Bad Apple (The Warner Grimoire) (14 page)

The gray cat pushed harder against Simon’s legs, but wouldn’t let Simon come close to picking him up. Instead the cat trotted back to the two sisters as Ellicott Sterling approached the podium in the center of the room.

“Let us begin,” he said. “All who can, please rise for the Creed.”

Simon stood with the rest of the assembly, each placing their hand over their heart, and then all at once their eyes began to glow--brilliant blues, radiant reds, pairs of silver and gold surrounding him. They began to speak in unison, their combined voice resonating off the walls of the ancient room. Simon did not know what to say, so he listened as they recited their Creed:

I do not see magic with my eyes.

My eyes are weak, and magic hides in the Dark.

When gloom is the path set before me, Algul let me see with my mind.

I do not cast spells with my tongue.

My tongue is weak, and spellcraft hides in the Dark.

When gloom is the path set before me, Algul let me cast with my soul.

I do not curse with my magic.

My magic is weak, and curses hide in the Dark.

When gloom is the path set before me, Algul let me curse with my heart. 

A soft rumbling pushed through the air around Simon, signaling the beginning of the meeting. The assembly sat down without another word while Sterling approached the podium.

“Let the minutes reflect that for today’s meeting our regular archival duties will be entrusted to Ms. Penelope Nettle, daughter of Peter Nettle, Head Archivist.” Sterling spoke quickly, indicating the red-haired girl from earlier, who now sat at the far end of the table to his right. “Ms. Nettle won’t begin fulfilling her official duties for many years, but given the unexpected illness of Goody Neb this evening, this course of action proved the most prudent. Ms. Nettle,” he said, looking in the girl’s direction, “do not let us down.” The girl nodded nervously. Sterling continued without noticing her. “Well, then, onward, everyone? I see we have a few leftover matters of business from our last meeting that we failed to discuss.”

The red-haired girl scribbled furiously as the meeting wore on. Before long, she had a huge pile of papers in front of her, and the meeting showed no sign of ending. As the business of the day wore on Simon began to understand the need for a meeting room where time held utterly still. After the recounting of some old business involving an infestation of something called a krumpus, another man delivered a report on the rising risk of shipping exotic materials along their regular transport routes.

“Duly noted,” the Archmancer noted as the man finished his report. “At this time, it is the recommendation of the Council,” he indicated the people seated to his sides, “and the Archmancer, Ellicott Sterling, that the transportation of silver eagle feathers remain on their designated routes.” The man started to protest, but Sterling quickly added, “BUT, should future incidents with the Old Dominion occur, we will assign members of the Council to explore the option of additional security. Does the membership agree?”

There was a general murmur from the crowd, while the other members of the board sat silently, nodding their heads slowly. The man walked slowly back to his seat while the red-haired girl hurried to record the official vote numbers.

“Why doesn’t she just use magic to keep her notes?” Simon whispered to Nathan.

“She has to learn to do it herself first,” Nathan said. “Magic is a tool, Simon, not a crutch. You get too used to using it for everything, you forget how to use common sense.” He leaned in closer. “Many folks around here have forgotten that.”

Simon watched the girl continue to record everything, from the update on the pack of goat-men moving through the forest to the final piece of new business concerning the finalized guest list for the Masquerade Ball to occur on Halloween. The pile of paper slowly grew in front of her until only see her fiery red locks peaked out over the top.

“I believe that concludes the agenda items concerning the Council,” Sterling said eventually. “At this time the floor is open for discussion and opinions from the assembly. I believe there was a concern from Mr. Chapman regarding his apple orchard on the east side of the grounds...”

Nathan rose suddenly. “With all apologies to Jonathan,” he said, indicating a haggardly looking man who had just started to speak. “I have an urgent matter for the council.” He looked around the room quickly. “I have located the apple of the Warner line.” The room instantly broke into murmurs. “Furthermore,” he continued, “I have learned the identity of his kidnapper.” He drew a deep breath. “Samuel Marshall Thatch.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE COUNCIL

Shock held Simon to his seat.
Kidnapped?

Another murmur rippled through the assembly. The Verde sisters exchanged surprised looks and started whispering between themselves.

Sterling observed Nathan with a strange look. “Mr. Tamerlane,” he said, “we received your notice earlier today regarding,” he checked his notes,“Samuel Marshall Thatch. You are here to tell us that not only he has been found, but also that he was the abductor of the Warner child, all those years ago?”

“Yes,” Nathan said stiffly. He risked a glance back at Simon, who stared disbelievingly at him.
Kidnapped
? It didn’t make any sense at all. Was Nathan lying to the council? It didn’t seem so. They all apparently know what he was talking about, so did that mean Nathan had lied to
him
, had he been keeping secrets since the beginning? It was too much to process at once.

Sterling’s voice clanged sharply through the confusion. “You have done your duty as a Journeyman of this order and apprehended him, I presume?”

“No,” Nathan said. “I was unable--he was taken by another before I could.”

The Archmancer raised a mouse gray eyebrow. “So the abductor was abducted you say?” He spoke wryly. “Why am I not surprised.”

“He was taken,” Nathan repeated, “by Fellis Boeman, suspected servant of--”

“Thank you,” Sterling said, cutting Nathan off. “We are already aware of Mr. Boeman’s
alleged
associations. Leaving that matter aside, I can assure you that an inquiry will be convened to ascertain the veracity of this
alleged
abduction.” He checked his notes. “Fellis is abroad, so we’ve been told, so we expect a response within two moons.”

