‘It will benefit everybody,’ the Queen declared. Her eyes looked a little wild. ‘The Whispering Kingdom will send in people to patrol the streets! No more children will be stolen! In return, they ask only for total control of your ship repair and fishing net industries! It’s more than fair!’
This last bit we only just heard because the ship repair and fishing net business owners had given up all pretence at politeness and were on their feet, bellowing like sea otters. These are rather large men and women, the ship and fishing folk, and their bare arms and shaking fists showed off quite marvellous muscles and tattoos.
One or two of the guards behind the Queen began marching ominously towards the boisterous audience members. Honestly, it was very exciting.
But then one of the local constables who had been leaning against the wall—Rachel Rally, I think her name is; she’d been picking her teeth for much of the meeting—anyhow, she stepped forward. Up to the stage she strode. A curious expression was on her face—rather like somebody who has discovered a pin in her soup and is alarmed, angry and fascinated to find it there.
Rachel stopped behind Mayor Franny and spoke quickly into her ear. Mayor Franny blinked quickly and nodded slowly.
Like this: quick blink, slow nod.
Rachel now turned towards the Royal Guard immediately behind Her Majesty. This guard was a rather small woman, with a great clump of braids knotted at the base of her neck.
I do not know if anybody else noticed this, but Rachel Rally’s hands began to twirl and spin.
Spellbinding, I realised suddenly.
I had always known that some of our constables were Spellbinders but had never known which. Rachel Rally is a Spellbinder, I thought. A warmth fell over me and, for some reason, I felt very fond of Rachel.
I glanced sideways but I did not think the other children had noticed. Rachel’s hands were low, almost out of sight, their movements subtle, and the children were distracted—their heads kept spinning from the Queen to the crowd and back again.
But I stared fixedly at Rachel Rally and at the guard with the braids. These two faced each other. Rachel’s hands fluttered but her face and shoulders were calm. The guard’s eyes narrowed and she bit her lower lip, decidedly annoyed.
Suddenly, the guard took a step back. She looked up at the ceiling.
Rachel’s hands dropped to her sides.
‘Oh my,’ said the Queen. ‘I have a dreadful headache. What were we talking about?’
‘Well, Your Majesty,’ Mayor Franny began doubtfully.
But the Queen was pushing her chair back. ‘What is this nonsense?’ she said, rustling the paper in her hands. ‘Why ever would we want to give Spindrift to the Whispering Kingdom?’
‘Indeed,’ murmured Mayor Franny.
‘I must get back to the Prince.’ The Queen stood. ‘He has a nasty cold, you know. We’ve been advised to stay in Spindrift until he gets better. I wonder if I’m catching it? My head aches so!’ And she pressed her fingertips to her forehead and swept from the room.
Her guards hurried after her, but Rachel Rally fell into step alongside the small guard with the braids. At the doorway, the pair of them peeled away and I caught a glimpse of Rachel marching the guard towards the police station.
Silence fell.
Mayor Franny cleared her throat. ‘Well, moving on then.’ And she began to talk about plans for a new hospital wing.
‘So odd,’ Hamish whispered. ‘Is the Queen having a sort of breakdown, do you think? Ought not we stage a coup and take power from her? What a hoot!’ But then he squinted thoughtfully. ‘No, no. Treason, that would be. Never mind. What were you saying, Victor?’
‘The Anti-Orphanage League,’ Victor replied, low-voiced. ‘Meeting tonight, green common room, 8pm. Are you in, Rosalind?’
‘Absolutely.’ Rosalind’s shoulders wiggled with joy.
‘How about you, Honey Bee?’
‘No!’ I said. ‘I think it’s silly! Why do we have to be anti the Orphanage? We did use a technicality to steal the Tournament victory, which is why they fought us, which led to the little boy being taken! If you ask me, we got off easy when they threw eggs at our building. Attacking them with rats was an overreaction, and we need to let it go now.’
Beside me, Carlos nodded once.
‘Suit yourself,’ Victor shrugged.
As the Town Meeting closed, it began to rain. We were drenched making our way from the Town Hall to our carriage, and Carlos shivered violently all the way back.
‘Fortunately we are back in time for showers,’ I told him. ‘A hot shower is exactly what you need.’
