Hollowpox The Hunt for Morrigan Crow - Jessica Townsend Page 0,34

windows. ‘But you can’t have a school without any scholars, so after the last Wundersmith was exiled from Nevermoor, this floor lay empty and abandoned for a very long time. Until a few Ages ago, when the Sub-Nine Academic Group was founded here in the name of research and the preservation of important Wundersmith history.’

‘We are a cooperative of likeminded scholars and researchers,’ said Conall, ‘with a passionate interest in the Wundersmiths. We work largely in secret, to salvage and preserve Wundersmith history, and there’s no better place to learn about them than here on Sub-Nine, where they once were educated. The School of Wundrous Arts.’

‘How many of you are there?’ asked Morrigan.

‘About fifteen or so at Proudfoot House,’ he said. ‘But there are others like us, dotted all around the Seven Pockets. We share information sometimes. Not many of us are audacious enough to study the so-called Wretched Arts under the Society’s own nose. Though it’s all academic, of course.’

‘Not for me it isn’t,’ said Morrigan.

‘No. Not for you,’ he agreed, smiling. ‘How extraordinary.’

‘And you three are the leaders?’

Conall and Sofia shared a look.

‘Well … we don’t really have leaders, as such,’ said Sofia slowly. ‘And as for Rook, well … she, erm—’

‘Oh, I’m not with them,’ Rook interjected, a little disdainfully.

There was a brief, awkward silence while Sofia and Conall seemed to search for the best way to explain.

‘Rook just sort of … showed up one day,’ Sofia said finally. ‘About a year ago. We knew Dearborn and Murgatroyd of course, but well … we’d never met Rook. We weren’t sure why she was here. I’m not sure she knew herself, really—’

‘I felt like it,’ Rook said simply.

‘But she kept showing up and one day, a couple of months ago, it all fell into place. The day after Hallowmas. The day we learned we had a Wundersmith among us, for the first time in over one hundred years.’

‘We realised then that Rook had first appeared around the time of your inauguration,’ Conall explained, casting the woman a brief look of baffled wonderment. ‘When the School of Wundrous Arts somehow realised it would be needing a new Scholar Mistress.’

Morrigan’s brain stumbled a bit on that information. She glanced at Rook. ‘Where … um … sorry, but where were you … before then?’

‘Oh, you know. Around. Keeping busy,’ Rook replied vaguely. She fixed Morrigan with an owlish look. ‘You can’t have a school without any scholars, but you only need one.’

They entered yet another room. Morrigan was trying to keep up as they moved briskly from chamber to chamber, one leading on to the next; she’d counted six so far. Sub-Nine was like a maze.

‘And you’re going to teach me the Wretched – sorry, the Wundrous Arts? Even though you’re not Wundersmiths yourselves?’

‘In a manner of speaking,’ said Conall.

‘For now, Morrigan, we just wanted to bring you here to try something. But your proper lessons will begin tomorrow,’ said Sofia. ‘We’ve spent weeks with Rook devising what we think will be a rigorous and challenging curriculum, and we’re excited to begin.’

‘I can’t be here all the time, for obvious reasons,’ Rook explained. ‘I’ll drop in when I can, but I’ve appointed Conall and Sofia to supervise your daily studies. The rest of the nerds are not to bother you and you’re not to bother them. Understood?’

Morrigan nodded distractedly. They’d finally stopped outside a closed wooden door; the only one she’d seen so far. The name carved above it had lit up like the others as they approached, as if it could sense their presence.

‘The Liminal Hall,’ she read aloud. There was a small metal circle set in the centre of the door. But nobody moved to touch it. Morrigan looked from Rook, to Sofia, to Conall. ‘Are we … going in?’

‘We can’t open it,’ said Rook. ‘Everyone here has tried their imprint … and we’ve also tried just about everything else, short of a battering ram. No luck.’

‘What’s in there?’ asked Morrigan.

Conall cleared his throat. ‘We’re not … entirely certain,’ he admitted.

It took Morrigan a moment to realise that the three of them were watching her eagerly, expectantly. ‘Oh! Should I, er … ?’ She wiggled the W imprint on her index finger.

‘Try it,’ urged Sofia, nodding.

Morrigan felt a nervous, excited flip in her middle. She reached out and pressed her trembling index finger to the circle, and—

Nothing.

She tried again, pressing harder.

Still nothing.

Her excitement deflated. She should have known nothing would happen. The ring was cold and unlit, after all.