Shadow Grail #2: Conspiracies

by Mercedes Lackey; Rosemary Edghill

  The instructions didn’t open a browser. They sent her straight to what looked like a chatroom. There was one other user in it, someone called QUERCUS.

  After a moment, a long moment, she hesitantly typed hi.

  Hello Spirit, QUERCUS replied. I am glad you found the way out.

  A shiver ran up her back, quickly quelled when she looked at the screen and realized the software had already put Spirit as her user name.

  Who are you? she asked. The next logical question.

  A friend. I want to help you.

  Yeah, right. She glared at the screen.

  I know about feeling alone, QUERCUS typed when she didn’t respond.

  Why did you send me this software? she asked, instead of responding directly.

  To give you hope in the dark times.

  Well, that wasn’t exactly helpful. And—how did she know she was actually outside the school firewall? All she had was this chatroom.

  Why should I trust you?

  Open a new window, bring up your browser.

  She did so.

  Now go to one of your old favorite Web sites.

  Well. Okay. How about CanHazCheeseburger? She opened a browser, typed it in, expecting to get nothing, as usual, and—

  “… shoot…,” she whispered. There it was. And it wasn’t cached, either, the time/day stamps on the posts proved that.

  As long as this chatroom is up and open, you can get onto the Internet. When you close it and take off the thumb drive, that will automatically close the link to outside. Magic.

  She stared at the LOLcats. Stared at the chatroom.

  If only this didn’t feel so much like a trap.…

  THIRTEEN

  For three days, Spirit avoided the others. It wasn’t difficult; they were all being worked like dogs. It was incredible; she’d thought Oakhurst was hard before … well, now she knew what “hard” really was. She’d never worked so hard physically in her life, although at least now there was so much supervision over their training that there was no chance for cheap shots from any of the others. Anastus Ovcharenko was sadistic, but he spread it across all of them, so nobody got singled out as the favorite and nobody got singled out as the goat. His two assistants were absolutely indifferent. “Cruel but fair” was what kept coming to mind. The course work was tough, but at least she was spared the courses geared for specific Schools of Magic, since she didn’t have one. That gave her a precious free period to study and work on the other ones. The time she used to spend with the others, well … there was QUERCUS. By the time the day was over, her brain was so numb and her body so tired that QUERCUS was about all she had energy for. Not that he was much help.

  Yet she couldn’t keep out of that chatroom; she still couldn’t make up her mind if it was some kind of trap or if he really was there to help her somehow.

  What about these Breakthrough people? What do you know about them? she asked.

  You should trust your own instincts.

  She sighed. Thanks, Yoda, she typed. She had decided there was no point in holding back with him, because what did she have to lose?

  He didn’t respond to that. She wondered if he was some sort of robot program, but even she knew there weren’t any “fake” AIs this sophisticated. And if somebody’d written one, why waste it on her?

  So just what am I supposed to do, here? she asked. My friends bailed on me, I don’t have any magic, I don’t know what’s going on—

  He actually interrupted her. You are at the center of a war. The beginning of the war was in the time of King Arthur.

  There was a long pause; she waited.

  The situation is complex. While the followers of Mordred, the ones called the Shadow Knights, are completely in the service of Darkness, blame for the war is not entirely on their side. Partly they chose Darkness, but partly they were driven to it. Partly, Mordred himself was driven to it.

  All right, she typed cautiously. So?

  So now the past is past. For centuries, Mordred himself was powerless. While some few of the Shadow Knights and Arthur’s folk were reborn, it was only a handful, and the conflicts between them were limited to mere duels. Now Mordred has come into his power again. The Shadow Knights are reborn, awakened to their true nature, and more are being recruited. Only Arthur’s followers, the Grail Knights, can effectively oppose them. The war itself has been reborn, and the time for confrontation is at hand. Yet, if one side does not defeat the other this time, the cycle will continue to be repeated, down the long years.