Halfway through shower time, however, there were shrieks from every bathroom in the school. The hot water had been switched off. Ice-cold water rained down on unsuspecting heads.
It was the orphans again. They’d broken in and extinguished the pilot lights on all our hot-water heaters. They must have had information about our bathing times. Spies, perhaps?
Afterwards, I found a barefoot Carlos wandering the corridors in his pyjamas. His face was purplish-blue. His eyes were heavy-lidded.
‘You must go to the infirmary,’ I told him. ‘You don’t look well at all, Carlos. An ice-cold shower was the last thing you needed.’
‘What’s an infirmary?’ he said. ‘Who are—? Who are you again? Who—where am I?’
I placed my palm against his forehead. My hand jumped back, burned.
Feverish.
I hustled him to the infirmary, where the school nurse exclaimed and hurried to telephone a doctor.
‘I do not know,’ I heard her say, ‘if he will last the night.’
The clock was chiming eight.
At the green common room door, I paused.
Victor, Hamish and Rosalind were seated in a huddle of armchairs by the fireplace. They looked up at me.
‘Let’s take those orphans down,’ I said.
FINLAY
Poor little rats, she says.
Poor.
Little.
Rats.
Well, those poor little rats tore gashes in Glim’s calves and almost blinded Eli. A claw swiped over his right eye. He had to have it bandaged for a week.
Everyone scrambled to get away—onto the desks, onto the bookshelves, even out the windows. Blood and screaming everywhere.
People in the Town Square heard us and ran to help. A couple of old Sterling Silver Foxes set aside their card game and summonsed the rats away. The Siren sisters sang out the wily ones hiding in a chalk box.
Anita then spent the afternoon washing and disinfecting bites and scratches, applying ointment and patching us all up. She herself had a scratch running all the way down her arm, but she seemed cheerful. She’s training to be a doctor, as I mentioned, and likes practice. So that was all right, at least.
But little Leesa still wakes up screaming with nightmares about the rat attack.
Poor little rats, Honey Bee says.
Didn’t I tell you that Honey Bee was annoying? I did. Back when I first said it, you probably thought, Well now, she can’t be that bad, can she? Whereas now you’re thinking: Oh, sorry, Finlay. You were right.
After that, it was on.
Same day as the rat attack, we switched off their hot water at shower time, as Honey Bee mentioned. (How were we to know her friend was sick? Anyhow, Lili-Daisy says a bit of ice-cold water’s good for the soul.) Eli knew the Brathelthwaite schedule because he’d read it in the paper once. The Spindrift Daily News has a children’s section that holds contests where you describe a Day in Your Life. One year, the runner-up was A Day in the Life of a Student at Brathelthwaite. Worst entry he’d ever read, Eli said.
Helpful, though.
Brathelthwaite got us back for the hot-water thing by throwing flour bombs at us as we crossed the Town Square. We were on our way to the coast with Anita to study the architecture of Radish Gnome caves.
I remember it was taking us longer than usual to cross the Square that day. Crowds
of people were gathered, trying to see the noticeboard. Mayor Franny had pinned a big sign there. Here’s what it said:
IMPORTANT NOTICE
From the Association of Spellbinders
Evidence is mounting that certain Whisperers are using ‘super-powered’ Whispers to control people. Alarmingly, it appears that they are drawing on Shadow Magic to do this. As Whisperers are not Shadow Mages, they must have the help of Shadow Mages. Usually, as everyone knows, it is very easy to shake off a Whisper. But these new ‘super-powered’ Whispers are IMPOSSIBLE TO RESIST.
We have grave concerns that some of these Whisperers have infiltrated major security organisations, town councils, Royal Advisory Boards, Royal Security, and possibly even the K&E Alliance.
We have notified the K&E Alliance of our suspicions.
If you or anybody you know appears to be making strange or foolish decisions—and suffering from fierce headaches when you try to change your mind—it could be that you have fallen under the influence of a super-strengthened Whisper. Go to the authorities IMMEDIATELY and request the assistance of a Spellbinder. Spellbinders are able to bind the Shadow Magic and thereby destroy the Whisper.
