Melaleuca searched her feelings and found a strange peace about swapping clothes.
Trust.
‘We will think of something and prevail.’ Melaleuca said pulling her sackcloth clothes off.
‘Only one way to find out,’ Quixote said, and then said to Ari, ‘Shall we?’
Ari nodded.
They threw the new uniforms on, and started thumping each other, with no affect.
Lexington pulled on her shirt and trousers, and reached into the sackcloth, stowing her notebook in one of the many pockets on her new uniform.
Melaleuca reached across, smacking her hard on the back with a closed fist. Though she felt nothing, Lexington looked at Melaleuca drolly, saying, ‘I got it, though once again it makes no sense. I thought the bracelets only work with the costumes in the attic.
Quixote smirked and said, ‘Another theory?’
From behind, the old man coughed startling them all.
Had he heard what Lexington said, and more importantly, understood it?
‘The uniforms belonged to some of the greatest students we ever had here,’ he said. ‘Greatest. I never forget who wore what.’ He scratched his bald, flaking head, with his stump. ‘Tho’ blowed if I kin recall their names.’ He shuffled back between the rows calling out, ‘Now you will need boots!’
After much banging and crashing he returned with another box, and threw it down, revealing black calf boots; sole-less of course.
‘Worn by those who went on to join the Inquisat.’
He nodded and winked as if he shared a lesser-known secret.
The old man drew his eyes to the knee-less trousers and with a wistful stare, sighed, saying, ‘Awwwww, really great knees. They had the strong, hard knees of a champion.’
He lifted his stumpy arm up, wiping his eyes.
‘How’d you lose your hands?’ Quixote asked.
Before he could answer, the door opened again and Matron Henlenessy entered, staring long eyed at them.
‘Very good. Not as baggy as we had hoped and...’ She reached out and touched the uniforms. Annoyed, she threw a horrible look at the man.
‘I said old uniforms!’
Unperturbed, the man muttered back, ‘I did as told. Check for yourself.’
Matron Henlenessy grabbed Quixote’s shirt, examining it closer.
‘Yes. I see. Strange. Well get in a line, so I can see how disgusting you all are.’
They lined up and she examined their white, skinny, pathetic knees.
‘We shall have to start with your knees. Crash course, if everyone is to be kept happy. Follow me.’
They clattered off down the corridor.
‘Should I not be in detention?’ Quixote asked grinning.
From her cape Matron Henlenessy produced a small stick with a flat end, and smacked Quixote hard across the face. Un-maimed he looked back at her puzzled.
‘Is that a yes?’
‘Shh!’ Melaleuca said, wanting to tell him to play along.
Matron Henlenessy lashed Melaleuca’s face with the stick. Unhurt but surprised, Melaleuca stared with defiance at her.
‘Only a pedagogue and above can discipline. You will go to detention when I say. Anymore trouble and you will spend the day in there.’ She held the stick to Melaleuca’s face. ‘And wipe that look off your face.’
They arrived at another room, filled with work benches and tools, surrounded by cupboards. Master Phrenia entered from a rear door. With his pug nose and cleft chin, he sauntered ungainly toward them. In one arm, held tight by his massive hands, he held four leathered objects, and in the other a clipboard.
Quixote recognized him as the man with the wooden knees, a fact that all the cousins now saw on most people.
‘How’s your knees?’ Quixote asked.
Matron Henlenessy grabbed Quixote’s small body and thrust it downwards as she drove her knee up into the side of his head.
‘Take a closer look at mine. DETENTION!!!’
Quixote pulled himself upright, unaffected and asked, ‘Is that the same one, or another detention?’
Melaleuca pulled faces at Quixote, indicating that he should pretend to be dizzy and hurt. He understood, but before he could, Matron Henlenessy drove her other knee into his stomach so hard she lifted him off the floor. Quixote cried out in pain, landing hard on the ground, wincing in agony.
‘Very good,’ Master Phrenia said to Matron Henlenessy in congratulation. He booted Quixote for good measure, and then threw the leather objects on a bench. He hauled Quixote onto his feet, and said, ‘When disciplined, make no noise. Just get up again.’
