Fantastic Schools: Volume 2

by Nuttall, Christopher G.

  As she plodded down the maintenance tunnel behind the others, an idea cheered her up. The enchanters who lived in Dare Hall used music to perform their magic, control the weather, cast hexes, heal, summon, and the other things enchantments could do. If playing the flute was too hard for her, maybe she was not cut out to be an enchantress. What if, as they made this tour of the seven dorms—one each for the seven Sorcerous Arts—she considered, however, briefly, each kind of magic and what it was that she truly wanted to excel at. If she picked a different specialty, something other than enchantment, she could afford to fail her test in Music.

  What kind of sorceress was she, truly?

  The first dormitory they came to was Marlowe Hall, the home of students who specialized in conjuring. By the time they reached it, Sigfried was barely sweating. Valerie was carrying a few objects that had fallen from the pallet. Rachel was seated on her broom, hovering beside them. Fenguth, still atop the pallet, was snoring quietly. She had not realized that fey creatures could snore.

  Rachel had never been in Marlowe before. The trapdoor from the maintenance tunnels opened into a hallway filled with statues. Brightly-colored murals covered the walls. Through open doors off this hallway, they caught glimpses of art studios where students painted at easels or stood before conjuring shelves pulling objects from the air. In the hallway, two girls played with a tiny panda who might have been someone’s familiar, but which Rachel suspected was a snowdoll—a conjured thing that would last twenty-four hours and then vanish.

  To the left was the room where the familiars’ food was stored. They transferred the feed and meat marked for Marlowe to the appropriate bins and dishes. As they worked, Rachel thought about Art class. She loved drawing. It was a skill that she had picked up just this year. She had started out rather awkwardly, but she often drew in classes while her tutors reviewed their subjects as, with her perfect memory, she never needed to hear anything twice to remember it. Her pictures were beginning to actually resemble real objects.

  Would she want to be a conjurer?

  Problem was, conjuration required a familiar, and Rachel’s cat had turned out to be…just a cat. She could fake part of conjuration with her perfect memory, but if she wanted to be a serious conjurer, she would need to get a real familiar. The thought of replacing her beloved Mistletoe was too painful.

  With a sigh, Rachel put aside the idea of specializing in conjuration.

  As they left Marlowe, Fenguth remarked, “Marlowe all right. Some bwbach not mind it. Fenguth prefer Dare. Dare best hall.”

  Rachel and Siggy grinned at each other.

  “You can say that again!” Siggy and Lucky high-fived each other.

  “You Dare show-offs,” Valerie rolled her eyes. “Dee is the best dorm, and you know it. Well, maybe you don’t, Siggy. I can’t see you reading a book, but Rachel does.”

  Rachel smiled, “It was the dorm I wanted to live in before I came to Roanoke, but my siblings put me in Dare with them.”

  “What’s so great about Dee?” asked Siggy.

  “Library,” said Fenguth. “Books and books and books.” He paused. “Book boggles live there. No need for bwbachs.”

  “Do book boggles clean our rooms, too,” asked Valerie, “or just organize the books?”

  Fenguth shrugged. “Some bwbachs go there. But not Fenguth or Ulpath or Moilpubh or Gilpus. We prefer Dare.”

  Next, they headed for Spenser, the home of the Canticlers—those who spoke the Original Tongue, the individual words of which were known as cantrips. Inside the dorm, every object was labeled. Every widow, doorjamb, shelf, and painting had a little label on it bearing the word for the thing in the Original Tongue.

  Rachel paused and peered at the labels. “Why are these here?”

  Valerie said, “It’s for learning languages. They do that at the National Language School in the mundane world as well—the school where diplomats learn the languages they need for their work.”

  “But, what’s the point?” Rachel asked, puzzled.

  “The idea is that if you look at it enough times,” Valerie explained, “you’ll eventually remember it.”

  Oh. Of course. Rachel bit her lips together before she said something that would embarrass somebody, probably herself. Sometimes, she forgot that other people had to see something more than once to remember it.

  As they continued north to Dare Hall, Rachel considered becoming a canticler. Learning the Original Language would be easy. She already knew some words and she would only need to encounter the rest of them once to learn them.