Thank you,
The Director,
Association of Spellbinders
A lot of people were shouting at the sign. ‘There’s no way any Whisperers would do that!’ they were bellowing. ‘Whisperers are the nicest, quietest folk you ever meet! They’d never team up with Shadow Mages!’
All good points.
Other people were muttering: ‘Oh, that’s just silliness. That’s the Spellbinders trying to rustle themselves up extra work. Cashflow problems, no doubt.’
And one person was blasting: ‘It’s scare mongering, is what it is! They ought to be ashamed!’
Meanwhile, others were doubtful. ‘Hmm, it’s often the sweet ones who turn out to be evil, am I right? The secretive ones. Still waters run deep, don’t I always say that?’
However, most were making jokes. ‘I did make a strange and foolish decision!’ The butcher’s wife prodded her husband with her elbow. ‘The strange and foolish decision to marry you! It all makes sense now! A Whisperer made me do it! And I had a dreadful headache the day after my wedding day! Proof!’
‘That was a hangover, you daft git! And marrying me was the greatest decision of your life.’
That kind of thing.
We were trying to jostle our way through this crowd and had just made it past the noticeboard when the Brathelthwaite kids launched their flour bomb attack. We had to go to the seaside sneezing flour dust and looking like ghosts.
The townsfolk found it hilarious, which was annoying. We got the Boarding School kids back by pouring dried Diego peppers into their dinner. That was a risky operation. First, we climbed over the school walls at 5.35 pm. We knew from the schedule that their cooks would be preparing dinner at that point. Next, we rang the school’s alarm bells. Everyone, including the kitchen staff, ran outside. While they were outside, we climbed in through the kitchen windows and dragged a sack of dried Diego peppers out of their pantry. Usually, you’d just sprinkle a tiny pinch into a stew for flavour—it’s super spicy.
What did we do? We tipped the whole sack into the tureen on the stovetop.
The next day nothing happened, probably because their tongues were still on fire. Glim and I happened to be crossing the Town Square that day, carrying a couple of cabbages for Cook.
We stopped to say hello to another of our buddies, Ronnie-the-Artist, who sits on a rug in the Town Square painting pictures of tourists. He gets the tourists to pose with their arms sort of propped into the air, and then he paints in any sort of Shadow Mage the tourist wants. Charges extra for the scariest.
Ronnie’s blanket is right alongside the Time Travel Brothers—those men in sharp suits who say they came from the future—and there were a couple of Witches at their card table today. They wanted to know what was going to happen with the deadline.
‘What deadline?’ Glim asked.
‘No silver, no mystical knowledge,’ a Time Travel Brother answered her smoothly, holding out his hand to the Witches for payment.
‘Ah, put a sock in it, Jack,’ Ronnie said, easily. He’s a big guy, Ronnie-the-Artist, with crazy hair. ‘That’s not mystical knowledge; it’s common knowledge. Everyone’s talking about the deadline. Here, I’ll show you, Glim.’
He shifted a stack of brushes and handed Glim a paint-streaked local newspaper, folded so we could see the front page. I won’t make you read the whole article, just the most important bit:
The K&E Alliance has given the Whispering Kingdom twenty-four (24) hours to explain these new super-charged Whispers, and to reveal which Shadow Mages are helping them. Whisperers have been EXPELLED from a number of Kingdom and Empire security forces, as it is now clear that they have been influencing the decisions of several Kings and Queens (including our very own Queen who very nearly signed away Spindrift but was saved by a local constable).
The K&E Alliance has also EXPELLED the Whisperer members on its own executive committee, on suspicion that they have been controlling proceedings. Waratah Teevsky has apologised to all the Kingdoms and Empires for having fallen under the spell of these super-charged Whispers and proposing that diamond mines be transferred to the Whispering Kingdoms. ‘I would never normally make such a ridiculous suggestion,’ she stated. ‘I am furious with myself.’
So the Spellbinders were right?’ I asked. ‘There are Whisperers using super-Whispers?’
‘Seems like it.’ Ronnie nodded, and the three of us turned to see what the Time Travel Brothers would tell the Witches. ‘You are going to be extremely surprised by what happens next,’ one brother said.
‘It will be in all the newspapers,’ the second brother agreed sagely.
