Chapter 32
NOT QUITE A GLOBAL EXTINCTION EVENT, WHO CARES ABOUT THE CAT, QUESTIONABLE FORETHOUGHT—A HECTIC MORNING INDEED
“. . . deep in . . . dungeons dank.”
Bradley awoke with a snort to the distressed cooing of an attic’s worth of pigeons.
The cry of a desert hawk still echoed through the air.
His head lifted off his arm, a string of saliva linking the corner of his mouth to his sleeve.
Blinking through blurry and slanted vision, he realized his spectacles were askew on his nose.
He was in the workroom. And it was morning.
The apprentice lurched upright, knocking over the nearby mug and spilling the half-drunk tisane over the edge of the desk.
“Gah!” Bradley quickly yanked the nearby books out of range, righted the mug, and when he happened to look up, it was into the garnet carbuncle eyes of the stone frog statue across the room.
Its gaping mouth seemed to laugh at him.
How an inanimate object could make him feel embarrassed was hardly logical, so he took a moment to wipe his mouth, straighten his spectacles, and collect his wits.
After locking the princess in Dirk’s bedroom for the night (a futile gesture, he understood, but one he couldn’t help), he’d started drawing water for his own bath before returning to the kitchen.
He’d wanted to brew some of that tisane the princess had given him that morning.
He hadn’t imagined its concentration- and memory-enhancing effects.
While Ashburnum coffee had quite the kick, he needed something that would do more than just keep him awake as he snuck in some make-up studying time.
Except he couldn’t remember the ratios of the ingredients she used.
So he’d guessed . . . and overdosed himself on the chamomile enough to redefine “relaxation” as “coma-like sleep.”
Thank every one of Caelus’s stars his drool and the tisane hadn’t ruined the priceless books, and thank every one of Caelus’s stars again that the tub faucet was enchanted to turn itself off before the bath could overflow.
The pigeons started to flap and flutter as well as coo, raining bits of dust from the attic into the workroom that were quickly incinerated by the environmental wards. The desert hawk cried again, a piercing sound like wind through a reed.
That’s a griffin, Bradley realized. Miss Penelope!
The sorcerer apprentice shot upright and bolted for the northern balcony. The sun was only halfway over the horizon, the desert waste awash in muted colors, and the griffin was a dark blot that was growing larger with every heartbeat.
This was bad. Very bad. Somewhere past “spilled milk” but not quite “global extinction event” bad. Dirk and Bradley usually devoted an entire day preparing for Miss Penelope Shrewsbury’s arrival, but now, he had fifteen minutes at best.
Just as Dirk was his sometime spy on the princess, so was Miss Penelope Shrewsbury agent and spy for Master Excelsior.
How detailed the reports were that she delivered to him after her visits to the tower, Bradley couldn’t be sure, but she would certainly note the disarray of the workroom, not to mention the presence of two extra persons and one cat who were not authorized to be here, and strip him of his privileges faster than a blue heron plucked a fish from a pond, or approximately one-thirtieth of a second.
Bradley fled for the desk and set to organizing it with all the haste and care of a tornado.
The gold jewelry box with its nautical nightmare necklace was shoved into some nondescript portion of the workroom clutter.
Arms laden with books, he hustled to the shelves to return them willy nilly—he could organize them later—and found Small Magicks unable to fit in the gap meant for the thinner Nuances of High Aetherial.
It served him right, but there was no time to backtrack and do it all properly.
It was the last book to be shelved, so Bradley gave it a shove.
It pushed in halfway and no further. Miss Penelope had an eye for detail as good as her seat for griffin riding, and she would surely notice a book sticking out of the shelves and dock him points for tidiness.
He yanked Small Magicks free and tucked it under his arm. He could hide it under his pillow again—Miss Penelope never looked there.
With all the sure-footedness of a mountain goat, Bradley bounded down the stairs, calling for Dirk every third step. The apprentice paused to inspect the kitchen, which was as tidy as he’d left it last night, and resumed his mad dash to his bedroom.
“Dirk!” Bradley bellowed.
“What?” the baby dragon hollered, finally thrusting his head out into the stairwell. The last of Bradley’s spells had worn off, and Dirk’s scales were their normal cerulean. “I’m busy cleaning my room before Miss Penelope gets here.”
The apprentice halted on the steps so he could sign, “And what were you going to do about Sir Eustace? Miss Penelope is bound to notice a ministry official parked outside our tower!”
“Egad! We’ve got to hide him!”
“And what about the princess?”
“Isn’t she with you? I thought you two were exercising and doing speech therapy in the mornings. Don’t tell me you lost her!”
“I fell asleep in the workroom.” He shook his head irritably. The Major Inconvenience was probably with Sir Roger in the training room. “You deal with Sir Eustace. I’ll deal with the princess.”
“Right. And find Duchess!”
The baby luck dragon shot out of the nearest porthole window, and Bradley leapt the remaining steps down to the bedroom landing.
He would not waste even a second looking for the cat.
She only turned up with any sort of consistency when it was time for supper, which was many hours away.
No, he only had enough time to hide the book, wash yesterday’s stink off in the tub, change, and lock the princess and the hedge knight in the training room (again, for his own peace of mind) with the instruction (or threat) to remain silent until Miss Penelope was gone.
Since Master Excelsior’s spy only ever inspected the common areas, their suites, and the spring, they could be easily overlooked.
Shouldering open the door, he discovered the princess had not snuck into his suite again, (thank every one of Caelus’s stars a third time), but evidence of her presence was everywhere.
In his panic about Miss Penelope, he’d quite forgotten about the results of yesterday’s shopping/looting spree.
Clutter had bred like amorous rabbits, or an infectious disease, and all sorts of feminine nonsense clustered in myriad piles around the room.
Cold water, he realized. A splash of cold water on his face was just what he needed to prevent his brain from short-circuiting from the sheer volume of mess polluting his carefully curated space.
He threw open the bathroom door, verified that the tub faucet had indeed shut itself off as it had spelled to do (because double-checking never hurt anyone), and splashed cold water from the sink onto his face.
A modicum of calm acquired, Bradley stripped out of his robe and underclothes, tossed the latter into the hamper, and grabbed the bar of soap off the tray.
He wouldn’t have time to scrub more than his pits and his groin, but at least he’d get a good dunk in.
Though he didn’t remember doing it, he’d had the forethought last night to dump a measure of restorative moonstone concentrate into the tub.
The milky water glittered like liquid opal.
It would slough off the worst of the grime he’d collected and give his skin a healthy glow—perfect for fooling Miss Penelope.
Bradley stepped into the warm water and sat down on something definitely alive and definitely naked.
The apprentice shot upright with a shout as the princess emerged from under the water with a scream.
Curse every one of Caelus’s stars.