“I don’t think that last one should be counted in my favor,” I say automatically, and I hear Percy snort behind me.
“Your father was the head of the Board, and had crazy amounts of wealth too,” the girl continues eagerly. “He’s still got many supporters around.”
The warmth I’d felt at the initial mention of my father dissipates when I realize where this conversation’s going.
“My father’s dead,” I say coldly. “I doubt he could be of help to any of these so-called supporters, monetary or otherwise.”
“But surely the Gorlois heir would be needing our help at some point or other?” the girl asks. “We could make this a mutually beneficial relationship.”
“Look, I don’t have access to my father’s money,” I say, growing angry. “And I don’t see why I should even be talking about it with someone I don’t even know. Now please stop bothering me.”
“My name’s Abigail Wechsler,” the pushy girl says, placing a thick, rectangular business card into my hand before I get a chance to leave, “of the Wechsler Bank. Keep us in mind when you finally decide to play with the big boys.”
She bows slightly to Percy, then heads back into the stacks with her friends, leaving me fuming behind.
“I guess some people will always be willing to sell their soul to the devil for a bit of money,” I say sardonically, crumpling the card up and tossing it into the nearest trash can.
But Percy fishes the card back out, flattens it out, then slips it into my pocket.
“That girl ain’t wrong, ya know,” he says. “As she put it, it’s all a game. Now it may be a foul and dishonest one, but it’s a game nonetheless. And the Weschlers would be a formidable ally, if ya discount the interest you’d owe them for any help they give. Like she said, if ya play your cards right, you could end up at the head of our Order.” He grins at me. “You’d end up orderin’ Artie around.”
Now there’s an idea worth considering. I smile back at Percy and we finally head up to the fifth floor.
But as I follow him across the bridge towards a sectioned off area of the library, the distinct rumble of arguing rises ahead of us. We glance at each other then hurry along to find a large pack of KORT knights surrounding Bri, her own brother scowling beside her.
“Uh oh,” Percy says. “She’s done for now. Hadrian can be even more uptight ‘bout rules than Artie, if ya might believe it.”
Worried, I push my way to the front of the crowd, but as I near the tables, the din of voices cuts off abruptly.
I look about, confused, as one of the figures detaches itself from the tables. I repress a grimace as Agravain, Hector’s right-hand man, limps over to me, his prosthetic leg clicking with every step.
“And here she is,” he says, “the one who’s always at the center of any commotion. We were just talking about you.”
“Aww, that’s sweet of you,” I say with a tight smile. “Were you waiting for my autograph?”
I bite down on my lip, immediately regretting my words.
Agravain grabs my shirt into his fist and pulls me roughly towards him. “I suggest you go back to whatever hole you crawled out of,” he rasps. “We don’t need your kind here, unless”—his other hand moves to his belt, over the handle of a dagger—“you’re willing to give your ogham to me. I’d be more than happy to keep you around then, changeling.”
Goosebumps cover my arms as I stare into Agravain’s icy blue eyes. Finally, after a long, tension-filled minute, he looks away.
“You better come up with a solution fast, Arthur,” Agravain says, gripping my shirt so hard I’m afraid it’s going to tear. “And that means real action, not spending your days up here playing scholar. I won’t let the school fall to another attack because of your poor choices, like this one.”
He shoves me away savagely before taking off.
“Well that was very un-knightly of him,” Keva says, hurrying to my side as the sound of Agravain’s uneven footsteps disappears down one of the library’s steep staircases.
Without a look in my direction, Arthur returns to the set of books laid out before him, and I feel myself seethe with anger. How could he let someone threaten me like that without even lifting a finger to defend me?
“As we were saying before we were interrupted, we’ve tested this circle formation before,” Arthur says, pointing at a diagram. “But the shield it creates isn’t strong enough to prevent any Fey beyond our basic elementals to pass through.”
