The Dragon's Tooth Part 14

"No. Well, I don't know," said Dennis. "Maybe.

Maybe not. Anyhow, Hillary asked me if I would bring her to you. I'm on break, and she has questions for you. For her forms. And well, what with inheriting from Billy Bones, and him being murdered, and people saying that you probably killed him and Horace and maybe Gunner, too, and you being all the way down here, she was a little scared to meet you alone. And the infestation notice was disturbing, too." He looked at Hillary, and his pimples practically glowed with pride. "Not to me, though."

Dennis stuck his thumbs in his waistband and waggled his eyebrows. But then he looked up into Nolan's eyes. The porter's brows froze and then drooped slowly.

"Which dining plan, please?" Head down, Hillary coughed the question out all at once.

"What?" Cyrus asked. He looked at his sister.

"What's normal?" Antigone asked.

"Full access, dining hall only, breakfast only, lunch only, supper only, Monday-Wednesday-Friday only, Tuesday-Thursday only-"

"Hold on!" said Cyrus. "Didn't Horace set us up with something? Mr. Lawney? He didn't talk to you all about what we would do? He said the Skelton estate would cover all our costs."

"Um." Hillary slowly raised her eyes. They were very wide, very green, and clearly as curious as they were nervous. "He tried. But the forms were, um, voided. Mr. Rhodes says you don't have access to the estate. Not while you're still Acolytes. The Order established Pa.s.sage."

"They don't need anything," Nolan said. His voice was stony-certain. "No dining plan."

Antigone caught Cyrus's eye. Her brother shrugged. Hillary had already ticked a box. "Maid service?"

"No," said Nolan.

She ticked another box. "Access to local and/or global community aircraft and nautical vessels?"

"No," said Nolan.

"Wait." Cyrus leaned forward. "How much is that? What would it cost if I said yes?"

Hillary's big eyes bounced up to his and then back down to her clipboard. "Global or local?" she asked.

"Let's just say local."

"Ten thousand American dollars, per Acolyte, per nine-month Acolytes.h.i.+p period, with a twenty-five percent deposit due immediately."

"Wowza." Cyrus laughed. "Can we defer payment until Horace wakes up?"

Hillary coughed, confused, and she stared at her clipboard. "Due immediately."

"Right," said Cyrus. "Let's stick with the 'no,' then."

"How many aircraft and vessels will you be bringing?"

"Um ..." Antigone looked at her brother, and then at Nolan. "None?"

"I don't understand." Hillary tested a small smile. "You have to bring your own or you register to use the Order's. Most people just bring their own."

"Why?" Cyrus asked. "What if we don't want to sail or fly a plane?"

Hillary c.o.c.ked her head to one side.

Dennis laughed. "Mr. Smith, you're Acolytes. You have to."

Antigone squinted at him. "We have to fly a plane?"

Nolan sighed loudly. "Give me the book." He s.n.a.t.c.hed the Guidelines out of Cyrus's hands and faced the girl with the clipboard. "Miss Hillary Drake, the whole package-room, board, usage fees, hangar and harbor fees, weaponry fees, tutorial fees, maids, tailors, insurance, everything-how much?"

"I just, it would ..." She flipped two pages. "Fifty-five thousand, four hundred and fifty American dollars."

"Each?" Nolan asked.

Hillary nodded. "Per nine-month Acolytes.h.i.+p period. Twenty-five percent due upon arrival."

Nolan sighed. "Were you in the Galleria today when these two presented themselves?"

"Yes. I thought Mr. Rhodes was unkind. Even if they are outlaws." She smiled at Cyrus.

"He was," said Nolan. "But he was kind in another way. What Acolyte standards were applied?"

"Nineteen-fourteen!" Hillary said, flus.h.i.+ng angrily. "And that's impossible. No one thinks they can do it. n.o.body could."

