The Unknown Spy (10 page)

“This would appear to be some kind of futuristic train,” Spitfire said. She went on to describe the landscape.

“The climate is similar to our own, with cold winters and temperate summers,” she said, apparently unaware of the existence of deserts and icecaps or all the variations in between.

“Must be kind of funny where you live,” Les whispered, “what with no cars and wearing shorts to school and all.”

Danny wanted to speak, but Spitfire’s eye fell on him and he knew that this wasn’t the time or the place to put
her right. So he sat meekly listening to his instructor discuss signs of food shortages (skinny models on a catwalk) and indications that people were constantly spying on each other’s communications (satellite dishes on houses). Spitfire obviously thought this last point very important.

“It’s one of the reasons that Wilsons is vital to the Lower World. Spying is obviously regarded as central to the interests of the Upper World, and we must be ready if by any chance they should cross our borders.”

Danny now realized that there were also no cell phones or televisions in the Lower World, never mind computers. He had never thought of the two places as being so different. He put up his hand.

“Please, do you know what a television is in the Lower World?”

“A tele-vision,” Spitfire said. “No, please do enlighten us.”

“It’s like … a box, and moving pictures are beamed onto it. There are programs like—I don’t know—the news and cartoons and drama.”

“Really, Mr. Caulfield, such a vivid imagination,” Spitfire said. “Actors being transferred into a box? I don’t think so.”

“Pull the other one, Caulfield,” Smyck mocked him with a snigger.

“Does sound odd, Danny,” Les muttered, looking a bit embarrassed for his friend.

“Sounds odd?” Danny looked at Les incredulously,
not wanting to point out that having wings was more than a bit odd, never mind being in a spy school with the dead running about in the basement.

“Now that we’ve all been most wonderfully entertained by Mr. Caulfield, perhaps we should get back to work,” Spitfire said firmly.

After some more peculiar notions about the geography of the Upper World, Blackpitt announced the end of the class, giggling to himself as if he was enjoying some private joke.

“What is wrong with that man?” Les said. As they filed out of class, Spitfire told Danny and Dixie to stay behind. Les continued but looked back a little wistfully.

“Now,” Spitfire said, unlocking a drawer in her desk, “this is top-secret. Mr. Brunholm requested that you be given this for your upcoming mission.” She took out a tube and produced a scroll from it, unrolling it carefully onto the desk.

“There!” she said triumphantly. “The Upper World!” Danny stared. It was a map with a great splodge of land surrounded by flashes of blue. Mountains with snowcapped tops sat here and there, as did beautifully drawn groups of buildings with
Unknown City
written underneath them.

“Er, did you do this?” Danny asked.

“Yes,” Spitfire said, beaming with pride, “it took many hours of work using all our available knowledge. What do you think?”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Danny said, “when
was the last time someone from the Lower World went to the Upper World?”

“Well, I can’t speak for the other side, the Ring and Cherbs,” Spitfire said with a sniff, “but it’s been generations since someone has
admitted
to going over. Fairman brings back bits and pieces, and I believe he’s had a few illegal fares. Someone must have crossed the border, but no one admits it.”

“I see,” Danny said, thinking that it must have been a very long time since anyone either crossed or took a good look around them when they did.

“Take the map and study it well,” Spitfire said, rolling it up. “Keep it safe. It could be deadly in the wrong hands.”

Deadly in any hands if you relied on it, Danny thought. But he tucked the map under his arm anyway.

C
lasses continued as normal for the rest of the day: Poisons. Maths. Disguise. Danny and his friends were tired when they finished, but he knew he had to talk to them. He arranged to meet them in the infirmary after tea. He included Les even though he wasn’t going on the mission.

Vandra looked a lot better, and she sat up in bed when Dixie said they’d been given a map of the Upper World.

“Give me a look!” she said. “I’ve always wanted to see it.”