Gauvain pulls another book over. “This squire here says the orientation of the points of the main pentagram affects its efficiency,” he says. “But Sir Freyvidh says he’s already tried reorienting them without much success.”
“Where was it located?” Bri asks, and I feel my mouth unhinge itself in surprise as I realize she’s the squire Gauvain, the smartest guy in school, is taking advice from.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Keva whispers to me at my look of dismay. “Didn’t know Bri was such a whiz at wards, especially when she’s been failing celestial math all year long.”
“About four or five miles northeast of here, oriented north-south,” I hear Gauvain answer.
“How about combining it with the actual elements you’re trying to draw power from?” Bri suggests.
“What do you mean?” Arthur asks.
Bri pulls a thin book out of her pocket and opens it before them. “Here,” she says. “If you look at these figures closely, you’ll notice that they’re referring to the original name of the elements, not simply their genera.”
Arthur and Gauvain lean over her to take a closer look at the page she’s showing them.
“It’s true,” Gauvain says, surprise and admiration tingeing his voice. “How fascinating!”
“And if you turn to page twenty-seven,” Bri continues, flipping through the booklet, “you’ll see that some of the circles are also aligned with celestial objects to give them more potency, not with the cardinal points as you’ve discovered. Which got me thinking. I’ve been at the forts you’re rebuilding around the farmsteads, and I thought there was something odd about their locations.”
Bri unrolls a large scroll of yellowed paper and I recognize the school’s pentacle at its center, markings denoting the hamlets and other structures peppered around it.
“You don’t mean…,” Gauvain starts, as he follows her finger over the map.
“Fort Megrez is the first of not just four defensive locations,” Bri says, “but seven.”
“Like the Ursa Major constellation,” Arthur says, “hence the name. It’s so obvious, and yet we all missed it. Except for you. Very well done!”
Bri flushes pink with pleasure. “And if you look further,” she continues, handing Gauvain her book, “you’ll see that our school’s wards might have involved not only a spell for protection—”
“But also one of preservation,” Gauvain finishes, waving the open book in Arthur’s face. “A circle within a circle, Arthur. Which possibly means at least a double pentagram as well. That’s why we’ve been having such a hard time!”
“But preservation of what?” Arthur asks.
Gauvain shakes his head. “I would need more time to study these charts then check my results against other sources before I could venture a guess.”
“I think it’s a preservation of time,” Bri says.
“How’d you figure that out?” Percy asks in the sudden silence that follows. “I’ve spent most of my life ‘ere, yet I’ve aged like everyone else. Heck, Lance and Arthur were down ‘ere most of the time with me too, but they’ve both managed to become as hairy as a pair of fluffy bunnies.”
“I doubt Sir Lance is that hairy,” I say, thinking back on my few close encounters with the knight. “Dunno about Arthur though.”
Percy chokes back a laugh and I blink, realizing I’ve spoken out loud, and Arthur’s scowling at me.
“It could be linked to something else,” Bri says. “I was rather leaning towards Lake High itself.”
“You mean it can target what it affects?” Gauvain asks.
Bri nods. “I think it was meant to keep the school from getting worn down. Just like the repelling ward only affected the Fey. But the book also describes circles that heal and others that can alter space, and a dozen other types I couldn’t quite get, so I could be wrong.”
I cock my head at Bri. Her tone betrays a confidence in her assertions that I find hard to reconcile with the playful, wide-eyed girl I met upon my arrival here. Then again, I’m the first to know war makes everyone grow up faster.
“We should test this out,” Arthur says. “I’ll talk with Lady Ysolt and Sir Freyvidh tonight about—”
“There ain’t no time for no more hesitatin’,” Percy says. “If Agravain hears about this an’ ya haven’t done a concrete thing yet, he’ll find a way to get ya outta the picture.”
“We can’t incorporate these designs into our school’s wards if we don’t know all the variables,” Arthur retorts. “It’s too risky. I won’t bet the lives of everyone here on an unproven theory.”