  But knowing the words was the least of what a canticler had to do. The real task was performing the cantrips—convincing the world around you to listen and obey. She had just seen how well she did with tiathlu and lux. Spenser Hall was not for her.

  The room for familiar feed in Dare Hall was in the cellar off the music room—the room where Siggy and Lucky had dug their hole. While Rachel and Valerie unpacked the food, Sigfried surreptitiously slipped off and pushed the rug back over the hole in the floor. The Ginger Snaps were on the stage at the far end of the music room, rehearsing. While the students finished unpacking, Fenguth sat on the floor gazing wide-eyed at the band, which consisted of a group of red-haired musicians and some of their friends and relatives. Rachel did not blame him. The Ginger Snaps were good. Their music was lively and urged one to dance. That was one of the joys of living in Dare Hall, hearing all the musicians play.

  Next, they returned to the tunnels and set off through a corridor that crossed under the commons to the east side of campus. They did not stop at Roanoke Hall, where classes were held, because no familiars lived there, and any familiar who chose to eat with the students in the dining hall did not need a delivery of special food.

  As they walked, they discussed the culprit responsible for distributing the seven robes to the far reaches of the campus and mused about what it might be. Rachel gave the others several pointers for recognizing phooka, including that they were usually black or white, or black and white, and that they often had red eyes. The conversation drifted from the wild fey, to speculation about how many might have slipped on campus the night the wards were breached, to a discussion of the events of that night, including the epic battle between Sigfried and the ogre. Fenguth listened with great excitement as the orphan boy described how he had fought the nigh-invulnerable creature and, after Lucky broke the charm that protected the brute’s life, leapt up on its back and slit its throat with his Bowie knife.

  “Sorcerer-Boy very brave!” the fey murmured, wide-eyed.

  “You can say that again!” Valerie declared, adding, “That was one of the most terrifying moments of my life! Facing off against that ogre after he knocked you out, Siggy—okay, I thought you were dead—as we waited for Lucky to come and break the charm. Boy, was that terrifying!”

  Sigfried grunted as he pulled the pallet, which was growing lighter each time they stopped. Drawing a deep breath, he asked cheerfully, “I never did hear what happened while I out cold. How did you girls live?”

  Valerie shivered. “Luck, I guess, and Rachel.”

  “Rachel?” asked Siggy.

  “She walked right up to the ogre and started talking to it.” Valerie shook her head in admiration. “Kept it busy for a minute or two. Probably saved all our lives.”

  “What did you say to it?” Siggy turned to look at Rachel. Valerie and Fenguth and Lucky all turned to look at her, too.

  Uncomfortable under everyone’s scrutiny, Rachel ducked her head, “I-I called it by its name. Reminded it of its humanity.” She added with a wry smile, “Didn’t help in the long run. It was still evil. But I did slow it down for a bit.”

  “How did you know its name?” Valerie asked.

  Rachel shrugged. “Now and then, odd bits of knowledge I heard over the years snap together in my head. It’s one of the advantages of perfect recall, I suppose.”

  The next dorm was DeVere Hall. The trapdoor was locked. Above the lock was a pl
aque showing pictures of a redcap, a merrow, and a chimera. Beside the door, a rock with a hole in it hung from a string.

  “What’s this?” Valerie asked.

  “It’s locked!” Sigfried declared. “Shall we open it with magic? Or have Lucky burn it open?”

  “Burninate it!” Lucky cried. “Turn it to sludge!”

  “Or we could hit it with a sledgehammer,” said Siggy.

  “Or,” Lucky offering hopefully, “eat the food and just say we left it.”

  “I like that one!” Sigfried nodded. “Let’s do that.”

  “Ew. No. Some of these foods are…not very appetizing.” Valerie shuddered.

  “I don’t know about that!” Siggy picked up a few containers. “Grains with meat juices!”

  “Juices are good!” said the dragon.

  “Or meal worms.”

  “They make a meal, right?”

  “Or dried meat!” crowed Siggy.

  “We could eat dried meat all day,” said Lucky.

  “And still have room for dinner.”