  She was startled. This was—in clearer words—exactly what Elizabeth had told her! And QUERCUS had told her this without any prompting. She felt a cold lump in her stomach and a chill running up her spine. Okay, so he’s saying the same thing. But that doesn’t make it true. Facts, though …

  Doctor Ambrosius and the Breakthrough people were talking about a war. There were Shadow Knights, and they’d actually been killing people, or trying to. People had gotten badly hurt at the bonfire. People had been Tithed to the Wild Hunt. And people were missing. Gone? Or—dead? Okay, this explanation sounded crazy, but was there a better one?

  Her practical side came to the rescue. Well, plain old regular human greed. There doesn’t have to be a Mordred around for people to be evil. There were wars all over the world for the same reason. This one just happened to involve magic. Which she didn’t have. And she really didn’t want to become “Disposable Extra Number 23.”

  So assuming this is true, she typed, what am I supposed to do? I don’t even have any magic! I just want to keep my head down—

  He interrupted her again. Ignorance and powerlessness is your greatest defense.

  Well, that made no sense at all. QUERCUS was back to cryptic mode. She sighed, gave up, and went to bed.

  As for avoiding the others, all she had to do was to change her habits—sit somewhere else at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It helped that all pretense of formal dining had gone right by the wayside; everything was cafeteria-style lines now, and the linens and china had been put away “for the duration.” That might have been the only good thing about the new regime. Everything else—if people had been thinking that having the Breakthrough people more or less in charge was going to make things easier, they must have had a sad awakening.

  Oakhurst was now being run like a military academy. The really athletic kids, the ones with warlike Schools and Gifts, had to get up before dawn. The few glimpses she got of Burke made her feel sorry for him, when she could get past the feeling of being betrayed. He really looked haggard. Actually, all of the ones being singled out as “warriors” looked haggard; he wasn’t alone in that.

  Strangely, Spirit saw more of Muirin than she saw of anyone else; usually glimpses of Muirin and Madison acting like BFFs outside of class, though inside, Madison didn’t cut her any slack. On the afternoon of Spirit’s third day of “exile”—as she thought of it—she even saw Muirin being driven somewhere in some sort of sports car with Mark Rider at the wheel. That was so astonishing that for a moment she thought it was an hallucination. But … no. Word later had it that Mark Rider had driven Muirin into Radial at Madison’s request for some unspecified appointment. Appointment? For what?

  Probably a dentist. Oakhurst doesn’t have a dentist, she finally decided. Serves her right for eating all that sugar.

  There was no doubt she wasn’t the only person who found it odd that Muirin was so friendly with the Riders. She caught sight of a lot of funny looks from some of the other kids when Muirin came back, this time driven by Madison. It was right after supper, so a lot of people were free, and some of them had taken to hanging out in the Entry Hall instead of the lounges. Ms. Corby didn’t like that, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. To avoid her former friends, Spirit was there, too, covertly studying the Tree.

  The sports car came roaring up to the front entrance, and Muirin got out. She leaned over and said something to Madison, then closed the door and waved. The sports car roared off again, and
Muirin came sailing through the front door like she owned the school.

  Little murmurs followed her, but nothing Spirit could catch.

  And for a dose of something definitely on the dubious side, Anastus Ovcharenko seemed to like to hang around Muirin. Okay, maybe he was a lot younger than Mark Rider or even Madison, but still he was twenty or older. It just felt wrong to Spirit. It made her wonder all over again … how much of what Elizabeth had said was a fantasy and how much had been the truth? Because if Anastus actually was a Reincarnate.…

  No, that was crazy. He was Russian, and for all she knew, twenty-something guys in Russia dated teenage girls all the time.

  She wasn’t going to say anything to Muirin; Ovcharenko had this dangerous vibe that made Spirit really queasy. Like you wouldn’t want to be there if he actually got mad at you.

  Finally, on the evening of the fifth day, Loch ambushed her as she left the Refectory. “Spirit … we’re sorry we got you upset. We want to apologize. Okay?” he said awkwardly, as people detoured around them.

  “All of you, or just you?” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn’t going to give on this one. As he twisted his hand over his watchband, nervously, she noticed that he wasn’t wearing his ring anymore.

