The Stolen Prince of Cloudburst

by Jaclyn Moriarty

  ‘Stupid of me,’ Katya muttered. ‘I couldn’t Spellbind even one Sterling Silver Fox, let alone a bunch. It takes all my strength reinforcing the Spellbinding each night.’

  ‘And lately you’ve been doing that with your laughter stolen!’ I shook my head slowly. ‘You must be so worn out. Wait! Is that why you haven’t told anybody about the stolen laughter? Because you thought you should stay to reinforce the Spellbinding, and couldn’t go away for treatment? But there aren’t really many Shadow Mages in the mountains, Katya! The Sterling Silver Foxes were a one-off!’

  She shook her head at me. ‘It’s so dangerous, Esther,’ she said, yawning. I’d forgotten she was going to fall asleep soon. ‘In the mountains, there are so many, so, so …’

  Her eyes closed, but then her lids fluttered, and she opened them again.

  ‘I couldn’t leave,’ she rasped. ‘The school needed me. I was trying to wait until—I was going to tell the nurse about my stolen laughter once they … they arrived—’

  ‘Who?’

  She winced and pressed a palm to her forehead. ‘Spellbinders. They’re coming to the Old Schoolhouse for a secret convention. Four weeks from today. I thought if I could hold out until then, I’d be all right. I thought …’

  ‘But Katya, you’re so ill already! You wouldn’t have lasted another—’

  ‘Shhh,’ Katya said. ‘Esther, stop talking. I’m falling asleep and this is important. I think …’

  Once again, her eyes closed, and she sank deep into the pillow. Once again, she opened her eyes. She patted her own cheeks, trying to rouse herself.

  ‘Somebody needs to know that I’m leaving,’ she muttered.

  ‘Well …’ I said, thinking aloud. ‘The school will tell your family about your stolen laughter and that you’ve been sent away. And if your family know about your Spellbinding, and what you’re doing, then they can tell whoever’s in charge. Is anybody else in your family a Spellbinder?’ I knew it ran in families. ‘Stefan? Is he one too?’

  Katya was shaking her head. ‘None of them are,’ she whispered, ‘and they don’t know about me. Please don’t tell them. No, it will have to be … Esther, will you take a message to the Orange Blossom Teashop in town? Talk to the tall, thin waitress, the one who wears a necklace with a little … a silver apple pendant … tell her …’

  She was fading again.

  ‘To send another Spellbinder?’ I checked.

  ‘Don’t say that out loud,’ Katya murmured, through half-closed lids. ‘I’m not supposed to contact her. They’re very strict … that’s why I haven’t been to see her … why I’ve tried to stay … but now that I’m going … this is …’

  She was shivering again. I put my arm around her shoulders and she sort of cuddled into me.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I’m so cold, Esther. And I’ve failed … I’ve failed …’

  Tears filled her eyes.

  ‘You have not failed!’ I cried. ‘Katya! You’ve been so brave! You’ve—’

  Katya interrupted me. ‘It’s an emergency,’ she said. ‘So I have to break the rules … the tall waitress … the one with the necklace … Did I already say that? It’s against the rules. But … emergency. The school really, really needs … Just say this. Say: The bell is rusty. Please send another. Can you say that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I mean, say it. Now.’

  I cleared my throat and tried a solemn, significant voice, like a bell ringing myself. ‘The bell is rusty. Please send another.’

  Katya nodded. ‘Say that, then leave. Just use your normal voice.’

  ‘I’ll go tomorrow,’ I agreed, a bit embarrassed.

  ‘Today,’ Katya whispered. ‘My Spellbinding around the school will wear out by tonight. And don’t tell anybody about this. Esther, promise me. Nobody must know.’

  ‘But Principal Hortense?’ I suggested

  Katya shook her head. ‘Nobody.’

  ‘What about your family? Stefan?’

  Again Katya was shaking her head.

  ‘I could tell my sist—’

  ‘Not your sisters.’

  ‘What about Mrs Pollock?’ I tried.

  ‘Mrs Pollock,’ Katya repeated, her voice distant. She shook her head again. ‘Tell nobody. Promise me.’

  I promised.

  Her eyes closed and she began to breathe slowly and deeply.

