The School for Thieves, page 22
* * *
Tom wasn’t sure when he drifted off to sleep, or for how long. It was a disturbed rest. He was used to sleeping uncomfortably in the cold in London, used to the sounds of many children sleeping nearby, used to the creak of an old building in high winds, but the adrenaline of being in that hut on that mountain was pumping through him and he woke often.
Dawn broke slowly, muted and gray. The snowfall had worsened, and visibility outside was close to zero.
“So we can’t take the ridge,” said Freddie Kelso flatly, his nose pressed to one of the windows. “The long way around it is.”
“In which case we’ll have to leave soon,” said Torres. “Otherwise we might not make the castle before nightfall.”
“Mmmm,” said McGinley. She was still lying on the floor.
“You all right, Sade?” asked Featherstone through a mouthful of apple.
Even in the dim light of the morning, Tom could see that something was wrong. McGinley was ashen and almost expressionless.
“I don’t… I don’t feel very well,” she mumbled. She swallowed. Then licked her lips and swallowed again. Her eyes went wide, and she scrambled to her feet and quickly but alarmingly unsteadily dashed through the door of the hut. The thin walls did little to mask the violent sounds of her vomiting.
Modiba swore under his breath. “We’re going to need to call for a replacement. Where’s the radio?”
“No way,” said Sergio Torres. “It took us, what, three hours to climb up here yesterday? And that was in good weather. The others are miles farther down the mountain than where we landed. They won’t make it in time.”
“Hey, Sade?” said Kelso anxiously as McGinley staggered back into the hut. “Feeling any better after throwing up? Think you can manage the mission? We need you to manage the mission. We need you to.” The rising panic in his voice was clear.
McGinley wafted a hand to bat away his question and then rushed outside again. It was Kelso’s turn to swear.
“Can we do it without her?” asked Featherstone quietly.
Modiba looked fraught, all his arrogance gone.
“I don’t know. Maybe. But if any of us gets injured… And remember, we’ve been over this a thousand times—five was the absolute minimum needed to pull off the heist. How can we do it with four?”
For the first time since he’d met them, Tom considered how young they all suddenly seemed as they looked to the Corsair, beseeching him for guidance.
“Maybe you could come, sir—” Torres began.
The Corsair shook his head. “Even if you masked me from head to foot, I think the judges might spot that I’m not a student.”
There was a pause, during which Tom realized that Featherstone was eyeing him carefully, measuring him. She sucked her teeth thoughtfully. “Put a hat and goggles on him, cover him in the same greasepaint, and I bet no one would notice the difference.”
The other Apprentices turned to look at Tom.
“What, a Bile House Tenderfoot?” exploded Kelso. “Are you insane? We’re not that desperate!”
“Yes, we are,” croaked McGinley, leaning weakly on the door. “I can’t go like this. We can’t get a replacement. Just take him. Get him to stand guard over the equipment outside the wall. Then he can help with the extraction. He doesn’t need to do anything else.” She rushed outside to retch again.
Tom’s thoughts were scrambling. “Uh, I don’t think—”
“He’s a Tenderfoot!” repeated Kelso as if Tom weren’t there.
“He’s got something about him,” argued Featherstone. “We might have run straight into that patrol if it hadn’t been for him. And anyway, what other option do we have?”
“The boy can ski,” offered the Corsair. “He can climb. And he’s much stronger than he looks—although that wouldn’t be hard, I admit.”
“This is insane,” Modiba muttered. He crossed the hut and stood threateningly over Tom. “If you compromise us in any way, I’ll leave you to die out in that blizzard.”
Tom’s jaw tightened. If you took threats like that on the streets, you were finished. The sudden venom in his eyes made Modiba take a step back.
“I’m not volunteering here,” snapped Tom. “I don’t even want to be on this bloody mountain! If you want my help, you ask me. I’m the one that you need.”
Modiba swallowed. “I apologize,” he said, adjusting his tone. “Will you help us? For Beaufort’s.”
