“Father says thaumaturgy is bad because the sacrifice is not done for a sacred reason.”
“Frankly, I can’t see what the difference is between the gods and the creatures we thaumaturges call up. I mean, look at this stuff…” He gestured at the books on the table. “The Carthaginians were sacrificing to their god, right?”
“But if their god is the same creature I met…”Rachel shuddered. “Then he’s not a god at all. He’s a demon.”
“So?” Gaius gestured as if to indicate a gallery of deities. “What is to say that all these other gods are not demons, too? Maybe all these deities are the same. Some of them are nice enough. But many of them…well, I’ve read the stories. Girls turned into trees? Men torn apart by their own dogs? I wouldn’t want to be at their mercy.”
“I don’t think they’re the same things at all,” Rachel objected fiercely. “The nuns of Asclepius are so very kind. They’re wonderful healers who selflessly devote themselves to the sick. And the librarian here is a monk of Athena. Don’t these people strike you as good?”
“They do good works. True. As do many of the other orders. The monks of Hephaestus run the best foundries and make the best mechanics of anyone,” countered Gaius, “but we still sacrifice cocks to Asclepius. And nobody says that’s evil. Though, I’ve never heard of anyone sacrificing anything alive to Athena. I grant you that.”
“Supplicants usually leave offerings of honey cakes or scrolls with essays written on them. Things like that. Even her major temples stopped doing live sacrifices after Athena’s famous visit to the temple at Constantinople during the reign of Diocletian.”
“True.” Gaius flipped his pen in the air and caught it. “And no one sacrifices humans to the gods anymore. At least not the gods the Unwary worship—the Greek, the Norse, the Egyptian, the Hindu, et cetera. But then we thaumaturges don’t sacrifice human beings either. We sacrifice rabbits and chickens and goats. Things people eat. I can’t see how this is so bad. Don’t gods and monsters have to eat, too?”
“Maybe.” Rachel stared off into the swirling fog. She felt there was a difference between priests and thaumaturges but could not put her feelings into words. “You know…Mrs. March said, ‘No real gods or angels are allowed on this world.’ Why is that?”
“Allowed by…whom?” Gaius straightened up, alert.
“The guardian, maybe? The Raven tried to make Kitten’s familiar leave, too.”
“Interesting.” He cocked his head, thinking. “So, you think some gods are gods, while others are demons in disguise?”
“I think so.” Rachel nodded. Then she shuddered. “That creature…the first demon. He was only there for an instant, but there was something…” Her voice faltered. Gaius drew her closer. “S-something horrid about him. He must be stopped. At any cost.”
“You sound like Vlad.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No. Not at all. I like Vlad.”
Rachel pursed her lips, and then stopped quickly, as they were still sore. Getting to know a boy was like trying to solve a puzzle. She wanted to know all about him. The princess thought he was evil, but was he?
She blurted out, “Why did you choose Thaumaturgy?”
If he truly were evil—if he had chosen Thaumaturgy from a desire to pursue black magic—might he not answer with a lie? No. He had shivered in the midst of the Spell of True Recitation. If he were a boy who lied, the spell-sparkles would have burnt him. She leaned forward, very curious to hear his reply.
“I guess because I wanted to study the nature of magic itself. Thaumaturgy’s the closest thing to science here at Roanoke.”
“I would have thought you would have chosen Alchemy. We even call it Science class.”
“Alchemy is applied magic, like chemistry. I wanted to study pure magical theory. Like physics. That left either Gnosis or Thaumaturgy…which is why I considered Dee and Drake. I went with Thaumaturgy because dueling sounded like more fun than omen-reading.”
Rachel giggled. She chewed on her sore lip and considered his answer. It put the Thaumaturgical Art in quite a different light from the way her family saw it.
“Being a thaumaturge,” she asked suddenly, “does it give you any insight? Any clue we can use to stop this beastly monster before he starts sacrificing modern children?”
Gaius tipped his chair back farther, thinking. Then, his chair slammed into an upright position with a bang.
“Yes!”
“Really?”
