“So why didn’t they just stop fighting?”
“Lots of reasons. Tradition. Revenge. Control of a treasury of magical artifacts, the last of their kind. That’s right,” she said, noting Jack’s reaction. “The winner of the tournaments takes control of the Wizard Council, which governs the guilds. Those who have come to power through the system are unlikely to change it. Our family is an aristocracy: privileged and idle, with little to do but spin intrigue.
“So, back in the 1700s, when they were running out of warriors in the Old World, someone in the European guilds must have remembered those who had left for America two centuries before. They have extensive records. They’re really big on genealogy.
“The branch in America had severed its ties with the Roses, using the Silver Bear as our emblem. We have also intermarried extensively with Anaweir, people without the gift. As a result, not everyone inherits. Maybe that’s why you were born without a stone. But many people in this branch of the family carry the gifts and are physically healthy. And they’re vulnerable because they either don’t know about their gifts or haven’t been trained to use them. They are unaffiliated, which means they lack protection.
“So the Roses began tracking us down. They would find those who carried the crystals, particularly the warrior trait. And those people would disappear. They are particularly fond of stealing children and raising them for the Game. It was a long time before we understood what was happening. But there were some of us in the family who studied the old ways, who knew the traditions, who understood the significance of the Weirbooks.”
“Where’s the rest of the family?” Jack asked.
“All over,” Linda replied. “There are still several big strongholds in Britain, but they are all over the world. These are really rich and powerful people, Jack. These are people who can see the future and control others. They have no trouble making a living.”
Jack thought about his aunt, who always had plenty of money and no visible means of support. “Are you telling me these tournaments are going on all the time, and nobody knows about it?”
“Not so many anymore, because of the shortage of warriors. But they do go on.” Linda shrugged. “The tournament system has worked well, from a wizard point of view. It saves lives and property. You see, wizards aren’t allowed to attack each other under the Rules of Engagement, which haven’t been changed since they were written in the sixteenth century. The other guilds, of course, are fair game.”
Jack remembered the book of fighting rules Hastings had given him. “The rules. Oh, right. I have those.” His day pack was lying on the table. He reached into the side pocket and retrieved the slim volume.
Linda reacted as if Jack had pulled a snake from his pack. “Where did you get that?” she demanded.
“Mr. Hastings gave it to me. I’ve been studying it.”
“Well, you won’t be needing it, because you won’t be fighting anyone,” his aunt said flatly.
“Then why do I have to go through all this training?” Jack stuffed the book back into his pack, more confused than ever.
Linda gripped his arm, blinking back tears. “Jack, I’m just doing my best, every day, to keep you alive. When you were born, I had to involve Jessamine Longbranch, or you would have died. She is the premier wizard of the White Rose. She gave you a warrior stone with the assumption that you will eventually fight for them. I managed to convince her that she should leave you where you are, that you could be trained later, that it would be difficult for the Red Rose to find you in Trinity.” Aunt Linda smiled wanly. “You know I can be very persuasive. And up until recently, you’ve remained hidden.
“The premier wizard of the Red Rose is a man named Geoffrey Wylie. He was the man you met at the graveyard. Since the White Rose has known you were here all along, I can only assume Wylie’s group is behind the poison. But it doesn’t really make sense. If they know who you are, they’d only kill you as a last resort.”
Nick nodded. “If a wizard wanted to kill you, he wouldn’t poison you. He would act more directly. But Wylie wouldn’t kill you. He would capture you and call a tournament. If the White Rose can’t field a player, he would win by default.” He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “I haven’t seen any sign of wizards in Trinity since the day of the soccer tryouts. If they’re still in town, they’re in hiding, maybe because of Hastings. I don’t think we should panic just yet.”
Linda frowned. “If Dr. Longbranch realizes the Red Rose is on to you, she’ll take you right away.” She noticed Jack’s lack of comprehension, and rushed on. “She’ll take you for training. I know something of what they do to warriors to prepare them for the Game.” Her voice trailed off, as if she suddenly realized to whom she was speaking.
“You’re nearly grown, Jack. Dr. Longbranch won’t wait much longer to take you in any event. So I contacted Hastings. He was the one who suggested we retrieve the sword and train you in secret. He thought Shadowslayer might make the difference, might level the playing field.”
“Who exactly is Hastings?” Jack asked.
“I’ve known him for a long time. He descends from the Bear line, as we do. He is a powerful wizard, and he’s always had a strong interest in warriors and warrior training. He has long been a defender of the lesser guilds, what are called the Anawizard Weir, or nonwizard Weir. I knew he would be an excellent teacher.”
Jack was beginning to understand just how bleak the situation was. Trinity didn’t seem safe at all anymore. It seemed too small a hole to hide in. Maybe it was time to leave town.
“Look, Aunt Linda, I have to go to England. My mother already bought the tickets. She’s been talking for months about all we’re going to do.”
“Can you avoid seeing Dr. Longbranch?”
“I think Mom’s already called her to tell her we’re coming.”
Linda looked resigned. “Then you’re going to have to start taking Weirsbane again.”
“No!” Jack stood, backing away from them. “I’m done with that stuff. You promised.”
