by M. A. Larson
“The Vertreiben are an ancient sect,” said Princess Hazelbranch. “A sort of secret society made up of women who were discharged for one reason or another.”
“Indeed,” said Beatrice. “For all those who shine brightly here at the Academy and become Princesses of the Shield, there are a handful of shadow cadets who watch from a distance, growing more bitter and resentful by the day. They are nothing more than sore losers.”
“Sore losers with sharp blades,” said Hazelbranch. “The Vertreiben were formed not long after Princess Pennyroyal founded the Academy. The girls who started it were, as the Headmistress said, humiliated when they were judged unworthy. Their embarrassment, their lack of opportunity . . . it festered into hatred. As the Academy’s graduates began to disperse into the kingdoms and people saw how effective their training had made them in dealing with witches, those other girls felt increasingly hard done by. In their twisted minds, they saw themselves as victims and vowed revenge on Princess Pennyroyal and her staff.”
“They are a petulant group of outcasts and nothing more,” said Beatrice.
Evie thought back to the girls she’d known the previous year who had been sent home. Anisette would never have joined such a group. She was assisting Princess Camilla and couldn’t have been happier with her discharge. Malora was a witch, and had enough of her own reasons to be angry with, well, just about everything. But were there girls Evie had known and trained with who might have turned to this sect to seek revenge? Were any of her old company-mates now members of the Vertreiben?
“The wolf’s fang . . . This is their symbol,” said Beatrice. “Just as a wolf is immune to a princess’s magic, so too are the Vertreiben. And just as the wolf does, they seek to tear the princess to ribbons.” Something clinked on the desk. Beatrice must have tossed the fang aside. “I’ve never heard such rubbish.”
“And you’re quite certain this threat isn’t real?” said Schönbecker.
“This threat,” spat Beatrice, “could have been sent by some mouth-breathing bridge troll from Viernach for all we know. The fact of the matter is that Cadet Evie’s sudden fame has made her something of an easy target for this sort of thing.”
“Supposing that—”
“Supposing that the Vertreiben are behind this, despite the fact that not once in the history of Pennyroyal Academy have they posed any sort of legitimate threat. I am well aware of our duty, Sir Schönbecker, as leaders of this institution, to be cautious. Overly so.”
There was a pause. Evie held her breath and listened as closely as she could, though part of her was afraid her heart was thumping loudly enough that they’d hear it.
“Start your third-class knights on small arms. Swords in particular. Send the older boys to the forges and have them learn to make weapons. Hand-and-a-halfs and back swords, nothing fancy. These are things that need doing anyway, so we might as well do them now.”
“Of course, Headmistress,” said Sir Schönbecker.
“And do it quietly. I’d like to keep this contained to this room, if at all possible.”
“Shall we start the girls on small arms as well?” said Hazelbranch.
“No. Our mission is and always will be to defend the realm from witches. We’ve too great an opportunity with all these new cadets to rebuild our forces, and I won’t have that undermined by such a glistening assemblage of fools as the Vertreiben.”
“Very well,” said Hazelbranch. “But, strictly as a precautionary measure, do you suppose it might be wise to send for . . . her?”
“Would it help you sleep better, Princess Hazelbranch?”
“Headmistress, if Evie is right, then an innocent woman was killed.”
“By witches.” There was another pause. Evie pressed her ear even more tightly to the door as Beatrice let out a sigh. “Very well. Corporal Liverwort, send for Princess Lankester.”
“Aye, Mum.”
“Tell her to report to me as soon as she’s arrived. Now, is everyone satisfied?” There was a silent pause. “Then I don’t want to hear another word about it. And I don’t want any of you discussing this with anyone else. We’re quite lucky that Evie’s become as famous as she has. People viewed what happened here last year as a triumphant victory over the witches, but they could just as easily have seen it as gross incompetence on our part. The very last thing we need now is a panic, particularly with all these new cadets here. Another instance of incompetence could do irreparable harm to the Academy. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Headmistress,” they all replied.
