Faculty of Fire (19 page)

“You sceptic,” Chas said disdainfully. “So, before our next breakfast we head for … where exactly do we head for?”

“Yes, where?” put in Vickers junior. “I wouldn’t miss a sight like this for anything. I want to see these mysterious birds and butterflies …”

“Let’s try to find out,” said Chas, getting up from the table and looking around. “You finish eating, I’ll take a stroll and find out what’s what.”

We watched in amazement as Chas walked away, and then looked down at our empty plates.

Vickers junior judged his brother with his elbow and asked in a confused voice: “What’s he talking about? There’s nothing left to eat …”

“It’s a joke,” Neville said condescendingly.

“Ah … a joke …”

Alice and I exchanged knowing glances and had to stop ourselves smiling. The naiveté of young Vickers knew no bounds. It seems he was aptly named.

We waited about half an hour for Chas. All that time I kept trying to strike up a conversation with Alice, but I didn’t get anywhere. Maybe it was because the others were there, or maybe I was doing something wrong ... It must have been my fault, of course. How could we possibly be bothered by Vickers junior interrupting us all the time? Or his older brother trying everything he could (meaning subtle comments like “choke the bloodsuckers” or “break their fangs off”) to show the vampiress just how much he despised her?

When Chas came back he found us all sitting in total silence, in a very black mood. Alice was emphatically not looking at Vickers senior, and he was defiantly not looking at her … and I was sitting right between them. And Naïve was wearing a gloomy expression out of solidarity with his brother.

“As I recall, when I left the atmosphere wasn’t quite so dismal,” Chas remarked as he sat down.

The answer was silence.

“So don’t you want to hear what I found out?” Chas enquired with a smile.

“Of course we do,” I couldn’t resist replying. “Especially since we’ve been waiting for you for half an hour, and our shift’s almost over.”

In fact, there was no one left in the dining hall apart from the five of us. The waiters would have thrown us out long ago, but the vampiress’s discontented glance wandering round the hall seem to blunt their enthusiasm. Nobody wanted to take her on.

“Duels between senior pupils take place in the Hall of Mean Intensity, which occupies the entire tenth floor. Those two are planning to hold their duel before breakfast, at about eight o’clock in the morning,” Chas told us. “And by the way, we don’t have any more classes today, they’re giving us some time to settle in, so we can spend the rest of the day in feckless idleness. I suggest studying our clothing, it’s pretty weird …”

“That’s a good idea,” the Vickers brothers chorused.

Alice shook her head.

“You don’t want to?” Chas asked the vampiress. “Feeling shy? We’re all friends here. You could say we’re family.”

“You should see my family,” the vampiress laughed. “No, my schedule includes a nap after lunch.”

“Can I see you to your room?” I asked immediately.

“You could try.”

Alice got up and walked towards the door of the dining hall, and I sat there, thinking over her reply. Either she had nothing against the idea, or she was warning me not to push my luck …

“Go on, see her to her room, now that you’ve offered,” muttered Neville, and I think he surprised himself as much as me.

I obediently jumped up and went running after Alice.

But strangely enough, I didn’t catch up with her. I ran as far as the teleports, but I still didn’t see Alice. She must have decided to cut and run. Was I really such a pest that the girls had to run away from me? I found that kind of hard to believe …

Well anyway, now I’d obviously have to spend the rest of the day on the highly interesting activity of tying little knots on our new clothing. How did that proverb go? “Clothes upon clothes – clasps upon clasps?” They’d tried to frighten us with slavery, with studying round the clock. But it was all just a big swindle. There was absolutely nothing to do, and not even anything to look at in this glorious Academy of theirs.

I was rescued from the slowly but surely rising tide of apathy by the appearance of Romius out of thin air. No, of course, he didn’t actually appear out of the air, he appeared out of a teleport … but this was only my first day in the Academy, and I wasn’t used to these little magical tricks yet … Anyway, I must have jumped back about twenty feet in surprise.

“Aren’t you pleased to see your uncle?” Romius asked, looking at me thoughtfully. “How’s your first day in the Academy?”

“Strange,” I admitted quite honestly. “I imagined it would all be rather …”

“Different?” Romius prompted.

“That’s it, different. Where’s all your famous magic? I thought Craftsmen flew down the corridors, and trays of food just appeared on the tables and there were duels over every little thing …”

The Craftsman waved his hand wearily: “You’ll see plenty of all that, and there’ll be so many duels, you’ll get tired of watching them. Let’s go to my study, I need to have a serious talk with you.”

Oh yeah, another serious talk … the last time I found out that with a little bit of luck I could become the Emperor. What would I find out this time?

Actually, this time it was much worse. Waiting for us in Romius’s study was a vampire.

The Magical Order was housed in a low, square building. Unlike the tower of the Academy, which proudly dominated the entire city of Lita, it did not differ in any way from the other grey buildings in the dominant “square” style of Tabernacle. It was not that the Tabernaclians wished to be different from the Empire of the Elirs in all things, including architectural style. Nothing of the sort. It was the Elirs who were always trying to be different. In Tabernacle they preferred to build the levels of their buildings not upwards, but downwards. That is, even the most unattractive little house might easily have as many as ten underground stories. So what, then, of the Magical Order? Well, at the time of our story it had about thirty underground levels, and the work had only just begun.

The Council of Inquisitors had gathered on the very lowest level. Not because this precaution was necessary, but because it was prescribed by the decree on security measures for secret meetings. And the Inquisitors were always meticulous in following regulations to the letter.

“This meeting commences in accordance with protocol three point eight. The main subject is policy and military measures relating to the Empire of the Elirs.”

