The Secret Prince Part 19

"I hate to be the one to say it," Rohan said, "but perhaps it's for the best that Frankie has run off."

"Watch it, mate," Adam warned.

"She's scandalized herself now, and frankly it's a relief. None of us will have to carry the blame for ruining her reputation."

"No," Henry muttered. "We'll have to carry the guilt for driving her to do it."

"Speak for yourself," Rohan said primly. "I never gave her the impression that I wished us to be friends."

"That's rubbish, and you know it," Adam said. "You begged her to help pull a prank on Valmont last term."

Rohan's cheeks colored. "I'm going to bed," he huffed, pulling back the covers, lying down, and clamping his pillow over his head, effectively ending the discussion.

16.

A QUESTION UNASKED.

All through chapel the next morning, Henry couldn't shake the thought that he was forgetting something important. It wasn't until he wrote the date at the top of his notes in military history that Henry realized it was his birthday. He was fifteen.

Lord Havelock was talking about germ warfare, and how early colonists had given native populations blankets that carried diseases, under the guise of giving presents. "Military technology need not be sophisticated," Lord Havelock said. "It need only be innovative. Anything can be a weapon if its effect is harmful enough."

Derrick raised his hand, and Lord Havelock stopped talking, as though unsure what was happening; it was rare for anyone to ask a question in Lord Havelock's cla.s.s.

"Yes, Marchbanks?"

"Well, sir, I was wondering if you truly believe that. For example, can newspapers be weapons? Or what about laws?"

Lord Havelock shot Derrick a Havelook of Doom. "That is a stupid question, boy. Mr. Grim, please explain to Mr. Marchbanks why I shall not deign to answer his inquiry."

Henry gulped. "Er, well," he spluttered. "We're talking about military technology, correct? So newspapers and laws might have a harmful effect, but they're not run by any, er, wartime authorities, so they can't be considered military technology."

"Pa.s.sable, Grim," Lord Havelock said.

Derrick shrugged and returned to sketching a caricature of Lord Havelock as a vampire bat, which he and Conrad were pa.s.sing back and forth beneath the table.

But before Lord Havelock could resume his lecture, Adam raised his hand. Lord Havelock's mouth twisted into a scowl. "You'll have to hold it, Beckerman," he snapped. "I do hope it isn't an emergency."

Adam blushed. "I wasn't asking to use the toilet."

"No?" Lord Havelock asked disdainfully.

"No, sir," Adam said. "I just wanted to point out that in the Nordlands, Chancellor Mors runs the newspapers and makes the laws. So, well, in the Nordlands, Derrick would be right, and they could be considered military technology."

Everyone gaped at Adam, who was forever giving the wrong answer or forgetting his textbook.

For a moment Lord Havelock had no response, and then he cleared his throat, shuffled his lecture notes, and said, "Obviously."

Adam's smugness on the matter carried on through fencing, where he offered to have a go against James St. Fitzroy, who admittedly beat him, but only by one touch.

Henry originally fenced with Conrad, but for the second bout he partnered with Valmont for the first time since they'd begun the battle society. They hadn't fenced foil against each other in ages.

Henry made sure his mask was fastened tightly as he returned Valmont's salute and took his guard on the opposite end of the piste.

Valmont shot forward with a feint, which Henry antic.i.p.ated.

Henry tried to free his sword to the outside, but Valmont was expecting this and executed an overhead block at precisely the right moment.

Henry shook his head as he pulled back, surprised at how in tune he and Valmont were with each other's fencing styles. Taking a deep breath, Henry tried a short lunge with a forward recovery, followed by a coupe. They'd just taught the same move to the battle society two meetings before.

Their blades locked again, and without thinking Henry disarmed Valmont, sending Valmont's foil into the air. Henry caught it neatly, choked up on the foible, and presented it back to Valmont grip first. It wasn't until Valmont pushed up his visor as he accepted the blade, his expression full of warning, that Henry realized they'd gained an audience.

"Quite an interesting show, Mr. Grim, Mr. Valmont," the fencing master said, raising an eyebrow.

Henry bit his lip. "Sorry," he apologized, and then scrambled for an explanation. "We were just talking about the theory behind disarming during lunch."

