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“I don’t understand,” he said, clutching the cup of tea in Jupiter’s office after Morrigan had been sent to bed.
He couldn’t stop seeing it, the bright lights, having to close his eyes against it to stop seeing it, to filter it out.
There was something so unreal about it. Not subhuman or something lesser but more. Extra human. If they were all alive, then Morrigan was the most alive of all of them, her colours saturated where the rest of theirs paled.
He’d almost been blinded when he had looked at first, but in his defence, he hadn’t expected to see something almost eldritch on the way to get a glass of milk in the middle of the night.
But he had, and now he knew. He knew why his uncle had taken such a risk, had put everything on the line for someone whom he had previously considered at most incredibly annoying and otherwise completely unremarkable. He knew what Morrigan Crow was.
He tried to moisten his lips, his throat tighter than he had wanted it to be, “Uncle Jove?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yes, Jack?” his uncle looked up for the first time, serious again. “What is it?”
He rolled his eyes, “What is she? Because what I saw- she can’t, right? She’s not- Ezra Squall or-”
“No,” his uncle frowned. “She’s not Ezra Squall.”
“Are there… I thought he was the only one,” he said. Neither of them had said the word yet, but it was almost sitting between them. His eyepatch was still off, but he was squinting, trying to filter out as much as possible, to be as normal as he could manage. “How can there be another?”
“Wundersmiths,” Jack flinched, his eyes opening slightly, and he could see the worry around Jupiter now, concern for him, and for Morrigan too. “are difficult to know about. All the books about them are severely limited, or have been rewritten to such an extreme I’m not sure if even five percent of the information in them isn’t lies or incredibly biassed against them. Morrigan Crow was born to two parents in Jackalfax almost twelve years ago on Eventide at midnight. In the Wintersea Republic, any child who is born at that exact child, dies at exactly the same time, on the next Eventide.”
“What,” he blinked. “Like reincarnation?”
Jupiter shrugged, “I’m guessing. I really don’t know.”
“But she’s- she’s,” he forced his mouth to make the shapes necessary, doing his best to dispose of all the fear of bogeymen with the same name lurking in the shadows, with blackened mouths and empty eyes.
But then he thought again about what he’d seen in Morrigan, when he’d looked deeper, for half a second, and ignored the brightness. She’d had no sclera there. And even though her mouth had been open and she had been talking clearly to him, he hadn’t seen her teeth or tongue, just an abyss where they ought to be.
He took another gasping breath, and Jupiter put his hands around his, still fixed to the teacup.
“She’s a wundersmith,” he said finally. “I thought she didn’t have a knack.”
“I know,” his eyes narrowed. “You’ve been quite inconspicuous about that.”
“Most people think she doesn’t have a knack. I heard Kedgeree-” he cut himself off.
Jupiter frowned, “I’ll have a word with him about that. And I wouldn’t call it a knack, strictly.”
“What is it then?”
“Something else.”
“Good enough for Wunsoc?”
“Do you ever wonder why the Wundrous Society is thus called, Jack?”
He had honestly never thought about it. Truth be told, he thought about it as little as possible, and said as much.
“Because it was created by wundersmiths, originally for wundersmiths. I think the other people came around later. It’s all very unclear though, and even getting the clearance to ask for the books at the Gob would raise too many eyebrows so I haven’t tried there yet. I might though, later.”
“What does Morrigan think about it?”
Jupiter froze, “She doesn’t know,” he said.
“She doesn’t know?” he realised how loud his voice had become and covered his mouth momentarily. “She doesn’t know?” he repeated, at a more regulated volume.
“I’ll tell her,” he said. “At the Show Trial. The time isn’t right yet. But,” he suddenly looked very serious. As serious as he had looked when he had been ordering Morrigan off to bed and him into his study. “You can’t tell anyone. Not even Morrigan. This conversation cannot leave my room. I’m trusting you, Jack.”
