised.
“I will go directly to the meat of the matter. When I touched Joshua March, I found myself standing on a glacier. It was extraordinarily cold.” She chaffed her arms as if even the memory of it chilled her. “The scene was horrific. An older version of Joshua March was undergoing an ancient Roman form of torture. He hung from outstretched arms with his stomach slashed open. His internal organs had spilled onto the ice.” The princess seemed perturbed but did not shiver at the memory, though several of the others did, including Rachel. “There was a creature with him, a very tall man. Beautiful but in a painful way. He had wings of smoke and fire. He tried to keep me there, but something pulled on me, and I came back.”
Outrage contorted Siggy’s features. He socked his fist into his palm with a satisfying clap. “Did you happen to get the rotter’s name and address and preference of armaments?”
The princess held up her hand, as if requesting patience. “There is more. I came back quickly, but they kept me in the Halls of Healing for observation. Agents came by to guard me. I spent the night being protected by Agent Standish Dorian and…”—a sweet smile flickered across her face, as if she anticipated the effect her words would cause and wished to apologize before hand—“Agent James Darling.”
The other girls cried out in delight. Joy actually squealed and insisted on high-fiving Nastasia. Rachel grinned appreciatively. A soft sound behind her made her turn around. Kitten had fallen asleep in the rocking chair near the fire, her head nodding against her starched white shirt. Leander sat purring on her lap. Rachel had not realized that lions could purr. Perhaps, only the tiny ones did.
The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 1) Page 15