by Martha Carr
Headmaster Flynn blinked at her and pressed both hands flat on the top of his desk. “Not much, to be perfectly honest.”
“No one burns a letter when there’s not much in it.” When he looked quickly at her with a stern frown, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I only wanted to know… He didn’t tell me anything before he left, only that he had to go and couldn’t tell me anything. I thought the letter would have a few more answers.”
“A few, yes, but not for you.”
Raven took a deep breath and stared at the man as he rummaged through his desk drawers again. “Okay. Well, what can you tell me?”
He placed a few blank leaves of parchment paper on the desk and drew the inkpot toward him, then nodded and finally looked her in the eye. “Well, Miss Alby, I believe your grandfather will be gone much longer than any of us can anticipate. And I think it’s best that we move you onto the school grounds for the foreseeable future until he returns.”
“What?”
Headmaster Flynn continued to search in the drawer again before he whipped out a feathered quill and frowned at it. “That’s unfortunate.” He blew on the mangled pleats of the feather a few times and fluffed them with his fingers, then gave up and set the quill on top of the parchment paper.
“Headmaster, I can’t simply pack and move onto the grounds. I have the ranch—my grandfather’s ranch—and chores every morning before anyone else wakes up. We have help, obviously, but I don’t think any of them will jump at the chance to pick up extra work I leave behind. That’s not how it works.”
“I understand, Miss Alby. And I see that you’re frustrated by this.”
Ya think? She released a wry laugh but kept her mouth shut.
“It seems Connor has already planned and provided for the details of redistributing the workload on the Alby Ranch so there’s no need to worry about the goats.” Headmaster Flynn lowered his head and regarded her with a restrained smile. “I wouldn’t suggest this if it endangered your father’s ranch or the livelihoods of anyone on it, goat or otherwise.”
“I still can’t leave the ranch.” Raven shook her head and gazed at the dimming streams of colored light that poured through the stained-glass window. “It’s much closer to Moss Ranch than Fowler Academy. I’m out there every day with Leander. And I don’t want to be—”
“Farther away from your familiar than absolutely necessary. Believe me, I understand the sentiment completely.” A gentle scratching came from the other side of the closed office door. The headmaster flicked a finger across his office and muttered, “Recludo.”
The door creaked open and his familiar Rider padded in. It shut as quickly behind the giant gray wolf who walked swiftly and silently across the floor. He stopped at the end of Flynn’s desk and sat as one ear flicked back and he stared at Raven.
Headmaster Flynn glanced at his familiar with a little smirk. “Well, that was well-timed.”
She stepped toward the desk and gazed at the man until he finally focused on her. “Please, Headmaster. I can’t move here and be farther from Leander. It cuts down on the time I get to spend with him, and I already have to go through all my classes here without him. I can handle the ranch. However long my grandfather’s gone, I can handle it.”
“I have no doubt in your ability to juggle so many of these things at one time, Miss Alby.” He gave her a slow, sympathetic smile. “This is more a matter of safety. Your safety. Connor…was a powerful mage and he has more experience than he might openly be willing to share. Now he’s gone away and I can tell you that letter said nothing about when he’ll return. But it’s my responsibility as headmaster here to ensure that all our students are safe and provided for and that they have the opportunity to put their studies first.”
“Please don’t tell me I have to make a choice.” I’d choose Leander every time but then I’d be a goat-rancher with a dragon familiar. That’s not in my blood.
Flynn studied her for a few seconds before he chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it. And I have no doubt you’d choose that dragon over this school and find your own path to becoming a mage—a path much less controlled and far more dangerous, which goes against everything this academy believes in. No, Miss Alby, a mage in training does, in fact, need her familiar with her for her studies. It’s about time we made that happen.”
“Wait—you’re saying you want me to bring Leander here?”
“Precisely.”
“I…” Raven gave Rider a confused smile and shook her head. “He definitely won’t be in the dorm with me. Even if I asked.”