“What about the forts?” Gauvain asks. “It’s not like they were functional before, so if the wards don’t work there, no harm will be done.”
Arthur pauses. “I suppose we could try out with the forts,” he says cautiously.
Gauvain whoops happily and Gareth slaps Bri hard on the back, sending her sprawling onto the carpeted floor. “Well done, girl, well done!” he exclaims, helping her up with an apologetic smile. “Who are you again?”
“Bri Vaughan, sir,” Bri says, massaging her backside.
“Vaughan?” Gauvain turns to Hadrian who’s remained impassive throughout this show of his sister’s knowledge. “Any relation to you?”
Hadrian nods slightly, looking pensive. “She’s my sister.”
“I had no idea your family was so smart!” Gareth says, his grin sparkling white against the dark of his skin as Gauvain puts his arm around Bri’s frail shoulders and steers her away, talking quietly into her ear.
“Well, ya’ve done it,” Percy says, smacking Arthur’s shoulder. “Ya found what ya were lookin’ for. I, for one, am ‘appy I get to leave this place and get back to trainin’!”
Gareth booms out a joyous laugh as he and Percy hurtle back downstairs, garnering the librarian’s wrathful scowl from across the atrium. Slowly, the others trickle out of the library as well, leaving Arthur to stare at his research on his own.
As Keva and I make to follow the others across the bridge, however, Arthur holds me back.
“Help me clean up,” he says.
I look down at the books, maps and charts covering every inch of the table in titanic piles, and groan. It’s going to take me at least until Matins to clear and re-shelve the books, and that’s not even counting all those blueprints and maps.
“What do you know about that girl, Bri?” Arthur asks.
My hand freezes on top of a massive book titled A History Of Fey Architectural Designs Throughout The Times. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“Aren’t you two friends?” Arthur asks.
“Yes,” I say. “So if you expect me to say anything bad about her, then you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
Arthur nods. “I thought you might say that,” he says. “Still, I have to ask. I hadn’t heard anything extraordinary about her from the professors beforehand, I didn’t realize she was such an expert in wards…”
I busy myself picking up his discarded books to hide my annoyance. “She changed after her brother’s death,” I say. “She’s become…more focused.” I look up at him then, willing him to go away. “Anything else to add? Or can this maid continue with her cleanup duty? That is what you called me up here for, isn’t it?”
Yet Arthur doesn’t seem to be in a rush to leave his research area. Finally, after I’ve already filled half a cart up with his books, he clears his throat.
“I’m sorry about Agravain,” Arthur starts. “He too has been more…focused since his training accident, and I didn’t want to antagonize him more than—”
“Never you mind,” I say, slamming another batch of books onto the cart so its metal rings from the impact. “You didn’t lift a finger to help me just now, I forgot to check up on you after the battle this morning. Let’s call it even.”
There’s a short pause, then I hear Arthur say, “We’re even.”
I keep my eyes resolutely set upon my task and, a moment later, I hear him finally leaves. I let out a long breath. Why is it that being around him is always so taxing on my nerves?
“Having issues?” Keva asks, making me jump.
“I thought you were gone with the others,” I say.
“I thought so too,” Keva says, grabbing a book to skim its cover before dropping it back onto the table. “Sometimes it’s really annoying having a soul. I don’t understand why the devil wants them so badly.” She chucks another book from the cart back onto the table. “Isn’t it ironic?” she asks, idly flipping through another volume as I wish she could stop undoing all my work.
“What is?” I ask. “That you said you’d help me but you’re here reading instead?”
“No, that’s just natural,” she says. “I wouldn’t want to break any nails. What’s ironic, is that the symbol for iron is Fe.”
I blink at her, then burst out laughing.
“Glad I amuse you,” Keva says imperiously. She then points at a spot on the floor. “You dropped one.”
“No I didn’t,” I say,
But, looking down, I find that she’s right: Lying partway under the table is a lone book, its pages partly reflecting the dim sunset filtering through the circular window.
