Faculty of Fire (18 page)

“And by the way, I’d like to draw attention to a very interesting fact,” said Chas, deciding to change the subject. “If three months go by in here while one day goes by outside, imagine what the view from the Academy windows will be like! It means for the first month and a half the sun will be shining, and for the next month and a half we’ll have moonlight, doesn’t it? That’s quite amusing, don’t you think? A month and a half of day, a month and a half of night …”

Nobody said anything for a while as they digested what he’d said.

“Now I understand why the curtains in my bedroom are so dark and heavy,” Neville remarked. “To avoid damaging us psychologically.”

Meanwhile the corridor came to an end, and we walked onto the platform with the teleports.

“By the way,” I asked, suddenly remembering our little problem. “Did anyone understand how these dragon’s devices work?”

The dining hall turned out to be pretty standard. We were greeted by the smell of food, the din created by the pupils (or students, as the strange voice had called us) and the clatter of dishes. Most of the tables were already taken (we were late this time, after getting a few teleports confused), so we had to sit where we could. And where we could sit just happened to be right in the centre of the hall. We saw the other members of our group at the next table – they obviously had a better grasp of the teleport system than we did.

The moment we sat down, a young guy with a suspiciously jolly expression on his face came running over to our table and asked in a cheerful voice, “What would you like to order?”

We opened our mouths to ask about the menu, but Vickers junior got in ahead of us.

“I’d like whatever soup you recommend, as long as it’s thick and rich, for the main course roast meat, you can choose, any kind will do, just as long as it’s nice and crispy on the outside, and for dessert ice cream will do, or just a small cake.”

The young guy listened to this order patiently and then without even batting an eyelid, he remarked casually: “You know, the Academy of the Craft is a state institution, so meat is forbidden here by decree of our great Emperor and starchy foods have been declared harmful to the practice of meditation, so first year pupils are not allowed to eat flour either.”

“Then what is there to eat?” Naïve asked in a trembling voice.

I he would burst into tears, but fortunately it didn’t happen.

His older brother gave him a supportive slap on the shoulder and I thought I heard Alice chuckled reassuringly too. But the waiter decided to sprinkle a certain well known chemical compound in the wound suffered by this lover of a good feed.

“What is there to eat?” he repeated, throwing his arms up in the air. “Have you any idea how many delicious herbs there are? And best of all – they’re so good for you! Just take nettle soup, now …”

“But nettles sting,” said Chas, startled. He’d been raised on sausage and salami from his father’s shop, and he was only familiar with vegetarian cuisine from hearsay. “I refuse to inflict that kind of violence on my body!”

Vickers junior nodded hastily as a sign of solidarity.

“So you want to pass on lunch?” the waiter asked in delight.

In the heat of the moment, Chas would probably have passed on dinner as well as lunch, and for an entire month too, but just in time I nudged him in the side with my elbow and took the initiative.

“No, of course not, bring us what everyone else is having.”

As the waiter was leaving when Alice tugged on his sleeve so hard that he almost lost his balance. His eyes ended up at the same level as hers, and he smiled at the vampiress uncertainly– how could anyone not smile at such a beautiful girl? She gave him a brilliant smile in reply – that well known “predator-and-prey” vampire smile. I was already quite well used to the vampiress’s company, but that smile sent a cold shiver down my back. The waiter attempted to beat a hasty retreat, but the girl had him in a grip of iron.

“I’m warning you,” Alice declared affectionately. “If lunch isn’t filling enough, someone else will have to fill the gaps in my nutrition.”

None of us, especially the waiter, had any doubts at all about who exactly would be added to the vampiress’s menu in the role of dessert.

“Of course, of course,” the waiter muttered, backing away from us at incredible speed. And moving at that same incredible speed he crashed straight into a hefty guy with a moustache who was carrying a huge tray.

The racket was so loud, it practically drowned out the blue language from the hefty waiter, who was knocked off his feet. But once the racket stopped … Vickers senior put his hands over his younger brother’s ears just to be on the safe side.

“To make sure he doesn’t pick up any vulgar expressions,” Neville explained in response to our looks of surprise.

Alice twirled one finger beside her head once again to indicate that she didn’t understand this little family unit at all.

I hastily changed the subject to something less provocative.

“Alice, are you really going to eat vegetarian food?” I asked and suddenly felt slightly embarrassed, when I realised my choice of subject wasn’t quite appropriate. “Well … I mean … you probably, that is … well …”

“She drinks blood,” Chas put in helpfully.

“Yes, yes …” I said with a withering glance at Chas. “You feed on vital energy, and how much vital energy is there in a carrot?”

“You what?” Chas hissed. “Don’t you ever dare say that in front of druids. For a comment like that they’ll use you as fertiliser for their favourite weeds.”

“Are they really that sensitive?” I asked in surprise, delighted that the conversation had taken a new direction.

“No, not really,” said Chas, twirling one finger beside his head – he must have picked up the gesture from our vampiress. “It’s just that they’re absolutely gaga about those carrots of theirs – but don’t misconstrue my meaning.”

Alice laughed, and I could hardly repress a smile. Even Vickers senior allowed himself a smile, but he kept his hands on his brother’s ears.

“Your jokes are a bit on the dirty side …” I remarked.

“That’s not true, I always wash them before use,” Chas retorted.

Our duel of words was interrupted by a waiter who began setting out plates on the table with suspicious stealth. The plates contained some strange-looking green substance. And another strange thing was that it was a different waiter.

Chas sniffed at the contents of his plate with obvious suspicion.