“But, Jack, she’s going to suspect something. The change in you has been, well, remarkable.”
“I’m a teenager. Teenagers change.” Jack shook his head. “I won’t take it. I mean it. I’d rather die.” Even as he said it, he was a little amazed at himself. He couldn’t remember ever saying no to Linda.
Linda looked surprised, also, but kept any comment on it to herself. “All right, Jack. If that’s how you feel.”
The week after the Cedar Point trip was exam week, the last week of school. When Will arrived at Jack’s house that Monday morning, he found the kitchen door locked. Looking through the screen, he could see Jack with his head down, asleep at the table, his cereal uneaten. Will had to bang on the door several times before Jack awakened, wild-eyed. When Jack saw who it was, he got up and let Will in, relocking the door behind him.
“So you’re locking your doors now,” Will observed. He motioned for Jack to finish his cereal and poured himself half a bowl. Jack looked terrible. His black eye was now turning green and yellow. There were dark circles under the other eye. He might be a physical masterpiece, but he looked like an emotional train wreck. “Were you up late studying social studies last night?”
“Social studies? Uh, yeah.” Jack mechanically shoveled soggy cereal into his mouth.
“Fitch says he can get together with us tonight to study math. Ellen can’t make it. I guess she has some relatives visiting all week.”
Jack shrugged as if he didn’t care one way or the other. “Okay.”
“Listen, Jack.” Will hesitated. “I was wondering if your problem is something the police could help with?”
It seemed to take a moment for Will’s words to register. Jack stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m wondering if you and your aunt are in some kind of trouble. It seems like every time she visits, things happen.” Jack didn’t say anything, so Will hurried on. “My Uncle Ross is a sergeant on the Trinity police force.
Maybe we could go talk to him. Just informally, you know. He might be able to give you some advice.”
Jack shook his head. There was an air of resignation about him that bothered Will. “No, it’s okay. Everything’s going okay,” he repeated unconvincingly. “We’re leaving for England in another week or two.”
Will nodded. “Well, you’re not the only one who’s traveling this summer. Did you know that me and Fitch are going to England, too?”
That roused Jack from his lethargy. “Right. Ellen told me. But I don’t know much about it.”
“Mr. Hastings set it up. The Chaucerian Society is spending a month in England. We’ll overlap with you, because you’ll be there most of the summer, right?”
Jack nodded. “I guess. But how can Fitch afford to go to England?”
“There was some private foundation. Mr. Hastings had us all writing essays. Fitch’s was really impressive. We’re all getting some support, but he’s getting a full scholarship.”
Just then Will heard someone descending the back staircase to the kitchen. It was Linda Downey. Will regarded her with a peculiar mixture of hostility and fascination. Will was convinced that Jack’s beautiful aunt was somehow responsible for Jack’s troubles.
“Hi, Jack. Hi, Will.” Linda greeted them warmly, but her smile faded when she saw Will’s expression. Jack was oblivious. “I’ll drive you two boys to school.”
Will was disappointed. He had been hoping for private time to talk to Jack, to try to get to the bottom of the events at Cedar Point, to try to persuade him to talk to Uncle Ross. He couldn’t think of any other way to help.
Jack nodded. “Sure, okay,” he said, as if it were all the same to him. “I’ll get my book bag.”
Aunt Linda had rented a small silver sports car this trip. Ordinarily, Will would have begged for a chance to drive it, but this time they rode the short distance to Trinity High School in silence. Linda pulled up in front of the high school. As Jack climbed out, Linda leaned back over the gearshift toward Will, speaking so only he could hear. “Please keep an eye on him, Will.”
Will looked up in surprise. She was close, very close; she had those impossibly blue eyes fixed on him, and she looked absolutely serious, almost pleading.
Oh, God, he said to himself, feeling the blood rush to his face.
She extended a slip of paper. “Here’s my cell phone number. Call me if anything unusual happens.”
“Sure. Okay.” Their fingers touched as he accepted it. Reluctantly, he slid away, across the seat, and unfolded himself onto the sidewalk. He stood uncertainly, clutching the paper in his hand, watching as Linda drove away.
After that, Will found it difficult to concentrate on his exam, and was almost grateful when time was called. He and Jack turned in their social studies books and walked back to their lockers to collect materials to study for math. Jack’s locker was next to Will’s, and it was standing open. It looked as if it had been ransacked. “I must have left my locker unlocked,” Jack said to Will, shaking his head. “I’m really losing it.”
And then suddenly Penworthy was there. “Mr. Swift, I need you to come to the office immediately.” Penworthy looked so nervous he was literally twitching.
Jack blinked at him. “Is it about my locker?”
“You might say so.” The principal’s mouth twisted up into a knot of distaste whenever he stopped speaking.
“It’s all right,” Jack reassured him. “I don’t think anything’s missing.”
“I told you to come with me,” the principal repeated. “You can leave your things here.” Something in his tone made Will swing around to watch. Penworthy was practically pushing Jack down the hallway, and Jack was looking back over his shoulder at Will. Mystified, Will trailed along at a discreet distance. The principal hurried Jack to the front of the building and into the administrative office. Will walked into the outer office just in time to see Penworthy’s inner office door close. The secretary looked up inquiringly.