So began the address by the Senior Inquisitor.

“Until the Academy of the Craft appeared, Tabernacle did not take the Empire of the Elirs seriously or regard this small state as a serious adversary. Indeed, the Elirs had nothing really outstanding to boast about: their sailors and fishermen were poor and incompetent, their soldiers were mediocre, their workers were idle. The only forest on the territory of the Empire was securely guarded by druids, the mountains were guarded by trolls, dragons and other wildlife. The soil in the Empire of the Elirs was not fertile. In general, it seemed likely that our neighbour would soon suffer famine and choose to join the Caliphate, as all the other neighbouring states have done. Unfortunately, this was not to be. The Elirs took the unforeseen initiative of establishing an educational institution for magicians. They gave sanctuary to infidels, who rapidly assumed power in the Empire and started inculcating their own social regime. Now all their cities are saturated with magic, the people have become a herd of obedient cattle, and the so-called Craftsmen control everything.”

“Permission to speak,” said a tall, thin Inquisitor, rising from his seat.

“Of course, of course,” the Senior Inquisitor agreed hastily, “Representatives of the Chasteners have the right to speak at any time.”

The Chasteners was the group of Inquisitors responsible for hunting down infidels. An elite operational division, they were trained to fight Craftsmen and other “non-humans”.

“Indeed,” the Chastener began suavely. His tall figure towered a full head above everyone else present. “If not for the protection of the Craftsmen, we would long ago have annexed the Empire of the Elirs as one of our provinces. Therefore, the only problem we face is the Academy of the Craft, located in the capital of the Empire. We long ago developed a plan that will allow us to strike right to the heart of this problem, and today I am proud to announce ...” he paused briefly “…that the operation to destroy the Academy has begun.”

This joyful news was greeted by the hall with total silence.

“And why are we only learning of this now?” the Senior Inquisitor enquired in a quiet voice.

“Owing to security considerations we were unable to spread word of the operation that was being planned,” the Chastener replied calmly. “It has been confirmed that our enemies have spies in our ranks and perhaps ...” he cast a keen glance round the hall “... even in the Council itself.”

“I think you are being over-suspicious,” the Senior Inquisitor said with a frown. “But let us not talk about that now, please let us know what measures you have taken.”

“Of course,” the Chastener agreed. “We had been trying for a long time to plant one of our men in the Academy, but all of our attempts were unsuccessful.”

“We know this already,” the senior Inquisitor said in annoyance, interrupting the Chastener. “Speak to the point.”

“Very well,” the Chastener sighed. “Yesterday, as you know, the Academy of the Craft held its enrolment of pupils.”

The senior Inquisitor was about to interrupt the Chastener again, but he was not quick enough.

“One of the new pupils was one of our top-secret undercover agents,” the Chastener said.

There was a loud commotion in the hall, something absolutely forbidden by the rules of procedure – but this news was simply too unexpected ...

“At last ...”

“We’ve been trying so hard for so long ...”

The Chastener raised his eyes to the heavens. He knew that all present had done no more than offer fine words. But as soon as something useful was done this mystical “we” suddenly materialised. And it was also typical that any failure produced the equally mystical “you” (in the plural), who were saddled with all responsibility ...

“And are you sure that your agent has not been exposed?” the Senior Inquisitor asked sceptically.

“A few hours ago we received a detailed report covering the last two months, which he has spent in the Academy, and we ...”

“The last two months!” the Senior Inquisitor cried, pale with fury. “You’re mad!”

“In your position I would refrain from making such statements.”

The Senior Inquisitor turned pale with fear.

“Forgive my impetuous outburst,” he corrected himself. “But you must agree that what you said sounded ... rather strange ...”

“Not at all,” the Chastener objected. “A few years ago I mentioned to you our suspicion that the Craftsmen could control the passage of time within the Academy. Our agent has confirmed this suspicion and also provided us with other useful information about the methods for training Craftsmen ...”

“You mean to say that during the last day more than three weeks have gone by in the Academy?” the Senior Inquisitor asked incredulously.

“Was I not clear?” the Chastener asked with a chilly smile.

“It’s simply hard to believe,” the Senior Inquisitor replied hastily. “Well, your success is most praiseworthy. But how did your man manage to infiltrate the Academy? We have tried every possible means before, without any success.”

“Well, you see,” the Chastener laughed, “the concept of ‘our man’ is not entirely appropriate here ... let’s just say that we made an unconventional move, and it succeeded.”

“Very well,” the Senior Inquisitor agreed. “This is a truly great breakthrough ... but what place has the chastening sword here? And why are our agents’ intelligence operations supervised by the Chasteners?”

The Chastener decided to let the phrase “our agents” go ... for the time being. The members of the Council were fond of sharing the credit for others’ achievements. Well, let them. When the Chasteners had dealt with the Academy of the Craft, everyone would be rewarded according to his merits.

“I would also like to know that,” put in the Inquisitor responsible for intelligence networks in the golden city.

“
Initially
,” said the Chastener, emphasising the word, “we were planning no more than a modest act of sabotage. We were not even certain that our agent would be able to transmit any information to us. However, he has quite easily obtained a great deal of valuable information, including exhaustive data on one of the teleports leading to Kraidoll –a town in the Borderland.”

“We know that already,” the Senior Inquisitor muttered.

He clearly felt that he was losing the initiative, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“Our agent also informed us of the most advantageous time to attack,” the Chastener continued blithely, ignoring the remark. “In the light of information received, two hours ago we took the decision to carry out a major operation with the assistance of our agent.”