Beaming, Sigfried crossed the chamber and joined them. “You’ve heard of me?”
“Everyone’s heard of you, boy. You are the most famous young man in the World of the Wise. How many orphans kill dragons and make off with their hoards?”
A huge grin crossed Siggy’s face. “Wicked!”
Rachel was dying to ask the thousands of questions she had gathered over the last five days, but she restrained herself. First, she had a report to make.
“The shadows from Dr. Mordeau’s cloak!” she blurted out, gesturing wildly in the direction of the belfry. “One possessed a muskrat and switched on the obscuration lantern.”
Both men stared at her, their smiles frozen on their faces.
Still kneeling, Agent Darling searched her face carefully. “And this shade came from Mordeau’s cloak?”
Rachel nodded.
He glanced up at Standish. Agent Standish nodded once and took off at a run, his cheetah loping ahead of him. Outside, his footsteps rang against the stone steps.
“Your Master Warder, Nighthawk, rounded up quite a few of the shades. We had hoped that was all of them.” Agent Darling drummed his fingers thoughtfully on his knee. “If only we had some way of discovering how many there are.”
Rachel thought back to the basement of Drake Hall, the moment when Mordeau threw down her cloak and it dissolved into shadows. She froze that memory and counted.
“Twenty-four.”
“What?” Agent Darling glanced up.
“There were twenty-four shadows, sir.”
“Are you sure?”
Rachel examined the moments after that, as the shadows rushed away down the corridor. She counted twice more. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, that’s…very useful.” Agent Darling blinked. “Thank you, Rachel.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a green-tinted, mirrored business card. When he passed his hands over it, the image changed to show the Wisecraft’s lantern surrounded by stars. He spoke to the card, “People. Darling here. Six of Mordeau’s shades are on the loose. Keep a sharp eye out.”
“Whoa! I want one of those mirrors!” Sigfried exclaimed. “It would have been useful to be able to talk to each other when we got separated today. And in this crazy place of yours, phones don’t work. What about those? Do I have to be a spy to have one?”
“They’re calling cards,” Rachel told him. “You can buy them at alchemy shops.”
“Will you order some? That would be wicked cool!”
“They’re very expensive,” Rachel began, but Siggy cut her off.
“Expensive for you? Or expensive for me?”
“Oh, right. I’ll order some.”
Agent Darling gestured at where Agent MacDannan questioned the princess. “Anything I can do for you, while you wait your turn?”
Rachel gazed at him, questions burning her tongue like hot embers. She wanted to learn the answers so much. Not knowing was nigh unbearable. Who was Mortimer Egg? Why did he try to kill Valerie Hunt? Where was Valerie’s missing father? What about the Raven? Was their world the one whose doom the Raven foretold? Or another? Were there really other worlds? Where did the princess go during her visions? Why did Dr. Mordeau think it was possible to resurrect the dead? Could it be done? If so, could they bring back her beloved Grandfather?
Dr. Mordeau had mentioned a tragedy related to her grandfather. Rachel desperately wanted to know more about that. Yet the idea that some harm might have befallen him was so horrifying, she could hardly find her voice to ask.
Misinterpreting her distress as shyness, Agent Darling gave Rachel an encouraging smile. “It’s been some time since I took you for that broom ride, Miss Griffin. I see you ride yourself now.” As he glanced at Vroomie, his eyebrows arched. “A steeplechaser! Impressive. I didn’t know anyone rode those anymore.”
“A few people do,” she replied with pride.
“I knew another little girl once who rode a steeplechaser.” He chuckled, “She used to tilt her head to one side and say, ‘James, what is a steeple anyway? And why should I chase it?’”
“Who was she?” Rachel twisted her broom between her hands. “Does she still ride?”
Agent Darling’s face became very still. His gaze took on a faraway look mingled with something else Rachel could not place. Weariness? Sorrow? Despair?
Rising, he brushed off his hands. “I…I had better go see if Standish needs a hand. Scarlett…uh…Agent MacDannan will see to you two.”
He walked abruptly from the chamber, his tortoiseshell cat padding silently behind him.
