by P B Hughes
Chapter 14
Cold fog blanketed the early morning world, gray and dreary. Jude had not slept, entranced by his book, The Emerald Miraclist’s Guide to Greatness. He studied beneath his blanket, a lantern at his side. The caravan moved through the night for fear they wouldn’t make it to the capital in time. Daniel’s stupidity—flying off right before a storm and getting himself stabbed—had put them behind schedule. Jude traced his long finger across the page of his book, desire filling him as he soaked in each word.
Aconetium Cactaceae, commonly known as a Devil’s Paw, is the most desired and deadly weapon for the Emerald Miraclist within the order Caryophyllales. While fairly harmless in its natural state, if grown to five times its normal proportions, its needles will produce a toxin so potent that, should a puncture wound not eliminate the target, hallucinations and death by asphyxiation will occur seconds later. Acquire at all costs.
Jude underlined the last sentence with his feathered quill, but before he could finish his stroke, the wagon took a jolt. He frowned at the smear he made, and pulled his head out from under his blanket. Mordecai took no notice from his seat at the front of the wagon. Jude snapped his book shut.
“You should be resting,” said Mordecai. “You’ll need your strength. We’ll be at the city by evening.”
“I could lie as still as a stone all night,” Jude replied, leaning back against the covered supplies, “but my mind will fly and I’ll not sleep a wink.”
“Just close your eyes. Sleep will come.”
“Close my eyes. Bah. When I close my eyes I see the arena—scenarios with nigh impossible solutions. Then I have to formulate strategies. And then I have to read.”
“And have you overcome these scenarios?”
“Without fail.”
“Hm. That’s my boy.”
Jude reached inside his pack and pulled out a piece of dried apricot. Scenarios I’ve overcome because in my dreams I have resources, he thought angrily. Though he’d spent much of his life collecting plant specimens, there were still many that eluded him. Students from the wealthier schools rarely had to forage like mice for supplies. The most talented Emerald Miraclists had the rarest and most desirable specimens given to them by their professors.
“I still need several samples. If I had—”
“If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times: the plants you’ve asked for are out of budget. You’ll have to make do with what you’ve collected.”
“Always making do, aren’t we?”
“I have faith you’ll succeed, Jude. I know it’s not misplaced.”
Of course it’s not misplaced, Jude thought. I’ll succeed in spite of you.
When Jude first learned of the government’s favoritism toward Miraclists from proper families, the attention and financial support they received compared to his school, it was his first lesson in outrage. He assumed the playing field would be even when he left the orphanage. After all, his potential for greatness was the same as any other Miraclist. But no—the law stated that the larger the size of the school, the greater the funding it received. This made sense to Jude, as long as funding was distributed equally per student. But it wasn’t. Somehow the larger schools used their clout to weasel funding from the smaller schools. By foul play, Jude thought. They needed gold for this and that—maintenance of their campus grounds, guest speakers, new uniforms, and the list continued until they chipped away what little was left of the Littleton budget. According to Mordecai, it wasn’t always that way. Littleton used to have plenty. But when the Emperor died, elected officials took over running the Empire’s affairs, and with them came their own political agendas.
The idea for the transition of funds originated from a monk-turned-politician, Specula Greavus. Greavus turned the Empire’s entire economy on its head—redistributing wealth and lowering the taxes of places he deemed the ‘vital organs’ of the nation. In other words, the capital and its surrounding cities. All the while, taxes soared and funding vanished from the ‘non-essential territories,’ as Greavus called them. People too far from the capital to be of any concern. People, Jude knew, too far away to make the journey to vote.
Cut the hand off to feed the stomach, Jude thought. The perfect recipe for a healthy body.
“Jude,” said Mordecai, interrupting his thoughts, “come here.”
Jude slid to the front of the wagon and took a seat next to Mordecai.
“Do you see it? There—in the distance.”