“These greater entities that thaumaturges call up—daemons, deva, djin, furies, gui, rakasha, yokai—they have certain qualities in common. One is that they are all obsessed with calendar dates. That’s why there are so many holy festivals: Equus-October, Samhain, Agonalia, Yule, Lupercalia, Liberalia, the Dragon Boat Festival, Saturnalia, Zagmuk. The list goes on and on.
“Every deity has sacred days,” he continued. “Each one is jealous of how they are observed. Though one does not hear as many horror stories about revenge for forgotten sacred honors carried out during the last few centuries. In fact, everything’s been rather quiet the last few centuries god-wise.” He looked thoughtful. “But that’s another conversation. Point is, this creature may have a date when it would expect major sacrifices to be carried out.”
“Of course!” Rachel clapped her hands. “They are going to summon him on his name day! That’s what the other demon said. What date is sacred to Kronos?…do we have a Calendar of Feast Rites?”
Gaius retrieved the slender volume that contained the days in the current year set aside to honoring various gods. He flipped through it.
“They said his name day?” he said. “I don’t see Moloch or Krono…Saturn!”
“Of course, Kronos’s other name is Saturn! The Titan of Time who ruled during the Golden Age and was overthrown because he had the bad habit of eating his children,” said Rachel. “So his name day would be…”
“Saturnalia!” They both cried simultaneously.
They stared at each other incredulously. Saturnalia was a major holiday among both the Wise and the Unwary.
“That gives us until December 17th,” Rachel’s eyes widened until they were huge. “That’s the demon’s name day? Saturnalia? It’s one of the biggest holidays of the year, after…” she paused for a moment, mentally sorting the really big holidays from the medium ones. “Yule, Lupercalia, Vernal Equinox. May Day, Midsummer’s Night, Lammas, and Halloween.”
“We always treated it as the official beginning of the Yule Season,” Gaius said. “Here at school, don rags are done and we’re always out and home by Saturnalia. At home, back when I was an Unwary, we used to have a five day celebration, eat a lot of pork, drink Doom Bar, and smash a pig-shaped piñata.”
Rachel blinked slightly at the notion of a boy guzzling Cornish beer, but what she said was, “A piñata? You’re lucky. In the World of the Wise, we still do it the old way. My father, as duke, always had to be the one to make the first ceremonial cut on the pig’s throat, before the priests sacrificed it.”
Now it was Gaius’s turn to blink. “You used a live pig?”
She nodded solemnly. “Actually, we use a boar. For Freyr. That’s not so bad. It’s hearing the horses die, during Equus-October festival, that I hate most. I always try to get out of going.”
“And you guys don’t like us thaumaturges? I can’t see the difference.”
Rachel bit her lip, which was still sore from all the whistling, uncertain what to say.
“But back to Saturnalia,” he continued, “So, this Titan, whose day is celebrated by the whole Western world and even portions of the Far East —both Wise and Unwary—is a demon?”
“Disturbing.” Rachel shuddered.
Gaius tipped his chair back again, tapping his pencil against his temple. “Okay, what else would the demon need? Oh, I know!”
He jumped up and ran off into the stacks, coming back with a book. “This is by Diodorus Siculus, a Greek historian who lived in Sicily in the First Cen
tury. He records the particulars of the ceremonies needed to invoke various gods and Titans. I think he is quoting from an older work. This volume did not survive in the mundane world. The World of the Wise must have thought it too dangerous.”
Gaius flipped quickly through pages. “Here! Rituals to consecrate a temple to Kronos! There are…let’s see…ah!…three things that must be done before a temple is complete: consecration of priests; consecration of the ground; consecration of the sacred statue—the one used to hold the victims. According to this, each step needs sacrifices. And each step has to be performed during the dark of the moon. Between now and December seventeenth, that leaves us…”
“October fourteenth, November thirteenth, and December twelfth,” Rachel recalled the schedule of the moon she had seen in an almanac. Gaius’s eyebrows shot up. Rachel continued speaking before he could ask her how she knew. “Do you think the temple might have been built already?”