“But the thing is that the map isn’t anything like the Upper World,” Danny said. “That’s what I want to tell you!”

However, nothing would quiet them but to open the map out on the bed and pore over the strange cities and snowy mountains, trying to guess how many people lived there and what they were like.

“It’s … it’s … completely different,” Danny said. “Spitfire’s information is all wrong. There are planes and cell phones and things like that!” They looked at him as if he was talking nonsense and went back to the map. It was hard to talk about cell phones to people who used beetles as listening devices.

They’ll just have to see when they get there, he thought.

Vandra moved and grimaced with pain.

“Are you okay?” Dixie asked.

“Kind of,” Vandra said. “It was a very strong dose of cyanide—I was only just able to deal with it. If it hadn’t been pure, I wouldn’t have been able to cope.”

“What do you mean?” Les asked.

“If there had been any impurities in the poison, my system would have collapsed. That was professionally made. We’re not dealing with an amateur here.”

“No, we’re not,” Toxique said quietly. “You said the feathers on the dart were red and black?”

Danny nodded.

“Red and black are the colors of the house of Toxique. We use them when we want the victim to know who their assassin is. I’m not surprised that the poison was pure. The Toxiques make the purest poisons in their own workshops. It’s a matter of family pride.”

Danny was the first to see the implications of
this detail: someone was trying to pin the attack on Toxique.

“Does anyone else know about this?” he asked. Toxique nodded.

“Brunholm and Devoy would both know. Toxiques have been coming to Wilsons for generations.”

“Does anyone else know that you’re supposed to assassinate someone this term?” Les asked carefully.

“And did anybody see you to provide an alibi for when the dart was fired?” Dixie said.

“Dixie!” Danny cried.

“I’m only trying to keep him out of trouble,” Dixie protested.

“She’s right, you know,” Toxique said. “I went for a walk in the woods yesterday afternoon. No one would have known where I was. And yes, my father wrote a letter to Devoy saying that there was no point in my training to be an assassin unless I got to actually kill someone and show off my skills. And now,” he said, using his Gift of Anticipation, “I’m in trouble.”

The door burst open and Brunholm strode in. “I heard about this dart, young man,” Brunholm said. “The colors of Toxique. I demand an explanation.”

Toxique stood up. “I am aware of the incident,” he said with great dignity, “and I am also aware that the poison was probably manufactured by a Toxique, such was its purity.”

“So what’s your defense, then? I know you are supposed to kill someone this term. Thought you’d try your hand at a poor Messenger, is that it?”

“My defense is this: the lady is still alive,” Toxique said.

“Meaning?” Brunholm said.

“Meaning that if the assassin had been a Toxique, she would be dead. A true Toxique never fails to kill.”

“That’s the point,” Brunholm cried. “A true Toxique! But are you a true Toxique or a reluctant one?”

“Leave him alone,” Dixie said. “Toxique doesn’t tell lies.”

Brunholm’s eyes glittered dangerously. “I believe that punishment is called for in the family Toxique for failed assassinations?”

“Yes,” Toxique said unhappily.

“And if your family feels that this was a failed attempt, then it is their duty to carry out such a punishment?”

“You know a lot about my family,” Toxique said.

“Wilsons’ library is full of books about the glorious history of the Toxique family,” Brunholm said. “It is one of the most eminent names in the history of spies and assassins. They have never lowered their standards.”

“Then you know the punishment,” Toxique said heavily.

“Yes, and I know that it has been carried out at the mere suspicion of a botched assassination.”

“That’s true.”

“What is the punishment, then?” Les said.

“Death,” Brunholm said.

“Slow and agonizing death by poison,” Toxique said.

“No!” Dixie said. “Specially when you didn’t try to kill that Messenger in the first place!”

“When it comes to the family name,” Toxique said, “fairness doesn’t come into it.”

“You’d better hope that they don’t get wind of this,” Brunholm said. “Or that we catch someone for throwing the darts.”