Annoyed, I lower myself to pick it up, then freeze.
“What is it?” Keva asks, leaning over.
My heart skips a beat as I stare at the large illustration of a woman with a reptilian face, long, bat-like wings drawn partially over her clawed feet. Under the drawing, are the words:
LILITH
MOTHER OF ALL DEMONS
“How did that book get here?” Keva asks, prying it out of my fingers. “This has got, like, nothing to do with wards or even Fey architecture.”
She looks the book over, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“They say she’s the second worst thing that happened to this world,” I murmur, repeating one of Sister Marie-Clémence’s favorite lessons. “Almost as bad as the devil himself.” I look at Keva, unable to hide my fear any longer. “What if Irene’s right? What if I am a descendant of hers?”
“So what if you are?” Keva asks, tossing the book aside with complete disregard. “You’re not responsible for what your mother’s done. Besides, I don’t hold much credence in that title they give this Lilith. It’s typical in a misogynistic society for all powerful females to be depicted as evil.” She turns to me with a smile. “Doesn’t mean they’re always right though.”
It is close to midnight by the time Keva and I finally get to drag our feet out of the library. But as we turn down the ground floor’s central hallway towards the staircase on our way up to our dorm room, Keva stops.
“Just a sec,” she says, dropping her backpack in front of the news board.
She pulls out a roll of papers then proceeds to staple them to the corkboard.
“What are you doing?” I ask, stifling a yawn.
“Gotta keep this updated, don’t I?” Keva says.
My mouth runs dry as I realize what she means. “That many people?” I ask, staring at the list of dead or missing that is now taking up three pages. “In so short a time?”
“Guess Carman’s keeping busy,” Keva says, moving on to another section of the board to staple a notice that states access to the make-out hedge is now forbidden. “She’s gotta make up for centuries of boredom down in her hole, I guess.”
She swings her bag onto her shoulder then freezes for a nanosecond before flattening herself onto the wall.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, blinking around owlishly
to see what’s gotten her so worked up all of a sudden.
Keva shushes me and I hear hurried footsteps coming from further down the corridor, heading for the stairs.
“What does the coot22 want now?” I hear Percy say.
“Another vote,” Hadrian says, the rest of his explanation abruptly cut off as they disappear up the staircase.
Keva and I look at each other for one long second then, without a sound, we move as one after the retreating knights to find out what’s going on. We reach the first floor in record time, and pause on the landing to make sure our coast is clear. Then, our soft-soled boots barely making a whisper on the floor, we head down the hallway after the knights’ retreating voices, past Arthur’s suite, and finally come to a stop before the KORT room as its carved door closes shut.
Immediately, Keva sets her ear to it and, after a moment’s hesitation, I follow suit.
At first, only indistinct murmurs reach me through the thick wooden panel, but after a brief period of adjustment, I make out a voice raised in anger.
“How could you even let this happen?”
“Arthur didn’t let anythin’ happen,” Percy’s distinct southern drawl answers back. “It ain’t like any of us knew what was bein’ done.”
“Exactly my point,” the first voice says, and I now recognize Hector’s clipped tone. “It’s his duty to know, but instead we have to find out there’s a traitor in our midst after the school’s attacked. That just demonstrates his lack of true leadership.”
“Methinks you are as guilty as the rest of us,” Gauvain says. “You are a KORT knight too, we should all be working together.”
“The crux of the matter is,” Percy says in a dangerously low voice, “that the smart ones are always doubtin’ themselves, while the sophomoric ones are over-confident.”
There’s the sound of wood scraping on stone, a fist slamming on the table, and several choice swearwords are thrown out.
I give Keva a questioning look, wondering if this is going to turn into a full brawl, but she shrugs in return. Then another voice rises above the commotion inside, and the hairs at the back of my neck stand up.
Rise of the Fey Page 16