Lexington studied the leather objects, guessing that they were some sort of Galeslar. Questions filled her mind. Without thinking she turned to Matron Henlenessy to ask a question but then stopped, realising where she was and who she spoke to.
Matron Henlenessy saw this. ‘Good. You are learning and fast.’ She pursed her lips in a tight smile.
Master Phrenia grabbed the leather objects again and held them up.
‘These are Galeslars…..Every student worthy of pain gets awarded one after the first great test, Bramble Park. Upon it you gather your rank, your insignia, your passes, your fails, your character, your life, your ethos, in short, this is your key to survival here. Those without one, those deemed unworthy, those like the...’ He pulled a face as he spoke the next words. ‘...like the Gorks will never wear one.’
He stopped and handed them each a Galeslar.
‘I do not agree, but it has been decided to award you one in light of surviving your first day. No first timer has ever withstood what you did yesterday and returned. I am highly suspicious of course, but there you go. You will still be required to complete Bramble Park soon. Now...’
He reached across to his own decorated Galeslar and tugging it, said, ‘Notice that it does not slide off. Yet it is not attached to anything other than...’ He stopped as the cousins had started to put their Galeslars on.
In unison and on costume-bracelet induced instinct, they flipped them over, threaded their left arm down one end of it and out the other. They reached over with the right hand and smacked the top of it hard. A sickening flesh-biting sound came from under their left shoulders. They hit them again, and this time bone cracking and breaking sounded. From under their new second-hand brown shirts, blood oozed out, staining it, though the cousins showed no sign of pain.
Surprised, both Matron Henlenessy and Master Phrenia asked, ‘How did you know to do that?’
No one spoke.
‘Well answer,’ Master Phrenia roared.
‘I thought asking questions was a sign of low intelligence,’ Melaleuca said.
Master Phrenia slapped her face. ‘Insolence. I like it. Perhaps with that attitude, the skin on your face will harden over time with every slap you will receive. And you will, no doubt, receive many.’
Ari stepped forward to answer the question. ‘It just seemed the right way to do it.’
‘Take them off,’ Matron Henlenessy barked, ‘and the shirts.’
They stripped to their waist.
Both the discipliners inspected the cousins left shoulders; great looks of surprise crossing their faces. The cousins turned to see what interested them so much.
On the front and back of their shoulders, a few centimeters across, an inch or so deep, two holes bore into their flesh. Already the blood had dried and the flesh around it had healed and mended.
Quixote fascinated by his, stuck his finger in it and moved his arm around. He could feel some of the bone and muscle pushing against his finger.
Lexington looked at hers, feeling queasy. She touched her notebook for comfort.
‘You have worn Galeslars before!!’ Matron Henlenessy said surprised.
‘It appears so,’ Master Phrenia said. ‘Though...’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Did anyone see them before?’
Matron Henlenessy still looked a little dumbstruck.
‘What?’
‘Their bodies! Can anyone
confirm whether these dlup holes were here before?’
She shrugged her shoulders.
‘They bled.’
‘Dlup holes can bleed a little after inactivity.’ He turned to the cousins. ‘Kit up. Something is strange here. I am a Master Discipliner, sprung from the fallen House of Quills, the keeper of records. What few records we have left I will check. Matron Gertrude, as a Matron of Josephus’s, keeper of antiquities, may shed some light.’ He turned to Matron Henlenessy. ‘Matron, take them to the coal room. We shall start there.’
Shirts back on, Galeslars slung, they followed a disturbed Matron Henlenessy out of the room.
In the corridor she said to Quixote, ‘Detention now. Tell Mohg when finished you are to go to the coal room. The rest of you follow me.’
***
Quixote bounded in with keenness.
‘Reporting for detentionnnnn!’
Steam leaked up out of the ground, stale air hung lank around him, smells of horridness teased his nostrils and weapons of torture still sat on the wall amidst chains.
‘Alrights, alrights,’ Mohg called back.
The dim-wits turned up dragging two boys with them. They threw them on the ground. Bruised and bleeding, they lay there not daring to move.
