Ms. Richter raised her hands and the fire writhed and grew. Within it Max saw a great castle with many towers and gabled roofs on a mountain of rock high above the sea. He squinted to see it more clearly, but the flickering flames and smoke obscured it.
“By all accounts, Solas was a wonder! The greatest minds and Mystics of the age were tutored within its walls, veiled in secrecy from the Enemy until they were strong enough to take their proper place outside. From Solas came those who would bring the Dark Ages to an end.
“After their triumphs, mankind was left in peace. For centuries, no great evil emerged, and we began to hope that we had finally succeeded! We believed that the corrupted Stewards and their many minions and offspring had abandoned this world for another. We were wrong.”
Ms. Richter stood again and backed away from the fire. The image of Solas was lost in flames that swept higher and higher until the beach was filled with strange light and shadows.
“Astaroth came.”
Max froze at hearing the name again—Mrs. Millen had said it. She had shrieked it when she chased after him and his leg had gone numb.
“Astaroth was much more patient and clever than those before him. He did not declare himself, but instead remained hidden, manipulating men and countries like chess pieces across the continents. By the 1640s, our world was in great turmoil. The Ming Dynasty collapsed; the countries of Europe fought with one another; England was consumed by civil war. Brilliant minds were imprisoned and tortured for heresy….”
Ms. Richter frowned and gazed at the fountain of flames before her.
“The wisest among us, Elias Bram, perceived that these events were not random follies of man. He sensed that the world’s troubles were stirred in secret by a greater mind and malevolence. Astaroth’s true name and form were revealed, and our people unraveled many evil works near completion. Enraged, Astaroth bent his cunning mind on finding the source of those who opposed him.
“In the end, we were betrayed. Astaroth learned of us and our school. The great gates were thrown down, and many brave souls were lost. The Enemy paid a heavy price, however. Solas was broken, but Astaroth was broken with it. Bram came and fought with him, and the towers and halls toppled down around them. Bram fell, but not in vain—a great evil was removed from this world.”
The roaring pillar of flame began to die and wither to quiet licks of flame among the spent logs.
“The students and teachers who survived fled Astaroth’s armies and sought aid from the Tuatha de Danaan. These precious few were spirited here aboard the Kestrel, and Rowan was raised from the countryside. It is Old Magic, children, that hides this place and makes it strange.”
Ms. Richter sat down once again and took the hands of the two nearest children, giving them a gentle smile.
“And, now, you are here. We are here so many years after our allies secured this haven and enabled our kind to continue. I am so pleased to have you among us. You have been called to Rowan not to fight, but to learn—to develop that noble spark within you. As the Director and a fellow human being, I hope that you will do your best to kindle that spark within you. Much depends upon it.”
Max could not tell how long they sat in silence, huddled around the flames as they finally died to embers. He struggled to imagine what his role could possibly be in such a vast history. He turned to David, but his roommate was watching the stars, his small face thoughtful and serious. After a time, Ms. Richter broke the silence.
“It is late and there is much to do tomorrow. I will lead you back to the Manse.”
The children picked up their lanterns and followed behind, making the long trek across the lawns to their new home.
6
THE LAST LYMRILL
The clanging chorus of Old Tom’s chimes brought Max from his slumber with a shout. He had been dreaming of the hound again, and it was several moments until he remembered where he was. Lying back on his bed, Max watched the constellations rotating slowly, their golden contours fainter from the tints of pink and gold peeking from the dome’s bottom rim. The chimes counted seven.
Max yawned and swung his feet over the side of the bed. Stumbling downstairs, he found his fuzzy yellow towel hanging from a hook by his dresser. David was already downstairs, coughing hard.
“Hi,” said David, turning his back to slip on a T-shirt.
“Hey—I guess this is as close to morning as it gets in this room!”
David laughed and pulled on a pair of shorts.
“Are you gonna shower?” asked Max.
David turned around quickly with a nervous expression. “Oh, no. I’m okay,” he said.
Max left the room and walked barefoot down the hall carrying his towel and toiletries. Hearing his name, he turned to see Connor trotting after him.
“Morning, Max! Reckon they could have told us Old Tom would turn up the volume for the bell.”
Connor grinned and pushed through the door to Room 301. Max followed and saw him standing speechless.
The bathroom was a huge space filled with cedar lockers, slatted benches, and tropical plants. Max could hear classical music over the light babble of a marble fountain. One long wall was lined with gleaming sinks and silver faucets shaped like leaping dolphins. Across the room were three archways with brass signs indicating toilets, showers, and spa.
The door opened behind them, and Max turned to see Rolf, Jesse, Omar, and several other boys.
“Wow!” exclaimed Omar, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “Did you guys configure this?”
“Someone had to,” said Connor humbly, examining his nails. He slung his towel over his shoulder and headed for the spa.
Max remembered the time and hurried to the showers. Stepping inside a stall, he was puzzled at what he found. Instead of normal faucets, there were six small silver levers protruding from the marble wall. Max pulled the one on the far left, then hopped up and down as cold water sprayed from a showerhead above him. He turned it off and tried the next only to have hot water—much too hot—pin him into the corner until he could kick the lever upright with his toe. Wincing a bit, he pulled the third lever and let out a sigh of relief as a heavy jet of warm water burst from the showerhead.
A frantic shriek sounded from several stalls over.
“Third from the left!” Max shouted.
“Thank you!” piped a grateful voice in reply.
After tugging at the fourth lever, Max jumped back as soap bubbles ran out of a little hidden spigot and quickly filled the stall, cascading over the door before Max could slow the stream. Lever five produced an emerald dollop of shampoo that he caught in his hand. Lever six sputtered once before releasing a steady stream of warm shaving cream. Max laughed and dabbed a bit on his chin, then sculpted a white beard of foam. He peered out the shower door to look at himself just as Omar did the same. The two burst into laughter and disappeared into their respective stalls.
Standing in puddles of water, dozens of boys were brushing their teeth and chatting when they heard a loud “Ahem!” Turning, Max was startled to see a bald three-foot-tall man who looked like a leprechaun wearing an old blue suit and massaging his jowls as he surveyed them. He smelled very strongly of musky cologne, and he looked angry.
“Enjoying yourselves, are you? Fun business making a mess of Jimmy’s bath, is it?”
The little man stepped toward them.
“Well, what’s the matter, lads? Mum got your tongues? Old enough to shave, but too young to answer for yourselves?” He flashed a dark look at Omar and Max, who shrank against the wall. Several faucets continued running behind them.
Connor stepped forward.
“Sir, we didn’t mean—”
“Silence!”
Max shot a glance at Connor, who looked just as frightened and confused as Max felt. The man took another step toward the group, his face turning crimson.
Just then, the door swung open and Nigel’s head popped in.
“Hurry up, boys. Ms. Richter’s already in the orientation—Jimmy! How are you? Long time.”
The little man rolled his eyes.