He drained his cup and set it aside, making full eye contact with his uncle, seeing the dark clouds of tiredness and stress around his temples, and put his hand on his chest, “You can trust me. I won’t tell anyone.”
Kedgeree watched Jupiter triple check that all the doors were locked, and made sure the curtains were all shut tight, before he started talking.
“What I’m about to say here cannot leave this room. It cannot be said to anyone who is not in this room, except for Morrigan and Jack. And if you have a problem with it then I may have to ask you to leave the hotel.”
He noticed everyone stiffening. Charlie’s eyes narrowed and he muttered out of the side of his mouth, “Any idea about what this is about, Kedge?”
“No idea,” he mouthed.
He had a bit of an idea. It wouldn’t have occurred to him except that Jupiter had brought up Miss Morrigan and Master Jack, and the girl’s Show Trial had only been last week. And to everyone’s surprise, or at least his and Chanda’s, she’d not only gotten in, she had placed first.
But the reports that came out later about it were odd. Some people claimed that it was some kind of nepotism or favouritism scandal waiting to break, some people claimed that when Jupiter went to talk to the Elders right beforehand and right afterwards, he had done something to them.
These two things, Kedgeree knew to be utterly untrue. Jupiter would never do something as serious as manipulate his way into getting a winner for the trials, and he didn’t even think he knew the sort of magic that would be required to manipulate the Elders in such a way.
Maybe he did. Captain North seemed to know a little bit of anything. But the point was that he hadn’t done it anyhow.
He was pretty sure, however, that this would be about Miss Morrigan’s knack. Whatever it was, he didn’t mind it. She was a good girl who was very nice and would never do anyone any harm, and judging from the faces of everyone else in the room: Charlie, Martha, Frank, Chef Honeycutt, none of them would oppose that thought.
Fen was there too, but he was fairly sure she already knew. She had been around for whatever frightening thing had happened to Miss Morrigan after the Show Trial. She was licking her paws by the fireplace in a way that seemed both adorable and intimidating.
“Morrigan is a wundersmith,” Jupiter said after a minute, and Kedgeree’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.
“Oh,” was all Martha said.
“Really?” said Charlie.
“Called it,” said Frank
“Well,” said Chef Honeycutt.
“I don’t want anyone bothering Morrigan about it, I don’t want anyone outside of those who already know, to know about it, alright?” His face was solemn, eyes stony.
“We won’t tell anyone,” Kedgeree said, looking at the others who nodded alongside him. “We’ll keep the secret.”
Jupiter ran a hand over his face looking relieved, “Good, good. Also, if any of you see that Stink officer back around here, can you please throw him out the front door straight away?”
“I can drive him off a cliff for you,” Charlie offered.
“Not necessary, but thank you.”
“Conall?” Sofia looked up from her work as he charged into the study chamber, his stick smacking loudly against the door, before collapsing into a chair. “Conall, what’s going on? Is everything alright? How was your meeting with Elder Quinn?”
He opened his mouth to speak, and held up to fingers, but he kept breathing loudly instead, his other hand pressed to his chest.
“Should I take you to the Teaching Hospital?” she asked. She’d taken the usual First Aid classes as a junior scholar, but humans got sick from so many different things. Was he allergic to something in here? Or something in the Elder’s Hall?”
“I’m fine,” he said, getting a hold of himself. “Everything is fine. Excellent, actually,” his lips were literally cracking from how wide he was grinning. “Is anyone else here?”
“Just us, I think.”
“Well,” he said. “I finally found out why Rook is here.”
“You- you did?”
“But,” he said, his hands moving as he spoke. “No one else can know, okay? Not until the announcement. This is to remain inside the Sub-Nine Academic Group.”
She nodded, “Alright. What is it?”
“There’s a new wundersmith.” He said it so quickly that she took a minute to register the implications of what he was saying.
“A new- who is i- the Crow girl.”
“Yes,” he said. “Exactly.”
