The Spellbinder (Tom & Laura Series), page 8
“Flaming hell! Why did they send you here; did you kill someone? Or is someone trying to kill you? That would make sense. You are safe from enemies out here because no one is supposed to know where we are. And everybody here has been super-vetted so you don’t have to fear us. Is Carter a Class A too? Why did you tell me? That could be a mistake; I’m not good at keeping secrets. You shouldn’t have told me. You really shouldn’t.”
Burns was bouncing up and down with excitement. Laura put a hand on the girl’s shoulder to calm her down.
“Let’s sort out your hair first. It’s probably best if I don’t answer your questions, except to say that Tom is a Healer, not a Spellbinder. Can we leave it at that?”
Burns started to speak and then stopped. In the internal struggle that followed it looked as if she was going to burst from trying not to speak. She turned away from Laura and banged her fists against the wall. Laura tried very hard not to laugh.
In the space provided by the silence, Laura took a sheet of military grade parchment from her valise and carefully folded and tore off a small strip. She thought it best to conserve her paper as best she could. It wasn’t as if she could go to a stationers to get some more.
“What color hair would you like?” she asked.
Burns turned to her and made a visible effort at self-control before saying “Brown would be nice, or maybe red, no brown. Make it brown.”
Laura completed the bind and Burns’s blue hair changed to auburn.
“It’s done. Have a look in the mirror.”
Burns was delighted as she checked herself out. There was no trace of blue anywhere in her hair. She reached for her bag and told Laura, “Time to add a scar, I think.”
Laura looked on in fascination as Burns took out a couple of thin waxy crayons from her valise and created a revoltingly vivid scar across her pretty left cheek. As she worked on getting it to look just right she began to talk, this time less excitedly as she had to concentrate and keep her head still.
“These crayons are made of greasepaint and they are used by actors in the theatre. You never know when a disguise will come in handy. One day when I’m spying on the Austrian Hungarian Empire this is going to save my life.”
Laura knew she could create a much more realistic scar by writing a few words on paper, but she was impressed with how realistic Burns’ finished product looked. The girl turned to her and became agitated all over again.
“Oh my gosh, we’ll be terribly late for our first lesson. The Trench, Mrs. Trenchard to you, won’t like that at all. She’s not one to take any nonsense from her students. We have to hurry up.”
Laura allowed Burns to drag her out of the lavatory and they ran down the corridor. Burns could run very fast and Laura had trouble keeping up with her.
Everybody looked round when they entered the room, especially the sour faced woman dressed entirely in black standing by the chalkboard. Laura found her face reddening under their gazes while Burns had changed her run to a stroll as they entered and acted entirely unconcerned.
Tom and Tompkins had kept two desks spare alongside them and Laura sat down gratefully. Burns made sure that everyone in the room saw the scar on her face by turning a slow full circle before finally sitting down to a smattering of applause from her fellow students.
“Very good, Miss Burns,” Mrs. Trenchard said dryly, “If only your written work was as good as your make-up you would undoubtedly be getting A’s instead of your usual dismal D’s. In addition, may I congratulate you on the removal of the dye from your hair? The sight of which has been giving me a severe headache.”
Mrs. Trenchard stared at the class and they fell silent.
“We welcome today two new members to this training academy, Miss Young and Mr. Carter. Miss Young is a talented Spellbinder and Mr. Carter is a Healer. While they are unusually young to be here I hope you will make them welcome. They have already been subjected to an enemy attack in London and…”
At the mention of the attack the room filled with the sound of whispering. The students had heard about the poison gas accident in London and were busy putting two and two together.
“If I can get your attention please!” Mrs. Trenchard said loudly. The noise died down. “They have been moved to Hobsgate for their own safety…,”
“Not to mention the safety of Londoners,” an anonymous voice put in from the back of the room
“…and I expect you to help them adapt to their new environment.” Mrs. Trenchard continued. “Don’t disappoint me in this matter, ladies and gentlemen.”
“For the benefit of our new puppies, my name is Mrs. Trenchard and I am the deputy head of this establishment. I teach strategy, though how much of it gets into the thick heads of my students is entirely another matter.”
“Today we are going to consider the Empire’s relationship with France. One of the first uses of military magic was to extend the Empire to include the previously French province of Brittany. As the name suggested, over the centuries this land has been under the control of English on and off since William the Conqueror conquered England in 1066.”
Laura was surprised when Mrs. Trenchard then took what appeared to be a very negative view of the Empire. They were told about massacres of innocents, betrayals and how, even today, the majority of the people in Brittany thought of themselves as Frenchmen held captive under foreign rule. This contrasted with history lessons from her school where much had been made of the heroic actions of the Empire’s soldiers against the swarthy republican French hoards in the taking of the province.
“So we British are scum then?” A voice asked sarcastically from the back of the room. “All those brave soldiers who fought and gave their lives for Queen and country were nothing but murderers and rapists?”
Mrs. Trenchard smiled at the interruption. “A good question, Damon. I am giving you a balanced view, so you will understand why people fight against the Empire, and why the French are still our enemies, though we are not currently at war with them.” Mrs. Trenchard looked over her glasses at her pupils, “If you do not learn this, you would be identified as a spy the first time you opened your mouth in France, no matter how good your French accent.”
