Ordinary Magic (17 page)

Then she stepped back and King Steve stepped forward, and he said a few words. It was a lot of his usual stuff too. Mostly that he knew his faith and trust in us was justified, and that he was proud to serve us, and that we had to keep strong and keep going on—that kind of thing. “We hold no illusions as to what life is like for an ord,” he concluded, “even, unfortunately, in our kingdom. We hope that this place will provide a measure of comfort, safety, and support for you all.”

Mrs. Murphy thanked him, and I thought that they were going to talk to us—ask us how we were doing, or if we liked the school. Maybe even ask for a demonstration of what we had learned so far. But King Steve and his council left then, with the teachers and Alexa and about half of the Kingsmen, for a tour of the school. It took a while, and all during that time we had to sit quietly and not move. At one point I could see them through the windows, slowly circling the courtyard, testing all the bars on the windows and the locks on the doors.

When they finally returned, there were a couple more talks. King Steve thanked us for our hospitality, and Mrs. Murphy thanked him for stopping by, and then Mrs. Murphy excused all the students except us First Years, because there was still decorating to do. King Steve stood by the door smiling at the students as they passed, while Alexa stopped everyone to shake
hands and say a few words. Then he and Alexa said good-bye to the teachers. I climbed up on my chair to wave to Alexa, but she signaled for me to follow. I glanced at Mrs. Murphy, but she nodded and I ran after my sister.

Alexa was waiting for me by the door. She slung an arm around my shoulders and leaned down to whisper, “Best behavior.”

“I’m always on my best behavior,” I protested.

“I’m serious, Abby.”

“You’re
always
serious.”

She shook her head and led me out to the courtyard, where King Steve was waiting. The court was gone, and most of the Kingsmen too. But King Steve was there—waiting for us.

Alexa had to more or less push me toward him. “This is Abby.”

I curtseyed as best I could. “Your Majesty.”

He held out a hand and, surprised, I shook it. (The Kingsmen inched forward at that, and King Steve gave them all a smile, like
hey, just friends here
, with a touch of
I’m your boss
, and a little
so relax
.) “Hello, Abby. Alexa talks about you non-stop.”

“Just the bad stuff,” Alexa reassured me.

“Okay,” I squeaked. Not my cleverest response, but I was still trying to process that I was really standing there chatting with King Steve. Really.

“How do you like the school?” King Steve asked.

Tell him it’s nice
, my brain commanded. “It’s nice.”

“Nice,” King Steve echoed.

“Yes.” I glanced at Alexa, who was looking at me with the “you can do better than that” look. Okay, if they wanted more … “And it’s tough. And weird. It’s not even like a real school at all. I mean, we do have regular classes, like history, and I’m going to be honest, I’m sure your great-grandparents were nice people and all, but I have no idea why we have to learn what year they came to the throne—”

“They were horrible people,” King Steve corrected me, his eyes bright.

“Oh. And it’s scary,” I continued, encouraged. He wasn’t smiling, but I heard it in his voice.

“Yes, they were.”

“No, I mean the school. And just being an ord. I didn’t even know how scary until I came here. Three nights so far they made us sleep in the lounge because there were red caps watching the building, but I’m sure Alexa told you that because she says her job is to tell you everything. And Becky’s teaching us about ward stones but it’s mostly recognizing magic and it’s a lot of research but apparently people are actually going to pay us to do that when we get older, like real money, like give us jobs, and—they know I can see them, right?” I glanced around at the Kingsmen, but they were maintaining an air of professional detachment. And invisibility—the blurry, fudged lines around them were unmistakable. “We all can, we’re ords. Why go invisible at an ord school?”

King Steve glanced at Alexa and then smiled, a quick,
genuine flash. “To show off. Kingsmen are terribly conceited, you know. It’s in the job description.”

One of the Kingsmen cleared his throat. I wondered if that was weird for other people, normal people, who couldn’t see them, who’d just hear a cough come out of nowhere.

“Alexa tells me,” King Steve continued as if no one had cleared anything, “that you had a very close call this summer. A pair of adventurers who harassed you and your classmates.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I would have liked to have some private conversation with them, but it seems they have disappeared. Pity, but I have let it be known that I’d very much like to meet them, whenever they turn up.”