“That explains so much,” she wanted to slap herself. “We all said the Show Trial was strange, the way the Elders acted, and didn’t Rook appear right after their inauguration? We really should have worked this out months ago.”
“Probably,” he said. “Can’t be helped now. She’ll be joining us down here in the new year.”
Her nose twitched, “Why not now?”
“The Elders want her to attend her first C&D meeting first. And Unit 919 hasn’t quite finished their loyalty trial yet either.”
“Is that-” her fur went on end. “Who exactly is giving the announcement?”
Conall blinked, “I had assumed the Elders but now that you mention it, goodness, that’s quite a cruel thing to do to a child.”
“Make them announce what they are to the Society?”
“Public speaking.”
She snorted, and composed herself, her mind filling with possibilities, “Conall, there’s going to be a wundersmith on Sub-Nine again.”
“I know,” his lip was completely bleeding now. “A wundersmith here again. We have so much to show her! And so much to prepare,” he clapped his hands together. “Where should we start?”
Sofia thought for a moment, “The Book of Ghostly Hours?”
“What’s your knacks?”
It was odd not being part of the youngest unit anymore. She hadn’t even been aware of the trials for Unit 920 going on, not while people had been getting kidnapped right and left for the Ghastly Market, or suddenly going from no classes at all to a full schedule, but it had happened and there were nine new eleven year olds in the halls of Proudfoot House.
“Why don’t you guess?” Arch said, folding his arms over the table.
An arcane boy with glasses folded his hands together and started pointing, “I’ve seen you at the Dragon Riding Arena on Sub-Five, so you’re… a dragon rider?”
Hawthorne took a break from inhaling a bacon butty and nodded enthusiastically.
The boy continued, looking at Lam, “You’re always in the Oracle spaces in Sub-Six, and you told me to get out of the way right before that smoke bomb went off last week, thanks by the way, so some kind of short range oracle?”
She smiled, “I’m a radar, so yes. What do you think Mahir’s is?”
Mahir, who had been translating something into three different languages, judging from the scripts, looked up, “Pardon?”
“Linguist,” the boy said easily. “Or some kind of polylingual at least.”
“Linguist,” Mahir confirmed.
“Mcleod is a fighter?”
Thaddea grinned showing all her teeth. Unfortunately she had just been drinking tomato juice so it had the uncomfortable implication that instead of punching Will Gaudy in the face, as she had done earlier, she had actually eaten him. “You haven’t done Arch’s,” she said.
“Violinist?”
“Nope, sorry,” he said. “Everyone thinks that but I just really like the violin.”
“Huh,” the boy said, looking around until his eyes caught something. “You have a necklace hanging out of your pocket, are you a thief?”
“Pickpocket,” Arch said. “Nicely done.”
“Thanks,” the boy said. He went on pretty quickly after that, pointing down the row, “Gastronomist, something medical,” he skipped over Cadence, as was expected, before landing on Morrigan, who stiffened involuntarily. As did the rest of her Unit. “I actually have no idea,” he said, and started counting on his fingers. “Wait, have I forgotten someone?”
“I’m a mesmerist,” Cadence said, and the whole of Unit 920 jumped. “Don’t worry, it’s just part of my knack,” she said when the boy and a few others started apologising.
With that settled, the attention turned back to Morrigan. She took a deep breath. No point holding back now, besides, everyone knows except them.
“I’m a wundersmith,” she said.
“No way,” said a mundane girl. “No way.”
“Yes way,” Hawthorne decimated his chocolate milk, which meant the support was a lot less impressive considering half the carton had ended up on his face. “You got a problem?”
The arcane boy, whom Morrigan was slowly coming to realise must be their leader, at least for the time being, smiled and put his hands up, “No, no problem here. None whatsoever,” he tried to smile at her, but it fell a little flat. “Honestly, it’s cool.”
“Yeah,” Cadence said, making the whole younger unit jump again. “It is,” she turned to Morrigan. “Come on, we have to be down in Sub-Eight in ten minutes.”
