The Striding Spire

by Charlotte E. English

  ‘Seems to.’ Archibald reappeared in the sky, winging his way back towards us. ‘Archie!’ I bellowed. ‘Was there a tower here?’

  He swooped and grabbed me — but missed Jay. The world lurched and spun crazily as Archibald soared away, banked, turned and dived again towards my hapless partner.

  The poor boy stood there, braced for impact, trying manfully not to cringe as the enormous purple dragon bore down on him once again.

  A yelp might have escaped him as Archie’s claws closed around his chest, but this I cannot confirm.

  I, on the other hand, shrieked. There is no other word for it.

  ‘Sometimes it was a tower,’ Archibald said as he bore us away from the peak once more. ‘I liked that the best, because I could sit at the top. The others were not so comfortable.’

  ‘Others?!’ Jay and I said it together, and with emphasis.

  ‘They did not like me to sit on the others,’ said the dragon mournfully. ‘I was always being sent away. But,’ he added in a more considering tone, ‘some of them were too small anyway, I did not fit. The tower was the best one.’

  ‘They who?’ I said.

  ‘Oh, the people inside.’

  I was beginning to feel that Archibald, obliging as he was, lacked something in the way of brain. ‘What kind of people were they?’ I said, as patiently as I could. ‘People like Melmidoc and Drystan?’

  ‘Yes, people like them.’

  ‘Magickal people?’

  ‘People like you,’ said Archibald. Then he shook the leg in which he held Jay, not at all to Jay’s satisfaction. There was another yelp. ‘Some of them were a lot like this one.’

  ‘In what way?’ I said, feeling a little desperate. I mean, for goodness’ sake.

  Archie lowered his head to sniff at Jay, his huge nostrils flaring. ‘I don’t know,’ he finally pronounced.

  ‘Waymaster,’ Jay yelled despairingly. ‘He means Waymasters! Must have been.’

  Of course. The Greyers’ cottage was perambulatory because it had a dead Waymaster bound into its walls. I hoped that those operating the Striding Spire had not been enslaved ghosts as well, for that promised to cast an entirely different light on the whole Redclover operation. ‘Were they… alive?’ I asked the dragon.

  ‘Of course they were.’ He huffed at my stupidity.

  ‘Jay, when you get amazing enough to haul our entire House around at will, let Milady know! She’ll be thrilled.’

  The glimpse I caught of Jay’s face suggested he felt more nauseated than inspired by the idea. ‘That’s impossible.’

  ‘It is now, but I suppose it wasn’t always.’

  ‘I suddenly feel like a weakling.’

  ‘Utterly feeble,’ I agreed. ‘Pathetic excuse for a Waymaster.’

  ‘Hey. There are times when you are supposed to contradict your friends, Ves.’

  ‘Are there?’

  ‘This was one of those times.’

  ‘Was it?’

  I got scowled at. I cannot say it was undeserved.

  ‘By the way, Archie,’ I called to the dragon. ‘Whereabouts are we going now?’

  ‘Oh. The people you were with are at Doryty’s now. Would you not like to go there?’

  ‘That will be fine.’

  ‘I don’t have to take you there.’

  ‘No, really. It is a good place to go next.’

  ‘I can take you somewhere else, if you like. Doryty will not like it, but I would not mind.’

  ‘Take us to the Mayor, Archie,’ I said firmly. ‘Then you will not be in any trouble, and we need to talk to our friends anyway.’ I hoped they had put some part of our earlier plan into action, but more likely they were trying to find out what had happened to Jay and me.

  ‘I am always in trouble,’ said the dragon gloomily. ‘She will not like my taking you to the spikes.’

  ‘She does not have to know about it,’ I suggested.

  A pause. ‘You will not tell her?’

  ‘Never,’ I solemnly swore.

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ added Jay.

  Archibald’s long, purple tail swished happily. ‘Can I keep you?’

  ‘Uhh. We can’t stay all that—’

  ‘Of course you can,’ interrupted Jay, with a wink at me. ‘You’re the best dragon I’ve ever met.’

  Archibald puffed up, much the same way Mauf did when praised. Though perhaps not so literally. ‘Would you like to be the Mayor?’ he replied. ‘It is a boring job, but I would make it interesting! We could fly places, and…’ He trailed off, apparently unable to think of anything else fun he and Jay could do when Jay was the Mayor of Dapplehaven.

