by Alex Kosh
This joyful news was greeted by the hall with total silence.
“And why are we only learning of this now?” the Senior Inquisitor enquired in a quiet voice.
“Owing to security considerations we were unable to spread word of the operation that was being planned,” the Chastener replied calmly. “It has been confirmed that our enemies have spies in our ranks and perhaps ...” he cast a keen glance round the hall “... even in the Council itself.”
“I think you are being over-suspicious,” the Senior Inquisitor said with a frown. “But let us not talk about that now, please let us know what measures you have taken.”
“Of course,” the Chastener agreed. “We had been trying for a long time to plant one of our men in the Academy, but all of our attempts were unsuccessful.”
“We know this already,” the senior Inquisitor said in annoyance, interrupting the Chastener. “Speak to the point.”
“Very well,” the Chastener sighed. “Yesterday, as you know, the Academy of the Craft held its enrolment of pupils.”
The senior Inquisitor was about to interrupt the Chastener again, but he was not quick enough.
“One of the new pupils was one of our top-secret undercover agents,” the Chastener said.
There was a loud commotion in the hall, something absolutely forbidden by the rules of procedure – but this news was simply too unexpected ...
“At last ...”
“We’ve been trying so hard for so long ...”
The Chastener raised his eyes to the heavens. He knew that all present had done no more than offer fine words. But as soon as something useful was done this mystical “we” suddenly materialised. And it was also typical that any failure produced the equally mystical “you” (in the plural), who were saddled with all responsibility ...
“And are you sure that your agent has not been exposed?” the Senior Inquisitor asked sceptically.
“A few hours ago we received a detailed report covering the last two months, which he has spent in the Academy, and we ...”
“The last two months!” the Senior Inquisitor cried, pale with fury. “You’re mad!”
“In your position I would refrain from making such statements.”
The Senior Inquisitor turned pale with fear.
“Forgive my impetuous outburst,” he corrected himself. “But you must agree that what you said sounded ... rather strange ...”
“Not at all,” the Chastener objected. “A few years ago I mentioned to you our suspicion that the Craftsmen could control the passage of time within the Academy. Our agent has confirmed this suspicion and also provided us with other useful information about the methods for training Craftsmen ...”
“You mean to say that during the last day more than three weeks have gone by in the Academy?” the Senior Inquisitor asked incredulously.
“Was I not clear?” the Chastener asked with a chilly smile.
“It’s simply hard to believe,” the Senior Inquisitor replied hastily. “Well, your success is most praiseworthy. But how did your man manage to infiltrate the Academy? We have tried every possible means before, without any success.”
“Well, you see,” the Chastener laughed, “the concept of ‘our man’ is not entirely appropriate here ... let’s just say that we made an unconventional move, and it succeeded.”
“Very well,” the Senior Inquisitor agreed. “This is a truly great breakthrough ... but what place has the chastening sword here? And why are our agents’ intelligence operations supervised by the Chasteners?”
The Chastener decided to let the phrase “our agents” go ... for the time being. The members of the Council were fond of sharing the credit for others’ achievements. Well, let them. When the Chasteners had dealt with the Academy of the Craft, everyone would be rewarded according to his merits.
“I would also like to know that,” put in the Inquisitor responsible for intelligence networks in the golden city.
“Initially,” said the Chastener, emphasising the word, “we were planning no more than a modest act of sabotage. We were not even certain that our agent would be able to transmit any information to us. However, he has quite easily obtained a great deal of valuable information, including exhaustive data on one of the teleports leading to Kraidoll –a town in the Borderland.”
“We know that already,” the Senior Inquisitor muttered.
He clearly felt that he was losing the initiative, but there was nothing he could do about it.
“Our agent also informed us of the most advantageous time to attack,” the Chastener continued blithely, ignoring the remark. “In the light of information received, two hours ago we took the decision to carry out a major operation with the assistance of our agent.”
“Just how major?” the Senior Inquisitor asked.
“Is an operation to seize control of the Academy major enough?” the Chastener enquired.
Scene 9
“Buenos tardes, amigos!” the vampire exclaimed, rising out of his armchair in a single agile movement.
At first glance I wouldn’t have said he was more than twenty or twenty-three. But that was only if you didn’t look into his eyes. There was an ocean of eternity splashing about in them, and they were red (everyone knows that only hereditary vampires have red eyes).
I glanced anxiously at Romius, hoping he would translate what the vampire had said into normal language, but he was obviously not interested in playing interpreter.
