Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (31 page)

Just as I was about to jump in, I
stopped and turned to face Umber. “Is he going to be all right?” I wondered, gesturing to the comatose prefect.

Umber looked over me with exhausted patience. “I’m confident that the Grimlars will be able to fix him,” he replied casually. “Just shut up and get in.”

I
slowly e
as
ed
my right foot in
,
submerg
ing
myself and my armor completely
. I admit, I did
fee
l
immensely silly
throughout
the process. I wondered to myself what would happen if Gregor were to storm i
n. What a scene it would be;
finding Garth knocked out and m
yself
, fully clothed in his bright green bath.
The
water around me
began to fizz slightly in a relaxing sort of way. I noticed suddenly
that t
he walls of the tub
were dissolving around me
.
Alarmed, I tried to clamber out, but it wasn't any good
.
T
here simply
wasn’t anything around me to lift myself up.

             
My foot
touched something
close to the consistency
of wet sand about a meter and a half down, but it quickly
sank
beneath my feet
leaving me to thrash
in a blind confusion. Fully
submerged now, I looked underneath the surface
and gasped
. Nothing was there. No side of the tub, no
bottom of the tub
. How deep did this pool go? The water around me was bubbling violently now
,
shaking the entire foundations of the bathroom
. The force of the boiling was
s
winging the chandelier, breaking faucets, and shattering mirrors
, yet amazingly I still remained intact. The water
exploded from around me, and melted everything it touched with a sickening fizz. The entire scene before me
dissolved
into
inky darkness.

If anything that day I learned that thrashing around in a pond of corrosive bathwater is surprisingly difficult with a suit of armor. Amidst all of the panic, I quietly wished I that had packed lighter. Time seemed to hold no value as I watched droplet after droplet slow down in mid air. I reached out to touch one, but it began to fall through my fingers just as the other ones did. The entire process was now beginning to reverse itself.

              The bath water went clear and much to my amazement, scenery began to take shape. Evaporated steam condensed into the walls around me, but they weren’t quite the same. The floors solidifying beside me weren’t made out of the same blue tile from earlier and were instead crafted with stunning white stone.
I could feel the bottom of a bathtub again, pushing my entire body upward.

              A thin pink mist suddenly condensed a deep red solid, and was wrapped tightly with tanned skin. It started out smooth, but immediately wrinkled like grapes drying out in heat. Clothes sewed themselves onto the strange figure, and with a jolt of realization I realized the object was professor Wenchenberg, with the last touch on his person being the added bit of grey in his matted black hair. The water around me suddenly evaporated, leaving nothing behind but a faint smell of rotten eggs and rancid lavender. Gasping in desperation,
I
flung myself out of the bath
and onto the
hard cold tiles
.

              “Welcome Jacob. How did you find it?”
t
he professor's voice echoed out to me
. He lifted
me up and
set
me onto my feet. As
he did so I could feel my stomach doing a fair impression of a dying snake. I coughed weakly and suddenly felt a surge of liquid rising through my throat. The professor must have noticed this as well, because he handed me a brass bucket and politely turned his attention elsewhere, letting me empty my contents in peace.

              “It
was revolting,
” I moaned in between gasps. “
Perhaps next time you could warn me how demanding the travel conditions are
.” My eyes cracked open
and I gasped, unable to comprehend quite possibly the nicest living space I had ever seen.

The
bath area alone was littered with what could have only been a royal amount of
gold trimmings
. Marzipan like marble columns held up
the
room, highlighted by the half drawn violet curtains standing beside the spacious spa. Through an arch leading into the main living area, I could see an exuberant heavy stone fireplace which accompanied the soft cloud like carpeting and fluffy white feather bed. A rounded Ivory-oak table presented a wide variety of silver platters which each hosted a delectable looking pastry. The entire space was clean to the extent where I felt that just being there was dirtying up the area. By looking at the height of life the elders were accustomed to, I immediately became conscious of every insignificant fault about me: The dirt on my boots would no doubt stain the carpet. the metal nubs on my armour could quite possibly scratch the leather chairs.

“Are you even listening to yourself!?” Umber inquired angrily. “You’re in quite possibly one of the most dangerous places in all of the world. Why would you care about furnature?” I bit my lower lip and bore my gaze down at the eyes of Umber.

“Personally, I care about the possessions of the professor,” I replied proudly. “While I understand we’re in danger, I will not use this as an excuse to ruin his belongings.

Umber rolled his eyes and diverted his attention elsewhere. The quality of the room alone made me wonder why on earth Wenchenberg would ever want to leave the facilities.

“My apologies for not being able to fill my tub as quickly as anticipated. I got held up by an encounter with one of the other instructors.” Professor Wenchenberg looked over my face carefully. “I trust everything still went to plan?” I smiled half heartedly.