Chapter Three:
The Balmy Surface of the Sun
“Miss Griffin, Mr. Smith,” called Agent MacDannan. “Your turn.”
Rachel crossed to stand before the ginger-headed Agent and curtsied. The rat on the woman’s shoulder sniffed at her inquisitively. Rachel held out her finger and smiled as the little beast snuffled her. Behind her, Sigfried approached more warily.
“Our turn for…what?” he asked suspiciously.
Agent MacDannan replied, “We have a method for undoing the new geases—the spell your math tutor used to control your fellow students and make them attack each other. We want to ask you about what happened today. First, we must make certain you are not under her influence. We don’t know how many students she ensorcelled.”
“What’s the process for ending the spell?” Sigfried squinted at the Agent through one eye. The other eye was squeezed shut. “What exactly will happen to us?”
“A fair question. First, I’ll use the Word of Ending cantrip. It stops any active effects of the geas. After that, I will play a song—an enchantment that compels the listener to tell the truth. It has other side effects—such as to remove the geas itself. Which is why we are using it here.”
“But we are not geased,” Rachel objected.
“We cannot know that for certain,” replied the Agent. “Best to be careful.”
Sigfried took three steps backwards. “Tell the truth for how long?”
Agent MacDannan snorted with amusement. “The effect is temporary, Mr. Smith. Once the music stops, it only lingers briefly. This is not like being questioned by the Grand Inquisitor. I shall not take advantage of the fact that you are under the influence of my spell to ask you your life history and every wrong thing you have ever done. I only plan to ask one question: ‘Do you remember anything that you did not remember a minute ago?’”
“That doesn’t sound…so bad,” Siggy said uncertainly. “Will it hurt?”
“Not at all. Right, Miss Romanov?” Agent MacDannan gestured at the princess.
“It was not uncomfortable in the least, Mr. Smith.” Nastasia nodded her head graciously from where she sat on the stone bench. “It felt cool and refreshing. I am already myself again.”
“I guess that’s okay,” Sigfried spoke reluctantly.
“Not that anyone should need compulsion to tell the truth,” the princess added.
Siggy rolled his eyes.
Agent MacDannan instructed Rachel and Sigfried to stand side-by-side. She raised the index finger of her right hand and moved it horizontally, the gesture for the Word of Ending.
“Obé,” she commanded. “There, the first part is done. Very well, Miss Griffin first. Now, where did I put my bagpipes? Oh. Still wearing them. Right.”
Rachel leaned her broom against the wall. Stepping into the center of the disenchanting chamber, she took a deep breath. Despite how nonchalant she had been when describing the Spell of True Recitation to Sigfried, her stomach felt as if it had been tied into knots. She favored telling the truth. As someone who normally hid her reactions and chose her words carefully, however, the idea of having no control over how she might answer filled her with dread.
Agent MacDannan raised her bagpipes and began to play. Music flowed from the instrument, along with sparkles of golden lights and the fresh scent of newly-fallen rain. The tiny stars twirled around Rachel, lifting her off the floor. Her hair flew up above her. A wo
nderful sensation bore her upwards, as if she were resting upon a bed of warm wind. It felt so wonderful. She let go of her trepidations and shouted in delight.
The glinting lights felt refreshing, like a crisp autumn breeze. As they brushed against her skin, one or two pricked with uncomfortable heat. Rachel twitched and shimmied in mid-air. A gleam caught in her hair. It hung above her, a star stuck in a cascade of satiny blackness. The sight filled her with unexpected joy.
The rousing music caused images of recent events to flash through her mind. She vividly recalled the duel she had won the previous night and how Gaius had smiled at her, right before he leaned in and kissed her. The memory sent a shiver of anticipation throughout her body. He was so cute, so intriguing…
But did she want him to be her boyfriend?
Her feelings for him were so fierce, so pure, so new. She was not certain she wished to risk adding volatile romantic emotions. What she felt toward him seemed sacred, exalted above ordinary things, like one of these tiny sparks that danced around her. She wanted to catch it in her hands and protect the precious thing, in the hope that, if nurtured, it might grow into a blazing fire. She did not want to take any chances that it might get extinguished.