“Good. I shall send word to some of our key princesses that this has happened, and then I shall drop the entire thing in the bin and consider this matter closed.”
A bitter wind blew the shimmering dust sideways from the Fairy Drillsergeant’s wings. She was floating next to Captain Ramsbottom. Side by side, they looked like a minnow and a whale.
“Congratulations! You’re now second-class cadets,” she joked. “Perhaps now you’ll start acting like it.”
“You’ve done well, cadets,” said Ramsbottom. “Keep practicing the techniques we’ve taught you and you should be able to survive whatever mischief a witch or a dragon or a giant or a troll sends your way.”
The quality of the air had begun to change, becoming thinner and colder and more adept at seeping through the woven linen of the Pennyroyal Academy uniforms. They’d reached the frosted border between autumn and winter in their second year of training, with rain showers that skipped the skin and chilled right to the bone, and the cadets of Leatherwolf Company had finally—finally—finished their first year.
“Gentlemen,” said the Fairy Drillsergeant, “thank you for your efforts. Best of luck with the rest of your second year.”
“Yes, Fairy Drillsergeant,” said the boys.
“Knights of Huntsman Company, move out!” said Ramsbottom.
Remington turned to Evie and winked. “See you at the blades.”
She smiled as she watched him march off with the rest of his company. The end of Enchanted Forest Orienteering meant the end of natural meetings between Leatherwolf and Huntsman Companies. Now Evie found a bright side to Basil’s transfer request. She would still be able to see Remington during sword training.
The day was a particularly chilly one, with a misty wind coming up from the south. After reuniting with Goosegirl Company, and some good-natured congratulations and cheers about their “graduation” to the second class, the Fairy Drillsergeant moved her princess cadets straight into their Advanced Castlery training. She led them to a dank hallway in the depths of a castle hidden amongst the labyrinthine roads of the western part of campus. The dreary dungeon was lit by a handful of candles. It was little more than a low-ceilinged corridor with iron cages on either side.
“Right, here we are, then. Now that you know your way round the enchanted forest, it’s time to learn your way round the inside of a castle. Does anyone know why our campus has been designed in the particular way that it has?”
Maggie’s hand shot up. “I just read about this! Though it may seem like a strange hodgepodge of buildings, it is actually a deceptively elegant design. The structures on this side of campus are modeled after the Western Kingdoms, and those on the other side are modeled after the Eastern Kingdoms. The buildings farthest from the Queen’s Tower, the third ring, are the simplest to navigate. They’re generally replicas of structures from the oldest kingdoms in the land, like the ones you’d find in Gummersbach or Kassel. But the closer you get to the center of campus, the more complex and realistic they become.”
The Fairy Drillsergeant stared at Maggie, incredulous.
“If I’m not mistaken, this castle is in the second ring, where the structures are filled with secret passageways, false doors, and intentionally confusing hallways and staircases. Next year, we’ll be training in the first ring, which are meant to be some of the most vexi
ng designs in all the land.”
The Fairy Drillsergeant’s disbelief had become a snarl. “Would you like to teach this course, Cadet?”
Maggie was so deep into reciting the things she’d learned that she didn’t even hear the comment. “Supposedly the first-ring castles are so difficult to navigate that two cadets have actually been lost in them forever. Rinkrank’s Keep was one and Molehill Castle was the other, I think. Though I couldn’t tell if that bit was true or just something the author put in to make them seem scarier—”
“Right, so, you all remember how to pick a lock, yes?” said the Fairy Drillsergeant, cutting Maggie short.
“Yes, Fairy Drillsergeant.”
As she continued her lecture on the basics of lock picking, Evie leaned over and whispered to Maggie.
“Have you ever read anything about Princess Lankester?”
“Who?”
