Chapter 27. A Magical Broom
Fek had a damp towel draped over his shoulder when he stepped into the dorm. “What? Did you finish the whole book already?” he asked. “What about me!”
“You went to the beach,” Minnelil said.
“And it was great, but I didn’t expect to miss all of it!”
“The last forty pages were just illustrations so it went fast,” I said. “But I still have a headache because of them.”
“What were they about?”
“No idea. That’s the problem. I wish I was on the same stuff the floating skull must have been on when they scribbled all this.” I slapped the cover of the book. “Brr,” I said, shivering all over.
Minnelil chuckled. “We really should do more channeling soon. You want to be able to tone down that reaction.”
“How is channeling… actually, I think I’m done cooking my brain with magical theory for today,” I said, standing up and sliding the chair back under the table. “What do people do to relax here? Other than go to the beach.”
Fek harrumphed, pulling off his slipper. He poured a handful of bright yellow sand out of it, next to his bed. “How about if I take you to meet Hector? He can tell you a lot of stories from this place.”
Minnelil grabbed on to Fek as he tried to jump onto his bed. “Get all the sand out first.”
“It’s my bed!”
“But you complain to me about the sand every time.”
“Anyway,” I said. “Hector was the Janitor of this place, right? And you can go and meet him?”
“No, he’s a janitor. You’re still thinking about the ones back in the city,” Fek said. “Hector is just a guy. He’s great.”
Minnelil shrugged. “I’ve never talked with him myself, but I would appreciate the peace and quiet. I want to finish my notes on the book.” She sighed. “I got to read On Embodying Death. If people back home knew.”
“Your family sounds weird,” Fek said. “But you heard her. Let’s go! At this time, he’s usually fueling the furnace.”
“You mean… all the trashcans lead there?” I asked.
“Yup,” the janitor said. He stood holding a big sack over a massive iron cylinder. Rivets ran around the cylinder, the whole thing radiating heat all the way where I was standing on the other side of the room. Fire roared somewhere below. Sparks shot up at the janitor, coloring his face orange. He had short blond hair and a stubble, both equally coarse.
Trash poured out of the bag. More and more of it, for minutes. I watched it with my mouth hanging open, expecting the torrent of papers and bones and banana peels and everything imaginable to end, but it didn’t.
He glanced at me, then turned back to watch the trash pouring out. “The trashcans all lead to the bag.”
That explained why all of them had felt magical. Another wonky gimmick, but I guess if this whole place was maintained by one middle-aged guy pushing a wooden cart around, there had to be something to make it easier for him.
Hector positioned the sack on the edge of the cylinder so he could hold on to it with one hand. He reached for his pocket and pulled out a small white cigarette. He tucked it into his mouth and leaned over the edge, grimacing at the heat that made the air ripple.
The cigarette caught fire and he leaned back, puffing out a cloud of smoke. It smelled like burnt coffee. “Oh, empty already,” he said, grabbing the bag and attaching it to his cart. “Did I tell you of the time I had to fish out the chancellor? Some students stuffed him into one of the trashcans.”
“Ugh, you did,” Fek said immediately.
“Well, never mind then,” he said, before I could protest. “Another new student? Didn’t think they’d let someone in this late. You loaded?”
“Nah, talented,” Fek said. “Like me!”
“Oh, too bad. Hang in there, kid,” he said, nodding at me.
“Um, yeah,” I said. “How come I haven’t seen you around before this?”
“I try to stay out of the way,” he said, dragging on the cigarette and letting the smoke out slowly from his nostrils. It reminded me of Falar. Looked really unhealthy. He puffed out the rest of the smoke and shrugged. “It preserves the mystery for the kiddos when they don’t see me wandering around fixing everything and sweeping up the loose bits, right?”
He sounded like someone from the streets. Not like any of the students, and especially not like Falar or Jextor. The skin of his hands was leathery in the way working hands were. His overalls weren’t a parade uniform, embroidered with golden runes sizzling with magic, but ordinary thick blue cotton working clothes, worn thin and pale by use.
“It’s nice to meet you, Hector,” I said, meaning it. “This place is stupid.”
“It really is, isn’t it?” he said, taking a long breath around the cigarette. He spat the stub from his teeth into the furnace. “Still, someone has to make sure it holds together. I’ll have to get to my rounds. Tag along if you want. We need to walk this platform to the other side of the building to reach the next place.”
“This place feels dangerous. Why would they come here?” I said.
“I think the water spirit bound to the boiler is some sort of nymph. Calls to the lads, I reckon,” Hector said, patting the door.
It was one of the few ones that were always locked, and I had still tried to avoid walking past it as much as I could. It had never made sense why a Boiler Room would feel vicious and hungry, but I guess that explained it. “What, why? Honestly, why?”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, fishing out a new cigarette from his shirt pocket. “The spirit keeps the water fresh and purifies it, or so they tell me. It can’t really do any harm to anyone, but it’s a hassle to shoo out the people trying to camp around the cistern.” He reached for the broom from his cart.
Energy jolted me and I twitched, my feet slipping on the icy platform. The thing in his hand was like a lightning bolt, practically crackling with power. “What… is that?” I asked, squinting at the broom.
“Oh, it’s my broom,” he said, lifting the bristles up to his face. Magic swelled, making my teeth vibrate. The cigarette end flared red. “It’s magical.”
“Of course it is,” I said, as he blew a small smoke ring into the air.
Hector followed the ring with his eyes, but turned his gaze lower as the wind ripped it apart. He squinted into the swirling darkness. “Oh, a new merchant. Better go make sure they get themselves set up properly.”
Two wagons crawled closer, looking small from where we stood. The oxen pushed through piles of snow as the wind whipped more of it at them.