Tom stared at the ceiling. What am I doing?
“I suppose I’ll have to,” he said, regretting his words at once.
Chapter Twenty-One CRIMSON RAID
The Guile House common room was a riot of activity and noise. Students lay sprawled on chairs and on every available space on the floor, sitting on cushions or pillows brought down from their rooms, some sitting in huddled groups on duvets. Bathed in the last rays of late-afternoon light that filtered in through the windows, Enzo and Jericho sat back-to-back on the floor, while Maxine lay beside them, her head resting on Jericho’s thigh. Tom’s Tenderfoot classmates were all sitting nearby, perched on cushions.
Cassidy, Connie, Mitch, and a couple of other fourth-grade Colts had somehow managed to grab seats on the largest sofa ahead of the Initiates and Apprentices. The Apprentices were seated right in front of the radio set, which had been dragged from its usual home in the corner to a place beside the crackling fire. Hercule Wolf, Genevieve’s brother, was on his knees fiddling with the dials, trying to tune in to the secure channel for the International Shadow Cup commentary.
“It’s wild to think that Tom’s so close to the action,” murmured Maxine. “Can you imagine? When we’re sixth-grade Apprentices, we have to do everything we can to win the House Challenge. I would love to be competing for the cup.”
“Absolutely,” said Enzo. “We’ll have to quiz Tom on everything he’s seen. It might give us an advantage when it’s our turn.”
“What are you expecting him to tell you?” Cassidy sneered. “All that street rat will be doing is lugging their bags around and cleaning their boots. It’s hardly a useful insight.”
“Shut your face, Cassidy,” said Maxine hotly.
The sound of static from the radio was suddenly interrupted by a babble of words.
“Be quiet, everyone!” Hercule cried over the hubbub. “I’ve got it!”
“… Blizzard hit last night”—fzzz-shhhhherchhh—“…getting lighter now, but visibility is still quite poor.” The voices of the famous commentators Reginald Hodge and Beatrice Maso crackled across the now silent common room.
“Their progress has been slowed by the blizzard and the high winds, but this approach should allow the entire Beaufort’s team to reach the castle unnoticed,” said Hodge, “which, should they break through the castle’s defenses, will give them a significant numerical advantage over their rivals, who have elected to insert just one or two operatives into the building.”
Hercule turned up the volume and then flopped into the armchair that had been left vacant for him beside the radio.
“We cross now to the mountainside, where I believe Beaufort’s team is just coming into view,” said Maso.
There was another crackle of static, and then a muffled voice spoke. “Yes, indeed, Beatrice, here they come now. They have been forced to change direction because of the blizzard, and instead of approaching the castle via the western ridge, they are coming up through the forest on the southern slopes.”
“Sounds like Ridley Nix,” hissed Maxine. “One of the teachers at Assassins School.”
“How can you tell?” whispered Angus.
“Mum and Dad always made me listen to old Shadow Cup recordings when I was little. You learn to recognize the voices.”
“They are moving in single file, standing in their leader’s footprints to hide their numbers,” continued Nix. “They have also attached fronds and branches from the trees to their snowsuits and are blending in well with their surroundings.”
“And what equipment are they carrying with them?” asked Maso.
“They have skis strapped to their backs, which hints at their planned escape strategy,” reported Nix. “I can also see ropes, grappling hooks, ice axes. Ah yes, one student is also carrying bolt cutters.”
“And how far are they from the castle now?”
“Approximately five hundred feet. You’ll receive your next report from Master Ritter, stationed just below the southern wall. Please excuse me. I need to do some filming.”
“Of course, of course,” broke in Reginald Hodge. “Thank you for your observations, Master Nix. I think we can now go to Agent Goldblatt from the Spies Guild in the servants’ quarters inside Rugersburg Castle. Agents Goldblatt and Moonshine have been working undercover at the castle for nearly three months in preparation for tonight’s grand finale. Agent Goldblatt, are you there?”