  I myself was panicking.

  ‘Are you sure we really need protection?’ I asked. ‘And are you sure there are no other Spellbinders at the school? What about Pelagia? Isn’t she a Spellb—’

  Katya shook her head, eyes still closed, hair scratching against the pillow. ‘Pelagia’s not a Spellbinder,’ she told me. ‘She’s … well, I don’t know. But there’s something about her that I can’t … Esther, be careful of Pelagia. I’m falling asleep now, Esther. I think …’

  And she was quiet.

  I sat beside her, watching her sleep until Nurse Sydelle bustled into the room. Behind her were two men carrying a stretcher.

  At lunchtime, I didn’t listen to Principal Hortense’s speech.

  I mean, I knew basically what she was saying. She was telling everyone that Katya’s laughter had been stolen by the Sterling Silver Foxes, and that Katya had been whisked away to a treatment centre.

  Many people gasped. Some smaller children, especially the ones in Katya’s chess team, burst into tears.

  Some girls giggled. All the teachers scolded those girls—but I didn’t blame them. Giggles sort of jump out of you sometimes, when you hear something surprising and terrible. Maybe a part of you is hoping it’s not real, and is thinking: if I laugh, it might turn out to be a joke.

  Principal Hortense was also telling us we must make Get Well cards for Katya, and was suggesting we draw flowers and hearts. (Which showed how much she knew about Katya: nothing.)

  I might have raised my hand and said, ‘No, Katya would prefer pictures of the human skeleton,’ but I wasn’t really listening, as I mentioned. I was figuring.

  I was figuring out the best way to get into town.

  I would go in Free Time, which was between 3.30 pm and 4.30 pm. First, I’d have to ask the school secretary, Ms Ubud, for a Leave Pass. You’re not allowed into town without one, and you need a ‘valid reason’ and a person to accompany you.

  I needed a reason and a person. My reason would be that I had to … buy a birthday gift for my mother? Her birthday was coming up. In seven months …

  My person would be … not my sisters, they’d be too inquisitive. ‘Why are you going to the Orange Blossom Teashop?’ they’d ask. ‘What do you mean, I can’t come in with you? I love their sticky toffee pudding. I’m coming in.’

  And they’d frown when I tried to get the attention of the tall, thin waitress.

  They’d demand to know: ‘What are you doing? What are you telling her?’ in loud voices that gave everything away.

  Maybe I’d ask Autumn? She was calm and self-contained.

  Now, one problem, of course, was that Ms Ubud usually—

  ‘Ms Ubud will not be giving out any Leave Passes,’ Principal Hortense announced.

  Ms Ubud usually asked several questions before she gave you a Leave Pass, was what I’d been about to think.

  This was a much bigger problem.

  ‘No more Leave Passes?’ I cried. I was accidentally talking aloud. Why do I always do that?

  ‘Esther?’ Principal Hortense said, reprovingly. ‘Did you just speak?’

  Well, yes, of course I did.

  I nodded.

  ‘And without raising your hand?’

  Again, she was being obvious.

  I raised my hand.

  ‘Yes, Esther?’

  ‘No more Leave Passes?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s better. Yes, Esther. No more Leave Passes. It seems it’s a teeny bit dangerous to be outside the school grounds.’

  Principal Hortense’s voice became hushed: ‘Remember that Shadow Mages ha
ve been sighted in the mountains? Displaced from the coastal regions by rising floodwaters? Only a few. Only a handful. You really must not worry. They hate our mountains! But …’ She paused, shuddered, ‘… even a single Shadow Mage is deathly, deathly dangerous. Even a single Shadow Mage could crush your skull like an egg.’

  Some of the younger children began to cry again.

  Tatty Rattlestone raised her hand. ‘Esther talked about Shadow Mages in her speech today,’ she said. ‘It scared us so much. Now I’m terrified to leave the school.’

  ‘Esther should not have scared you in that way,’ Principal Hortense said sternly.

  ‘Well,’ I began, before I remembered myself and raised my hand. ‘Well, but Principal Hortense, you just talked about Shadow Mages crushing skulls.’

  Principal Hortense raised her eyebrows. ‘So I did!’ she said. ‘Life is so strange. So twisty-turny! Anyhow, no more Leave Passes. No exceptions.’