‘Hello,’ Quixote said, and then yelled, ‘Oi! I ain’t got all day!’
‘Who dares...,’ Mohg bellowed back, starting to run. ‘I smash insolence.’
His fat body burst into the entrance cavern, face screwed up in squashed revulsion.
‘What’s for detention today?’ Quixote asked, ‘More mud sliding?’
‘Well I’ll be,’ Mohg said. ‘Look at ja. Smart. What ja do now?’
‘It’s my first time.’
‘Is it?’ Mohg looked confused and then said, ‘Ere! You being funny?’
‘Yes.’
Mohg beamed a look of pride and turned to the two beaten boys.
‘See dis. Dis ‘ere is what I’s tells you about. I’m about to freeze ‘im, an’ look! Laughing. Makes my job all da worhf it.’
The two boys looked at Quixote, who in turn winked at them.
‘Come on den,’ Mohg said.
***
Into a hushed, dark room, smelling of coal, Melaleuca, Ari and Lexington were shoved. About forty children in sack cloth, no older than seven or eight, knelt in silence on piles of coal.
A teenager, dressed in black approached.
‘Yes?’
None of them knew what to say.
‘Well?’ he asked.
Task-Master Quenlein entered the room, and a small shiver ran through the young children. He walked past the cousins, uttering, ‘kneel,’ to them, and then said to the teenager, ‘Are you the pedagogue-in-training.’
‘Yes, Task-Master.’
‘Four piles of your sharpest coal for this lot. Be quick.’
Soon the cousins knelt on the freshly delivered coal, doing so with no pain. Task-Master Quenlein pulled out a box with two small pieces of wood, each containing about thirty to forty knifes, their sharp tips pointing upward.
Knees first, Task-Master Quenlein placed his full weight on them, impaling his large protruding knees upon the knives. The tips dug deep into his flesh, though he showed no sign of pain, nor did any blood appear.
‘IF YOU THINK COAL HURTS!’ Task-Master Quenlein shouted. ‘THEN TRY THESE.’ He motioned to the knives. ‘THIS IS YOUR GOAL!’ He laughed at the shocked looks they tried to hide.
‘YOU HAVE A FEW MORE YEARS TO GO BEFORE THIS IS EXPECTED OF YOU. IN EACH NEW CLASS I ASK IF ANY AMONGST YOU IS BRAVE ENOUGH TO TRY……. WELL?’
A deathly silence fell over the class.
Lexington felt her kneecaps, discovering that they had already developed thick calluses. She motioned to the others to feel their knees. Their knees were the same as hers.
‘Bracelets,’ Ari mouthed to them.
Task-Master Quenlein pricked his head up, staring at Ari. ‘So you want to have a go. Come on then.’
All heads swiveled to stare at Ari.
‘The last student who tried this sliced one of his kneecaps off. Brave, but deformed now.’ He motioned vigorously for Ari to approach. ‘Come on then, no backing out.’
The pedagogue in training tried to haul Ari to his feet, though struggled to lift him. Ari swatted his hand away, stood, and despite Lexington whispering, ‘don’t,’ he walked toward Task-Master Quenlein.
Lexington whispered to Melaleuca. ‘If kneeling on knives is a feat beyond this uniform, he might get hurt.’
***
‘In ya hop,’ Mohg told Quixote, pointing to a hole in the ground.
Quixote climbed down into it and Mohg called for one of the dim-wits. They arrived with a hose and started filling the hole with water.
‘What’s this one?’ Quixote asked.
‘You’ll see.’
Mohg disappeared, returning once Quixote’s head bobbed above the water. Mohg held a frosted metal looking chamber. Its seams shone the same incandescent blue as silverquick.
‘Ready?’ Mohg asked. Before Quixote could answer, Mohg dropped the container into the water.
It splashed, but the droplets from the splash never landed back into the water. In a flash, with a ripping, cracking noise, all the water froze around Quixote.
***
Ari stood before Task-Master Quenlein, unafraid.
‘Well boy,’ Task-Master Quenlein said with a growl in his voice. ‘Think you’re man enough to try.’
