Land of Verne (10 page)

“Wonderful,” Madam Malkim said, and patted her face with a lacy kerchief. “Now if there is nothing else, you may go.”

Grim left the room and ambled through the corridors, wondering how he would manage. He was secretly pleased he would be working with Master Rickett, though.

As he made his way back through the maze of corridors and struggled to walk through some of the more crooked hallways, he found his own door wide open. He poked his head in and found someone standing in the room ― a boy with smooth dark skin, and black wavy hair. He wore a yellow suit with matching top hat and was easily the most prestigious-looking person Grim had ever seen. He fiddled with a platinum cane.

Grim stepped in. “Hello, I’m ―”

“Well, it’s about time a servant arrived!” the boy snapped. His face creased as he gazed about the room. “These accommodations are not fit for swine! This is unacceptable! And do you not know how to bow? Really, good help is so hard to find.”

Oh bother.

He hoped there was some sort of mix-up and that this boy was simply one of the students that got lost.

“Uh, hi. I’m Grim. Grim Doyle.” He offered his hand, but the boy stepped back and slapped his hand away with his glove.

“What kind of hideous name is that ―
Grim
? You must be from the Southlands.”

He ignored the comment. “And you are?” Grim asked.

“You mean you don’t know? Everyone knows who I am. I am Lord Quinn of Owen Manor.” It appeared he might say more, but he began a fit of coughing.

“Are you sick?” Grim asked.

“I have some hideous cough that came upon me just before departure. Our Alchemist gave me an awful elixir that I am to take until it clears up. Bring it to me, I think I feel faint.” He placed the back of his gloved hand to his forehead with the most dramatic flair.

Grim rolled his eyes. He was about to step forward and grab the yellow bottle from the table when Valeria stepped into the room with Rudy and Treena in tow.

The Sylph eyed Quinn with a raised eyebrow. “I see you two have met. I will come back shortly to take you on a tour of the grounds.”

Quinn puffed himself up. “This room, in fact this whole place, is deplorable.”

Valeria dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “I suggest you get used to it. Madam Malkim’s is your new home now.”

The boy fingered the red curtains with disdain. “I am Lord Quinn of Owen Manor. I cannot be subjected to the same conditions as the rest of you…,” he paused, “…orphans.”

The Sylph gave him a stern look. “If I hear correctly, you are the Lord of
Nothing Manor
at the moment, so you are stuck with the rest of us. Perhaps you do not understand the conditions of being here. Were you not told this?”

“But you don’t honestly think I can accept being treated the same as someone of … your status.”

Valeria placed her hands on her hips and Grim stepped back, bracing himself. He didn’t know what to expect if the Sylph turned into a Banshee right in front of him. Best to give her a little space.

“I would suggest you get your behavior in line with what is expected of you, or you may find yourself shamefully expelled. And there’s nowhere to go but the streets from here. That hasn’t happened for some time now. And considering your current circumstances, I’m sure that’s the last thing you would want, isn’t it
my Lord
?”

Quinn lowered his head. “Yes.”

“Good,” said Valeria. “Now, as I said, I will return shortly to take you on a tour and get you fitted for clothing.” The Sylph departed as Rudy and Treena walked into the room.

Quinn exhaled. “I guess you’re not going to get me that elixir then?”

Grim passed it to him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t remember what you called yourself. You are …?”

“Grim,” he said again.

“That’s your name?”

“Well, it’s actually Grimwald,” he said and then clamped his mouth shut. Rudy glared at him.

Quinn didn’t seem to notice. “That’s a much better name. Where are you from?”

“Very, very far away,” he muttered, and then added, “…in the south.”

“That would explain the strange name.”

He looked at the others.

“And your friends?”

“This is Treena,” Grim said as she stepped forward.

“Why is that name familiar?” Quinn said, scratching his chin. “What is your Manor?”

“Octavius,” she said.

“Great Ancestors! Your father leads the Resistance!” he exclaimed.