  Tatty then raised her hand again and got into an argument with Principal Hortense about whether she could get an exception. She absolutely, positively needed to go into town, she said, to buy a copy of a magazine called Stars and Their Pets.

  ‘I thought you were terrified to leave the school,’ Imogen called from her table.

  Tatty ignored her. ‘Our second cousin is going to be in the magazine,’ Tatty explained. ‘Her name is Princess Almond-Milk-Honey Chocolate.’ (That wasn’t actually the name, I made that up.)

  ‘And she is being featured in this magazine?’ Principal Hortense enquired. ‘With her pet, I assume?’

  ‘Yes, with her pet cauliflower,’ Tatty agreed.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Principal Hortense.

  ‘Hetty and I have been so looking forward to getting a copy,’ Tatty grumbled.

  Everyone looked from Principal Hortense to Tatty and back. Principal Hortense bit her lip. ‘It is a dilemma,’ she said. ‘I can see why you’d want to run to town and get a copy. Although, Tatty, is a cauliflower really a pet?’

  ‘It is if you love it,’ Hetty put in stoutly, ‘and take it for walks each day.’

  ‘And your second cousin does this?’

  ‘Yes,’ Hetty and Tatty declared in unison.

  Principal Hortense nodded. ‘Then the cauliflower is a pet. It may not last long, of course, as it will rot in the end.’

  ‘Or somebody will eat it,’ I said.

  ‘Hand, Esther,’ Principal Hortense muttered. ‘Let me think. No, I don’t see that I can make an exception, Tetty and Hatty. Hotty and Tutty. Tarry and Barry. I’m sure those aren’t your names. I’m getting so muddled, what with the dilemma. Look. Perhaps just this once—’

  At this point, Mr Dar-Healey cleared his throat loudly, and several of the other teachers murmured, ‘No exceptions, Hortense.’

  Principal Hortense straightened. ‘No more Leave Passes! No exceptions whatsoever! I’m very sorry, Tweety and Hooty. Nobody is going into town! It’s far too dangerous!’

  She gazed around the hall.

  ‘No need to look so pale, everyone,’ she said. ‘We’re perfectly safe inside our school grounds.’

  I blinked.

  No, we were not.

  Our Spellbinder was gone.

  She was meant to be reinforcing her ring of protection each night. Tonight, that would not happen.

  I was going to have to break the new rule.

  In Free Time that afternoon, I got down on my tummy and crawled to the school gate.

  Didn’t know how else to get there.

  The sprinklers had been watering the lawn, so I was curious about what the mud and wet grass would do to my uniform.

  I reached out and pushed at the gate from the ground, but it was locked. So I popped my head up and swivelled it about. Like one of those little furry animals that live in holes in the ground. The first time I did this, I was just happy to imagine myself as a little furry animal. The second time, I concentrated. Nobody about. Just the school driveway, the hedges, rose garden, school sign.

  I jumped up and climbed over the fence. Tore my uniform on a spiky bit, and landed on the other side.

  Then I ran.

  Down the path to town I ran, around this curve, around the next. Very bendy road it is, and steep. When you run fast, you feel like the road is flinging you forward. Also like you’re about to fall. There is forest either side, thick with dark greenpine needles and towering trunks. On the left, the forest climbs up the side of a mountain and begins to thin out until it reaches a great white snowcap. On the right, it is thick with shadows.

  Shadows.

  Shadow Mages are everywhere.

  Faster and faster I ran, tripping almost, stumbling, slowing, and speeding up again.

  Another curve and there was the town laid out before me. Breathless, I paused to watch the main street.

  Plenty of locals strolling about, shopping baskets on arms. A father pushed a baby in a pram, and the baby leaned back eating a banana. Two women squabbled about ribbons for their hats.

  I straightened up and pretended to be busy and important, striding down the slope and along the cobblestoned main street, past the fruit and flower stalls. Opposite the shops, on the banks of the lake, two men were dragging rowboats out of the water. They tipped them upside down, with sloshing, sliding sounds, and lined them in a colourful row—lime green, powder blue, apricot—like a collection of seashells.

