Orphans of Chaos

1.

Vanity was staring at the two oblong clocks which stood to either side of the door. She cocked her ear to one side, listening.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“They sound funny. Weren’t they ticking slower earlier…?”

Meanwhile, Victor was saying to Quentin, “What do you remember?”

Quentin said, “Maybe things are more dangerous than we think. There was a woman in Dr. Fell’s office. A vampiress. She tricked Fell into stepping outside, and she tried to kill me.”

Colin said, “Why don’t we just leave? Right now, right this second, money or no money? We walk to Abertwyi and steal a boat.”

Victor said, “They’d send the police.”

Colin said, “So? So we tell the police that there are ancient Greek gods kidnapping us, and they lock us up in a madhouse. At least we won’t be here. And if our powers work on Earth, you point your little pinky finger at the locks and we walk out. We could hunt in the woods for food, or work, or live off the dole. They don’t let children starve in England, despite what Maggie Thatcher wanted.”

Quentin said, “Amelia, you’re not going to leap to Prime Minister Thatcher’s defense? You are her biggest fan.”

I said, “Those clocks are in time with each other now.”

Victor said, “What?”

I said, “They were out of synch before. Now they are in synch. When I was in the Fourth Dimension, I sensed their internal nature was watchful, and trembling with hate. They’re beings. Alive things. I think they may be listening to what we say.”

Quentin turned to Victor. “They know we know. The Head of Bran appeared out of the tabletop here and called us by name. They saw us do our magic. There is no chance of fooling Boggin any longer.”

Colin said, “I’ll go get the fire axe.” And he ran out the door and down the corridor. We all knew which axe he meant; it hung by a fire extinguisher on the second-floor landing.

Vanity said, “If we chop up his clocks, Boggin will know.”

I said, “What if we chop up the clocks and take Colin’s plan and just run away? Now, before they wake up or get back from wherever they went?”

Quentin said, “There is an amnesia drug Dr. Fell used on me. I could go down to his office, steal some, and bring it back.”

Victor said, “Where would we inject the clocks? Do they have veins?” And he went over, stooped to examine the panel in the front of the clock. He ran his hand over the lock, it clicked, and the front little cabinet opened just a crack. Victor peered in.

“Oh, that’s just lovely,” said Victor in disgust.

“What?” we all said.

He pushed the door shut and the lock clicked. “It’s nothing I want you girls to see. Quentin, do you know those large canvas sacks we found in the kitchen? Go down and get me two. If you pass Colin charging back up here, tell him to go steal a shovel from Mr. Glum’s shed.”

Quentin pointed. “There are corpses inside those clocks, aren’t there? Dead bodies.”

Victor said, “Yes.”

Quentin blanched and Vanity said, “Yeeew!”

Victor said, “I was going to pop them in sacks and give them a proper burial once we’re all in the woods somewhere. If I do that, and reset the clock mechanism, maybe whatever inside this clock Amelia says is watching us will be disabled. It’s just a guess, mind you. But I thought it would give us more time before they noticed anything wrong. Amelia, bring me Mr. Glum’s hammer. If we leave it in this room, maybe they’ll think he did it.”

Colin was at the door. “You mean I don’t get to chop down the clock?” He had the fire axe in his hands.

Victor said, “We must be unanimous in this. Is everyone willing to leave? Now, this minute?”

I said, “What about the things in the safe?”

He said, “Tell Vanity what of your things from your room you want. Vanity, we’ll give you ten minutes or so to pack. We boys will go bury the remains in the clock.”

Colin said, “There are dead bodies in the clock? You were all looking at dead bodies and I missed it?”

Victor continued, “That will give you ten minutes, Amelia, if you think you can bluff or brass your way past the workmen and get to the safe.”

Colin said, “Wiggle your nipples in their faces, Aim. It worked on your boyfriend, Glum.”

Victor said, “If you want to take the risk. Otherwise, we can always try to sneak back on the grounds later on, and crack the safe then.”

I said, “You should do that, not me. You can wave your hand and get it open. I don’t think my powers will turn on unless the sphere is ringing, and the sphere only rang because Miss Daw’s music was shocking it.”

Vanity said, “I want to hear Quentin’s story!”