  Jay suppressed a laugh with admirable grace, and said only: ‘I’ll give it some thought, Archie.’

  12

  Archie returned us to the tall building inside which we had previously discovered Mabyn languishing alone, and with only one shoe. She was there again, though this time she had halted in the entrance hall. She had the headmistress with her, and the Mayor.

  Doryty, Mayor of Dapplehaven, had acquired a socking great amulet from somewhere. It was huge, and very shiny, and it hung around her neck from a heavy gold chain. It looked vaguely like a chain of office, which I suppose is exactly what it was. She had decided to display her authority.

  Mabyn was holding our pup in what was essentially a choke hold. The pup, mesmerised by the Mayor’s gleaming jewellery, gave a heartrending whimper of protest, and writhed helplessly in that grip; apparently, the bigger the slab of precious materials on display, the greater the poor pup’s lust to, er, acquire it.

  Headmistress Jenifry stood, arms folded, lips tight with disdain, while the two spriggans bawled at one another.

  ‘The Ministry has every right to demand access to any and all records belonging to any and all magickal establishments!’ Mabyn was saying as we went in. At some volume. ‘Dappledok Dell may not be precisely under its direct jurisdiction, but—’

  ‘Exactly!’ shouted the Mayor. ‘Dappledok Dell, and by extension the Redclover School, answers only to those fae courts to which we have historically pledged fealty, and besides those to the Magickal Council of Dells and Dales, to the Commission for Fae Heritage and History, to—’

  ‘I know all that,’ hissed Mabyn. ‘If you insist upon listing every single one we shall be here all day.’

  ‘The Hidden Ministry would not be on that list!’ persevered Mayor Doryty. ‘It is an organisation by, and exclusively for, human members of the magickal communities, and Dappledok has always been a strictly spriggan or brownie haven—’

  ‘Oh? And the fact that the current headmistress of your precious school is human is neither here nor there, I suppose?’

  ‘It is irregular,’ hissed the Mayor. ‘But Ms. Redclover is not entirely without the prerequisite heritage, and—’

  ‘Cousin,’ said Jenifry Redclover, from between clenched teeth. ‘Our associate from the Hidden Ministry has a point, and you know it. Can you not see, that all this obstinacy only encourages the notion that the school has something to hide?’

  ‘What would it have to hide?’ demanded the Mayor. ‘We have obeyed every stricture placed upon our work, no matter how it has interfered with the school’s mission, and since time immemorial!’

  ‘We?’ said Jenifry. ‘The school is under my mastery, Doryty, not yours. Town business is your affair. School business is mine. We are finished here.’ She bestowed a curt nod upon the fuming Mayor of Dapplehaven and turned to the door. ‘Oh!’ she said, upon seeing Jay and I. ‘Excellent. We were most concerned.’

  ‘I can see that,’ I said drily.

  Mabyn unceremoniously dumped my whimpering pup into my arms, whereupon I was too busy trying to keep hold of her to engage any further in conversation with Jenifry.

  Mayor Doryty, meanwhile, was rendered still angrier by the reappearance of Jay and I. ‘How did you get back in!’ she fumed.

  ‘Oh?’ said Jay politely. ‘Were we supposed to be thrown out?’
<
br />   Doryty clenched her fists, as though she would like to express her displeasure by inappropriately physical means. In the end, she merely stalked past Jay into the street, roaring as she went, ‘Archibaaaald!’

  ‘My “cousin” always opposed my appointment to the headmastery,’ observed Jenifry, watching this retreat with a tiny, mirthless smile.

  ‘Who appoints the headmistress, then?’ I inquired.

  ‘The school has a board of governors. Doryty is one of them, of course, but she was overruled by the rest.’

  ‘Why does she hate you?’

  ‘Because I’m neither a spriggan, nor a Redclover. It is the only time in the entire history of the school that a headmaster has been drawn from neither stock. It’s by her insistence that I ended up having to take the Redclover name.’

  ‘Family matters,’ I murmured. ‘Always tricky.’

  ‘Time to raid the records,’ put in Jay. ‘And quickly. We’re already late.’