“It’s a good thing you won’t have to ask. We’ll set a pen up for your dragon on the school grounds near the barns. He may stay there while you stay here with the other students living in the dormitories. We’ll find answers for everything else when your grandfather returns.”
“That was honestly the last thing I expected.” A bark of a laugh escaped her, and she shut her mouth to swallow it hastily before she grinned at the headmaster. “Thank you.”
“Thank me by going home, packing your bags, and returning with your familiar before the sun sets.” Headmaster Flynn dipped the quill into the inkpot and filled his office with the sound of words scratched into parchment paper.
I could hug him but I won’t. Raven looked at Rider again, and the massive wolf lowered himself to the floor to rest his huge, regal head upon his paws and lick his snout. I definitely won’t hug him, either.
“I’d get started on that soon, Miss Alby.” Flynn raised an eyebrow.
“Right. Yeah, we’ll be here later tonight, then.” She turned to walk across the circular office, then stopped. “Thank you, Headmaster. For trusting us enough to bring Leander here.”
“You and that dragon have already demonstrated remarkable potential, Raven. I expect to not be proven wrong in that regard.”
“Never.” With a broad grin, Raven hurried to the office door and pushed it open. She stopped abruptly before she raced away and shut the door hastily, then took the winding staircase down the tower two steps at a time. Staying in the dorm will be a piece of cake with Leander here. I love you, Grandpa, but this is turning out to be better than I imagined.
She reached the hallway at the bottom of the stone tower and almost barreled into Professor Bixby, who waddled past with an armful of huge parchment paper rolls.
“Oh!” The squat, round professor jolted in surprise and a few of the larger rolls tumbled from the pile. “Miss Alby. What are you doing racing through the school like that?”
“I’m so sorry.” Raven stopped to gather the wayward scrolls and stacked them gingerly on top of Bixby’s load. She had to stoop a little to not drop them on the vertically challenged professor. “I’m excited.”
“Well, I hope that excitement stems from something school-related.” Bixby blew a few strands of frizzy copper hair off her forehead.
“Definitely. I’m breaking tradition!” She wiggled her eyebrows and whirled away to walk quickly across the main hall toward the building’s exit.
A few students lingered in the courtyard, most of them upperclassmen. Three girls stood near the stone archway into the field in front of the barns. One of them waved her wand and muttered a spell, and the girls stood back to leave enough room for the horse-shaped fountain made entirely out of water. Another group of boys just inside the front gates of Fowler Academy tossed the beanbag using spells and every part of their bodies but their hands.
“Hey, Raven.” Daniel Smith turned out of the circle to flash her a wide grin. The fist-sized beanbag streaked past his chest but stopped in midair when he muttered, “Supervolo.”
“Hey, Daniel.” She spared him a quick glance and a hurried smile but continued to walk toward the road.
He snatched the beanbag from the air and headed after her. The circle of boys around him groaned. “I didn’t think I’d see you hanging around the grounds this long after classes.”
“Yeah, it happens. I’ll be back. See you around.” Raven gave him a
quick wave and stepped out onto the road toward the center of Brighton.
“Come on, Dan!” another second-year shouted. “Get your head in the game or get outta the game, huh? I’m trying to break that fifty-year-old record.”
“Yeah.” Daniel stared after her a little longer, her red braid swinging from side to side against her back as she sprinted down the road. What is she up to now?
“Daniel!”
“Okay, okay.” With a lazy smile, he turned and threw the beanbag into the circle. “Jeeze, Marcus. I didn’t think breaking some old guy’s record was such a big deal.”
“Yeah, well, I’m hoping Bixby will give me good marks on that History in the Present report she assigned. If I beat this record, I make my point.”
“And what’s that?” He chuckled as his friends kicked and kneed and magicked the beanbag around the circle.
“That the present is better than the past, man. We shouldn’t waste our time learning history because we make it. Right now.”
The group burst into snickering laughter while all of them focused on the beanbag as it launched from one side of the circle to the other.