  Valerie cleared her throat. “Rachel? You’re our fey expert.”

  Rachel lifted the stone with a hole. “DeVere is for warders. You wouldn’t ward off a chimera with a rock with a hole in it. Or a sea creature like a merrow. Rocks with holes are for woodland fey, so…”

  She touched the rock to the panel showing the redcap. The trapdoor clicked open.

  “DeVere scary place,” murmured Fenguth as he crept over the threshold. “Bwbachs not like to work here.”

  “Why is that?” asked Rachel.

  “Easy to get trapped. Stuck between two warded doors. Can’t get out. Moilpubh once stuck in between two doors for a week.”

  “But it’s okay, right, because no one likes Moilpubh?” asked Valerie.

  Fenguth shivered and quickly ran back outside to the tunnels below.

  As they continued south, heading for Drake Hall, Rachel wondered about DeVere. Should she ditch enchantment and become a warder? It would be very easy for her, memorizing what stopped what. It would be hardly be any effort at all. In fact, just by reading books from her family library, she knew more possible warding combinations than some professionals in the field. There was an art to it, of course, but her experience so far suggested that she might be able to master it. And yet…

  Warding took patience and, in many cases, having your feet on the ground, literally. There was very little warding that could be done in the air. It was not an ideal Art for someone who practically lived on her bristleless. Rachel, who was currently walking, leaned over and patted Vroomie, where the steeplechaser lay atop the pallet Sigfried was dragging. Somehow, she did not feel the calm, patient, grounded way was for her.

  Drake Hall came next. The tunnels passed under the moat and opened into a room off of the summoning chambers in the cellar. Rachel had been here once before, during a battle against a teacher who had turned into a dragon. The students in Drake studied thaumaturgy, which was an intriguing Art. It used math and precision to combine other arts together to make spells that accomplished things that no other magic could accomplish.

  Would she like to be a thaumaturge? The process was interesting, and, while many of the kids in Drake were snobbish, there were a few here, particularly two young men, who were dear to her. Might it be a better place for her than Dare?

  Then their path took them outside, and both Valerie and Rachel balked. Ahead of them stood cages holding goats, rabbits, doves and more. Rachel’s heart began beating oddly in her chest.

  “Oh, look, Lucky!” Siggy declared. “It’s the convenient to-go lunch boxes.”

  “Oh, boss, can I? Can I?” Lucky swooped forward.

  “No!” Valerie’s voice cracked. “Lucky, those are not for you.”

  “But Goldilocks,” Lucky hung his dragony head. “They’re just going to be eaten.”

  “But not by you,” Sigfried’s girlfriend replied firmly.

  Rachel stared at the cages. Sacrificial beasts, meant to be fed to the creatures the thaumaturges summoned. Rachel was not sure she could stomach such a thing. True, she fed meat to her cat. By accompanying this outing, she was helping feed meat to animals now. Yet, somehow, that felt different from feeding live goats to chthonic monstrosities.

  No, she decided, she could not stomach Drake.

  Fenguth also shrank away from the cages, hurrying back inside the moment the creatures were fed.

  “Bwbachs in Drake very brave,” he murmured to Rachel. “Fenguth not want to go there. Fenguth like Dare.”

  “Why do you like Dare?” Rachel asked him.

  Fenguth’s face lit up. “Music. You hear it? Like liquid honey kissing the ears.”

  “Yes, I rather guess it is,” Rachel admitted slowly. “Unless you are listening to me playing. That’s a bit more like sandpaper on the ears. But, yes…I understand.”

  “Sometimes, when work is done, we creep in and listen. To boy with cello. Girl with tuba. Fenguth and Moilpubh and Ulpath and Gilpus. Our ears grow happy. Sometime, even when working, Moilpubh and Fenguth slip into practice room and hear violin or woodwinds that make hearts brave and thews strong. One time, we heard young man singing. He sang song about fairies and white bells. Ears grew so happy.” He sighed, contently, as if remembering a scrumptious feast, his gaze starry-eyed.

  “I thought nobody liked Moilpubh,” said Rachel.