She paused while they absorbed that lesson. “I believe in the Empire, we have brought order and stability to large portions of the globe, we build schools and hospitals and treat all our subjects as equals. Nevertheless, we have done this by destroying their original methods of government and by killing many good people who fought against us for their country. Our job now is to hold the Empire together until these things are forgiven and the good that the Empire does can be seen and understood.”
Mrs. Trenchard turned to the blackboard and began to write copious notes onto the board. This included Brittany’s population size, split into its cities and towns, local religions and numbers of churchgoers, regions and disputed lands. It soon became clear that politics in Brittany was a complex matter.
Tom wondered what exactly they were being taught. He had always thought strategy was about deciding when to deploy your cavalry in a battle. Mrs. Trenchard seemed to think it was about getting one group of the enemy mad with another so they never banded together to rebel.
When the lesson finished he made his way to the door carried along by the crowd as Laura and Burns stayed by their desks caught up in some discussion. Tompkins had gone ahead with the rest of the class and Tom hung back outside the door until the corridor was empty of staff and students. The corridor turned a right angle a few yards ahead and he had no idea where the other students had gone after that.
He was getting a bit nervous, just standing there, and he wished Laura would get a move on and join him. The Burns girl did not seem to be a good influence on her.
A muffled voice called to him from around the corner, “Carter, come quick. I need your help.”
Tom looked into the lecture room and saw that Laura and Burns were still talking. The voice called to him again, this time more urgently.
He hurried down the corridor and turned the corner into a vicious impact of a fist into his solar plexus, bending him over and knocking the air from his lungs. A knee drove into his chest and ribs. He heard one of his ribs crack as he was lifted into the air by the force of the blow. He fell back into the corridor he’d come from. The last thing he saw was the tip of a boot being driven at his head.
Laura noticed that Tom was no longer standing at the door and for some reason it disturbed her. Cam, ‘it’s short for Camilla’ Burns was talking about disguises and wanted to know if she could fake an accent using a bind. Laura hadn’t been able to get away, but she was sure that Tom wouldn’t have gone on without her. She left Cam in mid-sentence and ran to the door. Looking along the corridor she saw Tom’s body slumped on the ground, blood pooling around his head.
When she reached him, she dropped to the floor and cradled his head. He was breathing, but unconscious. Cam arrived at her side and spoke in an unexpectedly commanding manner.
“You stay here and look after him. I’ll go and get the doctor.”
Cam dropped her valise and ran down the corridor as fast as she could go.
Chapter 12 No License
Laura was very concerned when she examined Tom. Someone had kicked him in the head and there was a large and nasty gash on his forehead, surrounded by a large swollen area. The head wound appeared to be the source of all the blood. She dabbed at it with her handkerchief and was astonished to see the wound decrease in size. Tom was beginning to get some color back in his cheeks.
His breathing had been labored when she first arrived, but that was also becoming more normal. Though it was against all the laws of magic it looked as though Tom was healing himself.
Tom returned to consciousness and felt dizzy. There was a red haze in front of his eyes and he couldn’t see a thing. His head throbbed in time to the beat of his heart and he could hear blood hissing in his ears. The world swam back into focus. He looked up to see Laura staring down at him.
“Are we there yet?” he asked, thinking for a second that he was back on the train.
Laura gave him a severe look. “We are at Hobsgate. We were just about to go to our class when I found you on the floor. What happened?”
“Someone called to me,” Tom said tentatively, struggling to remember what had happened as he spoke. “I went to see what they wanted and walked straight into someone’s fist. Do you think it was Snood?”
Laura shook her head. “No he’s not due here till next week, or so Cam says.” She saw Tom look puzzled and explained. “Camilla Burns, that’s her full name. Can you stand?”
Tom staggered to his feet and ran his hands over his torso. He bent over with his hands gripping tightly to his knees as a wave of dizziness ran through him. “I was sure I heard a rib crack, but it’s all right now. That bind of yours must be doing something extra special. I felt awful a few moments ago, but now I think I’m going to be fine.”
Cam and two elderly men appeared at the end of the corridor. The men were puffing heavily as they approached them at a run.
Cam looked surprised to see Tom on his feet. “I thought you were dead, for sure. This is the Doctor and the Headmaster.”
Tom concluded that the man with the black case must be the doctor and sure enough, this was the man who examined him. The doctor looked into his eyes and asking him how he felt, prodding his ribs and chest feeling for broken bones.
The Headmaster paced behind the doctor. He was clearly upset, mumbling under his breath something about ‘inauspicious starts’ and ‘damn Trelawney’.
“Well, Mister Carter. Someone seems to have given you a kicking, but their heart was not in it or we’d be taking you down to the infirmary. I’m Dr Grout, the school’s physician. I understand you’re a Healer?”
“Grade 2, I think. But I haven’t done the formal tests yet.”
The doctor looked suitably impressed. “I’m a Grade 4 myself, and have to rely more on my potions and training than talent. Lack of talent spared me the front lines though.”