“Speak properly, will you” Romius told the vampire wearily, but the vampire merely waved a hand at the Higher Craftsman as if he were a bothersome fly.
“Don’t lay no hassle on me, bro, it’s all going down tip-top. I reckon the kid will dig the rap,” said the vampire, drawling his vowels in a weird kind of accent.
To be quite honest, I didn’t understand a word he said.
“Cool,” Romius said with a nod. “But you watch that lip, or you’ll have me on your case.”
The vampire froze in amazement, he obviously hadn’t expected the Craftsman to answer him back in the same style.
“Way to go, bro. I’d never have thought it,” he said, baring his fangs in a happy smile.
“Right now, Zach, let me introduce you,” Romius said to me. “This amateur linguist’s name is Velkheor.”
Hot shit! There was a member of the bloodiest vampire clan inside the Academy! Now just let them try giving poor harmless Alice a hard time because the Academy was no place for vampires!
Some of my thoughts must clearly have been reflected in my face, or maybe the vampire read them, because he laughed out loud.
“As a matter of fact, I’ve been living and working here for six months,” the vampire said, just to complete my amazement. “And I’m not an amateur linguist, I’m a professional.”
I didn’t even know which sounded stranger: a vampire living in the Academy, or a vampire working in the Academy. Or a vampire linguist? In any case, I didn’t really understand why I’d been brought here.
“Yes,” Romius said with a frown. “He’s a specialist, in a manner of speaking, who has been invited to work here ... on your problem, among other things.”
“Do I have a problem?” I asked, wondering what he had in mind.
“You mean you don’t?” the vampire asked in surprise. “Then we’ll soon give you one.”
I automatically took a step back towards the door. Anyone who has had anything at all to do with vampires will understand me ... they don’t make idle threats. Who knew what wild ideas he might get into his head?
“Shame on you, Velkheor,” Romius reproached him. “As old as the world, more than twenty already, and you still can’t resist frightening children.”
I understood, of course, that we weren’t talking about years or even decades here. Vampires’ lives are measured in centuries. And naturally, if you lived that long, you were bound to go crazy ... so that kind of explained his strange behaviour.
“What of it?” asked Velkheor, putting on a
meek expression. “You know I’m as harmless as ...”
The vampire twirled one hand in the air and rolled his eyes thoughtfully, but he couldn’t come up with a suitable comparison.
“Well, anyway. I’m harmless.”
“Right,” Romius agreed, “quit playing the dumb ass, will you?”
“You astound me!” the vampire exclaimed. “Where did you learn slang like that?”
The Craftsman didn’t answer.
“All right, then tell me why you’ve dragged this young man into our lair, before my frenzied curiosity drives me to investigate him more closely,” said the vampire, glancing sideways at me again.
That was then I realised I was backed up against the door.
“This young man, as it happens, composes very interesting little songs. Would you like to listen to some?”
“Do I look like a music-lover?” asked Velkheor, puzzled.
To be quite honest, I didn’t really understand what my songs had to do with anything.
“Yes, you do, definitely,” said Romius, nodding in delight. “I recall you singing your favourite songs to a guitar at night.”
“You heard me?” the vampire asked with a frown.
“I didn’t hear you, I was listening,” Romius said didactically. “That’s why I’ve brought his young lad. Here ...” – the Craftsman took the muse with my songs on it out of his pocket – “...listen to this and give me your opinion.”
The vampire froze for a second with the muse in his hand, then he nodded and put the muse in his musicale. Slow music filled the study, and then my high voice (trained, courtesy of my aunt, by the very finest teachers) sang:
Above me there is silence,
The sky is full of rain.
The light passes straight through me,
But there is no more pain. [2] [2 Words from a song by the group “Aria”]
“I guessed the melody after just seven notes!” the vampire shouted so loudly that he gave Romius a fright as well as me. “The boy sings well, by the way, but he’s no match for Kipelov.”
“Who is this Kipelov, a famous opera singer?” I asked enviously, trying to conceal the resentment in my voice.
“Yeah,” the vampire chortled. “An opera singer.”
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked Romius warily.
“Take no notice, this is the way he is all the time, and believe me, right now he’s behaving like an angel in comparison with the way he was before.”
“That’s for sure,” the vampire said with a solemn nod and he stopped laughing. “Right then, where did you ...” – he pointed impolitely directly at me – “... get that song from? These songs haven’t appeared on sale in our music kiosks yet, as I recall.”
