116
The Headmaster stared at the portal thrumming in front of him.
Beside him, a Tinker stood with the pad held uselessly in his hands.
Behind them, the teachers had gathered and two agents of the Mage Court stood grimly with their hands behind their backs. Their names were Yael and Marcus.
Yael was short with hair the color of burnt cheese.
Marcus was tall and broad. The scowl on his face looked permanent.
“It has been a day, Headmaster,” Mistress Vizzingbelle said lightly. “Inconvenient though it is, I think we can all agree the Paddstone boy has perished in the dungeon. There is always this risk.”
“He must’ve done something epically stupid,” Master Garmstooth grunted. “I didn’t expect that of him.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Mistakes,” the Headmaster echoed. He looked very tired, and his voice was soft. “Yes, mistakes. Errors. Miscalculations. All these things are what makes us human. Yet, the timing is wretched. Are you sure there has been no tampering?”
The Tinker nodded. “The Dungeon Controls are never left alone. There is no way we know to interfere with a dungeon once it has been created.”
“No way we know,” the Headmaster muttered. “That we know.”
“Do you believe this is an accident?” Yael asked.
“Do you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” she answered. “It only matters what the boy’s father will believe.”
“He will believe we murdered him through some trickery.”
“This will be troublesome,” Marcus grunted.
“That ain’t the half of it,” Master Finklestern said. “I’m gonna need a drink.”
Master Garmstooth shot him a surprised look. “Didn’t you give that up?”
“That was yesterday. Things have changed since then.”
Yael turned her gaze to the Headmaster. “Where is Milo Mooney?”
“He is in his room,” Master Barrowclough answered for him.
“And, while Padrick was in here, Milo was in a tavern with another team. They were celebrating their survival. There is no doubt he was there. Nor any doubt that he stayed the entire evening. He was in no condition to walk afterward. The Hall Monitor has confirmed his state. She says he left enough of a mess in the Common Room for it to be undeniable.”
“And his team? I heard they were close.”
“Were with him.” Master Barrowclough’s eyes narrowed. “If he was responsible for this, it would be some kind of miracle. There has never been a way to interfere with the dungeons. If there were, we wouldn’t have these kinds of accidents in the first place.”
Yael grunted. “It’s not me we need to convince.”
“He will not be convinced,” the Headmaster said, tapping his cane.
“He wants to rule. The father gave, the child received. And when he became the father himself, he still wanted only to receive. Greedy little piggy. Every slight. Every inconvenience. All are attacks of vicious hatred to him. Attacks he would retaliate against with great hatred of his own.”
Marcus nodded. “An entitled brat, you mean?”
“That’s not even the half of it,” Master Haddrow put in wryly.
“We have some hope,” Yael said. “We searched Padrick’s room and found papers. We’ll be handing copies to his family.”
Master Haddrow looked interested. “What kind of papers?”
“He was attempting to blackmail Vesna Farringham.”
Master Finklestern gawped at her. “He was what?”
“He wanted her to use her people to abduct Mister Mooney,” she said. “And bring him to a safe house in the city. There was also an encrypted letter which our people have partially decrypted. It reveals he was housing Fulka Fenricksurge in that same safe house.”
“She’s still here?” Mistress Vizzingbelle frowned. “That would be a risk for her.”
“We raided the house.” Marcus shrugged. “We found bodies. Including Jellickson’s.
We don’t know why he was there, but we found his notebook.
It looks like he was given a tip that the Fenricksurge girl had been seen in the area.
We think he went to check it out and was killed.
Some of Paddstone’s guards look like they were killed in the fighting. ”
“He did fairly well for himself,” Yael added. “We’ll be recommending him for an award.”
“Much good it will do him,” Master Haddrow muttered.
“It will serve his family,” Marcus pointed out. “They’ll get a bigger pension.”
“Fair enough,” the teacher allowed.
The Headmaster squinted at the portal. “No sign of Fulka, though? Missing? Fled? Absconded?” He smiled. “Never there in the first place.”
Yael shrugged. “Your guess is as good as ours, Headmaster.”
“What did Miss Farringham have to say about things?” Mistress Vizzingbelle asked.
“She admitted she was being blackmailed,” Yael said. “But she says she was delaying any action and had sent messages to her father. We’ve requested an agent to be sent to speak to him, but I’ll wager he’ll back her up to the hilt.”
