The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 1) (7 page)

Siggy tipped his head down and half-closed his eyes. “The dark-haired guy is saying—”

“His name is Mr. Fuentes,” Rachel supplied.

Siggy said, “Fuentes is saying:
‘…new kinds of magic. This ensorcelling paper sounds like yet another new magic. Maybe the scarab, too.’
” Siggy paused. “Now the blond guy…”

Rachel said quickly, “His name is Mr. Scott.”

“Scott is saying,
‘How are the Agents supposed to keep people safe if they are constantly faced with magic no one has seen before. Some of it is very dangerous.’

“Now, Fuentes is saying,
‘I don’t know, Buddy. But it sure makes our job harder.’

“Now, Scott:
‘You can say that again!’
” Siggy paused and then continued as Scott did. “
‘Do you think there could be something to that report—that someone on campus intends harm to the students?’

“Now, Fuentes:
‘Nah. If so, why would’ve they risked something so obvious as sending an operative from outside? Why not just attack Miss Hunt surreptitiously?’

“Now, Scott:
‘Could the last of the Morthbrood be behind this? It’s rumored that the ones who turned State’s evidence gave the total number at three more than were apprehended.’
”

Siggy whispered to the girls, “Does he mean Moth Brood? Like Nurse Moth?”

Rachel shook her head quickly. “No. The Morthbrood are an ancient organization of bad sorcerers. The Moths, on the other hand, are a huge family of the Wise descended from Lord Moth, an intimate of the fairy king and queen.”

Siggy continued, “Fuentes:
‘Aw, I don’t know. People have been jumping at the shadow of the Terrible Five for over twenty years now. Isn’t it time for a new Big Bad? Not every bad German is a Nazi. Not every black magician’s a Morthbrood. Next thing we know, they’ll be claiming Veltdammerung is still around. Come on. Let’s go report to the boss.’
”

Siggy’s voice fell silent.

“How are you doing that?” Rachel whispered in awe.

Siggy grinned. “Let’s just say I have sharp hearing.”

The Familiar Bonding Ceremony was held just after breakfast in the Oriental gardens with its flowering trees and picturesque arching bridges. Tiny waterfalls separated a series of koi ponds. A traditional
shishi odoshi
made a rhythmic
tock
noise, as pooling water caused the bamboo arm to swing from its up to its down position. When the wind blew, Japanese bells chimed.

In the center of the garden stood an ivory archway. Jagged-leafed ivy grew over it, except at the very top where the Roanoke coat-of-arms was displayed: a seven-branched tree atop a winged floating island. Standing torches, their flames dancing merrily, marked the pathway leading to the arch.

The group leaving the infirmary arrived a little late. Rachel looked around eagerly, drinking in everything. In addition to sixty upper school freshmen—all of whom were older than Rachel, some by as much as two years—there were also some college freshmen who had not attended the upper school. Also present were a handful of returning students who wished to bond with a new familiar. Looking around, Rachel noted that while the subfusc uniform was popular, many other students also wore full academic robes, as did the tutor. Apparently, the girls from Drake were wrong that robes were only worn by royalty and poverty cases.

A heavyset man with a short brown beard stepped forward. He was dressed in black and green robes, the color of a professional canticler, and a green tassel hung from his square, black scholar’s cap. “Greetings. I am Mr. Hieronymus Tuck, one of the Language tutors here at Roanoke Academy. Yes, I am the descendant of Friar Tuck of Robin Hood fame. No, I do not know what a Friar is, either.”

Rachel checked her memory of dictionaries she had flipped through—from libraries of the Wise and from mundane libraries her parents had taken her to visit in England. None of them explained the word
Friar
. The best definition she could find was:
a title of respect used in the past
. She frowned. This was not the first word of its kind she had come upon. Words no one—Wise or Unwary, magical or mundane—seemed able to explain.
Steeple
, for instance. Fingers could be steepled, and brooms could be steeplechasers. But no dictionary or encyclopedia explained the word
steeple
itself.

It was a mystery for her to ponder—similar to the mystery of why there was a statue of a woman with bird wings in the forest, but no mention of any such fey creature in any field guide or encyclopedia.