She would have liked to dwell on Gaius, but the music compelled her mind to move forward. The events of this day, the first Friday of her first week at Roanoke Academy, rushed past. Everything was as she had experienced it the first time, except for one thing.
While she and Gaius had been watching the duel between the dean and the math-teaching dragon, they had not been alone. Perched in a nearby tree had been a raven the size of an eagle with eyes as red as blood.
A frisson of fear crept up her spine. No. The Raven had not been watching Mordeau. It had been watching her.
The music rose, reached a crescendo, and faded. Her feet touched the stone floor. Her hair settled around her shoulders. She tried to catch the last gleaming spark but it had vanished. She gazed sadly at her empty hands.
“Miss Griffin. Do you remember anything now that you did not remember before?”
Images of the Raven crowded into the foreground of her thoughts. Rachel’s fears came rushing back. She thought panic would close up her throat, but her mouth opened and answered without consulting her.
“That horrid Raven was watching me. The one that is the omen of the doom of worlds.”
“Raven, doom of worlds?” Agent MacDannan blinked.
“That’s what Master Warder Nighthawk called it.”
“Interesting. Anything else?”
Rachel shook her head, but, to her dismay, she could not keep herself from continuing to speak. “The Wisecraft does know the world’s in danger, right?”
“The world’s in danger, Miss Griffin? How so?”
“Didn’t you hear me?” Rachel cried. Then she cringed. She never would have spoken so rudely to one of the Six Musketeers if she could have controlled her response. “That horrid Raven signifies the doom of worlds, and he’s here. On our world. Looking at people! Something’s terribly wrong. I know it!”
Agent MacDannan stared at her, her expression unreadable. “An interesting theory, Miss Griffin. Please wait with Miss Romanov. Your turn, Mr. Smith?”
Rachel wanted to explain how she had heard Dr. Mordeau admit that she worked for Veltdammerung, an organization devoted to ending the world, but Agent MacDannan had already turned to Sigfried. Sighing, Rachel stepped to the side and sat down on the bench.
She smiled cheerfully at Nastasia, but, underneath, she felt shaken. First she had blurted out things against her will—a disturbing experience for anyone, but doubly so for someone who usually masked her emotions—and now, when she wanted to talk, no one would listen!
Some days, it was hard being so tiny.
It made it easy to get overlooked.
Then there was the disquieting thing she had just recalled. Why had the Raven been watching her? Was she doomed personally? If an omen intended to be invisible, and you saw through its disguise, did it count as having seen it?
What if the world really were in danger, and none of the adults believed her?
Sigfried stepped into the center of the floor, scowling. The bagpipe music swelled, sparks swirled. He soared up into the air, an extremely handsome boy amidst glinting golden sparkles, like a young Adonis surrounded by fairy dust.
“Ouch! Hot! Hot! Hot!” Sigfried shouted.
Hot?
“I’ll save you, Boss!” The door banged open, and Lucky swooped into the disenchanting chamber. He flashed toward Sigfried and wrapped his long sinuous body around him and yanked him out of the swirl of bright gold sparks. Huge gouts of red-orange flame shot out of his mouth. The tiny sparkles burst and dissolved in the dragon fire.
Rachel cringed. So much for keeping Lucky’s ability to talk a secret. Agent MacDannan was staring in open astonishment.
Lucky and Sigfried spun across the floor, somersaulting, limbs flailing. Rachel heard a muffled “Ooch! Ouch! Ooch! Ouch!” but could not tell which one of them made the sound.
“Oww! Ow! Owww!” Sigfried rolled up onto his feet. The long, sinuous dragon still wrapped around him like a furry golden boa. “That hurt!”
“Sorry,” Lucky mumbled.
“No, not you, though my elbow smarts something fierce from where it clonked against the stone. I meant those sparks. They burned!”
Agent MacDannan lowered her bagpipes. “If a person habitually lies, this spell can feel a bit warm.”
Rachel thought of the two sparks that had burned when the others felt cool. She recalled the moment she chose to lie to Mortimer Egg—possibly her first serious real lie. That decision might have saved Valerie Hunt’s life. Hot sparks or no, she was glad she had done it.
