Third chapter of the Illiterate Magician

The busy editor neglects her posts, so here is the third chapter of the Illiterate Magician.

Chapter 3

Benjamin’s fingers tingled and his mouth dried. At north-eastern corner of College House, smiling at him with gleeful malice, like a fox waiting to pounce on a rabbit, stood Mullinsgud. One of the school prefects—the bad ones, one of them—Mullinsgud made use of his power at every opportunity by thrusting it upon other students. Half the size of the History Master, though with a full head of blond hair, and still twice as big as Benjamin for all that, Mullinsgud took pleasure from obtaining the respect he deserved. A cut above the run of the mill thugs like the stretched Blenkinsop, rat-faced Aarons and stubby Weavil that stood at his shoulders laughing like hyenas, Mullinsgud had a cunningness that ensured he walked away without any repercussions from his actions, and seldom needed to use his status as the nephew of Kerkammel’s squire.

The gardener made a noise like an angry cat. “Quick, lad. Come a time when you’ll need to stand up to the likes of that bottle of lard, but not now. Best you make yourself scarce.”

Benjamin didn’t need a second warning. Mullinsgud pointed a chubby finger at him and roared. The pack rushed forward. Benjamin darted away, through the turns in the garden he’d learnt from long walks over the last year.

“You lot! What you be doin’, running in my garden?”

Benjamin glanced over his shoulder, and almost sprawled over a tree-root. Dan had yelled to his pursuers, but they ignored the old gardener and ran along the grass closer to the building. He sprinted to safety. In the grounds, Mullinsgud would find him. Inside the college he stood a better chance. He could remain concealed in all the hidden corners he’d discovered until they gave up. They’d better give up—the pounding they’d given him the last time they caught him twice in one day landed Benjamin in the infirmary for almost a week, and with a limp for two. His legs pumped; he had the greater distance to travel, starting from the wall as he did.

The steps to the south entrance of College House he took two at a time. Benjamin seized the door handle but it refused to turn. He yanked again, then sprinted towards the west with a curse. Locked doors would be his undoing. The sun threw his shadow onto the clear-glass windows spaced every three feet, letting anyone inside the schoolrooms realise his predicament. Almost thirty windows he would pass in the way, wishing he could climb the vines that rose around each sill to the third floor, but he had discovered the hard way that the trellises wouldn’t bear his weight.

The next entrance lay at the south-west corner, between the square-doughnut of College House and the Repository. Indeed, it alone remained to him unless he ran clear round the labyrinth and back to the statue. The stained glass windows that surrounded the labyrinth came into view above him; in the window-pane a crowned man inspected a portrait of stars. A jeer from behind let him know Mullinsgud had rounded the corner.

He skidded into the rock garden between the square-doughnut of College House and the Repository, a no-man’s land twenty yards wide and half again as long that seldom saw sunlight. The grass gave way to gravel. Bordered by the unbroken ground-floor outer walls of Lymnans Gwithti, as the staff called the Repository, the garden had no exits other than into the college itself. Benjamin could see through the row of fixed windows at the end, but he knew the view to the garden of the other side of the Bell Tower was no more than a tease.

With the Bell Tower joined at the hip to College House, an odd structure connected the tower to the labyrinth. Mell Tremen, which Dan had explained meant ‘connecting passage’ served no purpose that Benjamin could ascertain, other than link the three main buildings of Kerkammel together, east to west. The passage, built at the same time as the college and the labyrinth, made up for the unbroken stone sides of the tower’s lower floors; windows spaced every three yards let the sparse sunlight permeate to the garden on the north side. But now, for Benjamin, Mell Tremen only completed the blind alley. Fumes from the laundry and bathroom assaulted his nose. With the tower and labyrinth accessible only from the main building, and the door to the laundry no doubt barred from within, Benjamin’s sole hope was that the college entrance remained unblocked.

Above his head, the stained-glass windows of the Repository cemented his feelings that safety lay out of reach. The hours he’d spent inspecting the motifs now left a rotten taste in his mouth. He tore his gaze away and spotted the open doorway, murmured thanks for the blessing, and dashed into the wood-panelled hallway of the school proper.

The corridor branched left at the south-west staircase. He decided against the kitchen or the laundry to the left—the staff might not side with Mullinsgud, but they wouldn’t stand against him either—the bathroom was a dead end and he shied away from the entrance to the Bell Tower which on this floor led only to the labyrinth. Further down that corridor returned outside once more, to the tunnel allowing carriages into the central courtyard. Could he escape there? He had no idea whether the doorways facing the courtyard would be free. Blenkinsop and Aarons weren’t the only cronies of Mullinsgud, not to mention the Masters. That left only straight ahead to the gym, theatre and classrooms—which might be empty, or might not—or up to the second floor.