Jude peered out ahead of them. All he could see was the road trailing off down the sloping hill into a wall of thick fog. But the fog was on the move—he could see that now—puffs wafting and rolling like some great sea blowing through the valley. A moment later and the fog had all but cleared, and before them to the east, the outline of a city appeared. Then, as the sun’s rays shot overhead, a gleaming mass of shining white materialized: the Imperial City against a backdrop of solid ocean blue.
The sight sent excitement coursing through Jude, and a smile crept over his lips. A marvelous structure, with rampart studded walls so high they were nigh impossible to scale, so thick they were said to be impenetrable. The perfect defense against a mainland assault. Behind the wall, the city sprawled across an arrowhead-shaped peninsula, making it an ideal trade location from across the Atlee Sea.
“It’s beautiful,” said Jude in spite of himself. He wanted to hate the city—its walls built high with what he believed to be a stolen fortune. But he couldn’t. It was a testimony to the magnificence of mankind, and he couldn’t help feeling proud of the accomplishment, even though he had nothing to do with its construction.
“Not a day too soon, eh Mordecai?” Daniel’s voice called out from above.
He was still practicing with Shade, even after the ambush.
“Aye—registration begins tomorrow. And navigating that city during the Investiture will be a madhouse, so it’s good we have the extra time.”
With a rush of wind Daniel landed next to the wagon, this time careful not to spook the horses. He climbed off Shade, his chestnut hair wild, cheeks red from cold winds.
“I’m so hungry I could eat a rhinogruff,” he said. “What do you say we stop for a bite?”
Mordecai shook his head. “Sorry, Daniel. Tie Shade to the wagon and grab a snack from the supplies. We’ll eat a meal once we arrive at the city gates. They only open three times a day, so we need to be sure we arrive by sunset.”
“I’m starving!” Gregory’s voice called out from the wagon behind them. “Hey Mordecai, when’s breakfast?”
Mordecai rolled his eyes and repeated himself, louder this time.
Jude frowned and opened his book to an earmarked page as Daniel climbed aboard the wagon. Gregory was awake, and with him came a glib racket that Jude found more irritating than a pack of chattering squirrels.
“A good book?” Daniel asked, straining his neck over Jude’s shoulder as he bit into an apple.
“Good enough.”
“A Devil’s Paw? I’ve never seen one of those in the wild. Don’t they grow in the Mahwabi Desert?”
“They do.”
“I take it you don’t have one.”
“Some would say I already have all I need.” Jude gave Mordecai a foul look.
“Well, with all the collecting you’ve done, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
Jude bounced his eyebrows and leaned over his book.
“I wouldn’t worry so much if I were you,” said Daniel. “Out of all the Emerald Miraclists I’ve ever known, you’re the most resourceful. If all you had in your pocket were dandelion seeds you’d still come out on top.”
Jude liked the praise, though he refused to smile. He thought of the vast collection he had acquired over the years, carefully dried and stored. It was true; he could turn the most docile of plants into a dangerous weapon. And that was what set him apart. He didn’t need the exotic, he decided, shutting his book—he would use the basic; the subtle. His mind shot to a few choice seeds
in his pack. This time he could not hide a smug look.
“What is that?” said Mordecai, head cocked.
“What’s what?” asked Daniel.
Mordecai held up his hand, signaling for Mrs. Doppledodger to halt behind them, and brought the wagon to a standstill. “I feel vibrations. Something’s coming—something big.” Mordecai’s eyes narrowed a moment, and then widened as the realization struck him. “Everyone get off the road!”
Suddenly, Jude felt the wagon rumble. Daniel shoved him aside and leapt down to untie Shade. The wagon lurched as the horses pulled them into the grass beside the road; Mrs. Doppledodger reined in beside them.
“What in blazes is going on, Mordecai?” she asked.
Jude spotted pebbles bouncing on the road.
“Look!” cried Martha, pointing to the south down an intersecting road. In the distance, a long procession of horse drawn carriages barreled toward them.
* * *
Daniel whispered quiet words in Shade’s ear to calm her. The shouts and rumbling of wheels left her feathers ruffled. After the previous day’s adventures she was on edge, her yellow eyes darting nervously about.
“Out of the way—out of the way, peasants!”