She didn’t rush out of the room exactly, but she couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
WHAT’S MORRIGAN’S KNACK THEN?
Hawthorne coughed, initially to pretend to be casual, then because a fish bone caught in his throat wrong. After being slapped on the back a few times from his dad, he swallowed it properly, “What do you mean?” he asked weakly.
I KNOW EVERYONE’S KNACK EXCEPT HERS. IS IT A SECRET?
“Homer,” their mum said. “Hawthorne can’t tell you. It’s Morrigan’s secret.”
FINE. He cleared his board and faced it at Hawthorne. YOU DON’T HAVE TO TELL ME.
“I know that,” Hawthorne said. Only, the thing was that Morrigan had said to him, just him, that it was okay for him to tell his family. As long as they were sworn to secrecy first. He bit his lip, hoping he wasn’t going to make a mistake here, but at least he’d made it with permission first, “I need you all to promise not to tell anyone.”
Baby Dave made a whining noise from her high chair. She had food stuck all over her face, and his mum got up to wipe it off with a cloth. Somehow this resulted in them both being covered in food which was pretty impressive on Baby Dave’s part.
He ignored it, “That includes cousins, friends, Helena - until I tell her - and anyone else.”
His dad nodded, looking serious, “I promise.”
“Me too,” his mum said.
PROMISE, Homer had written on his blackboard.
“Alright,” Hawthorne clapped his hands. “And none of you can be mean to Morrigan about it.”
“We won’t be,” his dad said definitively.
“Yeah, anyway, she’s, ahem, a wundersmith.”
“She’s a what?” his mum gaped before recovering smoothly. “I mean- I didn’t see that coming.”
“Yeah, she doesn’t really like to talk about it, but she said I could tell you as long as you didn’t tell anyone, yeah?”
“Of course,” she put her hand on her chest. “We weren’t going to tell anyone anyway.”
“I don’t know,” his dad said slowly. “I mean Baby Dave hasn’t promised not to tell anyone.”
Homer and Hawthorne shared a look of suffering and then Homer picked up his chalk again. CAN SHE DO ANY COOL TRICKS?
He sighed, “I’ll ask.”
Holliday Wu paled as Dr Bramble and Dr Lutwyche delivered their reports, completely stone faced.
It had been promising that the wunimal Juvela de Flimsé had woken up from her waking coma thingy. It had been very promising. She had had the press release about the miraculous recovery of the wunimals all ready to send out to the most prestigious press editors (the ones who had annoyed her the least recently) in Nevermoor, but this was bad.
This was worse, perhaps, than if Juvela de Flimsé hadn’t woken up at all. Because at least then they might have been able to pretend that the disease was ongoing, but now it had come to a very abrupt end.
And no one could be allowed to know about it.
She had had the planned “leak” about Morrigan Crow written up since before the girl’s inauguration, bits and pieces added and removed as time moved on, ready to use in an emergency, in a time when they needed people to look somewhere else, anywhere else, than at whatever they were trying to cover up.
It was basically a magician’s trick. Look at the big shiny/scary/sparkly thing while we do the real work on the other side.
But the work was necessary, and as much as she didn’t want to use the Crow bomb just yet, for one thing, the girl hadn’t had any media training yet, which could be disastrous if she didn’t want to work with Holliday, it felt like it would be the best thing to do. For the Society, specifically. They could put the heat onto Morrigan Crow as long as it was taken off of the Society.
Containing the hollowpox wasn’t working, so they were going to need a distraction.
Elder Quinn looked exhausted as she nodded at her, silent acceptance of the plan they had already discussed and Holliday headed off to her own offices in the Public Relations Department, mentally ticking off boxes in her head. Clothes in her size? Hair? Camera and Lighting Crew on board? Pep talk prepared? More persuasive pep talk prepared?
“Mikey,” she said, pushing forward the door to where some of her camera guys were working at their desks, “I have a job for you.”