“You think they’re going to turn up?” I asked.

“They might. Alexa tells me they were rather desperate for an ord, and where better to find one than—” He gestured to the school. “I think it wise for you and your classmates to keep close to the school.”

“That’s not a problem. They don’t ever let us out.” Although Alexa had promised to get me special permission to escape during Fall Fest.

A Kingsman spoke up. “Your Majesty.”

“Our cue,” King Steve said. “And yours, Miss Hale,” he said to Alexa. He held out his hand again, and I shook it. “You must come to the castle sometime and take tea with us. We should be glad to know you better.”

“Seriously?” I asked.

“We are always serious, Miss Abigail. It is the primary defect in our character. Pleasure meeting you.”

I curtseyed again, a little better this time. “Really nice to meet you, Your Majesty.”

“Let me walk her back in, Your Majesty,” Alexa said, and aimed me toward the dining hall.

King Steve put a hand on her arm. “That pleasure must be mine.” And he took my hand and led me to the door, like a gentleman leading a lady out of a dance. The Kingsmen crept close enough to practically meld into my dress, but King Steve ignored them, so I did too. Alexa tagged along next to me, and King Steve watched with this funny little look on his face, when she scooped me up for a hug and kiss good night. And they left.

“What was
that
?” Fred burst out the second I walked in.

“Oh, you know,” I said, flipping my hair over my shoulders. “Just chatting with King Steve. He asked me about school and everything. He even invited me to tea.”

Peter chucked an apron at me. “You are so full of it, Hale.”

Fall Fest in the city is sunshine, mellow as butter, and leaves in a dozen shades of gold and orange swirling through the air. It’s the smell of cinnamon and apples and roasting meat mixing with the cool, clean fall air. It’s jack-o’-lanterns clustered in shop windows and piled up by the doorways, and trailing along down the streets so the flickering lights can lead you to the party. It’s people dressed like fire, in shimmery, gauzy skirts and beaded vests, and jingly belts dripping with gleaming gold charms.

I’d been to the Fall Fest in Rothermere once before, when I was six, and I mostly remember how loud and huge everything seemed. Somebody (popular vote had it as Mrs. Murphy) realized that keeping us locked up when there was a huge party going on right at our doorstep constituted cruel and unusual punishment, so the school was actually letting us outside. Though for safety purposes we had to be in groups, those groups had to have grown-ups in them, and we had to wear our school colors.

Apparently there was an ongoing debate whether or not we Greens should be required to wear our greens at official stuff—outside the school, that is. The pro side said it was a scary world out there for an ord, and wearing official colors made it easier for everyone to keep an eye on us. The con side said, yes, that was the problem. See, until King Steve came to the throne half a dozen years ago and made it not okay to buy and sell children just because they couldn’t do magic, Rothermere had been the place to buy and sell ords. Becky (and Alexa and Mrs. Murphy and just about everyone else in the school) had warned us repeatedly that it took some people a while to get the message. There weren’t any sales, at least not obvious ones, but some people still came looking, and bright green tends to stick out.

But the totally awesome part was that my whole family was coming up. I mean, I knew they were going to for weeks now, because it was a planned event, but the closer it got the more exciting it became. I hadn’t seen anyone, except Alexa, live and in person since school started. We were even going to celebrate Alexa’s birthday. It’d be a week early, but we’d all be together, which Mom said was more important than timing. The excitement made it hard to keep still—well, everywhere except Ms. Macartney’s class, because she didn’t care if your leg was being chewed off by a red cap, you were going to sit still and be quiet. I didn’t even care that the whispers of
family
and
parents
started up again, loud enough that they weren’t actually whispers.

Becky and Ms. Macartney offered to escort me and Peter to the festival and make sure we met up with our parents (Ms. Whittleby had hitched a ride with Mom and Dad), and Fred
and Fran were along for the day, too, since Fred’s father couldn’t come up to Rothermere because he was hosting a company picnic, and Fran’s parents, who were here for the fest, weren’t, as Fran said, up here for
fun
, they were here on
business
, they wouldn’t be able to see
anything
, which included their daughter.