He took the stairs. The sounds of bustle floated down from the boarder’s accommodation. He made it to the landing just as he heard Mullinsgud thunder through the doorway. Then he realised his mistake. A wall of students picked this time to head outside. He couldn’t push through them, could only hang onto the balustrade and not be turned by the tide. Mullinsgud arrived at the foot of the stairs and spotted Benjamin. He smirked. He might not be able to stem the tide either, but he had only to wait.

Benjamin hung there helpless, hoping none of those exiting would grab him on Mullinsgud’s behalf. The end of the tide approached, but he’d lost his lead. Mullinsgud drew a finger across his throat.

As soon as the tide lost its mass, Benjamin pushed through the final students and gained the second floor. He knocked into Perkins, a small boy in his own year—small being a relative term as everyone was bigger than Benjamin—but didn’t have time to apologise. While nooks abounded in student’s accommodation on the outer walls, he couldn’t be sure to reach any of those without being noticed; Mullinsgud was too close. The plan of the main building was simple: windows on outside walls and to the courtyard allowed light to filter in to the many rooms. Four staircases presided at each corner abutting the main corridors that separated the inner and outer rooms, but not all rooms were only entered from the corridor. He shot to the left, away from the bathrooms and the entrance to the Bell Tower, along the blank wall of the inner side which hid the ceiling void for the ground floor rooms abutting the inner-courtyard.

After Benjamin had taken twenty steps a triumphant cackle meant Mullinsgud had climbed the stairs. A doorway opened and a man preoccupied by a sheaf of important papers stepped out. Benjamin brushed past, avoiding the papers, and a yell followed his back.

“No running in the corridors!” Mr. Franklyn must not have seen his face. If Benjamin was lucky and the usual double standards didn’t apply, the acerbic School Manager would give Mullinsgud the same treatment.

“Mr. Mullinsgud, don’t let me detain you.”

An icicle of unfairness stabbed Benjamin in the stomach, but he pushed it aside, navigated the two students emerging from the south-east staircase, and slid around the corner. He didn’t know what other schools were like, but he’d learned the hard way about the ladder of power and authority in Kerkammel College, and Benjamin was three rungs below-ground.

“Get him!”

He bounced off someone’s bedroom on the far wall, brushed past a couple of fourth years not much older than him, and ran smack into an unyielding mass. Sprawled on his behind, Benjamin gazed up at the wall of the History Master’s stomach and gulped. The two fourth years snickered. He was in for it now.

But the History Master didn’t even notice. “My poor aching head.” He wore a hairnet over hair that smelled burnt. “And now more pain in stomach.” He wiped his mouth and removed a trace of paint. “I not feel well.”

The Master closed his eyes and swayed. Benjamin scrambled on the floor around the legs imitating tree-trunks and stumbled on. Mullinsgud thundered round the corner as the History Master moaned and toppled with an urgent type of lurch.

“Out of way! Out of way!”

“Look out!” one of the fourth years yelled. “He’s going to be sick!”

Unpleasant noises followed Benjamin. He hoped that Mullinsgud had copped a share of that payload but noises of pursuit clamoured even louder in his direction, gaining on him.

“Block the stairs!”

The corridor narrowed as it circumvented the stairwell. With the footsteps on his tail louder he hazarded a glance behind. Mullinsgud powered along like a locomotive, blocking the corridor and jamming the rest of the gang behind him. Except for—

Benjamin had just rounded the corner, avoided the shocked face of Mr. Stebbins, a recent graduate who taken on as Mr. Franklyn’s assistant and who always seemed sad, when Weavil shouted with glee in front of him. In fright, Benjamin skipped out of the way as the stumpy boy crashed to the ground where he’d vacated. A burst of speed brought on by the shock took him a few steps further, as Mullisgud, Blenkinsop and Aarons tripped over Weavil and tangled on the floor. That would give Benjamin breathing space, but only make Mullinsgud angrier. He needed to hide.

Weavil must have taken a shortcut via the west stairs. With Mullinsgud too close, Benjamin took a chance and darted into the next open door, praying it led somewhere.

He slammed the door, slid the latch and put his back to it. The sight which presented itself gave him an impression that this was one of the first year’s bedrooms. The room apparently empty, two rows of unmade beds met his eyes, some reeking, others in the process of being changed. Beside each a small, cheap cabinet, some overflowing, others tidy to an obsessive degree. A curtained area beside him gave some privacy to those who could stomach the taunts of such a need.