“Today, you will be bonded with your familiars. Your familiar is an essential part of Conjuring, one of the seven great Arts of sorcery taught at our esteemed institution. It is also useful for thaumaturgy and warding, two of our other Arts. Only at Roanoke can you study all seven of the Sorcerous Arts. The other magic schools in the world only teach one or two. To learn elsewhere what is taught at Roanoke, you would have to attend school for twenty-eight consecutive years.”

Groans rose from the assembled students.

Mr. Tuck continued, “As many of you know, familiars grant their masters and mistresses special gifts, depending on their species. Cats grant an inability to be hurt by falling and are popular with flyers. Masters of rat familiars can find their way out of mazes. Owls grant gifts over the night, and toads give an affinity with the earth and elements, which is why they are popular with alchemists. Each familiar has a gift to give. May the gods smile upon each of you, so that you each find that your familiar’s gift complements your own.

“This ceremony provides other benefits as well. I shall leave you to find them out for yourselves. Line up. When I call your name, take your familiar and walk through the ivory arch. When you reach the far side, you will be bonded.”

With so many animals, Rachel was amazed that no dogs chased the rabbits and no cats chased the birds. Most were well-behaved, though someone’s ferret did chase someone else’s tiny fennel fox. Of course, familiars were much more intelligent than the mundane animals they resembled, which was what made it possible to incorporate them into the society of the Wise.

Rachel stood in line with Siggy, the princess, Salome, and Valerie, who was snapping pictures of everything. Between the supernaturally beautiful princess, the famous boy, and the dragon, they were the center of a great deal of attention. The group of them all had their familiars now. Lucky was wrapped around Sigfried. Valerie was accompanied by Payback, who had a yellow bandana tied around her furry neck. A giant python slithered over Salome’s shoulders and around her arms, giving the boys something to pretend to stare at as they checked out its mistress.

Princess Nastasia explained with a gracious air that—while she had considered the three traditional familiars, devils, dingoes, and roos—she had gone instead with the Tasmanian tiger, an animal extinct in the mundane world, but still very much alive in Magical Australia. The downside was, however, that because she did not know anyone else who had chosen a Tasmanian tigers as a familiar, she did not know what its associated gift might be. Rachel found the creature terribly interesting. It looked like a cross between a tiger and a wolf. It even had a marsupial pouch, one of only two animals, the princess explained, where even the male has a pouch.

Rachel herself held her black and white cat very tightly, lest he squirm out of her arms and vanish into the underbrush. Mistletoe was a rangy cat with huge jowls, a battered ear, and scars from many a catfight. The other students looked calm and expectant. Rachel was not so sanguine. Mistletoe’s mother had been Moonbeam, the worthy companion of her beloved grandfather and a descendant of a long line of famous familiars. Many of Moonbeam’s children had gone on to be outstanding in their own right. Rachel’s father and her sisters and brother all had offspring of her grandfather’s cat.

When it had been Rachel’s turn to pick, she had fallen in love with the little black and white kitten that was the feistiest of the litter. He showed such spirit and curiosity. He immediately won her heart. When the time came to test for supernatural aptitude, little Mistletoe failed all the tests. Grandfather declared him a sport, a throwback with no magical talent. He and her parents urged her to pick a different kitten, but Rachel would not abandon the little fellow. She was sure he would improve with time.

Only, he had not.

Three times in the last week she had dreamt a nightmare where, upon reaching the ivory arch, Mistletoe bolted, leaving her standing by herself, humiliated in front of her entire class—the children she was going to be living with every day for the next eight years. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she wished she had accepted her father’s last-minute offer to buy her a different familiar.

To take her mind off her fears, she glanced around, pausing briefly on each student’s face and filing it away in the well-ordered library that was her mind. The crowd was international. Rachel picked out American, Irish, French, Spanish, Egyptian, and Japanese accents. As they were called forward, she recognized many family names, some of which belonged to children of high members of the Parliament of the Wise.

Everyone stared with interest when the lovely girl with piercing blue eyes and chestnut hair that floated around her like a cloud turned out to be Wendy Darling, the daughter of the famous James Darling—the star of the
James Darling, Agent
comics. The mischievous red-haired boy behind her was Wendy’s cousin, Ian MacDannan, the son of Finn MacDannan, Darling’s right hand man from the Terrible Years, when they battled the Veltdammerung, led by the Terrible Five. Rachel knew both these children. They had attended Yule Parties and other functions together since they were little. She waved, but they were looking the other way.