"I was referring to your pattern there, the short lunge and coupe. Would you mind demonstrating it for the cla.s.s?"

Henry shook his head and adjusted his mask. He performed the move again, with Valmont making the necessary blocks.

"I'd like you all to try that," the fencing master called, addressing the cla.s.s. "As an exercise. Partners facing the mirror will lead. Don't expect to have it on the first try, now."

The pairs of students adjusted their distances accordingly and did as the fencing master asked.

Henry shot Valmont a brief but uneasy glance as the eighteen members of the battle society in first year-discounting Henry and Valmont-executed the move perfectly. The fencing master stared as though unable to believe what he was seeing. He shook his head as if to clear it.

"Can I have that again?" he asked weakly.

Again, nine of the pairs performed the maneuver flawlessly. Theobold, who'd always had trouble with forward recovery, threw down his mask and glowered. "Impossible," he muttered to Crowley, with an accusing glare in Henry and Valmont's direction.

When cla.s.ses were done for the day, Henry and Adam returned to the headmaster's office.

Henry knocked, but no one opened the door. He knocked again, this time louder. Still no answer.

"Do you reckon he's forgotten about us?" Adam asked brightly.

"He's not that scatterbrained." Henry sighed. "I suppose we could wait here."

"In the corridor?"

Henry shrugged. What else could they do? Thankfully, Headmaster Winter rounded the corner at that moment. He wore his best suit and a remarkably crisp cravat. Walking alongside him was a tall perpetually startled-looking gentleman in a somber black suit, a notebook tucked under his arm. Headmaster Winter paused halfway down the corridor to finish his discussion, and Henry overheard the name Lord Priscus and something about Throgmorten Hall before the headmaster bade farewell to his companion and hurried the rest of the way down the corridor.

"Sorry, boys," the headmaster called in a way that suggested he'd endured quite an exhausting afternoon. "Quite a full afternoon, you know. Running a bit behind, but it couldn't be helped. You should have let yourselves in."

"Into your office, sir?" Henry said with a frown. "It didn't seem right, since you're supposed to be punishing us for theft."

"Eh?" Headmaster Winter said distractedly. "Ah, right. That. You boys had better come inside." A collection of teacups and saucers had gathered on the head-master's desk overnight, and sure enough, Henry could make out faint purplish bruises beneath the headmaster's eyes, betraying his lack of sleep.

"Have you found Frankie, sir?" Adam asked as he and Henry took seats on the sofa.

"Not yet," the headmaster said with a forlorn sigh. "And it's really the worst possible time for her to pull a stunt like this."

"I'm sorry, sir," Henry said. "I hope you find her soon."

"As do I," Headmaster Winter replied. "But the matter at hand is not Francesca, but what, exactly, I'm to do with the two of you."

"A crime without a victim is a crime best overlooked?" Adam suggested.

Henry elbowed him. The headmaster regarded them sternly.

"Sorry, sir," they mumbled.

"As I see it," said Headmaster Winter, "since the sabres were put back with no harm done, you boys were simply caught wandering the corridors after curfew. Unfortunately, as first years, this is an expellable offense. The final decision shall be made by your head of year."

"It's up to Lord Havelock?" Henry asked despairingly. Well, he thought, this was it. They were done for. Because Henry remembered all too well his run-in with Lord Havelock at Grandmother Winter's holiday party, and Lord Havelock's subsequent warning for Henry to stay out of trouble.

Perhaps if he explained that Valmont had been part of it ... No, he couldn't. Betraying the battle society for leniency was the same as declaring their preparations for war nothing more than a game. The battle society was worth more than a shot at keeping his place at Knightley. An impatient knock sounded on the door of the headmaster's office. "Come in," Headmaster Winter called.

The door burst open to reveal Lord Havelock, wearing his best pin-striped suit without his master's gown. He brandished a handful of telegrams and an air of dreadful news.

"Ah, Magnus," Headmaster Winter said. "What news?"

"The Nordlandic envoy is short-staffed," Lord Havelock reported, as though Henry and Adam weren't in the room at all, "and it is doubtful that suitable replacements can be found in time. Mr. Frist neglected to consider the servants' absurd superst.i.tions, and the date has them all seeing death omens in the tea."

"Yes, yes, beware the ides of March and all that," Headmaster Winter said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "This certainly is a problem."

