The Unknown Spy (7 page)

“Girls don’t want to be in here,” Dixie said, turning with a flounce. “Smells of boy!”

She walked out, followed by Vandra. Danny sat down beside Toxique.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently. Toxique was the
only pupil who had stayed at school over the holiday even though both of his parents were alive. His father thought it would harden him up. Toxique’s family were professional assassins going back many generations, and the heavy burden of following in their footsteps had fallen on Toxique’s shoulders. His father believed that he lacked the necessary ruthlessness and didn’t hesitate to tell him so in frequent letters.

“Another letter,” Toxique said glumly. He pulled it from his pocket and read.

“ ‘For generations this family have been the assassins of choice when the termination of a king or prime minister has been called for, though we were not too proud to end a peasant’s existence if required. Our service has always been discreet and efficient. Our profession is as essential to the smooth functioning of society as that of a lawyer or an architect.…’ ”

“I get the idea,” Danny said, “but it’s just the normal stuff, surely?”

“Well, that is, but listen to this: ‘No one in our family has ever reached the third term of his or her first year at Wilsons without carrying out at least one termination. This happy tradition is in danger of being broken, and I am sure that even you do not want the burden of being the first failure. Please choose your subject and carry out all necessary steps to maintain the tradition by the end of term.’

“He wants me to bump somebody off,” Toxique said in despair. “What am I going to do?”

“When did this come?” Danny asked.

“Four days ago. I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything since.”

“Let me think about it,” Danny said. “We’ll sort it out. I promise.”

“You mean that?”

“I do,” Danny said, wondering what he had let himself in for.

“The door is going to open in a few seconds,” Toxique said absently, “and some faces you won’t want to see are going to walk in.”

To Danny, Toxique’s Gift of Anticipation was much more valuable than his being an assassin. He was never wrong—and this time, unfortunately, was no exception. The door opened and their classmates Smyck and Exspectre walked in, the first boy tall and thin, the other small with large dark-rimmed eyes that made him look, as Les said, like a bush baby.

“We’re back. What’s wrong with Toxique?” Exspectre said.

“Probably assassinated that freak Dixie by mistake when she went invisible,” Smyck said with a laugh.

“Leave it out, Smyck,” Les said.

“If you picked him for your ‘subject,’ ” Danny said to Toxique, “I think I’d side with your dad. Sometimes family tradition is a good thing.” Toxique gave a wan little smile but his gaze rested thoughtfully on Smyck, long enough for the tall boy to look uncomfortable and hurry off.

“I was only joking,” Danny said. “You do know that, don’t you, Toxique?”

* * *

T
wenty miles away, on the other side of the channel of water that separated Wilsons from its enemies, Conal the Seraphim stood in front of three others. On the left was Rufus Ness, the leader of the Cherbs, a brutal character with a cunning look who, like Danny, had one brown eye and one blue. On the right stood a glamorous woman in a red dress. She was smiling, but Nurse Flanagan’s smile did not touch her eyes. In the middle stood a man of medium height with a gentle, almost chiding smile on his face, as if he was a teacher who had found a child doing something bold but was waiting patiently for a reasonable explanation. He was Ambrose Longford, the leader of the Ring.

“You fled because of a flock of birds?” Ness said incredulously.

“Not birds,” Conal said, his yellow eyes glittering menacingly. “Ravens!”

“They
are
dangerous,” Longford said to Ness. “More than you know.”

“Surely not so dangerous that they should send our Seraphim fleeing with their tails between their legs,” Nurse Flanagan said with a little laugh.

“They make a poison with the filth from the bottom of their nests and coat their beaks with it,” Conal said. “It is deadly.”

“Particularly to Seraphim,” Longford added. “The avian part of their genetic make-up is particularly susceptible to the poison. You did the right thing, Conal.
Imagine what would have happened to the treaty if the countryside of the Upper World had been littered with the corpses of Seraphim,” he told the others. “Would you be casting doubts on the courage of the Seraphim then, or would you be running for your lives with the whispers of the Unquiet in your ears, Rufus?”