“Umber and I did have to make some detours along the way, but I can assure you we were not seen.” The professor smiled warmly at this comment, and directed me over to a nearby table where he spread the map out from before. Just as he was about to speak, my stomach suddenly grumbled powerfully. The professor looked over his shoulder and gave me a knowing look.

“I imagine you'll be hungry
in
no time
,” he said, pointing towards
the
copper bucket
. “When you have, you may help yourself to anything you feel you might enjoy within the room.”
I quietly claimed a cinnamon bun while the professor cleared his throat and began to speak
with
his
usual conversational dialect
. “During the course of the last month, as you will remember we worked on mimicking objects.” The professor paused for effect. “Tonight, using our combined powers, you will be taking my place as a mimicked professor Wenchenberg.”

“That’s mad!” I declared, nearly choking on my pastry. “You said it yourself, that the larger the object the more difficult it is to mimic! It’s going to be impossible for me to take your form!”

“Which is why I’m going to be doing it for you,” the professor insisted grandly. “I will stay here, locked in this room, focusing all of my anti-magic on keeping you mimicked as me.” I raised my hand in protest.

“But the further away I get, the more difficult It will be for you to keep the spell intact!” The professor nodded in agreement.

“True. As such I ask that you donate a small reserve of your own anti-magic should you feel the spell begin to waver.” I sighed and pressed both of my palms into my hands.

“I was wrong,” I admitted sadly. “This plan is even more mad than I thought.”

“Which is why it might just work,” the professor insisted with confidence. “Your task now is to do whatever it is you feel you need to do, in the shortest amount of time before hiding here.” I glanced at the spot where professor Wenchenberg jabbed his finger. The area he had marked was an obscure custodian closet next to the library.” I stared at the map with a moderate amount of confusion.

“Why do I have to go to a broom cupboard? Why can’t I just go straight into the dungeons?”

The professor smiled at my exacerbation. For someone who was putting lives on the line he looked extraordinarily calm.

“I myself do not trust my anti-magic,” the professor admitted bashfully. “In this circumstance, I depend on it, but it’s much more likely to work when we’re in closer proximity to each other.” Noticing my confused expression, the professor pinched his chin whiskers and reconsidered his explanation.

“Think of this stop as a checkpoint in a running race. Only one of us is able to move at a time, so you hide here and then suddenly I am mobile once again. I will move to your side, and we can repeat the process, eventually sneaking you into the dungeons.” I nodded, although the professor didn’t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm.

“What about communication?” I asked after swallowing the last lump of sticky pastry.

“When I begin the spell, I will not be able to communicate. If you contact me with the fingalink rings, I will automatically assume that you are safe, and I will drop my enchantment. Because of this, you must only contact me when you are either in the designated safe spot, or in grave danger.”

“I will take the map, and contact you only when I’m safe,” I parroted back. The professor nodded slowly and checked his pocket watch.

“When you’re ready, I will begin the spell.” I looked around in desperation. I figured that surely there would be more to talk about, more to discuss. A nagging sense of despair wedged itself in my thoughts and begged me to stall the professor for a little while longer. “
I’m not prepared!
” I wanted to scream. “
There has to be something more that I’m missing!
”

“For one who calls himself a hero, you do seem to take a lot of time to delve into danger,” Umber mused quietly.

I avoided his gaze, and rubbed my hands into my scalp. This wasn’t heroism. This was burglary. Could I honestly trust myself to defile the Grimlars to an extent which had the possibility of killing both professor Wenchenberg and I? It felt for a moment as if I were back on the cliff face with Preston by my side.

“You don’t have a choice here.” Umber insisted. I shrugged slightly.

“You don’t have a choice. But I do.”

By stealing this artifact from the Grimlars, I would be putting both the professor and me into grave danger. What would happen if one of us were to get caught? Proscecution? Execution? What would happen if we successfully stole this artifact? Would the Caterwaul suspect professor  Wenchenberg? Would he have any evidence to support his suspicions? Questions opened up in a downpour as I lost myself in thought.

“Jacob, remember who you’re stealing from: A group of people who are very well versed in brutally killing. Stealing this artifact could mean saving the lives of hundreds if not thousands of other people.”

I appraised Umber with a with a slight smirk on my face.

“Since when were you so heavily involved in ethics Umber?” The light around the spirit’s eyes flashed a deep shade of red. Noticing his irritation, I continued. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you care for the lives of all of those people.”

“No,” Umber insisted sharply. “I care only for my existence and the existence of my host.

“So you care about me then?” I asked with mock affection.

Umber groaned loudly. “I said no such thing,” he protested urgently. “Just... Tell your silly professor that you’re ready. I’ve had enough of this waiting around.”

I glanced up at the professor who was looking at me expectantly. I gave a quick nod and stood perfectly still as he edged his chair closer.

“Just stay calm Jacob. It will all be over in just a moment.”