  “All of us … except Muirin.” He shrugged. “You know Muirin. She likes to needle people.”

  “Yeah.” Spirit watched him warily, trying to figure out if he meant it.

  “We’d really like it if you’d hook back up with us,” he faltered. “I—uh—please? You were the first friend I had here.” He gave her a big puppy-dog look. She couldn’t help it; she folded.

  “All right,” she said, but made it grudging. Let him know he—they—weren’t getting this one for free. She followed him back to the lounge. Burke greeted her with enthusiasm, Addie with her usual friendly reserve, and Muirin as if she hadn’t gone crying back to her room five days ago.

  Muirin was sporting new (non-Oakhurst-Dress-Code-approved!) jewelry: earrings and a bracelet. The earrings were two little black snakes that coiled against her earlobes; the bracelet was another black snake with its tail in its mouth. Muirin saw Spirit looking, and thrust out her hand. “The Worm Ouroboros,” she said, with a giggle. “The big snake that coils around the world. Madison and Mark gave them to me. Enameled silver. Oh, and here, this is for you—”

  She reached under the table and pulled out a bottle of perfume. “They gave this to me, but once I had it on, it turned too sweet.” Gingerly, Spirit took it. The bottle said “Bulgari,” and it looked expensive. “I figure it would suit you.”

  Nice. “Too sweet.” But that was probably as close to an apology as Muirin was going to get, so Spirit took it. The perfume was nice, it smelled like roses. Yeah, very much not Muirin.

  “I’m sorry, Spirit,” Burke said quietly. “For the other night.”

  Addie nodded. “Me, too.”

  “Okay,” Spirit replied, and slowly sat down. They started their usual desultory game of Monopoly, and that was when she noticed the only one still wearing the Oakhurst ring was Muirin. “So … how are things, under our new overlords?” she asked, trying to sound light.

  Muirin made a face. “Awful, but Mark and Madison are pretty cool. They’re helping me get stuff in here, so that’s good. This might be Stalag Oakhurst, but chocolate helps everything.”

  The Riders are helping her with her smuggling ring? Uh, what?

  “I haven’t changed my mind about leaving,” Burke replied, shoulders sagging. “I have an appointment with Doctor Ambrosius in two days. I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

  Spirit’s heart sank as Addie nodded sympathetically. She’d been thinking about telling them about QUERCUS—but with Muirin all cozy with the Riders, and Burke wanting to leave, it looked like she was the only one wanting to find out the truth anymore.

  Except … Loch gave her a significant look. And when Addie cut the game short, because Muirin had pretty much cleaned her out, she lingered behind with Loch to clean up their area.

  “Tonight. The basement,” he whispered. With a thrill and a little lift to her heart, she nodded.

  * * *

  “You’re right about one thing, Spirit. We’ve got to figure out if there’s a place where the Legacies with no magic go,” Loch said, as they went through more of the old boxes. “I don’t think it’s safe for Burke to go back to his family, and for another…” He stopped, and shook his head. “Your sister, Phoenix, didn’t have any magic, did she?”

  “No, and believe me, she’d have been showing it off if she did,” Spirit replied, with a lump in her throat.

  “So there has to be another Oakhurst. And we have to find it. If we find it, maybe we can get ourselves transferred to it or something. Heck…” he hesitated. “Maybe you were lied to at the hospital; maybe Oakhurst told them to lie. Maybe Phoenix is still alive, and there, and Oakhurst didn’t want you to know about it because, oh, I don’t know, because they didn’t want you thinking and worrying about her or something.”

  Her heart contracted—hard!—at that thought. She pushed the idea away. She didn’t want any false hopes right now.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, around the painful lump in her chest. “I think he would have told me—” She stopped, both hands buried deeply in a box of old papers, just about to blurt out the secret of QUERCUS. She stopped herself before she did.

  Before Loch could ask her who she meant, she quickly changed the subject. “I can’t believe they’re still having a February Dance,” she said. “I mean, that’s crazy! Look what happened the last two times we had some kind of thing like that! It’s like asking for another attack!”