“Perhaps it was the intention of the ravens to undermine the treaty,” Nurse Flanagan said, again with that little laugh that had no real amusement in it, “to portray us as treaty breakers and leave us at the mercy of the Unquiet.”

“Perhaps. Were they there to guard Danny, or were they using him as bait to lure us into an attack? We will probably never know. All I can say is that the ravens will have to be watched in this matter.”

“The real problem is that we did not capture the boy,” Rufus Ness said impatiently.

“Yes, Rufus, but I have been thinking, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

“What do you mean?” Ness demanded.

“Wilsons will have worked out by now that we are seeking the Treaty Stone.”

“Why would they think that?” Nurse Flanagan said, examining a highly polished nail.

“Because they know it is the only way we can destroy the treaty and invade the Upper World. If the Treaty Stone is found and broken, then the treaty ends.”

“The Upper World will be ours for the taking,” Rufus Ness said with a satisfied grunt.

“The problem is that the Stone is held in the Upper World. We are not permitted there,” Conal said.

“And you failed in your first secret mission to the Upper World anyway, so there’s no point in trying that again,” Nurse Flanagan said smoothly, drawing an angry glare from Conal.

“Enough,” Longford said. “Squabbling will not bring us the Stone.”

“What will?” Conal said.

“Not what, but who?” the leader said. “I know how Devoy’s mind works. He will want to find the Stone and hide it from us. So he must send someone who is permitted in the Upper World and is used to its ways.”

“The boy!” Ness said. “He wouldn’t dare send the Fifth.”

“He might not, but Brunholm will persuade him that the Fifth is the only person for the job. Doubtless he will send that ragtag group, the physick and the blond girl and that miserable Messenger boy.”

“Are they not barred by the treaty?” Nurse Flanagan said.

“There is a loophole. Those who drew up the treaty did not think that anyone under the age of sixteen was a threat, and at the time there were children to be moved from the Lower to the Upper World, so they are exempt. Another reason why Danny Caulfield is the obvious choice.”

“I see,” Nurse Flanagan said. “So what is your plan?”

“If Danny succeeds in stealing the Treaty Stone, then we must get it from him. We have planted the seed of
treachery in him. With the right persuasion, he will join us and bring the Stone with him.”

“You sound very sure about that, considering that his friendship with the others won out over us the last time. He did not betray them,” Conal said sourly.

“We went about it the wrong way before. We must make sure that his friends abandon him. He will feel betrayed, and that in turn will make him betray them. Then he will join us and the Ring of Five will be complete—and will hold absolute power!”

A POISON DART

D
anny, Vandra and Dixie stood in Devoy’s office, each of them intent on the master’s words, each heart beating fast. Brunholm turned to the wall behind him and swept aside a cloth, revealing a map. The cadets moved closer. It was a Living Map. Even though it was pinned to the wall, the rivers flowed with threads of real water, clouds scudded across the skies, and smog hung over the towns and cities.

Brunholm pointed to a mountain range, its peaks white with snow. A blizzard was moving across the range from north to south, coating pine forests at the base of the mountains with more snow.

“The mountain kingdom of Morne,” Brunholm said, whipping a giant magnifying glass from under his cloak
and holding it up to the map. Through it they saw large stone buildings perched on a crag on the western flank of one of the mountains. Snow-covered gardens and terraces ran down the face of the crag until they reached forbidding cliffs on three sides.

“To the outside world it is hidden so it isn’t interfered with. By the treaty Morne is allowed to accept scholars from the Lower World, so you will travel there as students. Danny, you will go as a student of the history of the Lower World. Our young physick can go as a student of medicine, and you”—he turned to Dixie, who was watching him with an expression that managed to be eager and vacant at the same time—“you can go as a student of … something or other.”