"It would be a grave misstep for the envoy to leave without a proper serving staff," Lord Havelock continued. "I'm certain Yascherov would be all too eager to lend us a few of his own loyal young men." Lord Havelock's tone conveyed what an utter disaster that would be.

Headmaster Winter frowned. "How long do we have to find replacements?" Lord Winter asked.

"The envoy leaves at dawn tomorrow. The train is scheduled to depart Avel-on-t'Hems at six exactly."

"Perhaps," Headmaster Winter mused, "there are a few serving boys at the school whom no one has thought to ask." The headmaster's gaze fell upon Henry, and Henry's eyes widened, wondering if the headmaster meant him. But no, that was absurd.

"Er, should we go, sir?" Adam mumbled, fiddling with the strap on his satchel. Henry stared at him in surprise. "Into the corridor to let you and Lord Havelock speak in private, I mean?"

"Yes, perhaps it would be best if you boys returned to your dormitory," Headmaster Winter said distractedly, his attention going back to Lord Havelock. "Has Mr. Frist inquired down in the village for boys?"

Adam opened his mouth as if to ask another question, but then thought better of it and shouldered his satchel instead. Henry followed Adam out of the headmaster's office past Lord Havelock, who shot the boys a withering glare before slamming the door behind them.

"Let's go," Henry muttered, trying to ignore the m.u.f.fled but insistent rise and fall of voices coming from behind the closed door.

As they walked toward the quadrangle, a burst of hesitant late-afternoon sunshine made the cold air unexpectedly bearable. Henry noticed with surprise that the skeletal trees were coming back to life, proudly displaying tiny green buds and freshly sprouted leaves. Had winter truly pa.s.sed without his noticing?

Adam pushed up the sleeves of his jacket and squinted up at the sky. "Why aren't we in trouble?"

"I don't know," Henry said. "I think the headmaster's distracted by a lot of things at the moment."

"Such as Lord Priscus being here, you mean," Adam muttered.

Henry frowned.

"The last headmaster," Adam explained. "Ancient bloke. James mentioned it during fencing."

"Hmmm," Henry said, processing this new piece of information. "I suppose. Maybe he's here for that envoy Headmaster Winter was talking about."

They pa.s.sed the rock garden and neared the quadrangle, where a crowd of third years were enthusiastically playing cricket in the patchy sunshine. Stephen, who was in the battle society, caught sight of Henry and waved.

Adam waved back, but Henry was lost in thought. "That was so strange," he said, thinking aloud. "It was almost as though Headmaster Winter ... Never mind."

"As though Headmaster Winter what?" Adam pressed.

Henry shook his head.

"Oh, you mean how it seemed like the headmaster wanted us to go on that envoy as spies," Adam said casually.

Henry stared at Adam in surprise. "Actually, yes," Henry admitted. "But that's absurd."

"Not really," Adam said. "If our punishment for breaking curfew is up to Lord Havelock, we're as good as expelled. It's not as though we have anything left to lose if we go."

"Would you really go?" Henry asked.

"Of course," Adam said without pausing to consider.

"But we hardly know anything about it. They could be staying for weeks. It could be dangerous."

Adam shrugged. "We could ask Derrick. It's a diplomatic envoy, right? His father's a diplomat."

A moment of silent agreement pa.s.sed between the two friends, and without another word they hurried back to the first-year corridor.

Derrick was in his room when Henry and Adam knocked.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, ushering them inside.

Henry quickly explained how the headmaster had caught them in the hall outside the armory the night before, and what he and Adam were thinking. Derrick frowned and picked up a small golden clock from his bedside table, absently winding it as he told them what he knew. It was a monthly envoy to visit Dimit Yascherov, who headed both the Nordlandic Policing Agency and the Partisan School, acting as the chancellor's right-hand man. The envoy flew under the guise of fostering discussion, but really it was the Ministerium's way of reminding the Nordlands that they were watching.

"Watching for what?" Henry asked, and at the same moment Adam said, "So they've gone before?"

"I don't know what they're watching for," Derrick said. "New technologies? The obvious answer would be violations to the Longsword Treaty. And, yes, last month was the first envoy. I know because my father's secretary went."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Henry asked.