“Just let me put something on that wound and you’ll be fine. Don’t do anything strenuous for a week and come back to me if you experience any nausea. I’ll give you tincture of opium to take for the pain.”
When the doctor finished, the Headmaster moved forward to question Tom, “Carter, eh. Well, what happened, young fellow? Can’t have accidents happening in the school. It was an accident wasn’t it?”
It was obvious what answer the Headmaster desired and Tom was happy to oblige. It was traditional boarding school rules: Whatever happens, never involve the teachers or any outsider.
“Yes sir, I was late for my next class and slipped while running along the corridor and banged my head on the wall. I’m sorry for causing so much fuss, sir. I’ll be more careful in future.”
Laura flushed with anger at Tom’s lies before she realized why he was doing it. He was right; there was no other course they could take. It made her blood boil to let someone get away with it though.
“I take it you are Miss Young,” the Headmaster said turning his attention to Laura, “The Class A. Not that such things mean anything here, young lady. You’ll be treated exactly as the others,” he said while implying the exact opposite, “No favoritism and no slackers. Hobsgate motto, you know, created it myself.”
For a few seconds it appeared the conversation had come to an end. Then the Headmaster started talking again.
“The train you were on last night. Did you see anybody?”
“I’m sorry, sir?” said Laura, “You mean, did we see the stationmaster at the station?”
“No girl, another man, a gentleman. He fell out of the train last night, breaking a leg and his shoulder, poor fellow. Terrible injury to his right hand. Poor man had to have two of his fingers amputated and was lucky to keep his index finger. Did you see him?”
“No” Laura said quickly. “Poor man, lost two fingers did you say? But then, I expect he will soon get used to not having them.”
“That’s a rather flippant comment, young lady.” The Headmaster sounded surprised. “Compassion was considered a noble quality in a woman, back in my youth.”
“Is he in hospital?” Tom enquired, wondering if they were going to be attacked by Bruno again in the near future. It was beginning to feel as if grouse season had started and Laura and he were the grouse.
“No, he was taken back to London. Nevertheless, the police are most unhappy. There was a gun involved and the police mistrust guns, even when they are in the hands of a gentleman.” The headmaster seemed to relax now he knew his students were not involved with the man. “Go on then, get back to your lessons. Very important, your education. You must not neglect it.”
They had already missed the lesson according to Cam. She kept up a non-stop monologue as she guided them through the school. She decided they should go straight on to next lesson and led them up several flights of spiral stairs.
The classroom was empty when they got there.
“Back or front?” Cam enquired. “I usually sit at the back.”
“Front,” Laura said decisively, settling the matter for all of them. They took up seats on the front row. “What is this lesson?”
“Ethics with Snow White,” Cam said and grinned. “I’ll bet that’s a surprise.”
“Snow White?” Tom asked. It seemed like a strange name to him.
“After the Prussian folk tale, we learn about things like that in History. You need to know about folklore if you want to fit in with the natives. His real name in Dr Snow, but you’ll see why we call him Snow White when he turns up.”
“Strategy and ethics lessons?” Laura said. “This is a very strange school.”
“I could not possibly disagree with you,” Cam replied airily.
Dr Snow arrived a few minutes later and if the presence of three students surprised him, he was determined not to let them know. His long hair and beard were pure white and Tom had to suppress a giggle as he saw how apt the nickname was.
Dr Snow ignored them as he shuffled papers on his desk. Finally, he looked up at them. “You must be the puppies the Headmaster has been in so much of a dither about. I gather one of you is a Spellbinder?”
“Me, sir.”
“Well, Miss Young. I do not take well to Spellbinder’s who disrupt my lessons, so do not try it or you will find you will have good reason to regret it.” His eyes moved briefly to the instruments of chastisement hanging on the wall. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Laura said quickly. She felt it was rather unfair to treat her as though she was a criminal before she had done anything. Still, Spellbinders were notorious for playing tricks on others, so perhaps he had suffered from Spellbinders in the past.
Nobody spoke as they waited for the rest of the students to arrive. Laura, in particular, wanted to watch each of their faces as they saw Tom at his desk. With any luck his attacker would betray some emotion, as they would undoubtedly be expecting him to be badly hurt.
The students rushed into the room with Tompkins in the lead. He carried a girl’s hair ribbon triumphantly in the air before him. The girl he had stolen it from chased behind him, her long hair waving luxuriantly over her shoulders. Tompkins ran around Laura’s desk as the girl snatched at her ribbon. The two students blocked Laura’s view for the critical seconds as the rest of the students entered the room.
Laura contemplated what Tompkins might look like as a toad. She was angry enough to bind him for his stupidity. The girl snatched her ribbon back as Dr Snow coughed and Tompkins froze. She tied her hair as quickly as she could and went to sit down.
Tom considered ethics to be an extraordinary subject to find its way onto the curriculum in a school for spies. Surely spying was as far from ethical as you could possibly get?
To his surprise, much of the lesson was taken up describing the philosophers of ancient Greece. However, a set of off-the-cuff remarks that started when someone began talking at the back grabbed Tom’s attention.