“Princess Lankester. Beatrice sent for her last night when I brought her the letter from the Vertreiben—”
“Evie!” gasped Maggie, her eyes bulging. “Princess Copperpot pulled Demetra and me out of bed and threatened to throw us out if we ever mentioned that letter to anyone. Stop talking about it!”
“Fine, I will, but only if you answer my question.”
“No,” spat Maggie. “I’ve never heard of Princess Lankester.”
“If Maggie doesn’t know her, she must be obscure,” whispered Basil.
Maggie scowled at them both and moved to the other side of the hall.
“So once you’ve picked your lock,” said the Fairy Drillsergeant, “you’re still trapped down here, probably with heavily armed guards. Now you’ll need to find a way out of the dungeon itself . . .”
“We’ve got to find out more about the Vertreiben,” whispered Evie. “I don’t want to be caught off guard like we were with Hardcastle.”
“I find witches to be creepy enough,” said Basil. “A secret society of bitter, violent princesses? No thank you.”
“Shh!” spat Kelbra. Evie glared at her.
“Many dungeons,” continued the Fairy Drillsergeant, “even a lot of them in the Eastern Kingdoms, have secret passageways to the outside. That’s in case there’s some sort of uprising. The guards can escape and lock down part of the castle until they regain control. Now, the Western Kingdoms favor trick stones and bricks to trip their secret passage entrances. The Eastern Kingdoms favor false furniture. In a dungeon like this, you’ve got to feel carefully for subtle differences in texture . . .”
“Come on, Evie,” said Basil. “You did everything you were supposed to do. Just leave it to them now.”
“I hope the lot of you get trapped in a prison someday,” snarled Kelbra. “It would serve you right for not paying attention.”
Evie scowled and tried to turn her attention back to the Fairy Drillsergeant. Basil mimicked Kelbra’s sour face, which made Evie snort with laughter.
“Cadet Evie!” called the Fairy Drillsergeant. “Was that you I just heard volunteering to run the spirals after class?”
“Yes, Fairy Drillsergeant,” she muttered. As she stewed in the dungeon and half listened to the rest of the lecture, Evie could already feel her legs starting to burn.
“Let’s talk about witches, shall we?” said Princess Ziegenbart. Her bell clanged softly as she walked amongst the straw bales. Outside, rain hissed on the stone. “Now, there are some in the administration who’d rather I didn’t share this particular story with you. They’re worried it might frighten you off. I say if it does frighten you off, then you were never meant to be here in the first place. Knowledge is far more valuable than magic. If you are going to engage the enemy, then you must know what the enemy is.” All was silent in the room except for the rain and occasional rumbling of distant thunder.
“Once upon a time,” she began, “there was a lovely little village nestled beneath the mountains on the banks of a mighty river. The townspeople lived simple lives . . . farmers, merchants, mothers and fathers. They worked hard and went about their work with great care and enjoyment, and the sun always seemed to shine down on them in all matters. Except for one.
“The village, you see, had a terrible problem with rats. Because of all the prosperous mills surrounding the town, the storehouses were fat with feed, which, in turn, drew the raaa-a-a-a-a-agh-agh-agh.” Her bleating turned to coughing, and then to one final clearing of the throat. “Ahem. Pardon me. Which drew the rats.
“Now, the townspeople initially made do by breeding an army of cats, and this worked quite well. The cats ate the rats and the rat population stayed low. But before long, the rats returned, and in ever-greater numbers. They were quicker this time, better able to vex the cats. And soon the village’s rat problem had become an emergency. Food stores ran low. Children cried out in their sleep from rats scurrying across their faces and nibbling at their toes. Some of the villagers even began to leave town. Those who remained begged the mayor to do something about the crisis—”
One of the cadets in back screamed as a rat scurried across the floor, causing others to laugh uneasily.