We’d arranged to meet my family and Ms. Whittleby early in order to get a full day in, so we left before breakfast. It was a cool morning, with the promise of the winter not far behind it. The sky still had that new-day pink, but the streets were already clogged. The school’s right on West Avenue, one of the four major streets that cut straight to the palace, and for the festival it’s blocked off to traffic so people can set up booths along the sidewalks and everybody else can stroll straight down the middle. Usually there’s a trolley at the end of the block, but today we had to walk all the way to the Palace Plaza, the huge circular courtyard around the castle where the main fairgrounds are set up.

The vendors were already out when we left, dragging tables and merchandise into the streets, and musicians tuning up and dancers stretching at the small stages set up every so often. We passed a couple of dinky kids’ rides, the ones for babies and under-twelves, you know, the kids who hadn’t been Judged yet, and so couldn’t ride the real stuff. Fred started cracking jokes about them until Peter cut in that the baby rides were the only ones that we could go on. The biggest, fastest, showiest rides—the ones with loops and drops and swirls and all that stuff—use magic, not just to run but to secure people in.

As we got closer to the main fairgrounds, everything got
bigger, flashier, and more elaborate. The prices at the vendors’ booths went up, the rides had more lights and dips and twirls, costumes got a lot costumier. Even air seemed to get in the mood and warmed up a bit. A couple of shows started, hawkers shouting out “Amazing Feats!” and “Wonders in Store!” and “Come Check It Out!”

Here’s what I learned about being an ord—you get really good at hearing that word, no matter where you are, no matter what the circumstances. I heard it tossed around behind my back a lot in Lennox, but after weeks of being shut up in the school, I’d almost forgotten how it sounded: Ord. It’s like there’s something deep down under your skin that flares up whenever someone says it, so it’s not so much hearing the word as it is feeling it.

Of course, it’s just as much hearing as feeling when the word is sung out, bright and loud, by a caller looking to lure people into his show. Along with a “Deadly Leviathan, the Scourge of the Southern Sea!” and “Bloodthirsty Red Cap, Come and See but Don’t Get Too Close!” he promised a “Genuine Ord, One Hundred Percent Tame! Step Right Up and Give It Your Best Shot!”

Hearing that, Becky came to a dead stop, so sudden that Fred walked straight into her. She stood there for a moment, hands clenched into fists, wound so tightly it was like a touch might shatter her. The only movement was her eyes flicking over to Ms. Macartney.

We were in front of a tent, a long, winding one, that snaked its way through the crowd. It was so ornate I wondered if whoever designed it had wanted it to look silly on purpose. It was
probably the same person who had drowned the whole thing in fairy dust; under the sun the shimmer made my eyes hurt.

The caller cast out some chimes and started his routine over again. “The Mermaid Melusine, Enchantress of the Deep! Beware Her Siren Song, Lest It Bewitch You!”

Shivers crept over me like spiders on my skin.

“You take them on,” Becky told Ms. Macartney, indicating us. “I’ll catch up.”

“They’re old enough to see,” Ms. Macartney replied, without a drop of sympathy. “Besides, if all else fails, I have some money.”

Becky’s smile was a horrible thing. “Oh, I doubt we’ll make it as far as money, Caroline.”

“What is it?” I asked. “What are you going to do?”

Ms. Macartney and Becky exchanged a glance. “What do you think?” Becky asked. Her eyes were cool, and she added, “Do you want to see the ord?”

“No,” Fran said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes,” Fred echoed.

“All right, come on. You too,” Becky said, putting an arm around Frances’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. If they have the kid as a showpiece, then they’re going to treat him well.”

Ms. Macartney went over to the caller and bought tickets, which was a very weird moment because, first, we’d spent months at a place where everybody said we were just as good as everybody else, and treated us that way. And now we were paying real money to see a kid just like us. It kind of warped your view of things. And, second, because when the caller was
tallying up the ticket price, he looked down at the four of us in our attention-grabbing school colors, and was like, “Oh, you’re Greenies?” And when we told him yeah, he only charged Ms. Macartney for two tickets, saying that kids got in for free.