“Ah, I should go welcome them too,” I said. “I’ll come along.”
The janitor gave me a look, but nodded. “Sure, kid. Looking to buy something?”
Fek fished out a handful of sand from his pocket. He threw it into the wind. “Her name’s Lina. And nah, she extorts them for the Bursar.”
“I only hand them. The paperwork. And fetch the appropriate proceedings,” I said, making my voice flat.
Hector snickered, but he turned it into a cough, puffing out small clouds of smoke. “You’re a brave one, kid. I heard there was someone new working for her. Try not to get killed.”
“Why is everyone so scared of her? I know she looks scary, sure, but it’s not like I’ve seen her actually do anything.”
“One teacher thought the same,” Hector said. “He went to demand a raise. Said he’d use whatever means necessary. The rest of the faculty spent seven days putting him back together afterward. It was really annoying. She had cut each of his ribs into eight pieces, all of them the same size. And of course I had to organize them.” He grabbed on to his cart and waved for us to come. “Never even was good at puzzles,” he muttered.
Fek stepped right over and gripped the beam on the cart.
I stepped a small step closer. What was going on? Actually, how had he got the cart up here? It had wheels and this place had nothing but stairs.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll save you the trip of climbing all the way down. Just grip it anywhere.”
I put my hand on the edge of the cart, as far away from the broom as possible. It lay inert, but I wanted to take no chances. The rest of the cart vibrated with magic as well, making my hand itch so much I wanted to let go.
“Off we go,” Hector said and pushed the cart right off the edge of the walkway.
“Aaa!” I said.
“Whee!” Fek said.
After a second of dizzying plummeting, the fall slowed down. My stomach dropped back down from my throat. The wind and snow swirled around us in a bubble.
The janitor let one hand go from the cart and took the glowing stub carefully from between his teeth. He flicked it into the broom and it disintegrated in a puff of tiny orange sparks. “The cart’s magical as well. Tools of the trade, they call ‘em.”
“Right,” I said, voice shaky.
We floated down gently. The wagons pushed through more snow.
“Anglhromendiabilis!” Fek shouted.
The merchant waved back. He was wearing bright blue clothes, and a bright orange gugel on his head and shoulders, its ridiculously long hood whipping in the wind behind his back. “Young master Fek!” he shouted, waving back. He bowed at the janitor. “And Hector, even with the weather being past terrible, the approach was immaculately upkept. My eternal gratitude to you!”
“All in the day’s work,” Hector said, pushing his cart to the side and nodding at the merchant. “Nice to see you again so soon, Ang. Weather’s acting up?”
“That’d be putting it mildly, my good janitor. The wind blows like it wants to peel the skin off our oxen and strip the paint from the wagons.”
“Hmm, in that case, I’ll better go check up on the skeletons on snow-duty. You’ll be fine setting up here?”
The merchant nodded and bowed at him, the hood of his gugel sweeping the ground. His boots had small bells attached all around them. He rose up and his eyes landed on me. “And a new familiar face! Delighted to meet you, my name is Anglhromendiabilis.”
I waited for the name to end. The guy had to be from some of the eccentric fast time towns. The clothes and the name didn’t fit any place I knew, but all the weirdest people came from those places. Separated from the rest of the world, they… The merchant finished his name with a small bow, so I nodded back at him. “Hi, name’s Lina. I’m here on behalf of the Bursar.”
The smile fell off the merchant’s face and he clutched at his chest, like he had been hit with an arrow. “Argh, I mean, thank you for welcoming me in such a timely fashion.”
I grinned at him. “Only two things are certain, but just one applies here. You can choose which.”
He frowned at me, then laughed. “I choose the taxes.” He slapped his hands together and patted the side of his wagon. “Ah, it’s good to be back. Help me set up, you idle black-robed imps, and I’ll treat you to something that’ll warm your insides.”
“You got settled in quick,” Hector said, peeking his head inside the big tent.
“I was assisted by these fine, young, people!” the merchant said. “Come, share in the charimdo’h with us.”
“You could just call it tea,” Hector said, stepping inside. He kicked the snow off his boots and sat down on the small cushions placed around the bubbling copper apparatus. “I think three skeletons got lost. Might have to change to using zombies. Heavier, so hopefully wouldn’t get blown away.”
The wind rattled the tent, but not as much as I assumed it would. The area where the merchants camped was probably sheltered in the same way as the walkways, and the tent itself tingled lightly with magic.
Something about the wind felt off to me. The pressure was much harder to sense now that Falar’s ward weighed down on me constantly, but I could swear the wind was tinted with the same oppressive feeling as the school itself, but dirty, somehow. Like it had something rotten mixed in. “How normal is this weather?” I asked.
“Hmm,” Hector said. “What would you say, Ang? I’ve been just cooped up here and the wind always blows.”
The merchant rubbed at his chin, sharpening his pitch-black spike of a beard. “The wind always blows, but this fall it blows like it’s furious at something. The cold rolls down the mountains, freezing crops almost all the way to Tenorsbridge. The years are never brothers, but this one feels more like an evil estranged relative who no one even knows.”
“He means it’s not normal,” the janitor said, picking up a small bronze mug and sniffing at the steaming tea.
“Yeah, I got that,” I said. I picked up a mug, carefully, as it was piping hot. A jolt went through me, making me spill the tea onto my hand. My face tingled all over, the rest of my skin rising in goosebumps.
“Lina!” Fek said, grabbing the mug from my hand. “Ouch! It’s hot!”
My eyes twitched, the corners of my mouth jerking with them. The burn on my hand ached somewhere in the background, overpowered by magic rippling and flexing all around me. The wind shrieked higher, the sound kicking up an octave for a moment.
“Damn it,” I said.