13

IDEAS

For a long moment no one spoke. Thornmallow could feel a kind of heat rising to his cheeks, and behind his eyes unshed tears prickled.

At last Magister Hickory stood, his voice soft as a cradle song. “Without a good breakfast,” he said, “we will none of us have the strength for tonight’s work.”

“Whatever that shall be,” murmured Thornmallow, but he was all of a sudden hungry, as if the magister’s suggestion had been spoken directly to his stomach.

The four children rose and filed out of the room, boys turning left, girls right, but Magister Hickory did not follow. Instead he closed the door softly behind them.

Thornmallow was not surprised to find himself suddenly in front of the dining hall, side by side with the other three. They glanced briefly at one another before going in. None of them remarked on Magister Hickory’s absence.

“I hope,” Thornmallow said, trying to change the mood, “I hope it isn’t lizard soup.”

In fact it was porridge, a lighter shade of brown than the soup, and when Tansy mentioned raisins, they immediately popped up like freckles in the bowls. Thornmallow wished she had mentioned strawberries instead. But when he tasted his porridge he realized it was just the appearance and not the actual fruit, so it didn’t matter after all.

The four of them stumbled through Elementary Spelling and Curses and first-year Names, their attention wandering. They kept giving one another little frightened, rabbity looks. However, their distraction was hardly noticed. The magisters, too, seemed unable to concentrate on the lessons, and the classes became strange combinations of badly articulated questions and barely understood answers.

None of the magicks worked.

It was rather like a half-holiday, only they were still in their seats.

At lunch the strange mood at Wizard’s Hall was all anyone talked about. One of the fourth-year students remarked, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

When they went back to Transformation class, there was a note on the door:

CANCELED ON ACCOUNT

“On account of what?” asked Wormwood, fiddling with his ear.

No one had an answer.

“That’s done it!” Will whispered to Thornmallow. “Now everyone will want to know why.”

Thornmallow turned to Will. “They should be told,” he whispered back. “To be fair.”

“To be fair,” Gorse said, her voice too loud by half, “we should all be sent home.”

“Sent home?” Wormwood insinuated himself into their circle. “But why?”

“Because …,” Gorse began, but she was elbowed fiercely by Will.

“Because,” Tansy finished for her, “if we’re to have an undeclared holiday, it would be more fun at home.”

Satisfied, Wormwood left to spread the rumor that they were all going to get the afternoon off. It took the magisters the rest of the day to make sure none of the one hundred and thirteen students actually left. Magister Briar Rose had to run after two second-year students who’d made it as far as the gates with a picnic basket chock-full of egg-and-watercress sandwiches.

“Of course,” Tansy said, “I really have no home to go to. Except for Wizard’s Hall.”

“Her ma and da are dead,” Gorse explained to Thornmallow. “And mine are away on a business trip. Wizards’ business.”

“Mine still have farmwork to do,” Will said. “They could use a helping hand.”

Thornmallow thought about his own dear ma and about running off home to her. He knew she’d welcome him. But running off home wouldn’t be right. After all, he had promised. And he had to try.

Suddenly Thornmallow looked up. “What are we talking about? There is no holiday. It was just something Tansy said to get rid of Wormwood.”

As if coming up out of a dream, the three stared at him.

“You’re right,” Will said. “What have we been talking about?”

“It’s a magic drain,” Gorse whispered fiercely. “My da told me about them. Pulls all sense out of you and leaves only non-sense. It must be the result of the Master’s stopping by.”

“Well, what can we do?” Thornmallow asked. “To help the magisters, I mean. To defeat the Master and the Beast?”

“We’re only first-years,” reminded Tansy, putting her hand on Thornmallow’s shoulder.

“But we must try,” he exclaimed.

Tansy’s eyes widened suddenly. “Try? Of course we’ll try!”

“How?” asked Will.

Thornmallow grabbed up his hand. “Think, Will, think!”

Will’s mouth opened and shut twice, like a fish in a shallow pool. “The library,” he gasped out at last.

“To learn things,” agreed Tansy, tightening her grip on Thornmallow’s shoulder.

“You’re all crazy,” Gorse said, turning to leave. But Will caught her by the arm and pulled her around. She stared at him. “What things?”

“Things like … nettles,” Tansy said.

“And correspondences,” added Will.

Understanding seemed suddenly to dawn on Gorse. “I’ll take nettles or quilts.”

It’s as if they are all speaking another language, Thornmallow thought miserably. And only I’m left out. He made a wry face, remembering something his dear ma always said, Secrets is like wounds, can’t be cleansed until opened.

“Let’s go!” cried Will, and dragging Thornmallow to the left, he turned the corner, and they were there.