  Mabyn paused in dusting pup hair off her suit. ‘Where did Archie take you, if he didn’t throw you out?’

  ‘Take us to the school, if you will,’ said Jay to Mabyn and Jenifry both. ‘And we’ll fill you in on the way.’

  Which we did, or rather Jay did, because halfway across town I got a call.

  ‘Twas Valerie. ‘Ves,’ she said crisply. ‘Would you like to tell me why you’re asking questions about Melmidoc Redclover?’

  ‘Why, is there a problem?’

  ‘Only a total, and virtually impenetrable, block on all information about him. I’ve tried everywhere. Regular internet has no hits, the magick net has only a vague reference or two behind a big “classified information” wall, we’ve turned up nothing much in our own library, and when I tried to call in the Baron he came back with no luck either. What does Mauf say?’

  ‘One or two interesting things, which I shall shortly relay, only I didn’t want to prejudice whatever you might find— wait. Did you say virtually impenetrable?’

  ‘I did, actually.’ Val’s tone turned smug. ‘I haven’t been Queen of the Library for so long for nothing, you know.’

  ‘Val! Did you hack something?’

  ‘Sort of, in the magickal sense. Yes. Aided and abetted by your excellent and obliging Baron, so if we’re in trouble later, it’s all his fault.’

  ‘Did you tell him that?’

  ‘I did. He twinkled at me. How did that date go, anyway?’

  ‘We’re wandering off the point here. What did you two reprehensible sneaks manage to dig up?’

  ‘Nothing concrete, but listen. We couldn’t get around the classified information barriers, so we decided to find out why everything about him is classified to begin with. That order came down from somewhere way high in the Ministry, Ves, and it was classified under section-something-I-can’t-remember of the Magickal Accords of Someday-or-Other pertaining to forbidden uses of magickal arts.’

  ‘We sort of knew that. It’s those beasts. He was the mastermind behind the various Dappledok species that were banned.’

  ‘Yes…’ Valerie said thoughtfully. ‘But, Ves, they don’t classify stuff like that. Those kinds of offences, however unusual, would typically fall under more or less mundane misuse of a magickal beast and he’d have a public record of misdemeanour. In fact, he more or less does, though your Baron had to pull some strings to get hold of it as the Ministry’s buried it rather deep.’

  ‘He’s not my Baron, Val — oh, never mind. Spit it out. What else did you find?’

  ‘Does the name the Striding Spire mean anything to you?’

  ‘Why, yes. Yes, it does.’

  ‘Right. That’s something else your chap Melmidoc was responsible for, and while quite a lot of people were unhappy with him for those thieving little wretches we call the Dappledok Pups — by the way, there were rumours of a thief operating at Home for about six hours, did you know that? Until this morning, when Miranda found a cache of jewels your adorable little friend had hidden away. If the man had a slew of such creations to his name, I’m wondering why they didn’t just lynch him and have done with it.’

  ‘Val.’

  ‘Sorry. Anyway, somebody was very seriously unhappy with him about that Spire. But even your Baron’s contact at the Ministry couldn’t find out why. It’s that top secret, Ves.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘No. Not cool. You are digging your nose into things a lot of important people would like to keep hidden, and by the way there is an entire ministry whose purpose is to keep that kind of stuff nicely buried out of sight.’

  ‘Of non-magicker humans, Val! I don’t count!’

  ‘You do. I do. There are some things no one is supposed to know.’

  ‘I will bear it in mind.’

  ‘Or in other words, you are wholly unmoved.’

  ‘Of course I am.’ We were approaching a handsome brick building with twisty turrets and big, glittery windows by that time, and since its every architectural feature screamed prestigious school to this ex-pupil of a prestigious school, I judged that we had arrived at the Redclover educational establishment’s main building. ‘I have to go,’ I said to Valerie. ‘But one thing: Mauf told us Melmidoc Redclover had a fine disappearing act going on, which culminated in his total vanishment somewhere in 1630. He also had a brother, Drystan, who was Mayor of Dapplehaven, and they had a tame dragon at their disposal. And that Spire? It, too, had a habit of going walkabout, hence the name, and they took it down the same year Mel disappeared. Can you call Zar? She’s digging into that perambulatory cottage business.’

  ‘On it,’ said Valerie, and hung up.