“And yeah, it wouldn’t hurt to get rid of History of Magic as a class altogether.” Marcus grinned. “I’ll make my case in that report too.”
Chapter Eight
Raven’s pace had slowed by the time she reached Brighton’s town center. She wiped the thin layer of sweat from her forehead, stopped beside the bulletin board, and frowned. Across the fountain courtyard, Zeke set an empty wooden crate outside the door of his tavern and raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, Raven.”
“Hi, Zeke.” I bet Headmaster Flynn knows whose seal that is. She turned away from the board and glanced at the houses that lined the street. Mrs. Easton’s wide eyes peered through the window as she passed before the woman stepped away and jerked the curtain aside. At the next house over, Raven paused and studied the empty stoop.
“It’s a heck of a warm day out, huh?” the tavern owner called. “Bright and clear. And it’s warming up, too. I had to start puttin’ more than your grandfather’s goat milk in the cellar, I tell you what.”
“Yeah. Spring’s coming.” Raven dropped her satchel to shrug out of her jacket, which she folded over her arm. Her mom’s silver and red pin glinted under the sun. “Hey, have you seen Peter around lately?”
“Peter?” Zeke scratched his receding hairline as she walked across the fountain courtyard toward the front door of his shop.
“The veteran next to Mrs. Easton with the big green hat.”
“Oh. Huh. You know, Raven, I can’t rightly say. He’s been talkin’ his crazy for at least a decade, now. Who knows where the man heads off to when there’s no one around to listen?”
Raven sent the man a disbelieving frown. “I wouldn’t say he’s crazy. A little eccentric, maybe.”
“Well, whatever he is, he takes off from time to time. I can always tell.” Z eke nodded and jerked a thumb over his shoulder into the doorway of his business. “My patrons arrive early, stay longer, and leave later when they’re not trying to avoid a cr—an eccentric lecture on their way here.”
“But he comes back, right?” I bet he’d be able to answer a few questions if he doesn’t start yelling at me again.
“As far as I know, sure.” The man dusted his hands off and shrugged. “Trust me, when he turns up again, we’ll all know.”
“Right. Thanks, Zeke. Have a good one.”
“You too, girl. See you in the morning on delivery. Just in time, too.”
She turned as she passed the fountain on her way to the road leading out into the open fields around Brighton. “You’ll see Deacon, not me this time.”
“Well, okay. Enjoy the sunshine before it goes into hiding for another two weeks.”
She waved goodbye and hurried down the road. Where’d that veteran run off to? I bet he and Grandpa knew each other once from somewhere.
By the time she reached the gates of the Alby Ranch, Raven had to wipe the sweat off her forehead again. She glanced at the blue, cloudless sky. “Boy, it got warm fast. It’s a really good day to fly, though.”
She grinned, increased her pace again, and quickly passed the ranch hands spread out across the fields and working the harvesters. Patrick raised a hand in greeting as he hefted the last of the fence posts he’d replaced around the property. She returned the wave but they were too far apart for conversation.
The goats kicked up a storm of bleating and jumping and knocking each other aside when they saw her step up the road toward the house. “Okay, you goons. I have to pack and I know you’re not starving. As soon as they are done replacing the fence, you’ll have a little more freedom. I’ll fill that trough before I leave, don’t worry.”
On her side of the pen, the fence thumped and groaned when one of the young adults butted his head against it. He uttered another loud bleat, and she pointed at him. “Don’t make me come in there.”
She burst through the cabin door and took a deep breath to call, “Guess what I—” As she shook her head, she chuckled at herself and gazed around the empty ranch house. “Wow. It sure feels empty.”
A frown settled on her face as she stared at the counter that separated the small kitchen from the rest of the main room on the way to her bedroom. For the first time in my life, Grandpa won’t put a plate of food up there at the end of the day. I’ll be fine and he’ll be back before I know it.