In the centre of the aisle not far from him, a large four-wheeled trolley stood lonesome. The top shelf emptied, the bottom still held some linen, curtains opened towards Benjamin in invitation. At the far end of the long, narrow room two unclosed doors led elsewhere, one back to the corridor.

“Get off me!”

Benjamin’s pulse thumped. Mullinsgud had extricated himself. Benjamin had to move. He could run through to the adjoining room, or—

He’d taken a chance to come in here. Time to take another. While Mullinsgud’s weighty footsteps sounded in the corridor outside, Benjamin tip-toed to the trolley, snaked into the bottom compartment and pulled the curtains closed around him.

No sooner had he done this than solid footsteps sounded on the polished floorboards inside the room, coming this way, and a fist struck the door behind him, but the latch held.

“He’s in here! We can get in through the other door!”

Thuds in the corridor showed Mullinsgud running to the doorway to cut him off, while the softer footsteps inside closed to the trolley. Benjamin held his breath, and his palms became sweaty. He didn’t know who was in the room, nor what they would do if they did find him. The patter of footsteps reached the trolley, and dumped something on it. Benjamin released a silent prayer. Whoever it was must be one of the staff, and it didn’t look like they knew he was hidden here.

He heard the trolley’s handles gripped, and the trolley nudged forward, but then stopped. Benjamin held his breath again. He was sure to be found now. Then, with a grunt of effort from without, the trolley moved with him in it.

Benjamin heard the far door smash open. The trolley stopped.

Mullinsgud snarled. “You, Mrs Blatherwick! Have you seen Coney?”

The husky voice next to the trolley replied in a meek tone. “No, Mr. Mullinsgud. Can’t say I saw anyone.”

“If I find out you’re lying, I’ll tell Mr. Franklyn.”

Mrs Blatherwick’s meek tone gave an impression of a sigh. “As you see best, Mr. Mullinsgud.”

Mullinsgud grunted, then spoke as if the woman by the trolley didn’t exist. “We’ll check the next room. Close the door so he can’t get out.”

Benjamin heard the heavy steps retreat and a door slam. He sighed without sound. He knew the grey-haired matron, but didn’t know how she would react to his presence. He didn’t think she would give him up to Mullinsgud, but the staff lived in fear of Mr. Franklyn.

Above his head, Mrs Blatherwick spoke in a quiet voice. “And I’ll thank you, Mr. Mullinsgud, to keep your over-large nose out of my work.” The trolley swayed as though she had pressed against the handles, but the wheels refused to budge. “My, but this trolley is heavy. How could that be since I’ve emptied all the bed-linen?”

Benjamin remained still. Then Mrs Blatherwick’s voice, no longer resigned but commanding though with an edge of comfort, sounded next to his ear.

“That was a hint for you to jump out and surprise me, Mr. Coney. In any case, you can get out now. The coast is clear.”

Benjamin didn’t move for a second, then realised that if the matron had wanted to give him away, she would have already done so. He scrambled out and whispered, “How did you know I was there?”

The squat, bulky woman not more than a head taller than him, rolled her eyes. “Bless you, Mr. Coney, I’ve been pushing that there trolley for ten years. I know how heavy it is. Doesn’t take a genius to realise that Mr. Mullinsgud’s prey is hiding inside.”

“Why…” His words trailed to an uncomfortable close.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why did I shield you from him?” She continued when he gave a guilty nod. “Not all of us would, that’s the sad truth. But I’ve seen you with old Dan. Warms my heart to see a student respecting the common folk.”

Benjamin blushed. He’d never known how to respond to compliments, especially when he didn’t think he done anything to warrant the praise. He mumbled in an effort to overcome his embarrassment. “How can I thank you?”

Her pudgy finger prodded his chest, emphasising each word. “Don’t get caught.”

Benjamin’s lips quirked and he almost smiled. Her eyes twinkled once more and she made shooting motions towards the locked door. His lips dropped as he remembered his predicament, but his shoulders set.

He tip-toed to the door, removed the latch and checked the coast was clear in the main corridor. With a final wave of thanks, he darted across the hall and retraced his steps back around the other side of the rectangular building.

With face scrunched, he avoided his room. Though the lockable door gave the impression of security, Mullinsgud had long since taught him the folly of a single exit, when left no route for escape. Besides, with Benjamin the only student not sharing a living space his room remained a constant source of contention, the reminder of which would only inflame matters.

Benjamin picked his way balancing speed with caution, and journeyed as far as the southern corridor when his rotten luck reasserted itself.