Daniel’s head shot up as the first in a long line of black carriages roared into view. A skinny man with a long curled mustache stood in his seat.
“Out of the way, or I’ll give you a taste of my whip!”
Four terrified black horses pulled each hulking black carriage, drivers slashing their backs with thick, nasty whips. Packed inside were students, many of whom gawked out the windows at the homely-looking Littleton wagons. From the rear of the carriages flew great red flags, each embroidered with a crest that read, “Apex Academy.”
Daniel tugged at his cloak, trying in vain to cover the tear as he admired the beautiful cloaks worn by the Apex students.
“Need a lift, peons?” jeered a piggish-looking boy as they flew by.
Daniel clenched his fists, but said nothing in return. The boy was fortunate that his carriage moved too fast for him to retaliate.
The last carriage in the procession rolled at a slower pace, a good distance behind the others. The smartly-dressed driver wore purple, and his hair was tied back. He sported a toothy grin. Undoubtedly, Daniel thought, because of the very pretty girl with light brown hair and bright blue eyes leaning out the window talking up to him.
“Archibald, you mustn’t beat the horses,” she said. “They’ve had a long enough journey.”
“As you wish, milady,” he said, pulling back on the reins.
The girl fell back into her seat next to a boy with long, strawberry-blonde hair. She glanced out the window and locked eyes with Daniel. Daniel wasn’t quite sure what came over him, but the sight of her made his heart jump into his throat. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Suddenly, he felt as though he had to get her attention. A million ideas came into his head, but all he could do was smile and wave. Very quickly, she raised a book to her face and hid herself from view. The boy next to her saw their exchange, and gave Daniel a vinegary stare.
A flirtatious whistle rang out from behind Daniel.
It was Gregory.
“Man, those Apex girls sure are lookers!”
The boy with strawberry blonde hair leaned out the carriage window, his face contorted with fury. “Keep your eyes off my girl, rodents!” He shot a fireball out from the end of a ruby tipped, black staff.
Daniel was lost in exquisite fantasy—wedding bells, flowers, and her, the mysterious dove with pretty, no, gorgeous blue eyes—when he felt the heat. The explosion knocked him backward to the ground as the ball burst upon his cloak, setting him ablaze.
A sphere of water splashed on top of Daniel, extinguishing the fire and sending up a cloud of steam. Daniel blinked up to see Martha, training staff in hand, panting by his side.
An eruption of laughter faded as the carriage disappeared into the distance.
“Come back and fight, you snake!” Gregory shouted after them, struggling against Mordecai’s grip.
“You’re burned, Daniel,” said Martha. She took Daniel’s arm and set to work pouring white mist over the mottled flesh. “I knew that boy was up to no good. Fortunately it’s not too severe. Let me see your chest.”
Daniel opened the front of his cloak.
“It’s ruined,” he said, flinching as white mist poured over him. “That boy destroyed my only nice cloak. I don’t have another one to wear.”
“You’re worried about your cloak?” Gregory exclaimed. “That guy almost burned you alive.”
“I’m fine,” snapped Daniel. “But I’ll look like a hobo if I show up in town like this.”
“You’ll receive a new cloak from the University,” said Jude, studying him from the lip of the wagon. “Soon we’ll all be dressed the same, and then you can plot your revenge.”
“Get revenge by beating them,” Mrs. Doppledodger said. “That’d be a bitter drink for them to down. For the past nine Investitures, nearly all the students have come from Apex Academy.”
“All that trouble to arrive at the noon gate opening,” grumbled Mordecai, frowning after the carriages. “At least we’ll avoid having to wait at the gate with them. Now, let’s get a move on. As it is, we’ll be stuck at the back of the line.”
A moat half a mile wide flowed in front of the city, fed by the ocean. An arched stone bridge lined with iron lampposts stretched across its surface. Soldiers, clothed in chainmail and shouldering spears, stood guard at the front of the bridge. They made no movement at all, not even batting an eye as Mordecai and the students clopped past.
