Chapter 11
Grim found that it took time to adjust to his new surroundings, especially when he had to serve people who acted as if they were his betters. Almost all of the nobles that studied at Madam Malkim’s were complete snobs and treated the orphans like garbage ― especially Gorkin, the Lord of Simeon Manor. It was as if he made it his duty to torment them.
Grim learned to get out of his way when he saw the boy’s flaming red hair heading in his direction. He was scrawny, with a slitty nose, bulging black eyes, and his skin was so pale and shiny he resembled a salamander. Many of the other students groveled at his feet, especially the two that were always on his heels: Jackmeister and Ninnipence, the Duke and Duchess of Terl. The siblings looked like hyenas in human clothing. Even their laughter had that sickening cackle to it.
The three of them were just horrid, especially to Treena. They kept taunting her about her father, whom they referred to as the Pleader of the Resistance and mocked his pelt. In fact most of the students would make snide remarks at Treena or try to trip her while she carried bundles of wood across the grounds. Of course, none of this was done in the presence of the Tutors, although some of the adults might have even been responsible for a few of the extended feet that tripped her. And nothing stopped the pompous snobs from going after Grim and Rudy as well ― guilt by association.
There were the exceptions, like Halriette ― the Duchess of Finn, and Oslo ― the Duke of Polter. They always had a kind word, offered their thanks, and would help to pick up items from the ground if either Grim, Rudy or Treena were tripped. And the two seemed to take quite a shining to Sam and Ellen. They were often seen escorting them. Sometimes they even chased Ninnipence and her lot away. But their like were few and far between.
With that said, after a few weeks Grim felt a little more settled into the routine of his new life. He may have begrudged his dads for it, but he was getting used to it.
Between cleaning Master Avon’s massive pipe organ; mending linens and clothing that whizzed by with Madam Slone; and further time spent with Orlanda Kennelworth in the kitchens, there was little time for Grim to think about his parents or about whether or not he missed his old life. And whenever Madam Malkim or one of the Tutors saw him coming, more chores were piled on to his already hectic schedule. So far he missed three sessions with Madam Phoebe. Although often late, he did manage to keep up his time with Master Cobblepot. Between gobs of yellow spittle, the old Hobgoblin often spoke freely of all kinds of history.
“The Tower of Celest was founded by a very powerful Mystic over twenty generations ago.”
“What are the Mystics?” Grim asked.
Master Cobblepot looked at Grim in surprise and then his gaze softened. “I suppose, since you were born after the Tower was closed, you’d know little of these things.” He pointed out the window, towards the eastern mountains. “Half way between here and those mountains is a tower — sealed by the last of the Mystics. They could call upon Jinns, and cast spells of incredible power. Of course, that was before the Darksworn showed up and magic began to fade. True magic, that is.”
“Darksworn?”
“Dark Mystics.”
“Why was the Tower closed?”
“What good is a Mystic’s Tower when there are none to occupy it.”
“What happened to the last of the Mystics?”
The old man shook his head. “Perhaps in search of magic elsewhere, but no one knows for sure.” He began another coughing fit and filled the bowl to the brim. He then waved Grim to go and empty it.
The time with Master Rickett almost made up for all of it though. A number of contraptions required fixing and the man led Grim through various secret passageways to get at the mechanisms from behind the walls. Grim wasn’t entirely sure what all of them did, but he watched the man’s every move as they repaired auto-dressers, cookers, sinth-like refrigerators, and fold-up beds, one of which had trapped a student. It also gave Grim the opportunity to suggest a washing machine and dryer.
“Such things already exist, boy, but they’re too expensive, even for Madam Malkim. The same with machines that wash dishes. And why would she buy them when she has orphans to do the work for almost nothing?”
Grim remained silent.
The man grunted and to Grim’s dismay, moved on to the fixing the toilet, or as often called, the crapper.
“Stick your arm in there and unclog it, boy.”
Grim sighed, pulled up a long glove, and held his breath.
