Royal Institute of Magic: The Shadowseeker (Book 2) (23 page)

As soon as he passed underneath, the pavement opened up to a square surrounded on all sides by timber-framed shops. In the middle was a throng of people, many walking with shopping bags, others basking in the sun while sipping on cool drinks. The relaxed sound of chatter was a stark contrast to the pressure Ben felt under.

Ben headed to the “W” store, which, as usual, had a crowd of people waiting to get in. Ben briefly admired the elegant shop signage – a wizard’s hat, cast in silver with the letter “W” imprinted on it – remembering the first time he’d set eyes upon the store. He felt the cash in his pocket. Ben wouldn't be able to buy many spells, as the place was so expensive, but it would be quick, easy and the choice was incredible.

Ben thought back to the exam, and quickly realised buying spells from the “W” store would be a big mistake. This was the perfect opportunity to demonstrate his ability in the Department of Trade. Ben immediately dismissed the “W” store from his mind. He knew exactly where he needed to go.

There were many alleyways leading off Taecia Square, and Ben took one of the more popular ones, which had a steady stream of people going in both directions. He set a quick pace and it wasn't long before he came upon exactly what he was looking for. The road opened up and stalls started appearing either side. Up ahead, a banner floated above the road, which read “Chief Biglot's Magic Market: Deals Guaranteed!”

Ben smiled. When they said “deals guaranteed”, they generally meant for the seller, who would do all in his considerable power to extract as much money from the hapless buyer as possible. Chief Biglot was a prominent dwarf lord, and this was his market. Dwarves were the best hagglers, bargain hunters and salesmen in the Unseen Kingdoms, and Chief Biglot hired a hundred of the best to sell his wares. Striking a deal with one of his salesmen was like going into battle. There were deals to be had, but you had to be good – very good.

Ben had never been here himself but had read a lot about it when studying in Trade. He knew a few friends who had come here and somehow spent all their money with nothing to show for it. But if Ben could get a few good spells and avoid getting completely ripped off, he was sure he would score well with the Department of Trade. On the other hand, if he ended up spending more on a spell than at the “W” store, things could go sour very quickly.

Ben walked slowly, watching the masters in action. The sound of dwarves advertising their wares in deep, throaty voices, coupled with the frequent, often argumentative haggling, filled the air like a wall of noise.

“Staffs of Levitation, 50% off until 3pm today! Only five left!”

“Heat-proof spell pouches, three for the price of two.”

“Largest variety of air spells here!”

Ben pulled out a list of spells he figured he'd need, arranged in order of importance. Could he get everything for just two hundred pounds? Ben glanced at his watch. It was 11:30am. He would give himself an hour, no more, to get everything.

Ben rubbed his hands together and, like a fighter going into battle, joined the fray.

Last year, Ben ran a national half-marathon in the heat of summer and finished in the top ten for his age group. That, it turns out, was a walk in the park compared to the hour he spent buying spells. If it wasn't for his training in the Department of Trade, he would have lost all his money in the first ten minutes. But he had studied dwarf salesmen extensively and knew many of their tricks and how to deal with them.
Never show any sign of fear or fragility; don't be afraid to walk away; never accept their first three offers; ask to see proof of any claims they make; never tell them how much you have to spend.
There were many other rules, but those were the ones that saved Ben this morning. After an hour of intense bargaining and sweating, he emerged with almost everything he had on his list, with twenty pounds still in hand.

Ben stumbled back to Taecia Square with his purchases and allowed himself a fifteen-minute break at a café while he downed some lunch and got his breath back. He tucked into a chicken baguette, surveying the crowded square. Somewhere here was an Institute examiner, watching and assessing his every move, most likely invisible. Ben considered his work so far. It was just past midday and he had demonstrated his ability in the Trade and Scholar departments. That still left Spellsword, Warden and Diplomacy.

Once more feeling the time constraint, Ben finished up his lunch and headed on his way. His next destination was the Dragonway. Ben stood impatiently on the platform, and was glad when his dragon turned up after just five minutes. The journey took a little longer than normal, for instead of stopping at Croydon, he was heading into London. Ben spent the time studying the sheets of paper he had taken from Grignak's file, gleaning every last bit of information he could.

