Conspiracies (Mercedes Lackey) - By Mercedes Lackey Page 0,90
touch would shatter him.
“Burke, that can’t have been a coincidence!” Spirit exclaimed before she could stop herself.
He turned on her with a face like a mask. “I’m sick of all this conspiracy crap!” he said, his voice cracking. “For God’s sake!” He shoved out a hand at her. “You can just leave me the hell alone while you’re all involved in that. And—just leave me alone!”
He pushed his way through them and ran toward the dorm rooms. “Go after him!” Spirit said, shoving Loch a little. “Go! Go talk to him!”
Loch shook his head. “Leave him alone, Spirit. He’s hurting. Let it go.”
“But he trusts you, and besides, you’re another guy, he’ll listen to you!” she exclaimed. Addie nodded, backing her up. But Loch shook his head stubbornly.
“You don’t understand. Just leave him alone,” he repeated, and walked off in the direction of the classrooms.
“I thought ‘you don’t understand’ was supposed to be the girl’s line,” Muirin said, but even the gibe didn’t have her usual force behind it.
* * *
“I still think we should take all this to Doctor Ambrosius,” Addie said stubbornly. “I think we should ask him about our parents, and find out about this other Oakhurst. He has to know where it is. Maybe he could send Burke there…” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t know … maybe he’d start to feel better there and want to come back.”
Burke hadn’t been at dinner last night, and he hadn’t shown up at breakfast or lunch. Loch wasn’t talking much. Muirin said if Loch wasn’t going to talk to Burke, she would—since she had a break after lunch—and headed resolutely toward the boys’ side. Spirit still felt his rejection like a blow to the gut. She felt muddled, and was having a hard time thinking.
“I don’t—” she began, then gave up under Addie’s gaze. “Oh, all right. I sure don’t want to ask the Riders…”
Addie got up and gestured to Spirit imperiously. “He has open office hours today. We’ll never have a better chance. Come on.”
For the second time in two days, Spirit found herself right outside Doctor Ambrosius’s door. They could hear him in there.
“… and sign here,” Ms. Corby was saying.
“Indeed. Jam tarts. We must start serving more jam tarts, Ms. Corby. The children will love them. Little rewards for good behavior. Like pretzels.”
“… and here.”
“Pity about the cricket pitch. But the lawn was just too torn up.”
“We’ve ordered the special equipment. It should be arriving in two weeks.”
“Lovely. And don’t forget the Dance.”
Addie and Spirit exchanged startled glances, but neither spoke. It wasn’t just that Doctor Ambrosius was rambling, it was that his voice even sounded vague. Addie gestured to Spirit, and the two of them slipped away, pausing in the door of the lounge. “What was that all about?” Spirit asked, wide-eyed.
Addie looked back in the direction of the headmaster’s office. “He’s always had times of being a little … you know … absentminded. But I’ve never heard him like that before.” She sucked on her lower lip. “I think he’s had a stroke or something. He’s losing it, or maybe already lost it. I bet that’s why he called the Riders—he must have realized he was in trouble, and called them while he still could.”
Spirit felt that all-too-familiar sinking feeling of despair. She hadn’t really trusted Dr. Ambrosius, but now she realized she’d counted on him more than she’d known. “Now what?” she asked, helplessly.
“I don’t know,” Addie replied. “Just … let’s keep this between us and Loch for now. Okay?”
“Because Burke doesn’t want to hear about it—” Spirit said tentatively.
“And because Muirin’s too close to the Riders, and…” Addie bit her lip apprehensively, “And if Elizabeth’s story was even partly right … some of the Breakthrough people are Shadow Knights. Whether or not there’s mythical King Arthur stuff mixed up in there, the fact is, we do have enemies, we know some of them are from here, and infiltration is always the best way to get things done. Doctor Ambrosius seemed perfectly all right until the Breakthrough people got here. So … maybe it isn’t a stroke or something. Maybe they did it to him. If that’s true, the last thing we want Muirin to know is that we know Dr. Ambrosius has gone senile.”
* * *
Burke wasn’t at dinner—again. “He wouldn’t even come to the door of his room,” Muirin said, nodding her head at the empty chair. “He just said none of us understood and to leave him alone.” She