After a less-than-hearty dinner that was comprised of a fish head sitting in a bowl of lukewarm soup, Grim tried pocketing a small piece of bread to smuggle back to his room. If he didn’t start finding ways to eat he’d starve on this orphan slop. He and the others merged with the crowds of children in the corridor, weaving through the students.
“Ugh!”
Grim stepped back after having walked into someone who barreled around the corner. The bread dropped to the floor where it was trampled by a boy about four years older than Grim. He was taller by more than a head and wore pointed black boots, a matching walking stick, and a flowing, purple cape around his shoulders ― a purple cape with fluffy white trim.
Grim nearly laughed out loud at the sight of him, but thought the extra chores wouldn’t be worth it. He’d likely be ordered to shine his boots or something ― and his boots couldn’t really be any shinier than what they already were. Grim covered his mouth to stifle his chuckle.
“Watch where you’re going, wretch,” said the boy, staring down his hooked nose at him. Something about his features seemed familiar, but Grim knew he couldn’t have known him.
“Lord Festrel,” said Quinn. He immediately bowed.
“Quinn,” the boy said. He did not return the gesture. “I heard that you were here. Your poor father,” he said, tsking, “killed by a rogue Changeling ― such a shame. And your poor mother and her spells of madness ― bad blood, you know. Until you’re old enough to rule, surely you would be better off under my father’s protection rather than being surrounded by these,” he faked a cough, “…orphans.”
He eyed Grim and the others with disdain. “Give it some thought. You would be well cared for at my father’s Manor.”
Quinn’s face glowed with a slight tinge of red.
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Treena, turning towards Quinn. “I thought your―”
Quinn held up his hand to silence her. “So what brings you here?” he asked.
“Duty,” Festrel replied with a smirk. “I’m here to visit with some of the nobility of Harkness and I thought I would see what your little Madam Malkim’s was all about.” His eyes scanned over Rudy. “You seem to be keeping rather common company.”
Quinn stuttered, unable to speak.
“I suppose you already know who I am,” he said to Grim. He adjusted the cape and flicked off a piece of lint.
Grim shook his head. “No, but nice cape,” he said with a smirk.
Festrel’s lips twitched into a sneer. “I’m Lord Festrel, heir to Harland Manor,” he said. “Who might you be?”
Harland. Poppa’s Manor.
His mouth dropped open and Rudy stepped forward. “Rudy of House Doyle,” she said. “This is my brother Grim.”
“Doyle?” he said. “I do not recognize the name. Not that it matters.” He looked Grim up and down as if assessing whether he was worthy of his time or not. “You’re orphans.”
He looked at Treena. “And you are?”
Treena cowered and whispered meekly. “TreenaofHouseOctavius.”
It took the prince a moment to catch Treena’s swift words.
“Octavius?!” he exclaimed. He paced back and forth. “Octavius?!” He shook his head as if it were impossible to believe. “The Resistance!” His face reddened like an overripe tomato, and he clicked something on his walking stick. A sharp spear protruded through the end. He flicked it up, barely missing Quinn’s face. “I wonder what my father would say if he knew what sort of company you are keeping!” He spat as he spoke and Quinn wiped his face with a kerchief.
Then Festrel turned on his heel and marched away, leaving knife prints in the wooden floors.
The group headed outside to clean the grounds, and Grim wanted desperately to ask questions, but he was afraid he might let loose his identity to Quinn. He’d slipped up far too often.
“So, he’s the heir to Harland Manor,” Grim said, hands in his pockets, trying to look as casual as he could. Rudy rolled her eyes.
He frowned at her before continuing. “Who’s his father?”
Quinn still shook from the encounter. He kept adjusting his cap and vest.
“How can you not know these things!” he snapped. “Surely you’ve heard of Lord Victor in the Southlands. He is the wealthiest magistrate in the north.”
Rudy butted in. “Is he new to the Manor?” she asked. “I don’t recall that name.”
Quinn exhaled his exasperation at their complete lack of knowledge. “Where are you from? Honestly! He’s been Lord of Harland Manor for years!”