Nolan flipped open the booklet and turned to the back. He cleared his throat. " 'Fees for Acolytes: Room and Board, one hundred fifty dollars; Light, Fuel, Craft Usage, Harbor and Hangar Fees: one hundred fifty dollars; Tailoring, Tutoring, Weaponry, Library: fifty-five dollars. Acolytes must place a fifteen-dollar deposit against their fees upon arrival.' " He snapped the booklet shut. "They'll have the full package. Everything." He pointed at the clipboard. "Write it down. Make a note. Make sure they get on every list tonight-dining, library, haberdashery, everything." He dug a cigar of crumpled bills out of his pocket. "Here's a twenty, and here's a ten. Thirty dollars for the two of them. That's the deposit paid in full. Check all the boxes." He grabbed the big door and began pulling it closed.

"Wait!" Hillary shoved a piece of paper into Nolan's hand, but her eyes were on Cyrus. "Here's the list of available Keepers."

"Thanks," said Cyrus, but the door had already boomed shut. Cyrus, Antigone, and Nolan all stood quietly on the same sagging plank. Antigone took the paper from Nolan's hand.

"Ancient Language. Modern Language. Navigation? Flight? The Occult?"

A spider's whip curled up over the lowered edge of the plank, and Nolan crunched it quickly with his toe.

"No languages for me, thank you," Cyrus whispered. "Are they gone?"

Someone knocked loudly on the door. Nolan rolled his eyes and pushed it open.

"Excuse me," said Dennis. "But are there really Whip Spiders in there?" Hillary peeked out from behind him.

Nolan tugged up his sleeve, revealing his sting-tumored arm.

Dennis froze in the doorway, his mouth open.

"Oh, go on," Antigone said. She folded her paper and tucked it into her pocket. "I'd like to get out of here."

Pus.h.i.+ng Nolan into Dennis, she shoveled them both through the doorway and onto the damp stone landing.

Dennis grabbed the door and slammed it shut. Standing on tiptoe, he chalked the door in large letters.

DANGER NO ENTRY STAY OUT.

Beneath that, he drew a convincing skull and crossbones. Finally, he added his initials and the date.

Cyrus felt a hand on his arm. Hillary's wide green eyes were looking up at him through long lashes. She smiled. "I would love to show you the dining hall."

"No thanks," said Cyrus. "Nolan's going to show us around."

Antigone pushed forward, bathing Hillary in an enormously false smile. "Dennis," she said through her teeth. "Would you please get Hillary safely back to wherever Hillary belongs?"

"Absolutely." Dennis held out his arm like an usher at a wedding. Hillary took it, and the two of them climbed the stairs.

"Nonsense," Nolan muttered. "Fees. Why do they need fees?"

"Thanks for that, by the way," Cyrus said. "We owe you thirty bucks."

Nolan picked the foul sock plug up off the stairs and crammed it back down into the floor drain. "The water discourages people," he said. "Not many just splash in and dig around for a plug." He stood up, wiping his hands on his pants. Then he slapped at his stung arm, rubbing it briskly. His breath had quickened, and his eyes were bright and alive. For the first time, he looked entirely like a boy. "The venom just reached my heart." He grinned and then exhaled and bit his lip. His whole body s.h.i.+vered slightly. "Pain. For a little while, it will make me feel alive. Come." Surprised, Cyrus watched Nolan turn and begin moving up the stairs. "The map's in the front. Find the dining hall. The unmarked s.p.a.ce beside it is where we begin. It's known-at least to people who actually set foot inside it-as the kitchen. You slept for a while, but we will still beat the dinner rush."

Antigone and Cyrus began quickstepping to keep up with him.

"From there, we visit the place marked Upper Quarters and move into the library and a section the map calls No Access." He shot a smile over his shoulder. "If Skelton were here, you could see the zoo. 'Zoological Collection: Keeper Escort Required' on the map."

"Why if Skelton were here?" Antigone asked.

Nolan disappeared into the hallway. When they reached the top, he was already out of sight. "Because," his voice tumbled back down the hall, "some locks can't be picked."

Cyrus and Antigone jogged around the first corner and almost ran into him. He was standing in the center of the hall, holding up one end of a large, decorative iron grate-the cover for a bulky heating vent.