All kinds of people moved along the bridge, congregating in a group at the city entrance, waiting for the drawbridge to fall. Daniel waited, red faced and fuming, hoping no one would take notice of him and his shabby appearance. For a long while he got his wish, until an old man with a scraggly gray beard spotted Shade.
“She’s a beaut!” said the man. “What’s her name?”
“Shade,” said Daniel, stroking her neck, glad the man looked just as dirty as he did.
“I ain’t seen a black gryphon before—they must be rare if an old geezer like me ain’t ever seen one. You best take good care of her!”
The old man reached deep into his pocket, pulled out a lump of sugar, and held it under Shade’s beak. She let out a happy, noisy cry and gobbled it up in one bite.
Several people in the crowd turned around, murmuring and pointing at Shade.
At least they’re not pointing at me, Daniel thought.
A man in front of them riding a white horse craned his neck to see what was causing the commotion behind him. He was older—gray haired, sporting a permanent, sullen frown. Signs of high status hung about him: a lavish forest-green cloak with ornate, leafy gold trim, matched by a pair of hooped gold earrings. A servant clung to his horse’s bridle. The old man looked irritated until his eyes fell on Shade. “Well, upon my word!” he exclaimed in a deep, smooth voice. He rode through the crowd toward Daniel. The scraggly old man bowed and shrank back beneath the rich man’s shadow.
“What a marvelous creature,” the rich man said. He raised a monocle to his eye, revealing his ring-covered fingers as he inspected her. “How much?”
“How much?” replied Daniel.
“Her price, filthy boy—how much does she cost?”
“Oh,” said Daniel, gripping Shade’s collar. “She’s not for sale.”
“Come now,” scoffed the gentleman. “Everything has a price. I demand you ask your master. What would he say to, oh, ten-thousand gold pieces?”
“I don’t have a master. She belongs to me.”
“Belongs to you?” the man turned his monocle on Daniel and studied him. “Good gracious me!” His hand opened in surprise, sending the monocle dangling like a pendulum from his lapel. “What is that around your neck?”
Daniel placed his hand on his pendant and tucked it under his shirt. “I’ve had thi
s since I can remember.”
“The clothing of a vagrant; the jewelry of a prince.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You must be a thief.”
“I didn’t steal anything!” said Daniel, his patience wearing thin. Rich as the man was, there was no law telling him he had to put up with the man’s snobbish put-downs.
The man’s frown deepened. “One does not simply find valuable pendants, nor does one simply find a black Gryphon. So listen closely, ruffian,” he said as he spun a gold ring on his finger and nodded to Shade, “you would do well to be rid of them before anyone becomes suspicious. So either you’re interested in selling, or you’re wasting my valuable time.”
“Wasting your—I already told you, I don’t want to sell her!”
Suddenly, the sound of a horn, deep and morose, blew out from the top of the wall. The drawbridge began to lower, groaning as the heavy chains clinked and rattled.
“Bah,” huffed the man. He motioned to his servant, who took his horse’s reigns and pushed forward toward the front of the line. Suddenly, the man stopped and said over his shoulder, “If I were you, I would reconsider.” He pulled a card from inside his cloak and contemptuously flicked it at Daniel’s feet. Daniel picked it up and read.
His Greatness, Bartholomew Burk.
Burk Mansion.
Number Seven Holy Castle Lane.
“Don’t come unless it’s to talk business,” he shot. “And don’t come unless you take a bath.”
Finally, the bridge landed with a thud. Fuming, Daniel followed behind across the moat.
Who does he think he is? And why does he want Shade so badly?
Echoes of Mrs. Doppledodger’s words ran through his mind. They would want Shade. And some might try to take her.
“Well they can’t have her,” Daniel muttered.
Suddenly, the crowd stopped. There, standing in the arch, stood High Chancellor Harquist, as cold and foreboding as a suit of armor. Judge Marriott and another man Daniel did not recognize stood at her side, each donned in purple tunics and gold belts. Chancellor Harquist held several pieces of parchment and a quill in her long, bony fingers.
Bartholomew Burk rode by and through the gate unquestioned.