They all said nothing and waited for him. “Ugh, yes, there was someone prior, but he never produced a legitimate heir. According to custom, Victor is the rightful heir to the Manor. He was the only one who bore a son.”
Two things twisted in Grim’s head at those words. First was the sorrow for Poppa’s loss of the Manor because he didn’t have a child by birth. It was entwined with the second, the sickening realization that Festrel was his cousin.
The same anger and revulsion smoldered in Rudy’s eyes.
“A son?” she asked, putting on her best fake smile.
Quinn examined his fingernails and settled himself on a bench while the others swept the grounds.
“Well, of course. Boys are taught how to manage the affairs of the Manor. Women are taught to look beautiful and throw fabulous dinner parties.”
“You must be joking,” Grim said.
The look on Quinn’s face was serious. “No joke.”
“Girls are just as capable as boys,” said Treena with Rudy nodding her head in vigorous agreement. “I once knew a Gunslinger that no man could beat. And she was a woman.”
“Interesting.” He examined his fingernails again. “I don’t expect you to understand these things. Remember, my father is a Lord. I know better.”
“You think you’re smarter because you’re father’s a Lord?” Treena asked. Her hair now stood so tall it looked like it was about to shoot off her head.
“Well, actually you said it. Not me. But now that you bring it up, I can’t argue with you.” He coughed.
Treena’s face was fuming red and the vein in her neck pulsed. It was a good thing she wasn’t a Sylph, because it appeared like she was about to go Banshee at any moment. Fortunately, their attention was diverted when Sam and Ellen strode up to them with Toby. The twins were behind them, trying to follow them in secret.
At the site of Quinn, the dog promptly jumped on him and licked him.
“Ugh! Get that beast off me!” he screamed, and wiped his face.
Ellen reached down and placed something on the ground. It was Scarlet. The creature skittered towards them and crawled up Grim’s leg. It settled on his shoulder and he stroked it. She purred.
Quinn looked mortified. “What is that?”
Grim grinned at him. “This is Scarlet.” He paused at the look on Quinn’s face.
Perfect.
“Want to hold her?” he asked with her perched on his extended hand. He’d have to keep her in their room now.
“That little beast?! Filth!”
Scarlet’s pincers were squeaking at the boy. Grim stroked her until she started purring again and then placed her back on his shoulder.
Sam and Ellen didn’t look happy.
“What’s wrong?” Grim asked.
“Festrel,” Sam said. He puckered his lips and stuck out his tongue.
Grim laughed. “I see you met him.”
The twins stepped out from behind the tree. Barny put up one finger like he had an interesting fact to tell. “He’s our cous —”
“Jinn!” yelled Rudy, pointing in the distance.
A wooden painting of a man summoning an evil-looking Jinn was being carried across the grounds.
Quinn just looked at her like she was crazy. “Are you trying to cause a panic?”
She smiled sheepishly and then gave a severe scowl to the twins and motioned for them to be quiet.
Sam smiled. “We have to go now.”
“I’ll come with you,” Grim said hastily.
Quinn looked at the dog and then at Scarlet. “I think I’ll stay here,” he said and returned to grooming his fingernails.
And before the twins could do any more damage, Rudy and Grim grabbed each by an arm and escorted them away.
Later in the evening, Grim made his way back from cleaning laundry; and it was a dirty lot. Someone thought it might be hilarious to take the bed sheets and throw them out the window and into the gutters. He suspected Gorkin, but he had no way to prove it.
After washing until his fingers were like prunes, Grim didn’t think it was that funny at all. And if he got his raw, tender hands on the fool that came up with such an idea, he would throttle them ― as soon as his fingers had feeling.
He massaged his aching hands, and walked back towards his room when a loud ruckus caught his attention. A thunderous voice echoed down the corridor and there was no mistaking to whom it belonged. Without thinking, Grim dashed towards the Hearth Room to find Rudy facing Eevenellin, hands on her hips.
“You took it! I know you took it! Give it back!” yelled Rudy, shaking her fist at her.
An evil glint appeared in Eevenellin’s eyes. “Prove it.”