“How do we find it?” Danny asked.

“It is a Kingdom of Unreliable Location,” Devoy said, “and therefore moves from mountain range to mountain range. At the moment it is in the Carpathians, but we expect it to move soon. We’ll keep you informed.

“Now, that is enough for the time being. We will have more detailed instructions for you in the following days. In the meantime, I hope I do not have to tell you not to speak of this to anyone.”

Danny stared at the dark buildings of Morne. Part of him feared its stone walls and high narrow windows; part of him longed to learn its secrets. Vandra had to pull him away.

* * *

T
hat day the Unknown Spy had been allowed back into his room for the first time since the murder. Valant had cleaned it thoroughly, but it wasn’t the same. The spy sat behind his desk in the darkness. He had forgotten many things, but he had not forgotten his wife’s face. He sat there until darkness fell, his eyes unseeing. He had often sat like this, feeling that there was a great secret just out of grasp, if he could only reach back into his memory. Now there was nothing but his sorrow.

He heard a careful click. He had not forgotten the sound of a lock being picked and stealthy feet entering a room. He reached for the drawer where he kept his revolver, but when it slid silently open he felt in vain in the empty space. Valant had removed it. A voice spoke in the darkness, a high-pitched, hissing voice—he could not tell if it was male or female.

“You do not need your pistol; I do not intend to harm you.”

“Who are you?” the Unknown Spy said. His voice was calm. He had been in a thousand dangerous situations in his career.

“That is of no consequence. I have information for you about the death of your wife.”

“What information?” The Unknown Spy’s voice was cold. Was the creature in the dark responsible for his wife’s murder?

“I did not kill her, but I can identify the killer for you.”

“Why would you do that?” There was a curious whining sound in the darkness—his intruder was laughing.

“A belief in justice, perhaps?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No. You are right. A belief in revenge, then.” The wheezing laugh had stopped.

“Let me have my revenge. Tell me,” the Unknown Spy cried, “and then leave me to it!”

“Very well,” the voice said. “The boy with the wings, the Messenger Les Knutt, killed your wife.”

There was a shuffling sound in the unlit room. The door clicked again. The Unknown Spy was alone in the darkness.

“W
ow,” Vandra said, “easy!”

“Yes,” Danny said, “get into a kingdom that moves about without warning, steal the Treaty Stone while pretending to be students and get out alive, presumably chased by the kingdom’s army. Dead easy.”

“Lay off the snarky tone,” Dixie said.

“Sorry,” Danny said, looking contrite. “Every time I meet Brunholm he puts my teeth on edge.”

“I can’t wait to see the Upper World,” Dixie said excitedly, disappearing and reappearing in the corridor ten feet ahead of them.

“Hey,” Danny said, pointing out the window. They were looking down onto a hidden inner courtyard that was rarely used and only visible from that window. Four elderly Messengers stood in the courtyard. The winged Messengers had flown between the Two Worlds carrying information before war had broken out. Once the treaty
had been signed and the Two Worlds divided, the Messengers were no longer needed. Some had gone over to the enemy and had become the Seraphim. The others had fled to Wilsons, and rather than face the fact that they were no longer needed, they had decided to treat their old life as something to be ashamed of. So much so that unless it was absolutely necessary, they never flew; flying was regarded as vulgar and their wings as burdensome.

“How come Les is the only young Messenger?” Dixie asked, the thought suddenly popping into her mind.

“As far as I know all the other young Messengers died of disease and hunger during the war. The ones that are left are too old to have children,” Vandra said.

Four Messengers stood in the square, including Gabriel, once an aerial ace, but now earthbound like the rest. Or was he? Danny and his friends crouched to watch as Gabriel rose into the air, flew around the courtyard once at a leisurely pace, then casually performed a loop the loop before landing in front of the others. With varying degrees of success the three others, two respectable-looking lady Messengers and an absentminded male, imitated him.