“Of course.” Mistress Vizzingbelle shook her head. “Very convenient.”
“If the house actually belongs to the Paddstones, then it’d be a three course meal,” Master Barrowclough said.
“It does,” Marcus said. “We checked. It’s been in their family for two generations. It was even used by Fallon when he was here. That is confirmed. There’s no way they can say it wasn’t theirs.”
“Marvellous,” the Headmaster said. “Simply astounding.”
Everyone stood staring at the portal.
The blue curtain shimmered softly, but there was no more hope of Padrick emerging.
“Should we close it, Headmaster?”
Headmaster Miles Kendrickburn took a deep breath.
Then he shook his head. “Not yet. Send message. Send word. Let him know we have kept the portal open in hope. We don’t want him thinking we closed it without giving his precious little weasel kit time enough to complete the level.
Better yet, ask his permission to close it.
Until then, delay the dungeon classes. Agent Yael, would you please work with the Tinkers to confirm no tinkering except Tinker tinkering has been tinkered? ”
“Of course,” she said. “We’ve already started questioning everyone. So far, I don’t see a problem.”
“Invite one of the Paddstones to be present.”
“I’d need to confirm that with the Court first.”
“Do so.” The Headmaster gave his head another shake. “Two Paddstones dead within only a year. Such a thing. Such a thing.”
“This is going to be messy.” Master Barrowclough sighed. “There’s no way Fallon won’t use it as an excuse to sign his treaty with the Empire. Then there’ll be blood.”
“I really need a drink,” Master Finklestern said. “I thought I was done with wars. I hoped to spend my days bullying students.”
“He’ll come here first,” Mistress Vizzingbelle said.
“Great.” Master Finklestern grimaced. “You had to say it, didn’t you?”
“We know it’s true.”
“We didn’t know it until you said it. Now it’ll be true.”
She smiled, but turned serious quickly. “What will we do, Headmaster?”
“Plans within plans within plans,” the Headmaster said.
“The Court hasn’t made any announcement yet,” Yael told them. “But we’ve heard they’re mobilizing forces from Anstrum.”
“Soldiers in the city again,” Master Garmstooth said, trying to stay cheerful. He slapped Master Finklestern on the shoulder. “At least you’ll have someone to drink with, eh?”
“Soldiers are the worst to drink with,” the other teacher returned sourly. “They just tell stupid stories everyone’s heard over and over again until your ears bleed.”
“Like you do?”
“My stories are interesting,” Master Finklestern growled. “And funny.”
“Since when?”
“We call this place the Academy,” the Headmaster said.
His voice was quiet, but everyone turned to hear.
“We turned a place of death into a place of learning. It was once a fortress, though. It is clear by its layout. By its security. By its secrets. Its many hidden secrets. Secrets which scratch at the doors and creep through the walls. If the Paddstones come, it will cease to be an Academy. It will be a place of death once more. A place of blood. A place of war. I wonder if it is ready for that?”
“We can activate some of the traps again,” the Tinker said slowly. “But I’m not sure they’d make any difference to the Paddstones. He’ll bring an army. Won’t he?”
This last question was aimed at everyone.
Mistress Vizzingbelle nodded. “He will bring everything he can get his hands on,” she said. “We should consider evacuating.”
“Considered,” the Headmaster said. “Rejected. The Academy is the Academy. It is the heart of the Mage Court. It must remain the heart.”
“The Court won’t want it in the Empire’s hands,” Yael confirmed.
“From the heart, the life blood runs,” the Headmaster continued. “Whether to bleed or to sustain life? We shall see. It depends. Depends on the mind of the wolf.”
“Wolf?” Master Finklestern scratched at his head. “I don’t get that reference.”
The Headmaster tapped his cane against the floor. “Secrets. Plans. And blood. But how hidden? How meticulous? How rich? We shall see. We shall see.”
“Drink,” Master Finklestern muttered. “I really need a drink.”
Master Garmstooth nodded. “Me too.”
“I think we all do,” Marcus said.
In the pipes, Click tucked the crystal away and scurried into the gloom, shuffling words as he ran.
His gears purred.
Soon, he thought, he would have a poem for the ages.
A poem inspired by everything the Headmaster feared.