“One day, a man turned up. He was tall and thin, wearing a patchwork suit of colored cloth and a long feather in his cap. None in the village had seen anything like him before. He held a slender golden pipe, and promised the mayor he could rid the town of its rats . . . for a price. The mayor agreed to his terms, eagerly, and watched with bemusement as the man began strolling through town blowing on his pipe. He seemed in no particular hurry to get anywhere; he was simply playing a merry tune and trying not to step on the black sea of rats that began swarming at his feet. Before long, the townspeople’s confusion turned to astonishment. The rats followed the piper as he played. They abandoned whole pieces of food in the streets to scurry after him. They came forth from the walls and the gutters and the roofs. He continued his slow procession toward the city walls, the horde of rats following merrily behind. And the townspeople watched in amazement. Eventually the piper led the rats to the river’s edge, then played them right over the banks. One by one, thousand by thousand, they were swept down the river, never to be seen again. And before long, the village was as free from rats as the day of its founding.”
“Forgive me, Princess,” said Nessa. “This is the sort of story we’ve all heard before as children. Is there some particular—”
“The piper returned,” said Ziegenbart, causing Nessa’s cheeks to go red, “and was hailed as a hero, quite rightly. However, when he tried to collect his reward, the mayor refused. The greedy old man saw that the rats had perished in the river and thought he could save the village a large sum of money by sending the piper on his way without one gold piece. The villagers, thinking more of their own pockets than the piper’s, agreed with the mayor’s plan.
“Needless to say, the piper was quite upset. He spent that night in the mountains outside of town, his fury growing. He cursed the people of the village, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing he thought or shouted could sate the red desire for revenge that consumed his heart. To everyone’s eternal misfortune, he was not alone that night in the mountains.” The goat paced before them. She had all of their attention now. “He was soon discovered by a witch. She had heard his cries of abuse at the hands of the villagers and assured him she could help. The piper was terrified of the old hag, to be sure, but his anger at being cheated overcame him, and he listened with great interest to her wicked plan. The next day at dawn, blinded by hatred, he returned down the mountain to the village gates. His black heart was hidden beneath his brightly colored clothes and the jaunty feather in his cap, but it was there all the same. As he made his way through the village streets, playing his happy tune, the enchanted pipe could only be heard by the children of the village, and not by their parents. One after another, they rose from their beds and went out into the streets to join him. Once he’d gathered all the children of the village into his macabre parad
e, he led them out of the city walls and up into the mountains. With the lilting song of his pipe echoing down the valley, he led those innocent souls straight into a cave where the witch awaited.”
Evie glanced over at Maggie, whose face was scrunched in horror.
“The villagers awoke that morning to find all their children missing. In a panic, they scoured every inch of the forest and mountains surrounding their beloved river valley. But even after months of looking, they found not a single trace. Not one piece of clothing. Not one stray hair. Nothing. The witch had already done with them what she’d intended from the start.”
Ziegenbart paced back and forth in front of them. The tension in the room was unbearable. Why has she told us this? wondered Evie.
“I told you that if you are to engage your enemy in battle, then you must first know her. Well, now we must discuss the greatest enemy of all. The leader of the Seven Sisters. The great witch Calivigne.
“Here are the facts as we know them with regard to Calivigne. It is exceedingly rare for a witch to be named, or, at least, to have a name known outside their own world. Very, very few witches have ever become as infamous as she has. Calivigne is also one of the physically largest witches on record. There are a multitude of theories about why she has grown as large—and notorious—as she has, but I am quite certain I know the truth. When I was in my younger days, and before I was cursed, I was a Cauldron Tipper. And I had it in my head that I would be the one to find Calivigne. This was many years ago, before she was nearly as well known as she is now. I tracked her. Studied her. Learned everything I could about her. And though you won’t find it in any of the histories, not even Lieutenant Volf’s, this is why, I believe, she has achieved the particular stature that she has . . .”
Evie’s heart was racing. She didn’t even realize it, but she had slid all the way to the edge of her straw bale.
“The witch who had been in league with the piper was Calivigne’s mother.”
There were gasps around the classroom. Out of the corner of her eye, Evie saw Demetra’s hand go to her mouth.