It felt strange not getting off when the dragon stopped at Croydon and, when they continued into the tunnel, Ben felt a little buzz of excitement, going into the unknown. After another fifteen minutes, the dragon arrived in London. Despite having been to the Croydon station every day for the past several weeks, the London station took his breath away. There were five platforms, instead of just one. The ceiling was impossibly high and had a faint curve, creating a dome-like effect. Thousands of twinkling lights shone down on a station that was both more modern and yet vastly older and grander than the Croydon one he was used to. Amid the smoke and roars from the dragons was the chatter of voices, hurried footsteps and occasional whistle from the conductors. The majority of people were human, but there was a fair proportion of dwarves, elves and smaller creatures. Ben felt like a tourist all over again as he stepped off the carriage and meandered his way along the platform. He saw two signs: one directing him to the Institute's London headquarters; the other to London Victoria Underground Station. As tempted as Ben was to visit the Institute's headquarters in London, Ben, like many others, followed the sign to the Underground.

The security was both larger and more streamlined than Croydon's slightly archaic system. As Ben was an Institute apprentice, they let him keep his spell pouches, though he was instructed to “turn off” the flashing diamond above his shoulder – something he had completely forgotten about. Soon he was walking among a group of people down a torch-lit passageway, which led all the way to the lift. Unlike the one in Croydon, this lift contained no seats. Ben quickly grabbed onto a handle bar, but he needn't have held on so tightly, as the lift accelerated far more smoothly than the Croydon one. They travelled from what seemed like the Earth's core until the lift finally slowed and came to a gentle stop. With a ding, the doors opened, and everyone started filing out.

Ben couldn't help staring. They were bang in the middle of the London Victoria Underground station, right near the escalators that went up to the main train station. Regular people passed the lift by without giving it a second glance. Ben remembered passing this exact lift several times himself, but he could never be bothered to take it, as it always seemed quicker and easier to take the escalator. With a smile and a shake of the head, Ben joined the London throng and headed up to the main train station.

Ben weaved through the crowd until he arrived at the huge train timetable that hung from the ceiling, just in front of the platforms. There it was: platform nineteen – Lampton Green, leaving in three minutes. He made the train by the skin of his teeth and searched for the emptiest carriage he could find. Being early afternoon, most of the commuters had already gone to work, so there were plenty of empty seats. After the train was safely on its way, Ben took a surreptitious look around, and took out the necklace. It was an elegant thing, though perhaps suited more to a girl's taste, and not something he would ordinarily wear, but fashion was the last thing on his mind right now. He needed the necklace to track down Grignak. He put the necklace on and tucked it underneath his top so it wouldn't show.

He felt a presence immediately, albeit a minuscule one, right at the edge of his mind. Ben closed his eyes and focused. Relaxing was key, he remembered from his Warden training. Let the perceptions come. A blurred image flashed before him of a young boy wearing rough clothes, walking past an old library. The picture made Ben jerk and he immediately lost it. Taking a calming breath, he relaxed again, but it still took several minutes before the image returned. Ben studied the boy: greasy hair; hooked nose; crooked teeth; ragged jeans. He was scrawny but walked with a confidence that suggested a wiry strength beneath his rags.

Sight was the easiest perception to obtain through the necklace, but what he really needed was distance and orientation. How far away was the target? Where exactly in Lampton Green was he? Ben took another calming breath, swallowing his impatience.

But the journey was not a long one and Ben was still trying to get the goblin's exact destination by the time he reached Lampton Green station. Ben disembarked and walked slowly down the platform, concentrating so hard on the necklace he nearly ran into an elderly couple, and then received a dirty look from a mum as he almost knocked her child over.