"Skelton," Nolan said, "was a man with keys for any lock. Rhodes will have them now-taken off of Horace by the hospitalers. Or Maxi Robes has them. Or ... well"-his eyes sparkled-"maybe some runtling Acolytes got their hands on them." He nodded at the vent in the floor. "Climb down. There are rungs tight to the side."

Cyrus slid his hand up to his neck. Antigone looked at her brother, eyes wide, and she shook her head. She knew what he was thinking.

Nolan misunderstood Antigone's look. "If you're bothered by tight places, don't worry, it opens up."

Cyrus gritted his teeth. What had Skelton said? Trust no one? Trust Nolan. He'd heard what he'd heard.

"What if I did have them?" he asked. "Skelton's keys. What then? What would I do with them?"

"Mirror, mirror on the wall," Antigone said, "who is the dumbest of them all?"

She took two frustrated steps down into the vent and then dropped to the bottom.

Nolan's polished eyes locked into Cyrus's. His breath was still oddly quick and short. His hands were twitching and his pulse fluttered visibly on the side of his neck. His lips quaked into a smile.

"With you? Here? Now?"

Cyrus sighed. "Maybe."

In the dining hall, in the library, and in the Galleria, Antigone's voice rose up from the vents in the floor and poured out of the walls. "Oh, queen, 'tis true that you are dumb. But Cyrus Lawrence Smith is dumber than a pile of cow patties."

ten.

TOURISTS AND TRESPa.s.sERS.

THE HEAT TUNNELS were not quite six feet tall, and about as wide as a sidewalk. Dusty, cloth-wrapped pipes crisscrossed the floor and ceiling or ran in bundles along the wall. Tunnels intersected. They s.h.i.+fted and turned, almost always at hard angles. They dead-ended into vertical shafts, both up and down, and old wooden ladders had been propped in place.

The train of three had climbed up and down, they had turned left and right, and Cyrus knew that he would never be able to find his way back.

He stopped beneath a floor vent, squinting at the map in the booklet. "Where are we now?" he whispered.

"Almost there," Nolan whispered back.

"These tunnels connect everything?" Antigone asked.

Nolan nodded. "Almost. They run through every large building and beneath every external footpath. In the winter, the tunnels keep the paths clear of snow. When the furnace pits are stoked beneath the Galleria, you could roast in here. One more turn."

Cyrus closed the booklet and tailed Nolan into dwindling light. Antigone followed, grabbing on to the back of her brother's s.h.i.+rt.

"Cyrus," Nolan whispered. "Many would kill for those keys."

Antigone's grip tightened.

"Maxi and Phoenix would kill for anything," Nolan continued. "But especially for those keys."

"Okay," Antigone said. "Who is Phoenix? I get that he's nasty and mean and he's the one who sent people to kill Skelton, but who is he?"

Nolan turned and pressed his finger to his lips. "Whispers," he said. "Whispers. I'll tell you everything in a minute."

"And I want to talk to Greeves again," Antigone continued. "And we definitely have to see Horace. Where's the hospital?"

Nolan glared back at her. Cyrus smiled and stepped on his sister's foot. She hit him.

They had stopped in front of a large grate mounted on a wall. Through the decorative iron, plates clattered. Singing mingled with laughter and the occasional shout.

Nolan pushed the grate up, ducked out, and held it open.

Cyrus and Antigone stepped into the largest kitchen they had ever seen.

A wall of windows faced the enormous ocean of a lake. Beneath them, a small army of ap.r.o.ns and caps were chopping and dicing and grating and rolling and mixing on a row of tables. Another wall held a dangling mountain of copper pots ranging from dollhouse small to boil-a-whale big. The center of the room was an island of flame. Fire spurting up through grills, fire roaring beneath spitted meat, fire licking pots and gobbling every sizzling slop. Men and women with flushed and sweating faces scrambled toward ovens with mittened hands and prodded meat with long-handled p.r.o.ngs still too short for safety.

"Nolan!" a voice boomed across the room. "You missed my lunch! Don't tell me you're here for an early supper. Back to your tunnels!"

Nolan ignored the voice and moved casually into the kitchen.