  Loch shrugged. “They could be sending the Shadow Knights a message. I’m pretty sure it’s all to make us think things are normal. They’re probably laying traps. Breakthrough seems to do psychological things like that. Like, the way they changed the classes—okay, it’s like a military academy, and they’re telling us we’re getting ready for the war, but they’re also telling us that it’s okay, they’re protecting us and some things can still be the way they were.”

  “Which they aren’t!” she exclaimed, throttling down the edge of hysteria in her voice as best as she could. She sat back on her heels. “Nothing is normal—”

  “Tell me about it. Even for Oakhurst. Even this thing. They want us to go as couples. Girls are supposed to ask guys.” He laughed bitterly. “If I went as half of a couple, I wouldn’t want to go with a girl anyway.”

  She turned to look at him, blinking. “You—what?” Then what he actually meant dawned on her. “You’re gay?”

  He nodded, and flushed. “And there’s somebody I really like, a lot, but—can you imagine what would happen if I came out? Here?”

  She grimaced, and he slumped. “Uh … yeah. This place isn’t exactly—open.” Suddenly she remembered something Loch had said to her a few weeks ago and barely kept from gasping out loud. “… he said since I cared so much about them and so little about him there was no reason for him to go on anymore…” Loch’s friend David at Carnarvon Academy. The one who’d killed himself in front of Loch. He’d been bullied—Loch had been bullied—because they were gay.…

  She thought hard, and the only reference to anyone being gay here she could remember had come from her History courses, where they were always referred to as “ho-mo-SEX-u-als.” Yeah, nothing but Rainbow Pride here, she thought bitterly. She gave Loch a sympathetic smile. “Dylan would probably prank you—if you were lucky. As lousy as things are now, it wouldn’t take much to make your life complete misery.”

  “Besides, I’ve got no idea if he likes me back, not like that. And I don’t want to screw things up. I just thought … I like you, Spirit. I just don’t like you.”

  She smiled again, and it was more real this time. “Friends are harder to get than boyfriends. I like you, too, Loch. That won’t change,” she promised.

  Loch’s answering smile was beautiful. He dusted off his h
ands and stood up. “That’s it. We’ve been through absolutely everything. If there’s something about another Oakhurst, it’s not down here.”

  * * *

  They all got together for lunch the next day; Burke sported a bandaged wrist. He didn’t comment on it, and Spirit didn’t ask, but even under the bandages it looked swollen. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he said numbly. “I just—”

  They all looked up as David Krandal and Ms. Corby came into the Refectory and headed straight for their table. Burke’s back was to the door, and he didn’t notice they were staring at anything until Mr. Krandal was right there.

  “Mr. Hallows, Doctor Ambrosius would like to see you immediately,” Ms. Corby said, just as Burke looked up.

  Burke went flush, then a little pale. Ms. Corby didn’t say anything else. She gestured toward the door, so he got up quickly and followed her out, with Mr. Krandal following both of them.

  As soon as they cleared the door, the room began to buzz with speculation.

  The others exchanged looks, and even Muirin was unusually sober. “That can’t be good,” Addie said, slowly. “And I don’t think it’s because he punched someone or something.”

  Spirit nodded, a feeling of dread coming over her. “I—I think something is really wrong. I think maybe we should go wait for him.”

  Addie nodded, and they all got up, even Muirin leaving her dessert half-eaten, and headed for the Entry Hall.

  It was a good thing they did, too; just as they got there, they saw the doors to Doctor Ambrosius’s office open, and Burke stumbled out. “I’m very sorry, Burke,” Doctor A. was saying. “Very sorry indeed.”

  The door closed behind him, and they all converged on him. Before any of them could ask what was wrong, he looked up at them with a dazed expression. “It’s—my mom and dad. They’re—they’re dead.”

  “What?” exclaimed Loch, going white.

  “How?” demanded Addie at the same time.

  “House fire,” Burke said. He was as white as paper. “There was just barely enough to identify. He won’t let me go. He won’t even let me go to the funeral. I—” He stopped, and stood there looking like a touch would shatter him.