  Past the newsagency I walked, past the confectioner, the bookshop, the nail salon.

  Here at last was the Orange Blossom Teashop.

  I pretended to study the menu in their front window, but actually I was gazing into the café.

  Most tables were full, people eating scones with jam and cream. Clinking spoons, chattering, scraping chairs. I’d been to this café often before—it’s my father’s favourite when he visits—and I thought I knew the waitress Katya meant. It took me a moment to spot her.

  Tall, thin. Grey hair cut short and straight. Stern face.

  I stared hard.

  Yes, there was a glint—she was wearing a necklace.

  Was there a silver apple pendant?

  I pushed open the café door and walked in.

  I had to hop sideways quickly when a large man pushed his chair back. Almost got my toe.

  Waitresses bustled around me. I sidled between tables, around chairs, until I reached the tall, thin waitress.

  She was taking somebody’s order.

  ‘Lavender tea, I think, and a cherry tart,’ a young woman with an elegant hairdo was saying. Truly, her hair swooped and swerved like the road from our school into town. ‘Hm, no. I’m reconsidering.’

  The woman’s companion, a gentleman in a silk shirt, patted her hand. ‘Take all the time you need,’ he told her, and then to the waitress: ‘Come back in a moment or two?’

  The waitress raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, turned to leave the table and noticed me beside her.

  ‘Yes?’ she said. ‘May I help you?’

  I remembered now that she had an unexpected voice—a musical accent that didn’t match her stern face. Now that she was facing me, I could see her necklace clearly.

  A silver apple pendant.

  ‘Yes please,’ I said boldly. ‘I just—’

  I paused.

  Could I say it?

  The café was noisy with clatter and cutlery.

  ‘I just have to tell you—’ I murmured.

  The waitress leaned close to me to hear.

  ‘The bell is rusty,’ I whispered. ‘Please send another.’

  Her face remained calm.

  She straightened up. ‘Five o’clock,’ she told me, her voice rising so that people at nearby tables could hear her. ‘We close at five o’clock. So you’ve plenty of time to come back with your family.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied, and walked out of the café.

  My heart felt like a packet of marbles that has spilled and is clattering down a flight of steps.

  Very noisy, I mean, and sort of rushing along
.

  I had done it. I had passed on a message to a tall, thin waitress with a silver apple pendant.

  The bell is rusty, I had said. (As you know.) Please send another.

  Just as Katya had asked.

  And the waitress had pretended I was asking what time they closed!

  (Or did she actually mishear me and think I was asking that? No. That was her cover.)

  ‘Thank you,’ I had replied, like a spy.

  Another Spellbinder would be sent to our school now. Its students, teachers, cooks, gardeners, cleaners—everyone would be safe.

  I had saved our school.

  Well, I could be proud of myself later—for now, I’d better get back.

  I crossed the street to walk on the path above the lake, but paused. Should I buy myself some sweets? To eat while I felt proud later?

  I glanced back towards the shops, wondering whether I had enough money in my pocket—

  And I saw her.

  Stepping out of the newsagency, carrying a magazine, adjusting her glasses.

  Mrs Pollock.

  So then I was marbles spilling down a flight of steps.

  By that I mean I ran down some steps.

  The stone steps to the lakeshore.

  Once I reached the water, I crouched down, hands over my head.

  But if Mrs Pollock walked by the lake, she would look down and see a girl in a Katherine Valley Girls’ uniform! (Me.) My hands being over my head would not disguise me!

  In fact, they would probably attract attention.

  I looked around frantically. Where to hide?

  Those colourful rowboats, upside down like shells.

  I grabbed the edge of one, scuttled underneath, and let it thud back down.

  Then I waited.

  Breathing hard.

  Crouched and curled into the dark, dank, damp.

  And there I stayed.

  And stayed.

  With only the sound of my own breathing—quick, panicked breaths. In, out, in, out.

  Darkness.

  Quiet.

  The lake splashing softly against the shore. Birds. Sounds from up on the road—horses’ hooves, a driver shouting, ‘Get along with you! Scoot!’—somebody must have walked into his path. A woman’s voice shouting, ‘Going home yet, Scotty? Or here a while still?’ Then a sudden dragging sound—a table being moved—and laughter.