Treena smiled large. “And he’s the best Trapper in the all the Dominions.”

Quinn harrumphed.

“Trapper?” Rudy asked.

Treena nodded. “He catches Changelings. They’re a menace.”

“Oh,” Rudy replied, but it was obvious she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

“Lord Victor confiscated our lands and our Manor,” Treena said. “We want them back.”

The boy eyed Rudy. “And you are?”

She thumbed at Grim. “I’m his older sister. You can call me Rudy.”

“Another strange name.”

“Would you like to join us?” Rudy asked, much to the disappointment of the others.

The boy considered whether to join them or not, and finally nodded. With that, they all departed for the Hearth Room and plunked themselves down in the oversize chairs.

Quinn took his time to dust off the sofa with a handkerchief before sitting.

Treena plopped down next to him and dust spewed up, covering him.

She looked at him and then shrugged. “I can’t believe how much work we have to do. I have to report for kitchen duty every day before the sun rises and then afterwards I have wardrobe repair. After that I have to help Madam Tyne dust the Library and then report to Madam Adelaide to sweep the grounds and unclog the sewers and drains.”

Quinn cleared his throat. He looked a little pale. “And you, Grimwald?”

“Master Cobblepot wants some help and I have equipment maintenance, and then kitchen duty.”

Quinn shifted in his seat, yet before he could say anything, Valeria clomped in with a girl who was close to Grim’s height, with wild, orange hair. Her nose looked like that of a pig. She didn’t have whites around her one good eye, just a beady black marble that stared right through them. Her huge pointed ears jutted out of her head like hairy antennae.

“This is Eevenellin.” Valeria was prompt with her introduction. “Quinn, I have come to take you on a tour.”

“A Grundel,” Quinn said, “how interesting. I’ve never met one. Is it true you eat earwax for breakfast and pig brains for dinner?”

“Where did you ever hear such awful things?” asked Valeria.

“I heard it from my former Tutor. Is it true?”

“No, it is not,” said the Grundel with a thick, rasping voice.

Valeria’s thin eyebrows narrowed and there was a red glow about her. Grim inched back.

“Quinn, it is time for your tour and we will have a talk about good manners.” Valeria seized the boy by the arm and escorted him down the corridor.

Eevenellin marched down the hallway to her own room, next door to Valeria’s, and slammed the door.

“Where is she from?” Grim asked.

“Valeria?” Treena said. “She’s from the Rowanwood, where the Sylphs live.”

“No, I meant the other girl — Eevenellin.”

“Oh, the Grundels live in Underknoll — in the Hawshorn Mountains. You really need to get a map. You don’t know anything.”

Where would they get a map?

And as they turned to leave Grim noticed Valeria Bellow watching them from down the hallway once more.

Chapter 10

The following morning, Finneas Keltin rapped on each of their doors. He turned up the lights in the corridor as they stepped out.

“Madam Phoebe is waiting for you,” he said. “She needs help polishing.” He led them through the corridors to a grand room with an arched entrance. The woman who greeted them was reed slim with a face that was smooth and flawless, to the point she had almost no features at all. Her hair was long and golden and constantly shifted. Similarly, her long yellow dress was made of a material that shimmered with her.

“Good morning, Finneas.” Her voice was slow, and as she finished speaking her appearance dwindled, so much so that she almost faded from sight. Only her one sinth hand remained solidly visible.

Grim squinted, studying the faded parts of her.

“Cool,” he muttered.

Then the woman faded back in again.

“Come along,” said Madam Phoebe as she floated through the room. “Please put your goggles on. I find it quite challenging to remain visible to the human eye.”

Grim put them on, but her appearance didn’t really change from what he could already see.

They followed clumsily after her to a giant, wooden wardrobe that she unlocked with a skeleton key.

“Please take a conductor to clean, but be careful with them.”

They each took a different item — Grim a rod, Rudy a cane, and Treena a tall staff. He wasn’t particularly impressed. They all looked fairly old and had scratches on the surface.