Gaius considered and then shook his head. “Azrael was supposed to be the head honcho, right? They only lost him yesterday. So, they haven’t had time to prepare for this new demon, whom they called to take his place. My guess is they are only just starting.”
“You know, you’re brilliant.” Rachel beamed at him.
“I’m brilliant? It’s rather amazing, everything you’ve found out,” Gaius declared. “Vlad would be impressed with you. And that is high praise indeed!”
A shiver ran from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. That was high praise.
He continued sincerely, “You’re the second most impressive woman I’ve ever heard of.”
Rachel blushed and lowered her lashes—as much to hide the sting of discovering someone else impressed her boyfriend even more than she did as out of humility. She smiled slightly, amused at her own expense.
Ah well. Such was the fleeting nature of praise.
“I’d better tell Vlad,” Gaius continued, before Rachel could ask him whom the first most impressive woman was. “He would definitely want to know about this.”
Rachel nodded. “I should share this information with my father—about Saturnalia.”
Gaius rubbed his temples. Then, he asked, chagrined, “Look, really sorry, but…which part of what you told me was so secret someone would die if I repeated it?”
“Oh! I…didn’t get to that part. I…”
Zoë’s voice spoke from her pocket. “Rachel!”
Rachel pulled out her calling card. “Hello?”
“The nurse has released Joy and Nastasia.” Zoë held the card too close to her face. Only one eye and her nose were visible. “We’re going to go carry out the princess’s plan.”
“The princess’s plan?” Rachel sighed in exasperation. “Um…can you wait a bit?”
“Nope. The princess has an appointment with the dean in two hours. We want to learn more before we all get expelled or they confiscate my shoes or something. If you want, you can join us.”
The card went green. Rachel sighed. She desperately did not want her friends to go into the dreamland without her. She very much wanted to participate in the experiments. And besides, someone needed to be present who would remember the results.
“I’m sorry.” She looked up regretfully. “I have to go. I need to be there for this. We’re about to do something important.”
“Oh.”
Gaius’s obvious disappointment made her heart soar. He wanted to be with her. She gave him a very sweet smile. He reached out and squeezed her hand.
“My big secret will have to wait.” Rachel rose to her feet.
“I await the revelation,” Gaius drawled dryly, amused. “Seems like you’re not too happy with the ‘princess’s plan?’ Is her noble highness up to something of which you disapprove?”
“It’s not the princess’s plan,” Rachel rolled her eyes, “it’s my plan.”
“Your princess took the credit?”
“No, she’s as much of a victim as I,” laughed Rachel. Even as she said it, she realized it was the truth. “Other people attribute my ideas to her.”
“Ah. I’ll leave you to sort that out then.”
He rose and walked around the table to where she was. Leaning over with a twinkle in his eye, he kissed her goodbye.
Chapter Thirteen:
The Die Horribly Debate Club
“I’m here! I made it! We can…” Rachel burst in the door of the abandoned classroom Zoë had described as their meeting place and halted.
No one was there.
“Where is…?” She looked around the room, which was empty except for the large, polished, central table and its twenty-odd straight-backed chairs. Then she glanced up again at the number above the door. “Hang on. Am I in the wrong…?”
“Oh, it’s you, Freaky-Genius-Dwarf-Girl.” Lucky stuck his head over the edge of the table, his yard-long red whiskers twitching curiously. “The boss told me to tell you that you took too long. They’ll get you for the next experiment.”
A scratching from the corner, and Beauregard, the princess’s Tasmanian tiger, scrambled to his feet. He trotted forward and nosed Rachel’s hand, before returning to his previous spot and curling up to sleep. Turning her head, Rachel noticed that that Valerie’s Norwegian Elkhound was also in the room. Payback sat alertly, watching Rachel’s every move, but, being an excellently trained dog, she did not rise from the position her mistress had commanded her to take.
“Oh…” Rachel blinked several times, until she no longer felt the treacherous, tell-tale sting of tears. For this, she had had abandoned Gaius? “What are they about?”
“Experiments. The boss went there. I stayed here. To see if we can talk to each other.”