Rudy turned red, redder than Grim had ever seen her. And she was tugging so hard on her pigtails Grim thought she’d yank them right off. He couldn’t let this continue, but before he could say anything Valeria stepped into the room.
“What is going on here?” she asked, looking them over.
Rudy pointed. “I found her―”
Valeria raised her hand in a gesture of silence. “Eevenellin, what happened?”
The Grundel eyed Rudy for a moment, but her one beady eye showed no sign of what she was thinking. She coughed.
“Nothing,” she replied with a voice of honey and sweetness.
Valeria pointed down the hallway. “I want to see you in my room. Now. We will discuss your penance in private.”
Eevenellin lowered her head and nodded, still coughing.
“But,” Rudy said, “I found―”
“I don’t want to hear it,” said Valeria. “It’s not the first time I’ve found her instigating a quarrel with others. She has a difficult personality and it seems a long talk is overdue. I will handle the situation and I suggest you forget about it. She will be dealt with appropriately.”
“Rudy, maybe we should go for a walk,” Grim said, grabbing her by the arm. “I think you might need some air.”
Rudy said nothing and let Grim drag her out of the room, but stared back at the Grundel. When they reached the bottom of the staircase, they ran into Treena. She took one look at Rudy’s face and gasped.
“What’s going on?” Treena asked.
Grim shook his head. “I don’t know, but she needs to get outside. Come on.”
Treena followed as they marched across the grounds. The ravens bounced out of their path in a hurry as they followed Rudy.
“Rudy, what happened?” asked Treena as they settled on a stone bench.
Rudy took a deep breath. “My chore this afternoon was housekeeping. I was told to dust off the shelves of the old storage room all week. It’s a restricted area. When I finished cleaning off the shelves on the one side I stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air, but I forgot to lock the door. When I came back, I saw that wretched Grundel running down the hallway and it looked like she was hiding something. I ran into the room and noticed one of the bottles I just cleaned was missing. It was a blue one. Anyway, I finished what I had to do and went straight back to the rooms. She denied taking anything, but she’s lying!”
Grim pondered a moment. “So she took something, but you’re not sure what. Did you see the label?”
Grim regretted asking it the moment the question fell from his lips.
Rudy hung her head and resorted to yanking one of her pigtails. “You know I can’t read well.”
Treena just looked at Rudy, not understanding.
“Dyslexia,” Rudy said.
Again, Treena continued to stare at Rudy, perplexed.
Grim came up with the only explanation he could think of. “She reads the letters backwards.”
“Oh,” Treena said. “You’re a mirror reader. So is my father!”
The pain on Rudy’s face lightened.
Grim breathed a sigh of relief. It had always been a sore point for Rudy, and something she struggled to overcome.
“I’m sure we could ask Master Galan what the bottle was,” he said.
Rudy looked horrified. “It would be my word against hers. Besides, Master Galan probably hasn’t been here long enough to have gone through the old storage room. From what I could see, no one could have been in there in for years. It was coated in dust. I’ll be in there all week.”
“We have to tell someone,” Grim said.
Rudy frowned. “Who are we going to tell? Madam Malkim? There’s no proof. And what’s in that room is locked tight. If we say nothing, no one will notice it’s gone. We’ll just have to keep an eye on the Grundel and see what she’s up to. When we know where she’s got it, we’ll take it back.”
Grim hesitated. “Why did they let you clean that room if it’s that important?”
Rudy rolled her eyes. “Aunt Patrice recommended me for the job. She said she would be personally responsible should anything happen. If she hears about this…”
Grim nodded. He knew all too well.
“All right,” he muttered, “but we have to get it back before anyone finds out.”
“Agreed,” the others said in unison and Rudy looked as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She finally let go of her hair.
In the distance, Grim noticed the second moon rising, full and golden in the night sky.
“We need to get back. It’s after second moonrise,” he said.
A howl echoed through the city streets. Whatever it was, it sounded a little too close for any of their liking and the three of them dashed back to into Madam Malkim’s Home for Destitute and Wayward Children.