  I put away my phone, and sidled up to Jay. ‘Top, top secret stuff,’ I told him, brimming with excitement. ‘Even Valerie can’t find out much about Melmidoc.’

  To my disappointment, Jay’s reaction was an instant frown. ‘Then should we be investigating it at all? We don’t need to know more about Melmidoc Redclover, he’s been dead for centuries. We’re getting diverted from the main point.’

  ‘What was the main point again?’

  ‘Find out where your pup came from, and how it got into the Greyer cottage?’

  ‘Right! Right. But, Jay, everything has to be related. Don’t you see that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Striding Spire, cottage that goes walkabout. A supposedly extinct Goldnose pup in one, and its original creator in the other. Coincidence? Surely not!’

  ‘Whether it is or not is beside the point. If we’ve hit a wall with our investigation, we should send what we’ve found through to the Ministry and let them deal with it.’

  ‘They are dealing with it. They sent us Mabyn, with whose help we now propose to peruse a stash of records entirely unrelated to the Ministry. To quote Doryty the Angry Mayor, the Hidden Ministry has no jurisdiction over the Redclover School, and therefore, the school can do whatever it wants with its records.’

  Jay opened his mouth to object again, judging from the lingering frown.

  I put my hand over it. ‘Jay! Aren’t you curious?’

  He nodded, still frowning fiercely.

  ‘You realise Milady hires people like us for Acquisitions precisely because we’re curious? And tenacious! And difficult to deter!’ I optimistically removed my hand.

  ‘Tautology,’ said Jay. ‘Difficult to deter is the exact definition of tenacious.’

  Or in other words, he withdrew his opposition but would in no way be compelled to say so. ‘Milady has our back,’ I said, beaming at him. ‘The Ministry isn’t always right, Jay. That’s the hard truth about the job we do. We have occasionally ignored Milady’s strictures when the need was great enough, and once in a while we have to ignore the Ministry’s, too.’

  ‘Why is the need so great this time?’

  ‘Think about it, Jay. What reasonable explanation can you come up with for this pup’s existence?’ I was still clutching her furry little body to my chest, though she had quietened down now that the Mayor and her shiny jewellery was no longer in sigh
t.

  ‘None whatsoever,’ Jay admitted.

  ‘Exactly. Which means something very strange is going on, and will probably continue to go on. We need to find out if there are more of these beasts somewhere, and save them, and get a few specimens for Miranda so she won’t kill us. We need to find out how it was possible, apparently, to pluck this one out of, seemingly, nowhere, and plunk it down in a haunted cottage somewhere in Suffolk. And we need to find out why the spriggan responsible for such remarkable, even if questionable, achievements disappeared, and what any of this has got to do with buildings that jaunt about all over the country.’

  ‘Fine, fine,’ Jay sighed. ‘Colour me convinced.’

  I rewarded him with a peck on the cheek and a sunny smile. ‘To quote Valerie in all her wisdom: if we’re in trouble later, it’s all my fault.’

  ‘Valerie said that?’

  ‘Mostly. She’s actually blaming the Baron.’

  ‘Good choice.’

  We’d paused outside the front door of the school, and so absorbed in conversation had I been that it only then occurred to me that we had been standing there a while. Mabyn of the Ministry and Headmistress Jenifry stood near the door, wearing identical expressions of disquiet, their faces lifted to the air.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.

  ‘You can’t smell that?’ said Jenifry.

  I sniffed, and caught a whiff of something acrid. ‘Is… is that smoke?’

  ‘It is,’ said Jay grimly. ‘And it’s coming from inside.’

  Jenifry hauled uselessly upon the great stained-glass door. ‘It’s locked. The school’s closed by now.’

  ‘Is there a back entrance?’ said Jay, already moving.

  ‘This way.’ Jenifry led the way at a run, and we followed, all the way around to the back of the great brick pile.

  There was a back door, a humble-looking portal of ancient oak with heavy, black iron hinges. It was open, which was nice. And there was a small inferno of flames erupting out of it, which was less so.

  13

  So, the main building of the Redclover School was burning down before our eyes. Nice. Worst thing of all? They were not normal, orange-looking flames. They were bright purple, which meant a magickal fire, the kind that leaves nothing to chance.