A dark boy with a sardonic expression and a wolverine at his side was announced as Wulfgang Starkadder, whom Rachel knew to be the seventh heir to the throne of Transylvania, or perhaps he was the fifth heir, depending upon whether women could inherit in his country. Two of his older siblings were sisters. Nearby, she saw Cydney Graves and her two friends. They were standing with several other children, including a rather mean-looking dark-haired boy. The whole group of them sneered at her when they caught her glancing in their direction.

The majority of familiars were cats, dogs, owls, or ferrets, though there were a number of magpies and snakes as well. Some students had large mammals that had been shrunk by magic. Juma O’Malley fed peanuts to a tiny elephant. Mei-Xing Lee, from China, carried a miniature panda, and a little polar bear played with Wanda Zukov’s long dark-red hair. Rachel only noted two supernatural creatures among the crowd. Misty Lark, a girl with a dull, almost lifeless expression in her eyes and straw-colored hair that stuck out like hay, stood next to a tiny unicorn. A boy by the name of Mortimer Egg had a red-eyed rabbit that Rachel was sure was a phooka. Lots of phooka roamed Dartmoor, where Gryphon Park was located. Rachel had learned how to spot them. She wondered what kind of a gift came with a phooka familiar.

One girl, Magdalene Chase, was even smaller than Rachel, a tiny dark-haired thing with skin so pale one could practically see through it. Rachel knew that she herself looked as if she might be ten; this girl looked as if she could have been eight—though, according to Salome, she was actually fourteen. Magdalene tried to present a porcelain doll as her familiar and was laughed at by the assembled students. Rachel did not laugh. She felt very sorry for the tiny girl and wished she had some way to protect Magdalene from scorn. Squeezing Mistletoe tighter, she wondered if everyone would laugh at her like that when her cat deserted her at the arch.

As Mr. Tuck called Mortimer Egg and his phooka forward, Rachel spotted the person she had been hoping to see, a short girl with straight brown hair and many freckles. She had an open, friendly face, but there was a glint of steel her eye, as if she was little but fierce. Standing beside her was the tiny lion.

Rachel joined her. Mistletoe squirmed. She held him tighter to keep him from escaping. “Hallo. I’m Rachel Griffin. Um…do you mind if I ask you a rather peculiar question?”

“Not at all. I love peculiar questions.” To Rachel’s delight, this girl also had an English accent. She extended her hand. “I’m Jane. Jane Fabian, but everyone calls me Kitten.”

“Kitten? That’s a bit…”

“Odd?” Kitten gave her a knowing nod. “My family is like that. We are all nicknamed after animals and have rather unusual familiars. My brother Squirrel—Cyril is his real name—has a phoenix. My sister Panther has…a panther. A full-sized one, too. And Bobcat has a psammead—a sand fairy. I have Leander, of course. Though, frankly, some days it might be more appropriate to say that he has me.”

“Nice to meet you, Kitten. I would shake hands, but my cat will get away,” Rachel apologized. “Do phoenixes and psammeads make good familiars? My sister Laurel wanted a chimera, but Father said supernatural creatures were a bad idea.”

“The phoenix is irascible, and the psammead is both cantankerous and shy, which makes for a horrid combination,” Kitten replied. “Still, my brothers seldom complain. Both creatures are terribly good at conjuration, and supernatural familiars tend to have strange gifts. Squirrel can teleport, thank to the phoenix. But he says that’s a pointless gift, as he’s over eighteen, so he’s allowed to jump anyway. But here I am babbling on, and you haven’t had a chance to ask your peculiar question. Do ask.”

Rachel paused, gazing down at the tiny lion. “Does…does your familiar talk?”

“You mean Leander?” Kitten looked at her lion, who stared steadily back at her with large golden eyes. She looked back at Rachel. “What makes you ask that?”

“Just wondering.” Rachel noted that Kitten had not denied it.

“It certainly seems to me as if he does.” Kitten gave her lion a very kind smile, but it was not the sort of smile Rachel would have given her familiar. It was a look of respect, almost awe.

The tutor called Kitten’s name. She threw Rachel a grateful look and ran off with Leander. The two of them walked down the line of torches and passed through the ivory arch, followed by Diogenes Flint, Claudia Ford, Zoë Forrest—whose hair was dark green, Warren Foster, and the horrid Cydney Graves, whose familiar was a large fruit bat.