Simon roused himself from his stupor “Two moons?” he asked, confused and frustrated. He looked at Nathan, suddenly uncertain whether he was friend or foe. “What does that mean?”

“Two months roughly,” Nathan whispered back. “Archmancer Sterling, if I may, I can remove any doubt to the truth of the matter.” He beckoned to Simon to join him, and put his hand on his shoulder. Simon quietly fumed at the gesture of familiarity. “I have a witness here who can attest to the matter.”

Sterling swept a loose hair back into place. “You brought an unauthorized and unwelcome person into Silverwood, I see.”

“Hardly unwelcome,” Nathan said. “He
was
in my notice.” He took another deep breath. “Simon Theodore Warner. Born in a snowstorm, raised in a forest.”

A great wave of excitement overtook the crowd. Claudia and Jeanette Verde beamed great smiles, informing those around them of their association with the boy. Sterling looked up from his notes, his eyes focusing on Simon. “Is this so?” The words were sour in his mouth. “I don’t see any mention of him in your notice,” he said, holding up a small piece of paper.

“Oh, I’m sure it was there,” Nathan said. “Second page, I believe.”

Sterling shuffled through his papers. “I only have one page here.”

“Oh, well, sounds like the second page got lost,” Nathan said casually. The red-haired looked up from her notes, aghast. She yanked out a clean sheet of paper, scribbling a small note on it before tucking it into her pocket.

More paper shuffling by the Archmancer. “Cynric,” Sterling said. “I fail to see any mention of young Mr. Warner in your message as well.”

“I might have forgot that detail,” Cynric said gruffly, glancing at Nathan. Simon swore that, for a second, Nathan gave the most imperceptible of nods to the woodsman. “Ol’ Grisly’s been a might bit antsy with all the thropes and hobs in the wood as of late,” Cynric said. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

A man sitting at the end of the table to Sterling’s left made a loud, impatient noise. He was rumpled and sour-looking, with patches of beard sprouting at odd angles all across his face. His hair clung greasily to his head, and everything about his clothing was filthy, except for a pair of pristine white gloves he wore.

“Yes, Douglas?” The Archmancer looked at the disheveled man, who sat suddenly quiet. The Archmancer sighed. “Does Junior Officer Churl have any opinion into the supposed disappearance of Mr. Thatch?”

The rumpled man crossed his arms sullenly. “The Junior Officer does not,” he said, fidgeting with his dingy blue robe. “The Junior Officer only finds it typical behavior from what he remembers of Mr. Thatch,
and
Mr. Tamerlane.”

“That so?” Nathan locked eyes with Junior Official. “I could offer some stories about you, Doug.”

“Thank you,” Sterling said sternly. “Ms. Nettle, please strike the last comments from the minutes. We will refrain, everyone, from engaging in spurious rumor. The inquiry will be dispatched, and it is, at this time, the recommendation of the Council, and the Archmancer, that--”

“I saw him!” Simon shouted, his anger starting to boil over, at Nathan, at the Archmancer, at everybody there. “Boeman was there, at our home.”

More murmuring.

“Simon, hang on,” Nathan said.

“Did you
truly
see him?” Sterling sorted through his notes, not bothering to look up. “Did you
see
him abduct Mr. Thatch?”

Sterling’s words sizzled in Simon’s head. He paused, picking at his memories, his anger momentarily jammed. “Well...no, but he told me, in the alley behind our tavern.”

“Hmm,” Sterling said, fixing his eyes coldly on Simon. “So we have only your testimony to guide us. Tell me,” he said, “did you, at any time, see Mr. Thatch in any state of distress?”

“Their home was burning,” Nathan said, stepping in front of Simon. “He was inside containing the fire so we could make it out.” The image of Molly running down the back hallway floated through Simon’s mind. Zoey, still sleeping in her mother’s arms, her mother running down the alley.

“Couldn’t it be,” Junior Officer Churl said, “that Thatch conspired with Mr. Boeman, if he even was there, to use the fire as a means of distraction, of escape, himself? Seems to me that Mr. Thatch might have grown tired of the life of a
wanted
kidnapper
and
babysitter
and saw a chance to make a new life for himself.”

“He wouldn’t,” Simon said. “We’re a family. We’re happy.”

Churl raised his eyebrow again. “That so? Thatch, our kidnapper, a family man?”

“He’s not a kidnapper!” Simon screamed, his anger finally igniting, tiny sparks flying from his hands. The room fell tomb-quiet. “He is my family,” he spat, his blood hot in his ears. “He has always been good to me. He did NOT
kidnap me, he loves me, and he loves Molly and Zoey. He wouldn’t abandon us.”

“I’m sorry,” Sterling said dispassionately. “Who?”

“They’re not of the Folk,” Nathan said. “This doesn’t concern them.” Simon started to speak again, but Nathan held out his hand, and Simon’s vocal cords froze.

“Typical,” Churl said. “Consorting with those who would see our kind hunted down and eradicated.”

“Last time I checked,” Nathan said, his voice ice, “we had larger hounds to hunt, Doug.”

“That will be a discussion for another time and place,” Sterling said. “At this time, the Board, and the Archmancer, recommends we await word from our official inquiry. Now then, and then only,” he added, “we will reassess. Until then, the matter is closed. Ms. Nettle, please earmark Mr. Tamerlane’s demeanor for review.”

Simon looked to Nathan, who was staring straight ahead at Sterling.

“Never mind, then.” Nathan stepped closer to the podium. “I guess the matter is closed for now.” He paused. “Well, then, I guess we’ll be going.”

“Excuse me?” Sterling fixed his eyes on Nathan. “Our meeting has not concluded. You have not been dismissed.”