A Shadow Bright and Burning (Kingdom on Fire #1)(3)
“Yes, sir,” I said automatically. It was the single acceptable answer to Colegrind’s tirades. A slow heat prickled my palms. If only I could loose my anger and show him the response he deserved, but that was an insane thought. As I got to my feet, Agrippa entered the room.
“Beg pardon,” he said, and stopped. His eyes flicked to Colegrind’s cane, to me. I put a hand to the back of my neck to hide the marks, but I could tell he understood. His next words were cold and clipped. “Mr. Colegrind, there seems to be confusion with my carriage.”
“The servants are useless,” Colegrind said, as though we should pity him.
“Perhaps you might see to it yourself, then.” That was an order dressed as a request. Colegrind tightened his jaw, on the verge of talking back, and then thought better of it. He left, grumbling to himself. Agrippa came toward me, concern written on his face.
“Are you all right?”
He spoke so kindly that I felt tears forming at the corners of my eyes. I nodded and began neatening the room.
“Mr. Colegrind’s angry that we didn’t find the one starting the fires,” I said, placing a chair against the wall. “It’s been a hard three years for him. He was certain the culprit would be discovered.” I felt a twinge of pride; the old fool was disappointed again.
“Has it really been going on for three years?”
“Oh yes. Mostly it’s been patches of fire around the stables, but several of the headmaster’s favorite coats have met ‘accidental’ deaths.” I worked to keep glee out of my voice. “I would give you a list of those who dislike Mr. Colegrind, but I fear that wouldn’t narrow your search.” I knew it was bold to speak this way, but Agrippa laughed. “How did you hear of us, sir?”
“My Order keeps its collective ear to the ground for cases like these,” he said. I turned to look at him. He seemed to be choosing his words with care.
“Cases of witchcraft?” I nearly stumbled over the word.
“In a sense.”
“What you did with the fire was brilliant,” I said, straightening a corner of the rug. “I mean, putting on that show for Sarah.”
Agrippa laughed. “I appreciate a good audience.” The rain became a dim roar on the roof. I winced as I listened to it. “Really, are you all right?” Agrippa asked, noticing my reaction.
“They say that rain usually brings Familiars with it. Or, heaven forbid, one of the Ancients.”
At this, Agrippa sobered and nodded. “There’s nothing to fear. The only Ancient who favors this weather is Korozoth, and he’s near London at present.”
Korozoth, the great Shadow and Fog. They called him the fiercest warrior of all the Seven Ancients. “Have you ever fought him?” Thoughts of Agrippa rising into the air against a giant black cloud flashed through my mind, as thrilling a picture as I could create.
“On several occasions. This doesn’t frighten you?” He said it with a laugh. I’d sat down in a chair, entranced.
“No. I always want news of how the war’s progressing.” I knew I should wish him a speedy departure, but my curiosity got the better of me. I’d spent countless childhood evenings awake in my bed, watching shadows and moonlight form images on the ceiling. I’d imagined them as monsters, pictured myself meeting them in battle. Miss Morris, the head teacher, had sniffed and informed me how unfeminine those dreams were.
“How old were you when the Ancients arrived?” Agrippa said as he took a seat opposite me.
“Five.” I remembered hiding under the bed when the news first came, listening as my aunt shrieked orders to our maid. We had to pack only what we needed, she said, because we must travel by nightfall. Clutching my doll to my chest, I whispered that I would protect us. Now I nearly laughed to think of it. My doll, my aunt, my old life in Devon—all had vanished.
“You’ve never seen one of the Ancients, have you?” Agrippa asked, returning me to the present.
“No. I’m grateful, mind, but I’ve always wondered if it was normal. Perhaps the beasts have no interest in Yorkshire’s natural splendor.” I rolled my eyes. Outside, it sounded as if the rain were drowning the countryside. We’d have such delightful mud. Agrippa laughed.
“It’s true, the Ancients focus their attention on cities. It costs them more effort, but the reward is greater. And, of course, Brimthorn falls under the protection of Sorrow-Fell lands, which makes it difficult for our enemies to access.”
“Yes, indeed.” Sorrow-Fell was a great magical estate and the seat of the Blackwood family, a line of powerful sorcerers. We kept Lord Blackwood in our daily prayers, though we’d never seen him. “Do you know the family?”
“The earl boards at my house, for his studies. He’s about your age, actually.” I started, surprised that a young man of sixteen could be so distinguished. Agrippa smiled. “Shall I tell you of London society? The balls and parties, the fashion and intrigue?”
“No, thank you. I’d rather hear more about the Ancients.” Agrippa made an incredulous noise. I blushed. “Knowledge of them is useful. I want to be useful.”
“You’re a teacher. What’s more useful than educating young minds?”
“I’m no good at a charity school. My strengths are history and mathematics.” I sighed to recall my teachers’ displeasure at my obvious gifts in those more practical areas. I was practical, indeed, but like a man, not a woman. My thoughts were orderly, but I was unyielding. I wanted to argue my opinions, not conciliate others. “Most of the girls here require only reading and sewing, while the more promising ones study French so they may become governesses. And when they’re governesses, they teach girls to play other people’s music and copy other people’s sketches. It sometimes feels as though young women are trained from birth never to contribute anything original to a conversation.” I flushed with embarrassment. My tongue had got the better of me, and Agrippa was regarding me with a look of some interest. “I shouldn’t have bored you with my thoughts.”