This was no good. Clearly walking and concentrating on the necklace was a step too far. He hated to waste time, but there was nothing for it – he needed to sit down. Ben found a small coffee shop within the station. He bought a water, picked up a free newspaper and sat down. While pretending to read the paper, he re-doubled his efforts to pinpoint the location of Grignak. He got a couple of peculiar looks, and realised his face had become rigid and his tongue was sticking out, but he didn't care. He was getting closer, he could feel it. The pictures were now coming through crystal clear. He saw the boy walking past a bank, heading up a hill. Ben re-doubled his efforts and felt a small bead of sweat trickle down his forehead.

It came to him in a flash of knowingness. Grignak was one and a half miles northeast. Ben jumped up so quickly the old lady sitting next to him almost spilt her coffee. With a quick apology, he left the train station and headed up a small road that led into the heart of the village. Ben glanced at his watch. It had just passed two o'clock. He quickened his pace, winding his way past the occasional shopper and the more frequent parent pushing their buggy, hogging the pavement. He stopped briefly as the road converged with the main village road that lay on a hill. Ben focused again on the necklace; this time the directions came easily. The goblin was now less than a mile away.

Ben set off up the hill. Every minute he re-focused on the necklace and found that he was slowly gaining on his target. The village centre was little more than a half-mile strip and it soon gave way to a surprisingly large park, complete with woods and a small duck-filled lake. There were paths, winding their way through the park, populated by the occasional walker, jogger, or mum pushing their buggy.

Ben stopped to get his breath back and re-check his proximity to his target. The necklace pulsed suddenly, giving off a warmth that tingled his neck. The pulsing continued, slowly, rhythmically.

He was close. Really close.

Ben squinted, recalling the goblin's disguise.

There! A small ice-cream parlour stood less than a hundred yards away, busy serving mums and kids. Off to the side was a scrawny boy, devouring a large Häagen-Dazs tub of ice-cream none too elegantly. Ben was surprised at how young he looked, no more than fourteen or fifteen.

Now that he was this close, Ben suddenly felt himself hesitate. He needed a plan. Normally he had plans coming out of his ears, but this was different. One false move and he could blow the whole exam. Ben needed to come up with something while Grignak the boy/goblin was pre-occupied eating his ice-cream. At the rate he was eating, he would be done soon, and when he was finished, he would undoubtedly move on, making things more difficult.

Ben thought quickly, trying to ignore the time crunch. In an ideal world, he would simply go up to the goblin, inform him that he had broken the law by leaving London, and order him back to the Institute. He was fairly confident that with his spells, he could deal with any retaliation from the goblin, though things would get more complicated if he made a scene. But if Ben went down that route, he would fail miserably in the Department of Diplomacy. That left only one option: he would have to try to talk the goblin into turning himself in.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Ben walked casually over to the ice-cream stand, careful to avoid eye contact with Grignak. He stopped just yards from the goblin, but forced attention onto the list of ice-creams.

“What can I get you?” the ice-cream man asked in a friendly voice.

“I'll have the Orange Fruitie,” Ben said, going for the cheapest option out of habit.

Ben ordered the lolly in part to create a relaxed, non-threatening atmosphere.
Street goblins are suspicious by nature and, unless you handle them carefully, are likely to bolt.
Ben had learned that by heart.

Grignak had a long finger in the tub and was scraping up the last vestiges of ice-cream when Ben approached him. Though he looked calm, Ben's heart was thumping.
Here we go.

“Hello, Grignak,” Ben said, in a casual, almost friendly tone.

Grignak looked up sharply, his finger stopping halfway to his mouth.

“Who are you?” Grignak asked, in an unfriendly voice that was softened by the fact that his disguise was a boy yet to hit puberty.

“My name is Ben Greenwood. I work for the Royal Institute of Magic.”

Ben instantly regretted the words “Royal Institute of Magic”; they made Grignak flinch.

“I ain't done nothing wrong,” Grignak said, glancing around nervously. Surely he wasn't preparing to bolt already? Ben tensed himself, just in case.

“Nothing serious,” Ben agreed.
Keep your voice mild.
“However, as you are no doubt aware, you were supposed to stay in London.”

“Says who?” Grignak challenged.