“Fine. I vote ‘now’ also. We have to see how far we can get away from the boundaries before we start getting sick. We may not all be equally affected; Vanity might not be affected at all. Even if we are captured again, it is crucial to know how far we can go and which of us can do it. So the vote is unanimous.”
Colin said, “I demand a recount.”
Victor took the sacks from Quentin and shoved them into Colin’s hands. “For that, you get to carry the corpses in the clock.”
2.
Less than ten minutes later, Victor and I were lying on our stomachs behind a little mound of snow, watching the Great Hall. There were two dozen workmen there, with block and tackle, lowering ropes into a wide hole they had opened in the shingles of the roof.
My plan had been just to walk by them, no matter what they said, unless they grabbed us and threw us to the ground to sit on us.
But not only was Miss Daw there, watching the workmen work, but there were three men in blue uniforms with batons, who looked like some sort of police or private guard.
Miss Daw was sitting on the front steps, wearing a slender, buff-colored coat with mink fur at the wrists and collar. She had a stole wrapped around her throat, and earmuffs in a matching hue. The fur was so fluffy and fine that she seemed half buried in it, with only her nose and eyes above. Little snowflakes rested on her lashes, and she was a picture of loveliness.
A man in a long blue coat and a snap-brim fedora was sitting at her feet, playing a ukulele, and singing silly songs, while Miss Daw laughed and applauded.
There is nothing worse than listening to someone play a uke to your music teacher, who has a voice like an angel, and who is mercilessly strict with you and your lessons, but who just smiles when this clumsy-fingered man misses a note or sings off key. Unless you are sitting in the snow, listening, cold and annoyed and wondering why they didn’t pick another place to play. That makes it worse.
The man turned his head to offer her a drink from his hip flask. We could hear her clear voice over the distance, saying, “It is too early in the morning, Corus, darling.”
He said, “It’s got to be night time somewhere in the world. Isn’t this one round?”
She laughed her silver laugh in return.
I whispered to Victor, “That is the flying man from last night. The one with bright blue wings.”
Victor said, “What’s he doing here?”
“Victor, sometimes you are such an idiot.”
Victor looked at his watch. “Let’s give it another five minutes. Maybe she’ll get bored with his limericks or have to go to the bathroom, or something. Oh, damn. Look.”
Through the snowcapped bushes in the middle distance, we could see Headmaster Boggin, walking toward the Great Hall, stepping across the snowy lawn.
I almost did not recognize him. He was not wearing his mortarboard, and his hair lay long and loose and red, falling across the shoulders of his black silk robes and trailing down his back past his shoulder blades.
In step with him was the man who, last night, had been dressed in blue, green, and white scale armor, the Atlantian with the gills behind his ears, now stepping across the snowy lawn.
The Atlantian was dressed in a heavy coat of seal fur with a tall Russian-style cap on his head, like a shako without the visor. He wore black leather gloves and black boots of sharkskin. The whole ensemble gave him a rather ominous appearance. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, and his head nodded forward.
It was Boggin I stared at, though. I had a strange embarrassed feeling when I saw, where his flowing black robes parted in the front, Boggin was not wearing a shirt. Little red hairs, hard to see against his flesh, made curls across his chest. His pectorals were well developed, his stomach flat and ribbed with muscle. He was wearing, of all things, blue jeans beneath that. He was not wearing any socks or shoes. Boggin walked barefoot in the snow. That was more ominous than wearing a fur cap.
The corner of the library was between him and the workmen. He stopped, and would not come around the corner, but instead exchanged a few words with the Atlantian. We could hear Boggin’s comments, but the Atlantian had his head turned away from us and, besides, his voice was quieter.
“The security arrangements are entirely in your hands, this time, Mestor. You simply cannot ask the school, on our budget, to defray the costs of guarding your table in a warehouse until the Oni-Kappa Maru arrives at Port Eynon.”
Mestor asked him a question.
Boggin said back: “Possibly, but I know not everyone will be happy to have another shipload of mortal sailors disappear. I could give you some of Dr. Fell’s excellent medicine. You could administer it to the crew of whatever human ship you hired and they would remember nothing the next day. What about that?”
Mestor pointed toward the Manor House, toward the upper stories.
“No, I don’t want you to take Miss Fair as yet. We need to hear from Mulciber, for one thing. What would you do, keep her tied up in the warehouse under guard as well? And who would pay for that?”
Mestor dropped his voice, made a comment in a soft tone, speaking with quiet emphasis.
Boggin said, “Ah, well. You do make a good point. Hmm. You would have to give me your word and be in my debt. Agreed?”
Mestor said a single word.
Boggin said, “Have some of your men go wait in my office. I will write a note excusing Miss Fair from class, and asking her to report there. Your men are mortal and therefore the good Mrs. Wren will have no real ability to object if they manhandle Miss Fair a bit. Do you want Dr. Fell to provide you with chloroform or something?”
Mestor made a scoffing comment.
Boggin answered, “Oh, it’s not that. I just would prefer to avoid any screaming or fuss, or anything that might disrupt the routine today more than it has been. In fact, by Thunder, I am not sure where the students are right now. That’s annoying. Everything is at sixes and sevens. Mr. Glum was supposed to turn them over to Miss Daw for first period, yet there she sits, being serenaded by my little brother.”
Mestor peeled back his glove, looked at his watch, said something.
Boggin answered: “If possible, we should have Miss Fair spirited out of here before her little playmates know anything is wrong. Who knows what they are capable of? I can have Miss Fair’s things sent along after. What’s that? Well, I am sure any hardware supply shop would carry sturdy rope and duct tape in whatever amount you require.”
They exchanged pleasantries and good-byes.
Boggin said, “Oh, and, one last thing, my dear fellow. Remember that if she dies, Mavors will kill you and your family without speaking a word.”
Mestor stopped for a moment, as if trying to think of some rejoinder. But then he merely walked on. Mestor stepped around the corner and approached one of the men in uniform. That man saluted him.
Victor whispered to me, “We have less time than I thought. Crawl back till we reach the corner of the Manor House, then run.”
I am still faster on my feet than Victor, and I made it to Arthur’s Mound before him.
3.
Colin and Vanity and Quentin were waiting there. The fire axe was still in Colin’s hands, and Quentin had his walking stick. Vanity was holding a shovel.
As they saw me running toward them in such haste, Colin pointed Vanity toward the outliers of the woods to the South, and slapped her on the bottom. She shouldered a laundry bag, slapped Colin, and began running.
I came up the mound. “Search has already started. Boggin is going to send Vanity off with the sea-