There was a moment’s pause. “Yes, indeed, thank you, Reginald,” came Goldblatt’s voice. “I can tell you now that, from the window where I am standing in one of the north wing’s turrets, I can see the first of the delegates arriving. I have been extremely impressed by the manner in which both Politico and Spy students have gained entry to the castle and have, in one instance, already inserted themselves among the household staff.”
“Oh, do tell us more,” thrilled Beatrice Maso.
“A Spy student presented herself as a chambermaid an hour ago. It seems that this student”—there was a brief pause as Agent Goldblatt consulted her notes—“Sara Mallory identified a real chambermaid among the house staff who looked remarkably like her. Her teammates abducted the chambermaid, and Miss Mallory has successfully gained access to the castle in her place. She is having to make sure she stays away from any other staff members who might realize she is an impostor, but she has fooled the guards and should be able to move freely among the delegates.”
“That is most impressive,” mused Hodge. “And do you have any information on what Miss Mallory’s teammates or the other students are doing around the castle?”
“I have been tracking the movements of two Assassin students, who entered the roof space of the castle about twenty minutes ago,” said Goldblatt. “I have subsequently seen evidence of soot being dislodged in one or two fireplaces, which suggests that they’re navigating their way through the castle’s flues.”
“A very neat move,” said Hodge approvingly.
“As long as they don’t choke to death on smoke or get set on fire!” quipped Maso, to a roar of badly stifled laughter from her cohost. “How about the Politicos? You said that they’re also in the castle.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Goldblatt. “Two Politico students gained access disguised as grocery boys. Perhaps our colleague Agent Moonshine, currently working undercover in the kitchens, will be able to provide more information on their movements.”
“We will hopefully be receiving a report from Agent Moonshine shortly,” said Maso. “Many thanks, Agent Goldblatt.”
There was a crackle as Goldblatt disconnected her radio.
“Well, it seems that the Spies, Politicos, and Assassins are all doing very well,” said Hodge. “And I am most impressed by the work of Miss Mallory. The Thieves team will need to step up their game and at least get inside the castle before the International Shadow Cup is won by another school.”
“Well, that’s just the exhilaration of the competition epitomized right there, isn’t it, Reginald?”
“Indeed it is, Beatrice. Indeed it is.”
* * *
On the mountainside, and with dusk falling rapidly, Tom was finding it harder and harder to see anything but Sergio Torres’s back as the boy tramped through the snow a few feet ahead of him. Despite the dense cover of trees, the blizzard was battering them as they climbed. Sweat was pouring down Tom’s back and every muscle in his body seemed to be burning. They had been hiking almost without pause for hours.
The howling wind shook the trees and swept the snow into their faces so that every few steps they had to wipe the lenses of their goggles to regain what little vision they had. Above them, the castle rose like a black cliff, pockmarked with light that fuzzed in and out of sight through the storm.
At the head of the line, Buhle Modiba held up a fist and the slow trudge halted. Checking their surroundings—and satisfied that they were unobserved—he spread his fingers.
Behind him, his housemates broke from the line and busied themselves with prearranged tasks while Tom took the opportunity to slump to his knees for a rest. Modiba peeled back the hem of his glove to check the time. It had taken them so much longer than planned to get here. That was unfortunate. But now it was important not to rush. It would only get them caught. Steady. Precise. Invisible. They all knew the rules.
Modiba unshouldered his skis and backpack with a groan. The pack was extremely heavy and they’d all had to take regular turns carrying it up the mountain. Meanwhile, the others unshouldered their skis and handed them to Tom along with their goggles and coats. They then kicked off their ski boots and stripped off their white snow pants. They were now all dressed in tight black clothing, and they slipped on neat slipper-like black shoes. Tom gathered up all the equipment and took it to the shelter of a nearby fir tree.
The Apprentices shuddered as the howling wind gnawed at their sweat-soaked clothes, and they moved swiftly to the buttressed walls of the castle. Long spears of ice hung treacherously above them as they swept away drifts of snow from a drainage outlet and began working the heavy metal grille free. It was old and rusted and frozen in place. It took them several minutes to pry it loose, before disappearing into the narrow drain beyond.