“Oh, really?” Rachel perked up at the word experiment. “Did it work?”
“Can’t really tell.” The dragon cocked his head. “I…think so. But he’s talking so fast. I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. I should have gone and he could have stayed here. There isn’t even a single chicken in this room—dream or otherwise. Of course…” The dragon turned and gave a speculative glance out the window in the direction of Drake Hall and the collection of sacrificial animals kept in cages behind the dorm.
Rachel put her hands on her hips. “Lucky!”
“What?” the dragon asked innocently. “They’re just going to feed ’em to supernatural beings, right? I’m a supernatural being? Why shouldn’t I get my fair share?”
“If you’re hungry, you should visit the menagerie. That’s where they feed the big animals and the ones that eat live food.” Rachel pointed across the campus toward the menagerie, which could not be seen through the fog.
Lucky gaped in astonishment. His jaw unhinged like a snake’s. His mouth was now so big that he could have swallowed a chicken or even a young lamb. “You mean this school comes with free, live take-out? This place is the best!”
Rachel giggled fondly at the dragon.
“Wait. Boss is trying again. I’ll try to tell him you’re here.” The dragon closed his great eyes. Then they popped open again, like huge jade lamps.
“Did it work?” Rachel peered at him curiously.
“Think so.”
A puff of mist appeared in the middle of the room. Zoë, Nastasia, Joy, Valerie, and Sigfried stepped out of it, apparently in the midst of an argument. Beauregard immediately rose to his feet and trotted to Nastasia’s side. The elkhound remained seated until Valerie gestured to him. Then the dog ran forward, nails clipping against the wood, and happily bumped against her mistress.
“But I like that one,” Joy objected.
“Nobody cares, O’Keefe,” drawled Zoë, whose bright-eyed, tiger-spotted quoll sat on her shoulder, observing the room curiously.
“Too childish,” quipped Valerie, letting go of Siggy’s hand and advancing her camera. “People would mistake us for a club for preschoolers, and dorky preschoolers at that.”
The princess said, “Society for the Promotion of a Beneficial Future has a nice ring to it.”
>
“Too old fashioned,” replied Valerie, kneeling to pet her dog. The dog licked her cheek. Valerie made a face. “Everyone would think we were frilly Victorians…or communists. And both of those options are frightening in my book.”
“Annoy Zoë Club,” suggested Zoë, “or maybe the Nearly-Decapitated Regularly Club?”
“Too personal and doesn’t scan well,” replied Valerie.
“Hallo,” Rachel interrupted. “What are we all discussing?”
“Ah, Griffin did make it.” Sigfried nodded at Lucky with sagely satisfaction. “Good.”
“We’ve decided we want a clubhouse,” Joy chattered. “So we need an official name.”
“What O’Keefe is trying to say,” Zoë explained lazily, as she fed her quoll a treat, “is that to be issued a room on the north leg of Roanoke Hall—where clubs meet—we need to register with the Assistant Dean’s office. For that, for some dumb reason, we need an official name.”
“What names have you come up with so far?” asked Rachel, eager to join the discussion.
“You’ve just heard most of them.” Valerie snapped a picture of Lucky sitting on the classroom table. “The ones you haven’t heard were even worse.”
Rachel giggled again. She looked around. “I thought Salome was coming?”
Valerie shrugged. “She had a thing.”
“How about: Sigfried Smith and His World-Saving, Monster-Mugging, All-Girl Jazz Band?” announced Siggy grandly. “Or, for something less jazz band-like: The Ancient and Honorable Military Order of the Knights of King Arthur, Junior Auxiliary Branch? Or: The After-School Vigilante and Vengeance Squad? The Underpaid Lunatics? Or, maybe, the Cosmic Danger Ignoring While We Squabble Brigade? That one has a surprising percentage of truth for something coming out of my mouth.”
“I do not find these to be appropriate,” the princess’s brow creased in patient thoughtfulness, “though Underpaid Brigade would have a bit of a poetic ring. Still, hardly the right appellation for a gathering of school children.”
Rachel and the Many-Splendored Dreamland (The Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 3) Page 16