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Conall’s hands shook as he placed the cup of tea on the table, the liquid inside sloshing up and spilling over the rim. A small puddle of it gathered next to the papers she had been examining, so Sofia whisked them away, never taking her eyes off the stranger.
“Who-” he paused. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted?”
Sofia stared at the stranger. The stranger stared back, unbothered, unburdened. She felt her hackles raise but quietened them for a moment. This could all be a misunderstanding and she would not risk the sub-nine academic group over a mere misunderstanding.
Or the stranger was some invader to the society, or a member whom she and Conall had never seen before, who was here to harass or kill them for what they were researching about the wundersmiths, for not making their memory die in the ground. That was also possible.
Wunimals, even wunimals major, did not have the innate instincts that came with unnimals. She wasn’t like a fox which could just up and run at the first sight of danger. And here, amongst two humans, she did not wish to present herself as an other. To single herself out as the only non-human here. To make herself a non-person in their eyes.
It was a strange thought to have, but a habitual one. But Conall was her friend, and they were both staring down this stranger.
And Sofia just… did not register them as a threat. There was something… predatory in the person’s eyes. Something that told her not to let her guard down, at least all the way. This person would consume weakness at the slightest opportunity given. But they weren’t here to harm them now.
“My name is Rook,” they said. “I am the Scholar Mistress for the School of Wundrous Arts.”
Conall’s hand landed on the table and the rest of the tea went flying. The china crumpled onto the ground into a hundred pieces. She felt the splash reach her fur, but she ignored it. He ignored it, which was impressive but also mildly concerning since he might have burnt himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Could you please repeat that?”
“But see,” Ravi said, thumbing through another reference book. “She’s not got a knack. At least as far as the rest of us can tell. Did you not go to the Show Trial this year, Sofia?”
“No,” she shook her head. “Haven’t been since your year, Ravi.” And that was only because she had been their Unit’s conductor anyway. She had never liked the Show Trial. It just made her a little sadder every time she saw a society hopeful not quite make it. Not quite be good enough for a frankly impossible standard.
“She just stood there,” he said. “And Captain North, her patron, see, he went and spoke to the Elders, and boom. Number one spot. Just like that. Lonnie thinks it’s nepotism.”
“It’s not,” she said.
“How do you know?” he asked softly. “Do you know-”
“I do not know what Morrigan Crow’s knack is,” she said, not unkindly. “But it is not nice to gossip, Ravi. That poor girl doesn’t need everyone talking about her behind her back. The Elders are not so obviously corruptible, but even if they were it isn’t nepotism. Captain North isn’t related to any of them. It would be cronyism.”
“Hm,” he slid back down on his chair, a little more cowed. “Sorry.”
“It’s not me you should be apologising to,” she said, but she wasn’t thinking about that. A child without a knack? Without an obvious knack, at least. “What school is she in?”
He bit his lip, “Mundane? I think? Haven’t seen her farther down than Sub-Five but it wasn’t like I was looking out for the colour of her shirt. Too cold not to wear the jumper everywhere anyway, and then you can only see the collar.”
An obscured knack in the Arcane school was one thing, but one of Dearborn’s students?
That was something. Probably.
“Have you looked into her any more?” Conall’s cheeks were pinched. Her tail flicked a bit as she looked over meaningfully at the other staff members, chatting aimlessly over cups of tea and mediocre toast.
“I have,” she said. “Not only that but I have confirmation.”
His forehead creased, “How so?”
“Saw her transform,” she said easily. “No one ever looks, because well-”
“It’s- yes,” he said. “Quite.”
“But she wasn’t turning from Murgatroyd to Dearborn this morning when she was getting in the railpods,” she said. “She was becoming Rook.”
He made a hemming noise and his fingers pressed into her desk hard enough to turn their flesh white, “But why now? What does it mean?”
Sofia thought back to a different conversation. One about a girl that had terrified the Elders, even with no obvious knack, even now. One whom no one could understand why she had been brought into the society. One whom Jupiter North, a Witness, had patronised.
What did it mean indeed?
“The Elders are unhappy about something,” Conall said, apropos of nothing as she was trying to sort through some records.