Ari reasoned that if the costume on the sharp coals produced thick, calloused knees, then it might produce even thicker knees on the knives. If it worked, and if his knees became super hardened, then surely that would arouse too much suspicion. As much as he wanted to show Task-Master Quenlein how stout he could be, he had to decline.
‘Try boy or be branded a coward.’
Ari took a small step backward.
‘A COWARD IT IS THEN!’
Task-Master Quenlein got up off the knives, and walked to a red faced Ari.
‘You have strength, no doubt. Wise choice. They would have sliced your knees open. But wisdom pales before bravery.’ He punched Ari in his face, though Ari did not flinch.
Task-Master Quenlein walked off yelling to the Pedagogue in training, ‘Another hour. More coal. Mix some stone chips in.’
***
Like a blast from an Antarctica wind, the intense cold ripped through Quixote, robbing all warmth and breath from him. With blue lips, and icicles forming on his head, he could only move his eyes.
Mohg grinned.
‘That got ja, didn’t it.’
Frozen, Quixote started hallucinating, and he imagined that he was an iceman, made entirely of cold. In his mind he saw himself wandering the world putting out fires to cheers of, ‘Yah for Iceman.’
Enthralled, his excited imagination spread warmth through his body, dispelling the intense sapping cold of the ice.
His lips slowly turned pink and his face became flush with colour again, and he yelled out to Mohg, ‘Nice day for a swim.’
Mohg came back to find him laughing and shaking his head from side to side, singing and humming.
Amazed Mohg shook his head from side to side. ‘You’re a different one you are eh! What’s your name?’
‘Quixote Teleois Pisces Arrnor!’
***
An hour had passed and still they knelt. Though they felt no pain, the boredom started to get at Lexington.
The door opened and Quixote waltzed in. He saw what the others were doing and knelt beside them. In an instance his knees formed super calluses.
A horn sounded and all the children stood up. Some took their time, others tried not to show the pain, while others had blood trickling down their knees.
As the last ones left, Lexington said, ‘Barbaric,’ and reached for her notebook.
Like the day before they found themselves out the back, on the large grass field. In front of them sat the large, run down old building, and beyond
that the place where they had been lassoed to the posts.
No one approached them, and though they could see Jerkin harassing others, he ignored them, as did everyone else. The Gorks shambled by trying to send subtle messages, though none of it made sense.
‘How are we all doing?’ Melaleuca asked. ‘Lex?’
‘I’m....’ She touched her notebook. ‘...surprisingly okay.’
‘Ari?’ Melaleuca asked.
‘I nearly tried the knives.’
‘You may have hurt yourself if you had,’ Lexington said.
‘I stopped myself because I did not want to give us away.’
‘Mmm. Wise then for the wrong reasons.’ Lexington tapped her notebook. ‘How do these costumes work? I mean sometimes we are protected and sometimes we aren’t. Especially these uniforms. They don’t come from the attic.’
‘But great students once wore them,’ Ari added.
‘I have a theory then. Most of the costumes in the attic are old. Maybe they were worn by real gymnasts, detectives, you know, people in that actual role. So therefore since these clothes we now have on were once worn by great students, then perhaps with the bracelets, they extract those abilities out of the clothes and bestow them upon us!’
A deep relish came over her, pleased to have stretched and exercised her mind to solve more mysteries.
‘But!’ Lexington exclaimed. ‘Why are we not seen as Marauders now? I mean we have the “you-know-whats” on, and are protected. But we are not seen as Marauders. That’s strange.’
Seeing no obvious answer, she faced the others. Equally as stumped they stared back blank-faced.
‘Perhaps it’s quite simple really,’ Ari said.
‘Oh?’
‘All the costumes that make us Marauders seem to be ones that are not known here. I mean there are no cowboys, Indians, or gymnasts. So maybe they see them and assume because it is different we are one of these things from whatever happened ages ago.’
‘Whereas...,’ Lexington said, ‘...with the Vahn uniforms on it is a sight that is expected!’ She mulled it over for a few seconds and then said, ‘Does not entirely fit.’
Vahn and the Bold Extraction, The Page 7