“They won’t poison us, will they?”

“They shouldn’t, really,” I mused. “They must know it’s not that easy to poison a vampire, and Alice would avenge us, wouldn’t she?”

“Of course,” the vampiress agreed.

The final plates clinked as they were tossed onto the table and the waiter disappeared. It seemed like everyone in the place was feeling rather nervous.

There was another appalling racket as the waiter running away from our table crashed at full speed into the same hefty guy with a moustache, who had only just finished swearing and picking up the plates that he’d dropped. The waiter ran past our table, followed by the hefty guy waving a massive ladle.

“I wonder if he’ll catch him?” Neville asked, taking his hands off his brother’s ears as soon as the pair ran out the door.

“I hope not,” said Chas, shaking his head. “I feel sorry for the lad …”

My friend’s attention was focused on the peculiar green slush in his plate. It was obviously intended to bear the proud title of soup.

“This is going to kill me,” Chas declared.

I looked mournfully at my own plate and mentally agreed. I never thought life in the Academy would be as hard as THIS.

I was distracted from my gloomy thoughts by Vickers junior, who was crunching gleefully on some product of progressive horticulture. There was no danger of this lad going hungry, he could eat absolutely anything at all.

To my surprise, Alice was crunching on something green and round with equal gusto. The vampiress replied rather sharply to my enquiring glance: “Do you find the peculiarities of my biology so very fascinating? In that case, let me tell you that I eat the same food as normal people. Would you like any more physiological details?”

I stopped Chas just in time – I was quite sure he was about to tell her which physiological details he thought I’d like to know about. A dig in the side with an elbow prevented the smart ass from completely ruining my relationship with the vampiress … if the relationship existed, that is … and if a relationship was actually possible between a vampiress and a member a Great House.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, waving an inconspicuous fist at Chas.

Alice just snorted at my apology, and Chas apparently didn’t even notice my threat.

“So do you plant rows of vegetables round your castles, then? A kind of kitchen garden … for vitamins?” Chas asked Alice as he puzzled over the fruit – or maybe vegetable, who could tell the difference? – that he was twirling in his fingers. “You’re pretty quick at picking your way through those fruits.”

“No lad, you’re wrong,” Neville told him. “The castles belong to the older clans. The Noos Clan doesn’t live in castles.”

“Then where do they live?” Chas asked in surprise.

“I’ve no idea,” Neville replied. “Ask your little girlfriend here.”

“She’s not exactly my little girlfriend,” Chas laughed, with a sly glance at the vampiress, who was taking absolutely no notice of him. “More like Zach’s little girlfriend.”

The smart ass inconspicuously dodged the inconspicuous blow from my elbow and sank his teeth into a tuber as if nothing had happened.

But strangely enough, he was quite right – Alice really was choosing her fruits quite confidently, and she clearly knew what they tasted like. As for me, I didn’t have a clue about all this green stuff (actually it was fruit and it was different colours, but we couldn’t think of all this vegetarian food as anything but “green”) and I didn’t know what it tasted like. For instance, I was quite certain that what I had in front of me was a common or garden tomato, so I salted it, but that was a mistake … later Alice gave us a brief introduction to biology, and I learned that the sweet red fruit was called an apple. A variety that had been produced only a few months earlier, in the Academy’s laboratories. But how Alice knew that and why she needed to know such things anyway remained a mystery to us.

And in any case, we were in a state of mild shock at the idea of a vampiress(!) teaching us about vegetarian nutrition.

Alice answered all our questions with a vague chuckle and a shrug, but she was as stubborn as a partisan fighter under interrogation.

“Well now …” Chas declared with his mouth full. “And they say our Emperor’s losing his grip. But just look – he’s even got the vampires on his dragonish vegetarian diet.”

“You know, it’s actually quite delicious,” remarked Vickers junior, who had polished off his own portion a long time ago and moved on smoothly to mine.

“So you’d be happy never to eat meat again?” his older brother asked.

The younger brother’s face reflected a painful process of thought.

“Never ever?” Naïve asked eventually.

“Right,” muttered Chas, giving all his attention to something large and yellow, but still trying to take part in the conversation.

“O-oh no-o,” the young gourmand said slowly. “Imagine life without any veal or chicken or salami sausage …”

“Or rissoles, or chops, or meatballs …” Chas continued dreamily.

“Soups with thick broth, shish-kebabs, meat pies …” said Vickers junior, staring in loathing at the apple in his hand. “I want to go home …”

Alice couldn’t help chuckling, and that set the rest of us laughing. Naïve was the only one who didn’t laugh – he was obviously suffering …

We were distracted from his torment by a new squabble, this time one in which we weren’t involved. Two of the lads at the next table jumped up from their seats and started arguing in loud voices.

“Your firebird is no match for my butterfly!”

“Your butterfly can’t even come close to my firebird!”

“Why should it come close, when it flies so much faster?”

“Tomorrow we’ll see just how tough your butterfly really is!”

“You want a duel?”

“Sure!”

“At dawn?”

“Sure, I like to win my victories before breakfast.”

While this dialogue went on the rest of the dining hall was absolutely silent.

We simply couldn’t believe our luck – on our second day in the Academy, we were going to see a genuine duel!

“Did you hear that?” Chas asked in a whisper. “It seems like fortune has smiled on us.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, glancing round sceptically at the suspiciously quiet pupils from the senior classes. It was natural enough for the new arrivals to hold their breath and hang on every word, but why had the senior pupils stopped talking?