“Hm? What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Do you think it might have anything to do with us?”
She thought for a moment, “Unless they know about Rook… I don’t think there’s anything we could be tied to? And Rook isn’t even really tied to us. She’s just here.”
“I asked her about that,” he said, his voice lilting a bit more than usual. “She said she doesn’t know why, only that she “feels like it”. I think it’s instinctual.”
“Do the Elders know about her though?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“It might just be the disappearances,” she said. “We’re all unhappy about those.” Pax had been gone for weeks. Dr Bramble’s magnificub companion was yet to make a re-appearance, although Sofia wasn’t sure herself if the poor thing had been stolen or if he had just done a runner. It did not bode well.
“Perhaps,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Did you know Dearborn pulled one of my students from a class? I was supposed to get one of the first year scholars for Opening a Dialect with the Dead, but at the last minute I got a note about how it was “inappropriate for her schedule”.”
She frowned, “That’s not- has that ever happened to you before?”
He shook his head, “Poor child though. I heard she’s only got two classes, and her patron had to fight tooth and nail to get her into the one with the rest of her unit, the one Henry’s teaching.”
“Who’s teaching her other one?”
“Hemingway,” he said, sounding as bewildered about it as she herself felt.
“Couldn’t get an appointment to see him,” Sofia said when she returned to the study chamber. “Not for the life of me. His concierge says that if I leave a message, he’ll respond as soon as possible, but he’s off realm and uncontactable for the time being.”
Conall sighed through his nose, “That’s difficult.”
“Isn’t it?” She slumped onto her chair. “I don’t want to do anything without her patron’s blessing.”
“Nor do I,” he said. His fingers tapped the top of his cane. “But the child. The,” his voice lowered, despite the fact that they were the only two left on the floor for the day. “Wundersmith.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” she said carefully.
“It’s the most likely explanation,” he folded his arms and unfolded them again. “Do you have a better one?”
She sighed, “Not one that fits so well, no. I still don’t think we should ask her outright.”
“No,” he said. “I agree. Especially if we’re wrong. The risk is too great. Junior Scholars are still…. very trusting, I suppose. She might run to the elders or to her patron.”
“And we can’t ask her about her knack,” Sofia said, remembering the strange memorandum that had appeared on the first day of term. “Not outright.”
“I’m still up for a conversation with the lass,” he stood up, adjusting his balance with his cane. “Even if we’re wrong, she might join us one day. We could consider this… sowing the seeds of that.”
“We could,” Sofia said, a little reluctantly. “I do not wish to malign any colleagues but there are far more appropriate teachers in the society than Professor Onstald. Whatever he’s probably teaching her, I doubt it’s any level of factual.”
“Indeed.” His eyes flickered up to the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late, shall we go?”
“I’ll stay,” she said, nodding back to her papers. “I want to get this finished tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight,” he said, leaving the study chamber without a backwards glance. Their problems, and Morrigan Crow, could wait until the morning.
She wasn’t looking for the girl, but she found her anyway, while she took a circuitous route to work from the station. The Whingeing Woods were… well. Whingy. But she liked to take a walk and enjoy the fresh spring air. Snowdrops were coming up from the ground in droves, and the Wunsoc Weather Phenomenon meant that she could already glimpse the beginnings of crocuses along the edges of the paths.
In a few weeks the ground would be painted blue and white and purple and yellow with the springtime flowers. But for now she just waited.
Morrigan Crow didn’t seem to be waiting for anything. She was just delaying something.
“Are you lost?” she called out from behind her on the path.
Her head whipped around, “No, I just don’t have class yet.”
“Ah,” she said. She walked up to her, sticking out her paw, “I’m Sofia. I teach in Sub-Six mostly. I don’t believe we’ve met, Miss…?”
“Morrigan Crow,” she said, her mouth twitching at the side. Her shoulders stiffened a little, “I’m a greysleeve so that makes sense, I suppose.”
“Hm,” she said, wondering if this would be a decent segue to ask. But at the slightest reference to her knack, the girl’s mouth had locked shut altogether. She wasn’t telling. “Are you liking your classes so far?”
“Mildmay’s really nice,” she said. “He’s teaching my Unit about how to navigate the city.”