Quentin, as if summoned by his name, came trotting back in, carrying empty canvas potato sacks. “Mr. Glum is still sleeping soundly. But out through the window, I thought I saw two people walking toward the Great Hall. Miss Daw and a man in a coat. I didn’t recognize him, but he was too short to be Dr. Fell.”

Victor said, “I hate doing things in haste, but we’re short on time. We have an opportunity to escape while everyone is drunk or asleep or whatever happened to them. We have to be unanimous in this; we have to be of one mind. Who wants to escape now?”

I asked, “As opposed to what?”

“Waiting, preparing, getting a better chance later, getting some notion of where we are running to. Quentin, now or later?”

“Now. The woman I talked to last night is dangerous, and she is not afraid of Mavors. One of these factions—I don’t know which one—wants to provoke a war between Chaos and Cosmos. Killing us is how to start the war.”

“Colin? Now or later?”

“I think we should stay till Halloween, so we can dress up like goblins before we run away, and feed ourselves by going from house to house asking for trick-or-treats. Maybe if we stay till Christmas, they’ll give us a present in a box with a ribbon, or we’ll all get invited to the wedding of Vanity and Grendel Glum. I want to be a flower girl.”

“Is that your vote? To stay?”

“No, you great git. I vote go now. It was my damn idea.”

“Vanity? Now or later?”

Vanity said, “I think they are afraid of the human beings for some reason. Mortals think these guys are myths, right? So if we hide among the human beings, how are they going to find us? The only point in staying here is to see if we can find out more. But what if we contact our families? Or just write a threatening letter to Mr. ap Cymru? We get him to tell us what we want to know or we reveal him to Boggin.”

Colin said, “Yak, yak, yak. Can’t you just vote?”

Vanity answered hotly, “I didn’t go on as long as you, and I am saying smart things instead of smart-mouthed things! Anyway, my point is, before I was so rudely interrupted (geez!) the only advantage to stay is to learn more, but we might learn much more and at less risk if we were living in London, and had jobs as fashion models or film actresses or something.”

Colin said, “Oh yes, we’ll hide by having you appear in a swimsuit on a billboard. Great plan. Isn’t there already an actress named Vanity, anyway? You’ll have to pick a stage name. Something unusual. Like Jane.”

Victor said, “Shut up, Colin. We have two votes for leaving immediately and one vote for going to London to be fashion models. Amelia? Now or later?”

I said, “I vote ‘now.’ I waited my whole damn life.”

“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-people.”

Colin handed me a duffel bag filled with clothes, canned food, blankets, and other gear. “This is all we could find for backpacks. Can you do your trick to make them light?” Quentin held a second duffel bag. A third was on the ground.

Two canvas potato sacks were also on the ground. From the way the folds fell, it looked as if two thin children were curled up in fetal positions inside.

Victor came up. “I thought you were burying those.”

Colin replied, “You said ten minutes. Do you know how much of a hole I can dig in ten minutes in the ice-cold ground?

Let me tell you—not deep enough to prevent Mr. Glum’s dog from rooting them out.”

I said, “Give me your duffels. Both of you. I can carry more.”

Quentin said, “What do we do, Victor? I hate to leave… dead people… just lying here unburied. That would be horrible.” He passed me his duffel.

Victor told Colin to take one corpse; he picked up the other. I shouldered three huge duffel bags filled with stuff.

Colin said dubiously, “Can you carry all that, Aim?”

I said, “I’ll make it to the edge of the woods before you, slowpoke.”

And I did.

4.

Because the trees had begun to lose their leaves, the woods were less cover than we hoped. We could still see the buildings and folly towers of the estate behind us for many minutes as we walked.

The trees got taller as we went deeper. At first, we were guiding our steps in the direction of the sun, but when the clouds grew thick, the sky turned into a dull, dirty gray the same color as the ground.

“If they haven’t plowed the highway yet, we’ll miss it,” I said.

Victor said, “We can estimate distances by counting paces; if we come across a clearing between two parallel rows of trees, lined with telephone poles and metal guard rails, that will be the highway.”

We jogged and walked, jogged and walked. An hour went by, maybe two. The snow became patchy in places, and croppings of rock and gray grass began giving the ground texture, like the dappling on a white whale.