Under the fir tree, Tom piled the packs into a nest around him, managing to block out the worst of the wind, and settled down to wait—but he was surprised to see the Apprentices reemerge from the drain a few minutes later. They looked distressed. Modiba skidded down the slope to where Tom was hiding.
“The outlet pipe’s packed solid with ice, and there’s only a small gap left,” he whispered urgently. “Lucy and I can probably fit through, but there’s no way Freddie or Sergio will.”
“So how are they going to get in?” asked Tom, who failed to see what this had to do with him. “Climb the walls?”
“Too risky,” said Modiba. As if to illustrate his point, lights flashed brightly at the top of the wall above them. Guards. When the lights had gone, Modiba dragged Tom over to the others. “The drain will bring us out into an inner courtyard that should be deserted. We need you to come with us.”
“You’re having a laugh,” said Tom, aghast. “I’m a Tenderfoot, I’m not going in there.”
“You have to,” said Modiba desperately. “The safe we’re after is a Lexington Farerra Mark IV. Ideally you’d have five pairs of hands to crack it, but you can do it with three. Just about.” He didn’t sound convinced, but he pressed on. “Without Sergio and Freddie, it has to be you, me, and Lucy. It’s either that, or we all go home in disgrace. I don’t like this any more than you do. But if you refuse, I’ll make sure everyone I ever meet for the rest of my life knows it was your cowardice that made us drop out.”
Tom’s mouth was so dry, he wasn’t sure if he could still speak. “You really are an inspirational leader, do you know that?”
“Imagine the glory you’ll get if we pull this off,” broke in Lucy Featherstone.
“I know exactly how much glory I’ll get,” said Tom. “None. Because we’ll all have to say Sadie McGinley was here, not me—otherwise we’ll get disqualified.”
“Well, know that we’ll be forever in your debt,” said Modiba, exasperated.
Tom sighed deeply. “Fine. I’ll help. Again. But you need to tell me the whole plan before we go in. I want to know who these people are, what the risks are likely to be. And you’d better not get me bloody killed.”
Tom stripped down to his dark underclothing as Modiba and Featherstone reluctantly outlined the plan and showed him the list of delegates.
LA GRANDE RÉPUBLIQUE DE FRANCE
Monsieur Pierre André, foreign minister
Monsieur Charles Gaspard, diplomat
Security detail:
Commandant Dominique Chaudat
Capitaine Michel Babault
Lieutenant Luc Darie
THE KINGDOM OF PRUSSIA
Herr Wilhelm von Blankenburg, foreign minister
Count Otto Albrecht, diplomat
Security detail:
Oberst Ludwig Hoyer
Rittmeister Gerhard Schmidt
Premier-Lieutenant Walter Ludendorff
The brief also showed photographs of the other Shadow teams who might or might not be in attendance at the castle.
POLITICO APPRENTICES
from the Lorenzo de Medici Institute of Politico Science
Elton Bramble
Joaquin Clyne
Eliza Knight
Valentin Perrin
Nolann Wardwell
SPY APPRENTICES
from the Culper Intelligence Station
Florian Carbonel
Vivian Erlington
Sara Mallory
Fraser Singleton
Louise Zani
ASSASSIN APPRENTICES
from the Garden of Deadly Delights
Paolo Cannone
Jemima Dahlia
Kazuki Horie
Misaki Shigeno
Ayano Yoshitaka
Tom felt marginally better, knowing what he was getting into. But he also felt like there was a giant sign over his head shouting that he was an impostor—just as he had felt at the French ambassador’s party in London. Back then a mistake would have seen him end up in another workhouse or a prison. But now it could end in his death.
They entered the drain. With the flashlight, Tom could see the vast buildup of ice that left only a narrow gap up one side.
“You think you can climb it?” Featherstone sounded skeptical.