She nodded, “That’s a useful skill. I remember the first time I ended up down a tricksy lane. Almost got boiled alive.”
Her eyes widened, and Sofia guessed that young Henry hadn’t quite got to that section of the curriculum yet. Ah well. Maybe she would have a leg up on her compatriots then. “Boiled?”
“Nevermoor is a strange city,” she said. “But I grew up here, so it’s always been home to me.”
“I grew up… outside of Nevermoor,” she said haltingly. Sofia had heard a rumour about a citizenship dispute and the Stink throwing… well, a stink over something with Jupiter North last year. It was a good answer. She needed to rehearse it more, though, to make it more believable.
“That’s a big move,” she said. “Are you only in Henry’s class then? That seems quite a sparse timetable for a first year.”
She looked like she had bitten into a lemon. Sofia felt bad about pushing her in such a way but if it got her answers then she would go for it. “I’m also in a class with Professor Onstald.”
“Really?” she affected her voice just a little, to make herself sound just the tiniest bit surprised. “I thought he had retired. He’s had an… interesting academic career, you might say.”
“Has he?” she sounded doubtful. “In my class he just tells me that-” her throat visibly bulged as she held whatever she was saying back. “It’s just… dull, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t like history.” She shrugged over-exaggeratedly. She was not a very good liar.
“Have you ever checked?” she asked. “On the things he tells you. His specialty is Nevermoorian history, if I recall, and if I’m guessing correctly, of course. I’ve always been of the belief that going to see things “hands on” as it were, is always a good experiment and learning vehicle.”
She frowned and Sofia cheered inwardly. The seed had been planted. “I don’t know where to look.”
“Surely it wouldn’t be too much work to investigate,” she said. “Where’s somewhere he’s told you about?”
“Jemmity Park,” she said.
“You’re learning about wealth inequality?”
“… Yes,” she said.
“That’s in Gresham,” she shrugged. “I’m sure you can find it. Excuse me, Morrigan, I have to go teach a class in ten minutes, and I want to beat the line to the railpods.”
She dashed off to find Conall, to try and tell him what she had discovered, what she had almost confirmed. And to tell him her new plan.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “You’re definitive.”
Sofia recounted the conversation she had had in the woods. “What else could it be.”
“Indeed,” he said. “What to do about it?”
“Well,” she said. “For one thing, stop letting her listen to Hemingway. I know he was your friend but-”
Conall was shaking his head, “If he’s doing that, I don’t know what sort of friend I could ever be to him now. I read his blasted book. The most egregiously presented, biased, lying nonsense I have seen in print, and my mother used to subscribe to the Looking Glass.” He stood up, pacing. Sofia moved so his swinging cane wouldn’t catch her tail by accident. “To whom to go though.”
“We have a scholar mistress,” she said. “She’s in Dearborn’s school, so I imagine she’s not on board.”
“No,” he said. “That- woman will not be on side. Who else?”
“Well… you know as well as I do how Murgatroyd feels about undermining Dearborn.”
A slow smile grew on his face, “Indeed I do. Shall we make an appointment?”
Sofia let her teeth show, her tongue flicking across the point of her left bottom canine, “I think that would be a very good idea indeed.”
They waited for her on the platform, listening to the sounds of the railpod as it whizzed down to their level. When the door swung open, Muratroyd walked out first, her head held high.
Morrigan Crow followed, her eyebrows raised so high that they were hidden in her hairline. Her teeth were fixed onto her bottom lip, and her fists were clenched.
Sofia didn’t miss how she exhaled slightly when she saw her, “Hi, Sofia.”
“Hello Morrigan,” she waved. “Thank you for coming.”
Murgatroyd grunted, her back cracking.
All the confidence drained out of the girl, “Ms Dearborn won’t like that I’m down here.”
“I imagine she wouldn’t,” Sofia said, keeping her eyes on the emerging Rook. “But she doesn’t know. Morrigan, meet Rook Rosenfeld. Rook, meet Morrigan Crow.”
Rook turned to her. Sofia couldn’t see her face but she knew that all her teeth would be showing, “Hello Morrigan Crow. Welcome to Sub-Nine.”