The trees deeper in the forest were utterly leafless, as if the seasons here were not quite synchronized with those back on campus. Tall and skeletal, the trees spread icy branches against the sky. Each twig was coated and limed with transparent ice and, even in the gray light, they caught points of brightness in them, gemlike.

The air was still and utterly without wind. The nets and angles of branches and twigs overhead grew thicker. Whenever a flake of snow fell from an upper twig, it fell plumb straight.

It looked like fairyland. We were free, and getting freer every step. I have never known the air to taste more sweet.

Eventually we slowed, and stopped.

By the roots of a huge oak tree, Victor and Colin put down their burden.

The boys took turns digging a grave.

After a full minute of argument, I convinced them to give me a turn digging. Colin timed it with his watch, and I piled my dirt into a pile separate from the one the boys had been making. When, in the same amount of time digging, my pile was bigger than their combined piles, Victor put me in charge of the burial detail.

They wouldn’t let me touch the canvas potato sacks the corpses were in, though. Digging a grave was woman’s work, but only manly men can touch a sack with remains in it, I guess. Go figure.

Now it was Quentin who argued. He was much quieter in his voice than I was, but more insistent. He wanted to bury them right, and say a few words. For different reasons, Vanity and I both backed him up.

Colin scoffed at us, saying, “You three are being silly. If you close your eyes, the sun doesn’t go out. Spirits can move from place to place, but they can’t ‘die.’ Can a concept die? Can a god? It’s all the same substance. There is no reason to make a ceremony out of it.”

Victor’s face showed less emotion but he scoffed, too: “These bodies are composed of the same amount of atoms before and after vital functions ceased. There is no quantitative difference, no reason to get sentimental about it. Quentin, say whatever words you want to say and make it quick.”

At Quentin’s polite request, Colin chopped down four branches, and we used a hank of twine from one of our bags to make two crude crosses to mark the graves. Colin drove the crosses into the frozen earth with blows from the back of his hammer. He must have been angry, or “putting energy” into the blows, for he drove the uprights nine inches or so into the ground with one blow each.

Quentin said a few words over the bodies. “In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord, Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God those whom we have carried to this place, their names unknown to us; and we commit their bodies to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…” That sort of thing. Simple and moving. I did not know who these people were or how they got into Boggin’s clock. I did not know if they were children or if they had just shrunk because they were mummies. I did not even know if they were human beings. But I felt sorry for them.

Then, after praying like a proper church-going Christian, Quentin took one of the kitchen knives we had stolen, cut an unsightly hunk of hair from his head, and tossed some of it into either grave, as if he were suddenly a pagan again, and he threw in four tuppence from his pocket change, two into either grave. He took out one of the bottles of pop we had taken from the kitchen, shook it, and sprayed it against the roots of the tree, asking the Meliad Nymph of the tree to kindly guard the remains, in return for the libation he poured out.

I had only shoveled about four great spadefuls into the first grave, when there was a motion in the near distance, and Mr. Glum’s dog, Lelaps, trotted into the clearing.

We all stood motionless, staring at the huge hound.

The dog sat on his haunches, tilted his head to one side, and let his tongue hang out.

Vanity pointed away South. “That way. We’re going that way.”

The dog barked once, and immediately trotted off the other direction.

“Nice doggy…” said Vanity softly. Then she said, “I am beginning to get a good feeling about our chances.”

A few minutes later, and we were under way again. I shouldered one duffel bag, Victor carried one, and Colin and Quentin flipped a coin to see who would take the third.

Because Lelaps was likely to lead any pursuit astray, we shared Vanity’s confidence, and did not set too hard a pace. We talked as we walked, and some of us, envious of Quentin’s walking stick, had asked Colin to cut staves for us from the branches around. Colin used the axe handle as a cane, and leaned on the axe head, in a fashion I thought most unsafe. He had also been running with it in his hands. I thought it was only a matter of time before someone got cut with it.

I said to Quentin, “What was all that ‘Lord make his face to shine upon you’ stuff back there at the grave? You’re not a Christian anymore. You told me so.”

“I’m still English,” he said mildly.

Vanity said, “Are you going to tell us what happened to you last night?”

Colin agreed, “Let’s have the tale, Quentin. Do tell, do!”

We trudged along beneath gray skies as he spoke, in the crisp air beneath the woven white lace canopy of frost-touched trees, and in the highest spirits we had ever known.