The Ring of Five (20 page)

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Les and Dixie, he thought. They had undergone years of training for what they were facing. He was running from danger into danger. He would have his friends nearby, he hoped, but most of the time he would be alone among dangerous spies. How would he cope?

And yet underneath everything there was the strange attraction that he felt every time the Ring of Five was referred to. A secret desire that was almost too shameful to admit, even to himself.

They entered the silent Roosts, which were lit only by a faint gleam from the stove. Danny took off his clothes and tumbled into bed. He shut his eyes. Visions of poisoners and great flying skeletal Messengers skulked and zoomed through his exhausted mind before sleep finally overtook him.

In the library of the third landing, Devoy stood at the window, a glass of cognac in his hand.

"This time you have gone too far, Marcus."

"It was the only way. Longford would break him like a twig otherwise."

"He may break him like a twig anyway. Wilsons was not set up to act like this. We're as bad as the Ring, if not worse."

"We cannot survive unless we make sacrifices."

"That's the problem, Marcus. We are not the ones who have made the sacrifice. It is young Caulfield who must bear the pain. I wish there were another way."

"It's too late now." Devoy looked at Brunholm's

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reflection in the windowpane. The glass had originally adorned a Mirror of Truthful Portraiture. Longford had placed it in the window so that he could more clearly read the thoughts of the person reflected in it. Brunholm didn't know about it, Devoy believed. There were still some things that he did not know. Devoy studied the face behind him, its characteristics exaggerated by the glass. He could see the cruelty there, and the cunning, as well as greed and ambition.

"Wilsons may have sunk lower than the Ring this time," he said.

"If that is the case, it is worth it--millions are kept safe by the unsavory doings of people like us. You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs, Devoy."

There was an air of excitement in Ravensdale the next morning. Everyone knew about the poisoning, and the news spread quickly that some of the cadets were going on a mission. There was disbelief too when it was learned that Danny was among their number.

"He's only here a wet week," Dixie overheard Exspectre telling a group of young cadets in the hallway, "and already he's being sent on a mission. They obviously don't think very much of the rest of us."

Danny found Les outside the door of the Consiglio, surrounded by a group of girl cadets, obviously basking in his newfound and unaccustomed celebrity.

"Well," he was saying, "old Devoy was obviously in a bit of a spot, so of course I couldn't refuse. I can't tell you

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what it is, naturally, but it is risky. Some of us may not come back...." He broke off, embarrassed, when he saw Danny grinning at him.

There was no sign of Smyck at breakfast, but they were surprised to see Vandra come in late. She was pale and very quiet, and just shook her head when they gathered about her to ask how she was.

"I had to leave the infirmary," she said. "There were major casualties from the front line. A battle with the Cherbs."

"Leave her alone," Toxique said, to their surprise. "You don't get poison out of your system that easily, you know. Leaves you feeling pretty down, even if you are a physick." And getting up and taking his plate, he went over to sit beside Vandra, talking to her in a low voice until eventually Danny could see her responding.

"Do you think Vandra's still going on the mission?" Dixie asked.

"I don't know," Danny confessed. But by the time they had finished breakfast, Vandra appeared to be talking normally to Toxique. And when Blackpitt announced class, she came over to them.

"Toxique was telling me about the poison--he's never seen anything like it before. He's trying to find out what it's made from."

"How are you feeling?" Dixie asked.

"Still not great, but I'm getting better. I keep getting ... like waking nightmares, you know--feathers and flying and stuff ..." Dixie squeezed her hand.

"You better pull your socks up for the mission," Les

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said, "it's been brought forward!" And quickly they told Vandra what had happened.

"I'll ... I'll be okay," Vandra said, but as she did so she covered her eyes with her hand and frowned. "Just don't tell Devoy about the nightmares."

As they were leaving Ravensdale, Toxique came up behind Danny. The calm presence who had comforted Vandra was gone. His eyes were red and he was muttering to himself. As he was passing Danny he spun around and grasped his shoulder. "Blood!" he muttered. "I see you and blood!" Just as suddenly he let go of Danny and stalked off. Danny looked after him. He was nervous enough about the mission as it was. It's just the way he is, he told himself. But part of him remembered Toxique in maths class, and his uncanny ability to predict what was about to happen. Danny shook himself and walked after the others. He had to stay focused.

That day was a blur of preparation. After breakfast the cadets crammed into the lift with Brunholm.

"Where are we going?" Danny asked as Brunholm pressed the lift button and waited for the ancient elevator to start.

"The Room of Identities on the first landing," Brunholm said shortly. "We need a private place to rehearse your new lives."

The cadets were quiet in the elevator. They were squashed, and Brunholm gave off an overwhelming odor of garlic and strong cologne. Danny was feeling quite ill by the time the lift stopped. They got out onto a sunlit landing, where Brunholm opened a small timber door.

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They followed him into a high-ceilinged room with filing cabinets lining one wall and a screen and an old-fashioned projector on the other side. The room felt as if it had not been used in a very long time.

Brunholm took a sheet of paper from his pocket and consulted it.

"Now, Knutt, market trader," he muttered. He went to a drawer and pulled it open, producing several outfits, male and female, from which he selected one--a donkey jacket with a flat cap, breeches, and a leather purse on a belt for keeping money. He also took out a reel of film.

"You're to be a trader in Westwald market, Knutt. Try on the outfit, then watch the film. It'll tell you what you need to know. There's plenty of trash in the market, so you'll fit right in. Our little physick is to get a hospital job and a nice nurse's uniform, and Cole, you will be a domestic servant."

