“Yes, Mum,” Ms. Richter said, smiling. “Thank you for bringing this to me.”
“It’s my pleasure, love,” Mum gushed. “I’m sorry I’m a bit late, but Bob abandoned me in the kitchens. I was able to manage as I always do,” she sighed, “but I think we may have to let him go….”
“Yes, Mum,” Ms. Richter said patiently. “I’ll be sure to speak to Bob. Now, if you’ll please close the door on your way out.”
Mum bowed, then suddenly stopped and sniffed the air with a quizzical expression on her face. She shot a panicked glance at the vye on the settee and gave Ms. Richter a horrified stare. Cupping her hands to her mouth, Mum spoke in a whisper heard by everyone in the room.
“Director,” she hissed, “there’s a V-Y-E in the corner!”
With a spastic jerk of her head in the vye’s direction, Mum fixed the Director with a knowing look.
“Yes, Mum, we are quite aware of the vye,” said Ms. Richter, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Would you like me to eat it? It’s no trouble at all!” offered Mum, a hopeful note in her voice.
“That’s very sweet of you, but no—not just at this moment. Now, if you please, Mum.”
With an indignant flip of her lank hair, Mum turned on her heel and marched to the door. Stopping in the doorway, she whirled and grinned at the vye, peeling back her lips to reveal rows of smooth crocodile teeth. With a sudden giggle, she slammed the door and was gone.
The vye looked ill.
“Ms. Richter,” asked Cynthia, “would you really feed that vye to Mum?”
“Absolutely not,” she replied, shaking her head. “Mum’s been putting on too much weight and vyes are enormous. Now, back to business.”
Sipping her coffee, Ms. Richter walked over to the digital map. With a brisk tap of the screen, she zoomed in on a satellite image of a large city.
“I am happy to report that progress has been made. Nine separate operations have independently converged on the city of Istanbul in Turkey. We have long suspected that there exists a honeycomb of chambers deep beneath Topkapi Palace that may have been tunneled long ago by the Enemy. A number of our Agents believe the Potentials may be there; other teams suspect a site in northern Hungary.”
“So why don’t they just go in and get them?” asked Connor.
“I wish it were that simple,” replied the Director. “Can any of you see why that might not be the wisest course of action?”
“Well,” said Cynthia, “if it’s a palace, there are probably lots of people around—tourists and such. They could get hurt, or at the very least, there would be a lot of explaining to do if they saw a bunch of vyes and Agents running around.”
The Director smiled and nodded, glancing from face to face for more answers.
“You said the underground chambers are secret—or supposed to be,” Max added suddenly. “If that’s the case, I would want to spy them out. Even if the Potentials aren’t there, the Enemy might be using the place for something else important. If so, I wouldn’t want them to know that I’d found them. I’d wait to pick my moment.”
Ms. Richter raised her eyebrows and turned to Max.
“I’ll have to inform Mr. Watanabe that you’re holding back in Strategy,” she said. “Any other suggestions?”
“It could all be a trap,” murmured David, his eyes wandering over the map before locking on to Ms. Richter’s.
“Indeed,” replied Ms. Richter, searching David’s face for several moments. “Well done—all of you.”
Max flushed with pride; Ms. Richter was notoriously spare with her compliments. Looking at her watch, she frowned.
“I need to have a word in private with David and Max. Cynthia, you and Connor may go. I hope this little chat has reassured you that many forces are at work to resolve this situation. And lest you think that you children will be the only ones privy to such terrible secrets, we will be sharing this information with the rest of the school. Now, I suggest you hurry off to the kitchens and see if there’s anything left to eat.”
Connor gave Max and David a curious look as he and Cynthia made their exit.
“Cooper, you may go as well,” said the Director. “Please be sure to get treated for that scratch immediately. We don’t need any complications.”
Cooper nodded and opened the French doors that looked out onto the orchard. Closing the doors quietly behind him, Cooper led the vye out into the night. Ms. Richter turned her attention back to Max and David.
“I have asked the two of you to stay because I would like to hear precisely why over four dozen books on art history and a pair of forbidden grimoires are missing from the libraries.”
David’s eyes widened and he shot a glance at Max, but Max only dropped his head, certain of imminent expulsion.
“Cooper was quite impressed with your disappearing act,” the Director said with a small smile. “Rowan has had rumors of a back door to the Archives for some time.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Richter,” said David. “I got curious—I’ll return the books tonight.”
Ms. Richter shook her head.
“I’d prefer it if you did not, David,” said the Director. “As far as I am aware, you are the only person on this campus capable of using those grimoires without peril. As such, I am more interested in hearing what you have learned than devising some sort of punishment. Would you care to share your thoughts?”
David stood. “Astaroth was never destroyed,” he said abruptly. “I knew from the stars in our room.”
Max was amazed at the change that had come over his roommate. David’s downcast eyes kindled with energy and assumed a darting intensity that seemed to gather and process information continuously. Ms. Richter said nothing but gestured for David to continue.
“I knew Astaroth was alive,” continued David. “Everything suggested he was imprisoned somehow. My first guess was that the paintings might be clues to where he was imprisoned…but the grimoires told me something else.”
Ms. Richter sipped at her coffee and listened intently.
“Because Astaroth was so strong, I was curious what kind of prison could hold him,” said David, pacing about the room. “I kept imagining a mountain or something huge. The answer was actually the opposite. Interwoven spells of Old Magic were used to bind him within something small and precious—a painting.”
“Why a painting?” asked the Director.
David nodded. “That was my question, too, but it’s not random. Paintings are perfect prisons for things like this; secret symbols and guardians can be infused into the materials, images, composition, everything….”
“Do you know in which painting Astaroth is hidden?” asked Ms. Richter pointedly.
“No,” said David, shaking his head.
“Really?” said Ms. Richter, raising an eyebrow and leaning forward.
David tried to meet the Director’s gaze but looked away and began coughing. Max was surprised that his roommate, normally so timid, was not more cooperative.
“I don’t know if I should say,” said David quietly when his coughing had stopped. “I mean, you’re the Director…. Why don’t you know? Maybe nobody’s supposed to know. Maybe they just wanted Astaroth to fade away in a prison no one even knew existed, much less where to find or break it?”
“A fair point,” conceded Ms. Richter. “Indeed, it has long been rumored among our faculty that Astaroth was imprisoned in a painting, but I am not aware that any Director has ever had the specifics. Based on what you’ve said, however, I think that time is past. We must know where Astaroth is and if the Enemy has already taken possession of him.”
David cleared his throat.
“I don’t know exactly which painting, but I have hunches…,” he said.
Ms. Richter glanced at the French doors and closed the curtains with a wave of her hand. David began pacing around the chair once again.