Grim blew the dust off it. He sneezed.

“Conductors come in different classes. For instance, this one here,” said Madam Phoebe as she took Grim’s rod, “is marked with the symbol for earth. It is used for the following.” She pulled one of the switches on it. “Speaking with animals,” she said as she pointed it at a mouse that scampered across the ground. It stopped to look at her. “Be gone,” she said, and it slipped out the door. “Growing plants,” she said as she pointed at another switch, “and ground shakes.” Thankfully she didn’t demonstrate the latter. “There is a locking mechanism on each.” She flipped a lever near the bottom that caused the other switches to disappear. “Please ensure the conductors are locked before you begin cleaning. We can’t have you summoning winds, or casting ice pellets at each other.”

Grim slid his fingers along the device. “How are these made?”

“They’re made in the south...” She paused. “Aren’t you from the Southlands?”

Rudy butted in. “Well, they don’t really teach us things like that.”

The woman had that condescending look that adults get when they think they know better. “Perhaps they think it’s too complex for children.”

Grim pursed his lips and said nothing, but the first chance he had he’d take one of these apart to study it.

Too complex for
some
children maybe.

“And who carries the most powerful one?” Treena asked.

“I suppose Professor Pearl or Hyperia DeLay, the Baroness of Everstay. She invented sinth.”

With that it was time to get to work. They had to clean the various conductors — pocket watches, goggles, lights, rods, staves, and canes. Madam Phoebe would ask them to hold each one aloft to examine the shine. They would hold it while the woman examined their grip, the angle of the light, the position of the arm, posture, everything. Grim wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to do any more polishing. Madam Phoebe was very particular.

“Now, I will see you again tomorrow. I believe that you all have other chores to be seen to.”

They departed, Grim rubbing his stiff shoulders.

When he reached the kitchens, plumes of smoke poured from the chimneys. He walked in to find seven man-sized metal stove tops at the far end, all hot and blazing. Cast-iron pots hung over a couple of fires. Across from them were three large ovens baking bread. The near wall was lined with another seven tall cookers, each with chickens barbecuing. Sitting out on large tables were row upon row of candied apples, as well as chocolate drops and other sweets.

The kitchen was robust with activity. Ten other children ran about the place peeling potatoes, plucking chickens, removing slabs of bread from the hot ovens, and stirring vats of slop. They were all sweating ― profusely.

“Chores?” asked a rotund woman in a white apron. Her grin was nearly toothless.

“Yes,” said Grim, fanning himself.

“A’right, in wit ya den,” she said, and guided Grim to another room filled with pots, tables, wash basins and rags. “Dat dere’s da cleanin’ room. You get da pots an’ pans today; dishes tamarraw. Da brush is dere and you can use da washin’ tub in da corner. Da water in dat one is still warm. Dat dere,” she said pointing to a leaning pile of pots, “is yers. Clean ‘em up good so I can see me face in ‘em, orphan.” She walked away laughing to herself.

Grim eyed the huge stack of dishes. He’d be here for hours. He tried to think of some way to make the dishes clean themselves; some contraption that had arms and could polish the dishes. And while he let his mind churn, he dipped his hands into the suds and began to scrub.

Grim got only a brief respite from the pots when he joined the others for dinner. He struggled to eat the boiled pig’s snout and a sour dessert that tasted like flour and lemons with no trace of sugar to be found. He said little to the others, focusing solely on swallowing his food without gagging.

He then slipped back into the kitchens to resume his chores, and dreaded to see the mountain of pots. As he walked in, he was surprised to find the Madam of the Kitchens was not there waiting for him.

Instead he found a gaunt-looking woman kneeling over the tubs. Her tattered sleeves were rolled up her arms and she was elbow-deep in suds. Her matted hair covered half of her face. She flashed a hideous grin of crooked teeth and gaping spaces. Grim had never seen anyone in more need of braces.