  “Maybe Fenguth like Moilpubh a little,” Fenguth admitted grudgingly. He looked sad.

  In a sudden moment of discernment, Rachel squatted down beside the little fey. “Fenguth, is that part of what you are afraid of? That you will become a bogle, and, like when Moilpubh was stuck in DeVere, no one will notice or care, because they don’t like you either?”

  Fenguth trembled like a leaf in the wind.

  She gave him the kindest smile she could. “Well, for what it is worth, I like you.”

  As they walked, Fenguth’s words echoed in Rachel’s memory. Our ears grow happy. She, too, loved music. Some of her happiest memories were of singing for her father when she was a little girl. She had begun singing for them at four and started formal lessons at six. She recalled her father and her beloved grandfather listening with pleasure as she sang, her mother smiling encouragingly in the background. Even her august, Victorian grandmother had looked down over her pince-nez and declared her tiny granddaughter’s singing to be “Passable, I suppose,” which was high praise from Lady Amelia.

  Since coming to school, Rachel had learned to cast some simple enchantments, particularly a few hexes, by whistling. But this only worked for short spells—two or three notes. More than that and the magical energy buzzing through her body disrupted her ability to whistle. For longer enchantments, an instrument was required.

  The next stop was Raleigh Hall, the home of the alchemists who made magical talismans. Siggy, who was looking a little tired now—or maybe he was just irked about Valerie having stopped Lucky from eating the sacrificial animals, it was hard to say—pulled the pallet to a stop on the ramp in front of the next trapdoor.

  “Halt! Who goes there?” called a cultured, elegant voice.

  Rachel looked around. It was not a voice she had heard before, so it wasn’t one of the proctors, or the custodian, or the groundskeeper.

  “I say! Don’t you ignore me, you unruly students!”

  “Who's talking?” whispered Valerie, looking left or right.

  Sigfried made a kind of a squawking noise and pointed. “The door! The door is talking!”

  Rachel peered closer. Sure enough, there was a face carved into the trapdoor through which they needed to pass in order to enter Raleigh Hall. The face was entirely made of wood, but the eyes seemed to track them, and the mouth moved as it spoke.

  “I am speaking, you ungrateful wretches! Do you expect me to open for you after the respect you have shown me? I think not. Stand out here and cool your heels all night for all I care!” declared the face in the door.

  “What in…things that thin
gs are in…is that?” asked Valerie, babbling in her surprise.

  “Animated door.” Rachel kept her voice low, not wanting to offend it more. “This is Raleigh. I have heard that every object in this dorm is either alive or a talisman with magical powers.”

  “Why is that?” Sigfried asked, straightening up and stretching, first to one side and then to the other.

  “Because they practice on their dorm. Making magic items, I mean,” replied Rachel. “Or so I’ve been told.”

  “Creepy!” Valerie declared in a singsong voice.

  Rachel took a deep breath and walked forward. Curtsying to the trapdoor, she said kindly, “Honored door, we do not mean any discourtesy. We have never visited your august dorm and do not know the etiquette expected.”

  “Oh, is that so? Well, I might be convinced to make an exception for a bunch of greenhorns. What’s your business?”

  “Bringing food to the familiars who live here.”

  “Bringing food, you say?” The door gave a snort of amusement. Rachel was unpleasantly reminded of the gleam in the fenoderee’s eye. “Very well. You may pass.”

  The door swung open, and the small group entered Raleigh Hall.

  The walls had eyes. The doors had eyes. The doorknobs turned of their own accord if anyone approached them. Feather dusters moved independently, dusting the wainscoting and paintings. Some of the banisters were singing.

  Inside the room where the feed went, the bins all had eyes. They opened their big mouths with excitement as Sigfried dragged in the pallet. However, the moment the group of them began unpacking the food, they snapped their mouths shut and refused to budge.

  Fenguth said, “Raleigh bwbachs life difficult. Doors slam on them. Dressers try to eat. These bins famous throughout school. Always give a hard time.”

  “I bet that is why the fenoderee said ‘Raleigh, too’. He probably doesn’t like to face off against the obnoxious bins.” Rachel stared up at them. The openings were above her head.