He glared at the cadets, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the infirmary.

“Phew,” Danny said, “he wasn’t too happy.”

“He better find whoever did it,” Vandra said. “I’m not going to be up to sucking any more poison for a while.”

Danny said nothing. He had seen Vandra shudder at the words “slow and agonizing.”

Toxique lifted his head. “Devoy’s coming this way,” he said quietly. A few seconds later the door opened and Devoy entered and went straight to Vandra.

“The apothecary has informed me of your condition,” he said, “and has said that you are not well enough to leave your bed yet, so I will be carrying out preparation for your mission in the infirmary. Mr. Toxique and Mr. Knutt, you will be good enough to excuse us?”

Toxique nodded and turned to go. Dixie squeezed his arm. Danny winked at Les, who gave him a thumbs-up as he followed the dejected Toxique out the door.

A CROSSBOW OF EXQUISITE SENSITIVITY

“N
OW,”
Devoy said, when Les and Toxique had left, “we have received news of an incursion by Seraphim into the Upper World.”

Danny didn’t notice the quick look that Devoy cast in his direction before going on.

“This is evidence of their intentions with regard to the Upper World, and I think we can expect more of these raids, stretching the boundaries of the treaty to the limit. The Treaty Stone is no longer safe in Morne and must be removed. The matter is now urgent.

“The last report I have of the kingdom of Morne is that it is located in a place called Tibet. Is that name familiar to you, Danny?”

“Well … from books, yes …”

“Splendid, then it shouldn’t be too hard to find.” Danny shook his head. Was there any point in saying that Tibet was at the far ends of the earth to where he lived? Or that it was a vast mountainous place where they spoke a different language and where strangers might not be all that welcome? But before Danny could decide, Devoy strode to the door and wrenched it open. Danny’s heart sank. Les and Toxique were on their knees listening at the door.

Devoy’s voice was icy.

“Mr. Knutt. Mr. Toxique. Eavesdropping on a conference of this nature is a Tenth Regulation offense, verging on the Eleventh. These are great matters of state!”

“What’s an Eleventh Regulation offense?” Danny whispered.

“I don’t know,” Dixie said, “but it must be terrible!”

“It’s my fault, Master Devoy,” Toxique said, hanging his head.

“As if you were not in enough trouble, Mr. Toxique.”

“It his Gift of Anticipation!” Les said.

“Meaning what?” Devoy demanded.

“I was just leaving the room,” answered Toxique, “when the gift told me that an untrue thing was about to be spoken.”

“An untrue thing?”

“I didn’t know what it was at the start,” Toxique said miserably, “so I listened in.”

“He only wanted to help,” Les said.

“Silence!” Devoy said. “What was this untrue thing?”

“That the … the … kingdom of Morne was in Tibet.”

“What do you know about Morne?” Devoy said.

“N-nothing, I never even heard of it before now. It’s the gift. Things just come into my head.”

“And what came into your head?”

“That the kingdom of Morne has moved to Ireland within the last few days.”

“Ireland!” Danny said. “That’s where I’m from, and it’s a lot closer than Tibet.”

“I see,” Devoy said. “And is your gift ever wrong, Mr. Toxique?”

“Never,” Toxique whispered.

“Then,” Devoy said, “I have to thank you, and I will exempt Mr. Knutt from punishment as well, although I doubt his motives were as pure as yours. Please leave us now. I will know if you breathe a word about what you have heard here. And if it reaches my ears that you have …”

“No, sir, we promise, never!” Les said, grabbing Toxique. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Come on, Toxique.…”

Les half dragged the trainee assassin out of the room. The door slammed.

“Please, Master Devoy,” Dixie said, “what is an Eleventh Regulation offense? I thought they only went up to ten?” Devoy gave her a long, considering look, then clapped his hands briskly together.

“Now. Back to our mission. Tell me about Ireland, Mr. Caulfield.”

“It’s an island.”