“Not really,” said the clerk. “Enough to feed a hutchful of rabbits, possibly. Or a rather abstemious reindeer. But not a school. No.”
“See to it, then,” said Lord Rudolph. “Now then, Miss Flivvers. Obviously the school needs a manageress, so I—”
“I shall do the best I can, Lord Rudolph.” Miss Flivvers bowed her head modestly. “Thank you for your confidence in me.”
“I meant—”
“Wonderful,” said the clerk. “That’s that settled, isn’t it, sir?”
Lord Rudolph glowered at his clerk. “I had intended to close the school, and disperse the students.”
Sell the students, you mean. The effort Chantel had to expend in not saying this made Japheth even more restless. She thought she ought to be given a medal for deportment.
“Oh, we may not want to do that just yet, sir,” said Miss Flivvers. “The children were telling me that you were interested in perhaps finding a spell . . . ?”
“The Buttoning. It is vital to the defense of the nation,” said Lord Rudolph.
Miss Flivvers nodded and smiled and blinked. “If I may humbly venture an idea—”
And Miss Flivvers told him about Chantel’s ability to see the Ago.
Lord Rudolph directed his piercing gaze at Chantel. “Do you think you can find the Buttoning in the past?”
Snake or no, Chantel had to reply. She used all the magic of her deportment and managed to force the snake down into her stomach, where he slithered around nauseatingly.
“I can but try, sir.” She was surprised at how even and grown-up her voice sounded.
“Hm. ‘Try,’” said Lord Rudolph. “‘Try’ isn’t good enough. It needs to be done by Midsummer’s Eve. That’s when the Marauders threaten to kill Miss Ellicott.”
Chantel used her deportment to put all the confidence into her voice that she could. “I can do it.”
Miss Flivvers showed Lord Rudolph and Mr. Less out. Leila went with them.
“I just hope he remembers to send the money,” said Anna, as soon as they were gone.
“Anna, how can you think that a gentleman like Lord Rudolph would go back on his word?” said Miss Flivvers.
Anna shot her a disbelieving look.
“The clerk will remember,” said Chantel. “If he doesn’t, we’ll go and remind him.”
“Chantel!” Miss Flivvers looked shocked. “I am—”
“Concerned about my deportment. Yes. I beg your pardon, Miss Flivvers.” Chantel curtseyed, the snake swirling angrily.
“You have interrupted me,” said Miss Flivvers. “It is absolutely necessary that you comport yourself in the manner of a decent young lady, Chantel. We are all counting on you to find the Buttoning. And on Anna, of course,” she added as an afterthought.
“Miss Flivvers, I beg your pardon,” said Chantel. “But did you not understand what I told you before? The Marauders have Miss Ellicott and they won’t give her back unless we bring down the walls.”
“Are you actually suggesting bringing down the walls?” said Miss Flivvers.
“No, of course not,” said Chantel. “But—”
“Things may not be as they seem,” Miss Flivvers interrupted. “We are counting on you. You must not fail us.”
The snake churning in her stomach gave Chantel the resolve and bad manners to say what she said next. “Miss Flivvers, we were counting on you. And you did fail us. You let Mrs. Warthall take control of the school. You can’t let anything like that happen again. If I’m going to be busy searching the Ago, you’d better be busy protecting the little girls.”
Miss Flivvers reddened. “Is it your place to correct your elders?”
“No, Miss Flivvers, it’s not. I beg your pardon,” said Chantel. “Do we have a deal?”
Miss Flivvers looked furious. She looked as if she was about to demand that Chantel recite the 172 Rules and 38 Corollaries for Knowing One’s Place. Then she, too, called on her deportment.
“You will search the Ago,” said Miss Flivvers. “And you will find the . . . the lost lore, if that’s what it is. And while you search, we shall all do our duty.”
The snake in Chantel’s belly sighed. That was probably as close to a promise as Chantel was likely to get. “Yes, Miss Flivvers.”
12
IN WHICH CHANTEL OBTAINS THE ADVICE OF A PERSON SOMEWHAT OLDER THAN HERSELF
Chantel decided to do the Ago spell at Dimswitch itself. After practicing for a few days, she set off early one morning. Anna and Bowser had gone ahead to set up the brazier and basin. Franklin walked with Chantel, to help her carry supplies.
They took a short cut through the Green Terraces. They followed a stone walkway that led under arbors of vines that held clusters of tiny green grapes. They climbed down several staircases, past a terrace of peach and apple orchards, and one of dark green potato plants. Chantel wished the potatoes were ready to eat. The crops weren’t coming along quite as well as they should. There were no sorceresses’ cultivation spells to help them.
She pointed out the orchards to Franklin.
“I had a peach once,” she said. “I won it as a prize for memorization and deportment.”
“Once?” said Franklin.
“Well, they’re very expensive, of course.”
Franklin looked at her like she was crazy. “They grow all over the plains. In the summer you can buy them for a penny a peck at the markets.”
Chantel figured he was making this up. Obviously he was still overwhelmed by the magnificence of Lightning Pass, and it was natural he would want to talk up the Roughlands a bit.
They passed through a tunnel formed by melon vines just beginning to work their way up wrought-iron frames.
“When the vines have finished growing,” Chantel told him, “they’ll form a tableau of the treachery of Queen Haywith. You can see if you look—”
“Is there anything that we can eat right now?” said Franklin.
“Of course not!” said Chantel. “It isn’t ours. And anyway, you can see it’s guarded.”
She pointed out the guard towers to him.
“Oh, of course,” said Franklin. “You people would guard gardens, wouldn’t you.”
The snake in Chantel’s head twitched with fury. On the one hand she quite liked Franklin. She appreciated that he had many good qualities . . . none of which were his annoying twangy accent, his arrogance, or his air of Marauder superiority.
“What have the Marauders done with the sorceresses?” she demanded. “You must know something.”
“I don’t,” said Franklin.
“Well, it could have been your people. Charles the Bloody?”
“Karl the Bloody,” Franklin snapped.
The snake squirmed happily at having annoyed him.
“We wouldn’t take them,” said Franklin. “We don’t—”
“We who?” said Chantel.
“We, the tribe of Karl,” said Franklin. “The Sunbiters.”
“But you ran away.”
“I’m still a Sunbiter,” said Franklin. “We don’t take hostages. We just kill people. Properly, you know. We give them a chance to die a noble and honorable death, so that they’ll go to their ancestors in glory.”
Chantel’s stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. “You mean you killed the sorceresses?”
“I doubt it,” said Franklin. “I’m sure we never had them in the first place.” He started to step over a stone wall. Chantel caught him just in time.