The vampire laughed again.
“It’s my song,” I answered rather uncertainly.
“Plagiarist!” said Velkheor, gnashing his teeth. “Don’t pull that crap on me!”
As far as I could make out, he didn’t believe me. Although I didn’t really understand the meaning of the word “crap” or, rather, I didn’t understand it at all.
“Zach, this is very important. Tell us where you got the words of this song from,” Romius said.
“And the music,” the vampire added.
If it was that important, I supposed I’d have to tell them the truth. What else could I do?
“Well, it’s like this,” I began, “I often have dreams ... about strange cities and people ... sometimes I hear these songs and in the morning, if I haven’t forgotten them, I write them down. Why, am I doing something wrong?”
“On the contrary,” Romius said with a shake of his head. “It’s very good that you write these songs down. They are ...”
“Go on, tell this young pup our secrets.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, calling them ‘secrets’,” Romius said dismissively. “But then, have it your way. If you want to call them secrets, that’s up to you.”
I pretended not to be offended. Not even the tiniest bit ...
“That’s right, that’s right, it’s up to me,” the vampire said, nodding. “You listen to what else he has to say, and in the meantime I’ll listen to the music. It’s got me feeling quite nostalgic ...”
The vampire switched on the musicale, put on the earphones and lounged back in his armchair.
“And how often do you have these dreams?” Romius asked as his first question. “In a dream are you an outside observer, or do you participate in events?”
A good question. If only I could remember ... they were dreams, not theatrical performances in a public square. Everything shifted, everything changed ...
“On average I have the dreams about once a week, but there’s no point in trying to draw up a schedule – sometimes I have three dreams in one week, sometimes not a single one in a month. As for participating ... no, I think all I do is observe ... But what difference does it make? They’re only dreams ... aren’t they?”
“That’s what they seem to be,” Romius drawled thoughtfully. “But how does it happen that your dreams contain songs ... that someone else has already written ...”
“Oh, come on,” I objected half-heartedly. “If music like that turned up in our city – and sooner or later all the good music in the world turns up in our city – I’d know about it. And all the music-lovers would know about it.”
“All the good music of our world,” said Romius, emphasising the last word but one.
“Are you trying to say ...” I began.
“I’m not trying to say anything,” the Craftsman snapped, and then added in a warmer tone of voice: “I’m sorry, but it’s not my secret.”
I nodded understandingly. A secret is sacred ... and a vampire’s secret? A vampire’s sacred secret ... Why not? It has a ring to it.
“I am free-ee!” the vampire suddenly roared in a very well-trained voice.
Well, I suppose it would be a sin not to have a well-trained voice after living for that long.
“Yes, I can see it’s going to be impossible to get anything out of him now,” said Romius, shaking his head. “So I have a little favour to ask of you.”
“Of course, uncle, I’m all attention.”
“Remember the details of your dreams and write them all down, all right?”
“All right,” I said with a shrug. “And when shall I present my report?”
Romius gave a guilty chuckle.
“Don’t think of this as work, it’s just a favour for me ... but write the report as quickly as you can.”
“Yes sir,” I replied briskly.
“Dismissed,” the Craftsman said with a wave of his hand. “Oh, and by the way, congratulations on your first day in the Academy.”
The teleport system stubbornly refused to obey me. I could have sworn I had it all figured out, but obviously I didn’t. Half an hour of continuous wandering from floor to floor still hadn’t brought me to my room, but at least I had stumbled, completely by accident, across the living quarters of the fairer half of the Academy’s pupils. What was it Caiten said – “you’re all adults”? And there weren’t any rules against anything? To be quite honest, I would never even have guessed that the girls lived on this level, because so far I hadn’t seen a single member of the fair sex. But there were large numbers of members of the male sex ... Visitors? Admirers?
Anyway, since I was here, I had to find out where Alice lived. After all, she and I were on the same team. You could never tell what might come up, and I didn’t even know where she lived ... that’s right, isn’t it? Well, isn’t it?
Corridors ran off in four directions, and I was definitely not keen to walk round the entire level, so I decided to ask someone where her room was ... but then, how would they know?
“Excuse me, do you happen to know where Alice lives?” I enquired naively of the first pupil I came across.
“Who?” the lad asked in surprise. “Do you think I know everyone here by name?”
“The vampiress,” I exp
lained.
“Ah, that one,” the lad said with a grin. “Straight along the corridor, last door on the left.”
So what was he grinning at, if I might ask? What was so funny?