‘It’s madness,’ the first brother said.
‘This would never happen in the distant future, where we’re from.’
‘It’s all so reasonable and sensible there.’
They always say things like that, the Time Travel Brothers. No actual predictions but very smug about the future.
Across the Square, our buddy Snatty-Ra-Ra was looking a bit lonely and bored. He had no customers, but he’d put up a sign that said: Not hearing a peep from the Future today—will give it a go for you, but don’t hold out any hope—so, no wonder.
The day after that, Brathelthwaite got revenge for our pepper attack by intercepting our laundry cart and dyeing all our clothes bright pink.
I have no real problem with the colour pink, and my clothes get filthy fast anyway, so you can’t tell what colour they are. But the twins were so annoyed they tore a few shirts to shreds with their bare hands before Lili-Daisy stopped them. And Glim surprised us by crying. She almost never cries. However, she’d sewn a new blue tunic using an old coverlet not long before this. She mends most of the children’s clothes for them but never makes new things for herself. I’d caught her admiring the tunic in the mirror. Now it was ruined, streaked in muddy pink.
We got them back by stealing their carriages while they were at a picnic by Spindrift Lake. Four carriages stood waiting for them—the carriage drivers were hovering around the children, probably for extra security—so Glim, Eli, Taya and I just climbed aboard one each and drove away. It was a crackerjack stunt. We took the carriages back to the Boarding School and tied them up just outside the front gates. Left the horses with water and hay, so nobody could accuse us of actual stealing or horse neglect.
They would have had to walk three hours to get back.
After dinner that night, we were in the dormitory listening to another rugby game. This time Raffia was playing Braewood, another strong team. Two minutes left in the game and it was dead even.
It was noisy that night, I remember, as Daffo had accidentally sent Avril’s seashell collection flying—she keeps about two hundred shells lined up on a window ledge and somebody is always accidentally sending them flying—so a bunch of kids were crawlin
g around under the beds trying to retrieve them. I was in a cheerful mood again. We were crackerjack at getting the Boarding School! Way better than them. I’d spotted those Brathelthwaite spies again while I was peeling turnips during kitchen duty earlier—the girl and boy with the fancy coats, staring at us from the Town Square—so I knew they were plotting their next step. But I wasn’t worried.
If pink dye was the best they could do, bring it on.
‘Shields passes it to Jeffreys, and Jeffreys spreads it to Khatri—I think Farrugia’s got this tackle—no! Khatri has avoided it! Khatri has got by Deakin! He does an amazing step off the left foot past Runcy! Oh, what a swerve, listeners, if you could see this, he’s SPRINTING FOR THE TRY LINE, HE’S PELTING FOR IT, SVORKIN IS AFTER HIM, SVORKIN IS CLOSING IN, BUT KHATRI IS—’
‘We interrupt this programme,’ said a smooth voice, ‘for a Special Announcement.’
‘NOOOOO!’ the whole dormitory screamed. Lili-Daisy bounced on the bed so angrily that a voice beneath it cried, ‘Ow!’
‘The Whispering Kingdom has missed their deadline to explain their new super-Whispers,’ the radio announcer continued. ‘We will now hear a special message from the Whispering King himself.’
Most of us stopped screaming ‘NOOOOO’ to look at the wireless with interest. The Whispering King was going to speak?
‘PUT THE RUGBY BACK ON!’ Daffo bellowed, but we shushed him.
Bit of static.
And then there was the voice of the Whispering King. ‘Forgive me interrupting a rugby game,’ he began. ‘I wish to address the K&E Alliance, and all the Kingdoms and Empires. I will let you get back to the rugby as quickly as I can.’ Sounded like a nice guy. Affable.
‘He can’t super-Whisper us over the wireless, can he?’ little Leesa hissed.
Lili-Daisy shook her head. ‘Whisperers can only Whisper people who are nearby,’ she explained in a low voice. ‘About the length of this dormitory is as far as they can reach. Some are stronger and can cover a football field but that would be unusual.’
‘Super-Whispers still only have the same range,’ Eli added helpfully. ‘Or so I’ve read.’
The Slightly Alarming Tale of the Whispering Wars Page 7