“Warm?” Siggy cried. “I suppose you’d call the surface of the sun warm. I’m covered with burns!” He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his arm, but there were no marks. “Huh. Was that like that spell the Starkadder rotter used on the princess? The one with the black fire that made her scream but didn’t leave burns?”
“He did…what?” Agent MacDannan gasped.
“Phantom fire,” Rachel answered without even meaning to. She shivered and hugged her arms. Blurting things out without forethought was so disturbing!
“Please, it is no matter. Let us not talk about it.” The princess flushed.
“That’s…black magic!” Agent MacDannan cried in shock. “That’s illegal. He could go to jail for that. Which prince did this? Was he over eighteen? Oh, please tell me it wasn’t the crown prince. That’s a political mess no one wants to have to face.”
“Remus. He’s number two in line,” said Rachel.
“Thank goodness.” Agent MacDannan rubbed her face. “Oh! Quickly, before the enchantment wears off: Mr. Smith, do you remember anything you had forgotten?”
Sigfried’s eyes grew huge. His jaw flapped up and down like a flag in the wind.
“Hundreds of things! Blimey!” he cried, waving his arms expansively. “The skies of London are filled with people on brooms. And giant flying umbrellas with platforms at the bottom of their handles, large enough for families to stand on. And flying ships. Huge clipper ships with massive sails that fly through the air! And buildings! Whole buildings I didn’t remember! The Temple to Apollo at Westminster has an additional wing I had never noticed. How could we Unwary fail to notice a whole third of a public building? Oh, and men in Inverness cloaks with staffs! Are those staffs like the wands the Drake kids use, only bigger? Wicked! Oh and horse-drawn carriages! And an aardvark the size of a house! How could I have I not noticed all this?”
Aardvark the size of a house? That was new. Perhaps Siggy made it up. But wasn’t he still under the sway of the Spell of True Recitation?
Agent MacDannan nodded calmly. “Obscuration causes people to forget what they see.”
A cold tingle ran up Rachel’s spine. For her, remembering back broke the illusion of an obscuration, but she had not realized that obscurat
ions worked by interfering with memory.
The thought made her queasy.
“That’s not very nice.” Sigfried scowled. “Why do you hide things from the Unwary? How can they be anything but unwary, if they have no way to grow wise to what you’re up to?”
“Many reasons,” Agent MacDannan replied briskly. “They can be summed up as: if the Unwary knew about us, we would have to rule them.”
“But…why?” Sigfried exploded, stomping forward. “That doesn’t make any sense!”
The Agent ran a hand over her bushy hair, a crackle of impatience in her voice. “Because those without power are envious of those with it. Even if this were not true of many, it takes only a few rogues to ruin things. Our treaties with the fey world—the Five Elf Lords, the Pixy Claves, the King Beneath the Mountain, the Gnomes, etc.—are very delicate. They only protect the Unwary as long as the Unwary do not interact with the supernatural world.
“The instant mundane folk find out about magic, they invariably rush off and make deals with the magical entities, in the hopes of gaining powers like ours for themselves—and these deals always go badly. It is better they remain unaware. It is their only chance at freedom and a good life.”
Siggy scowled. “Doesn’t seem fair. Lucky! Did you know that the skies are filled with flying sorcerers on brooms and floaty ships and stuff.”
“Yeah.”
“Wh-why didn’t you tell me?”
“Uh…don’t know.” The dragon shrugged, a process that caused a wave to travel down the length of its body. “Didn’t know you didn’t see them.”
“Huh,” muttered Sigfried. He started to say something more, but then he stopped. He and Lucky looked at each other silently for a time. Rachel suspected they were talking to each other mind-to-mind.
Agent MacDannan addressed Sigfried and Rachel. “Now that we know you were not under a geas, we’d like to hear what happened today, from each of you. We already heard what Miss Romanov remembers. Mr. Smith?”
She tried to ask Sigfried questions, but his answers were so disconnected that she was not able to follow his story. Rachel stepped forward and tugged on Agent MacDannan’s sleeve.
The Raven, The Elf, and Rachel (A Book of Unexpected Enlightenment 2) Page 3