The satchel fell onto her bed with a muffled thump and made the bed frame squeak. “Okay. I need to cover all the bases. Clothes, shoes, all my textbooks…” Raven stopped and inclined her head in thought. “The school has soap, right? Maybe I should’ve asked about the details.”
Irritated at herself, she went to her dresser and opened all the drawers to dig through and pull out the clothes she knew she’d need and a few extras for a surprise change in the weather. The pile on her bed grew quickly and she knelt beside her bed and felt under it for the larger canvas shoulder bag she knew was under there. She brushed the dust bunnies off and shook it before she placed it on her bed. That bag was much bigger in my mind. It’s not nearly big enough.
After a moment’s thought, she moved quickly across the hall to her grandfather’s bedroom. He only packed a small satchel. There’s gotta be something bigger in there. The door was still open a little, and when she’d pushed it wide, she stopped. “Woah. You were really in a hurry, weren’t you, Grandpa?”
She stepped carefully over the pile of discarded clothing beside the door. The bed hadn’t been made, more clothing lay everywhere, and all the dresser drawers were open. She navigated her way through the mess, knelt beside Connor’s bed, and felt beneath it. The thick oilskin fabric at her fingertips was unmistakable. “Gotcha.”
The huge, barrel-shaped bag slid neatly toward her across the floor and she hefted it into her arms and headed to the door. Raven paused once to give the mess an appraising glance, then shook her head. Headmaster Flynn said I had to be back before dark. And Grandpa’s the one who taught me to clean up after myself anyway.
His huge bag had more than enough room for all her things and even a little extra to spare. After she’d dragged her borrowed luggage and her satchel into the main room, Raven went through the small house one more time to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. A few more necessities went into the bag before she stopped when her gaze fell on the huge metal trunk Connor had hauled from the cellar. It called to her from beside the empty hearth, and she glanced over her shoulder before she shook herself out of her momentary distraction.
Before she could second-guess herself, she knelt in front of the trunk and the hinges groaned as she lifted the heavy lid and propped it against the wall. There, right on top, was Connor’s dragon-rider patch beside the two old journals. Raven scooped them up and ran a hand over the triangular patch with a dragon in mid-flight embroidered across the surface. It’s still hard to believe this was real and it feels kinda wrong to bring Mom’s patch and not Grandp
a’s.
Next, she turned her attention to the two faded leather journals with the dusty, yellowed leaves of parchment paper inside. He said these don’t leave the house, but if I’m not living here for who knows how long, I won’t have the chance to read them. They’ll be back in the trunk before he returns and what he doesn’t know won’t make him angry, right?
With a shrug, she grasped the edge of the hearth to push to her feet and glanced at the cold ash left from the fire that morning. A trace of red ink on a charred fragment of parchment paper caught her eye. “What?”
She brushed aside as much ash as she could without touching the unburned fragment, picked it up carefully, and turned to hold it under the light streaming through the window. That’s the same seal from those new flyers. Is this where he went?
Raven tucked her discovery into her front pocket and sifted through the rest of the scattered ashes. At least I found something in here. Headmaster Flynn might not be the right person to ask after all.
Once she’d tucked the journals and Connor’s old patch into the oilskin bag, she buckled the straps quickly and slung all her important belongings plus her school satchel over her shoulder. With a grunt, she stepped toward the door and readjusted the bags to free her hand. Now I get why he traveled so light.
When she shut the door behind her, the goats burst into loud, excited cries again. “Now hold on. I didn’t forget about you.”
“Well, I didn’t even know you were here.”
She almost dropped both bags when Deacon stepped around the corner of the far pen, dragging a new hay bale behind him. “Deacon?”
“I didn’t expect you to be back anytime soon, girl.” He gave her a lopsided smile and hauled the bale over the fence before he dropped it into the trough. The goats rushed to their fresh meal and jostled each other before he had a chance to break the bale up a little, and he jerked his hands back and laughed. “Woah. You weren’t kidding about these guys, were you?”