As the day wore on, Danny started to get bored and felt a little left out. His friends' new identities involved a lot of learning of market slang, hospital procedures and, in Dixie's case, simple domestic tasks at which she was hopeless. So Danny was pleased when Blackpitt announced that Cadet Caulfield's presence was required in the library of the third landing. He slipped out, leaving his three friends to study.

He paused in the corridor and, curious, peered out one of the tall windows. It looked down on an internal courtyard that seemed to belong in an old people's home. There were bath chairs and aluminum walkers and deck chairs scattered about. No one was in the courtyard, but

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just as he was about to go, he saw Gabriel enter. The elderly Messenger looked about very carefully, scrutinizing the windows around him. Danny ducked back. When Gabriel had satisfied himself that there was no one looking, he carefully unfolded his wings and, with tentative flaps, rose a few feet off the ground. He landed and folded the wings quickly, glancing around with an air of innocence. He did this a few more times, and then finally the wings beat powerfully and he shot high into the air. He landed quickly, looked guiltily around the courtyard, then walked quickly back into the building.

Does everyone in Wilsons have a secret? Danny thought.

Danny negotiated the staircase to Devoy's office carefully. Devoy was at his desk, going through papers, and did not look up immediately. When he did, he seemed distracted.

"Yes, Cadet Caulfield," he said, "Suzerrain Longford. I know from old that he will probe you, test you, even though we have sent enough information his way to hint that the fifth member of the Ring has been discovered. He will be bending his will toward finding you, and that is where he is vulnerable. He is desperate to complete the Ring, so, in the depths of his heart, he wants to believe you! Remember that."

"Is he ... dangerous?" Danny asked.

"Of course. He would kill you without a thought. Or rather, Rufus Ness would do it for him. But you have a

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quality ... I can feel it ... that he will recognize, and will want to believe in, because he recognizes it in himself. The quality most valued by the true spy."

"What quality?" Danny had a feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Faithlessness."

"Sorry?"

"The ability to be treacherous, to betray a friend. As Longford betrayed me."

Danny's fists clenched. "I will not betray my friends, ever."

Devoy's tone did not change. His face gave away nothing. Yet even through his own anger, Danny could feel Devoy's pain. "Just because you were betrayed doesn't mean that I will let my friends down."

"You will need this." Devoy handed him a leather purse. Danny looked inside. It was full of banknotes and silver and gold coins. Then Devoy waved his hand in dismissal.

"That's all for now. I cannot teach all the secrets of spying in a few days or weeks. All I can hope for is that you get an understanding here"--he struck his chest with his hand--"of what it means to be a spy."

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AN UNWELCOME VISITOR

Danny met Les, Vandra and Dixie on their way to Ravensdale. They were carrying massive folders containing details of their new identities. They had to learn whole new lives--new parents, new upbringings and new jobs.

As they took seats in the Consiglio dei Dieci, Exspectre glared at them from the far side of the table.

"How's Smyck?" Les asked.

"Sitting up, fighting off the venom. He'll be out and about tomorrow."

"He'd be all right if it wasn't for the poison that vampire pal of yours put into his body," Exspectre spat out. Vandra froze.

"What?" Danny exclaimed, outraged. Les jumped to his feet.

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"Everybody's saying it," Exspectre went on. "He had a dodgy stomach for a minute, but she couldn't wait to get her fangs into him."

"She saved his life!" Dixie was almost as pale as Vandra.

"And nearly did herself in and all," Les said. Toxique was staring at Exspectre, muttering under his breath. Danny caught the words "liar" and "vengeance." Vandra put her hand on Toxique's arm.

"No," she said, "no revenge. They can say what they like. It doesn't hurt. At least, nothing could hurt like last night. Let it go."

Les glared at Exspectre. Danny was afraid his friend was going to jump over the table and attack.

"Sit down, Les," Dixie said. "Devoy didn't pick that lot to go on a mission, did he?"

"And why do you think he picked you three?" Exspectre looked from face to face, a hint of color in his cheeks. "We all know why."

"Why's that, then?" Les kept his voice low.

"Because he can afford to lose you three. That's why. Wilsons would be better off without you, and that's a fact," Frieda said, her reedy voice full of malice.

"And you can go boil your head in a pot," Dixie put in, "if you can find a pointy pot."

"Cadets Caulfield, Vaunt, Knutt and Cole to Mrs. Spitfire's room immediately!" There was an urgent note to Blackpitt's interjection, as if he knew that trouble was brewing in Ravensdale. The four cadets filed out, Dixie

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eyeing Frieda thoughtfully, as though she was seriously thinking about boiling Frieda's head.

When they got to Spitfire's room, they found the live-wire teacher in full mission mode. She was wearing some kind of uniform with a tin helmet, and had turned the lights down, leaving a single spotlight on the map of the city of Westwald.

"Quickly," Spitfire said, "gather round. As you know, the living map is a Chart of Near Likeness. It copies the features and the weather conditions of its subject--in this case, Westwald. Westwald is usually covered in cloud and smog. I've been waiting for a break, and here it is, so hurry, before the weather closes in again."

They gazed in wonder at the miniature Westwald. They had never seen the city so clearly. It was full of tall buildings that had once been elegant but were now down-at-heel, their fine stone carvings blacked and eaten away with toxic smoke. There were large department stores, but no lights burned in them. Other places looked closed as well: A building that might be a hospital. Tall hotels, their giant neon signs now dark. Only the market to the east of the city center seemed to be full of lights.

"Pay attention, now," Spitfire said. She pointed at a large dark building just off the main square. "This is the fortress of Grist, the headquarters of the Ring of Five and command center of the Cherb forces. It is said that those who are brought to the fortress of Grist as prisoners never emerge."