“Uh, I’m waiting for someone to pick me up,” Will said. He sat down in a chair by the door. “They’ll be here any minute.” Linda’s words came back to him. Keep an eye on him, Will. She was counting on him. He didn’t plan on leaving until he found out what was going on.
When Jack entered the principal’s office, he saw two men seated at a small table. They were dressed casually in sweatshirts and jeans. Both looked to be in their thirties, rather rough looking. One was dark with a stubble of beard, and the other was blond and clean shaven with a prominent scar that ran down his jawline. Both looked like they worked out. They rose in unison with matching puzzled expressions when Jack came into the room. “You’re sure this is him?” one of them asked Penworthy, nodding at Jack.
“This is Jackson Swift,” Penworthy said deferentially. He sat down behind his desk and motioned Jack to an empty chair across the table from the two men. Jack took the seat, watching the two men warily. The men studied him as if they were seeing something unexpected.
Each of the strangers produced a leatherette folder that flipped open to reveal a badge. The dark man spoke. “Jack, I’m Brad Hansford, this is Mike Sowicky. We’re with Narcotics, Trinity Police Department. We’d like you to answer a few questions.”
Jack was baffled. He knew several of the police officers on the Trinity force, including Will’s uncle Ross, but he’d never seen either of these two before. He looked from one to the other of the men, and then over at Penworthy. The principal’s hands were leaving damp spots on the desk blotter. “What’s this all about?”
Sowicky spoke up this time. “Jack, we searched your locker this morning and we found this.” He tossed two plastic bags onto the table. One contained a green leafy material, the other a handful of pills and capsules.
“Wait a minute!” Jack protested. “I never saw that stuff before in my life.”
“That’s why we want to talk to you, Jack. We’d like to clear this up.” It was Hansford, the dark detective again. His voice was soothing.
Jack’s mind was slow to process, empty of useful thought. “Why were you searching my locker?” he asked finally, buying time.
“We received a tip that you might be involved in drug trafficking,” Sowicky said. “So we contacted Mr. Penworthy, here. He’s been a great help.” He smiled at the principal, who looked distressed and important at the same time.
“Look, you have the wrong person. I don’t sell drugs!” Dreaming. I must be dreaming again, Jack told himself. Only, how to wake himself up?
“Where’d you get the black eye, Jack?” Sowicky asked. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Jack started to say something, but thought better of it. He knew he was in serious trouble, and he couldn’t understand why. Who would want to plant drugs in his locker? Sure, there were some people who wanted him dead and others who wanted to take him captive, but why would anyone want him to go to jail? He struggled to think clearly, but his brain seemed unusually sluggish.
These would be undercover cops, given the way they were dressed. But weren’t they supposed to offer him a lawyer before they started asking questions? He tried to puzzle it out, but his mind wouldn’t respond.
Hansford was speaking again. “Why don’t we go down to the station house, ask you a few questions. We’ve already called your parents. They said they’d meet us down there.”
“But I have an exam in two hours!” Jack said, then felt stupid that he’d said it.
Hansford smiled. He was definitely the friendlier of the two. “With any luck, we’ll clear this up, and you’ll be back here in time to take it.”
Jack closed his eyes. Something fluttered in the back of his mind, like tiny wings. No, not wings. Words. A soothing litany. Go to the station house. Talk about it. Everything will be fine. He stiffened. They said they’d talked to his parents. But his dad was in Boston. Not a chance they’d spoken with him. And his mother would insist on driving him herself.
And then it came to him. He opened his eyes. Hansford w
as looking steadily at Jack, concentrating, and Jack could feel the power that was being brought to bear. Go to the station house, everything will be all right, the insistent voice said.
The men were wizards.
Jack took a deep breath, fighting back panic. Above all, he knew he must not reveal what he knew about the deadly game being played. His only advantage was the fact that they thought he was just an untrained high school boy.
It must be the Red Rose. His gaze slid to Penworthy. A whole school full of Penworthys wouldn’t be enough to stop them. He needed help.
Jack stood up. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he announced, clutching at his midsection. And it wasn’t far from the truth. “I need to go. I’ll be back in a minute.”
The wizards stirred unhappily. “Why don’t we just get going, Jack?” Hansford suggested. “You’ll feel better as soon as you’re out in the fresh air.”
“I’m serious,” Jack replied, his voice rising. “I’m going to barf.”
Penworthy leaped to his feet. His office was carpeted in pale peach. “The restroom is just two doors down. You two can go with him if you like.”
Reluctantly, Hansford and Sowicky followed Jack into the outer office. Will was sitting in a chair by the door and looked up when Jack emerged from Penworthy’s office accompanied by the two “detectives.” Will was about to say something, but at that moment Jack caught his foot around the leg of a chair and fell practically into Will’s lap. With his mouth next to Will’s ear, Jack whispered, “Will, I’m in trouble. Find Hastings, quick. Tell him.” Hansford and Sowicky each grabbed an arm and lifted Jack to his feet and out the door.
The Warrior Heir Page 18
