Wundersmith. It was a thought she kept having to squash down, because it was making her grin like a fool while everyone else was discussing the awful matter of the outbreak.
‘What did you do today, Morrigan?’ Lam asked her quietly as Hometrain pulled into Station 919.
Morrigan jumped at the sound of her name.
‘Oh! Um … I made a flower.’
‘That’s nice.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Extracurricular Activity
The warning signs showed up one morning later that week. Walls and bulletin boards of Proudfoot Station, normally filled with club sign-up sheets and lost property notices, were suddenly plastered with black and white posters. Cadence yanked one down and read it out loud to the rest of 919.
HOLLOWPOX
Are you at risk?
WHAT IS THE HOLLOWPOX?
A potentially deadly disease caused by a virus which spreads quickly from Wunimal to Wunimal.
COULD YOU BE INFECTED?
If you are a Wunimal and are experiencing extreme distraction or forgetfulness, dramatically increased appetite, an inability to sleep or sit still, or episodes of aggression that seem out of character, you may be infected.
If you have experienced any of the above symptoms, see Dr Bramble, Dr Lutwyche or a member of staff at the
Wundrous Society Teaching Hospital
IMMEDIATELY.
BE MINDFUL
DON’T DELAY
ASK FOR HELP
‘Was this your patron’s idea?’ Mahir asked Morrigan. ‘Is he still leading that task force?’
Morrigan took the poster from Cadence. ‘He is, but … this doesn’t really seem like his style. No colour. Not enough exclamation marks.’
She re-read the notice in her head. Distraction. Forgetfulness. Increased appetite. Inability to sleep. Aggression. Nothing about the eyes. Had Jupiter forgotten? She made a mental note to remind him.
Their first lesson that morning was a workshop called What’s That On Your Face?, a follow-up to their previous masterclass in Minor Distractions – What’s That Smell? – from weeks earlier. As their resident sleight-of-hand master, Arch had of course achieved top marks in What’s That Smell?, and nobody was surprised when Hawthorne also proved adept at creating small-scale mayhem. Mahir turned out to be good at throwing his voice like a ventriloquist, Lam was brilliant at asking for complicated directions and talking people round in circles, and even Francis had a decent go at jumping out of a birthday cake.
But the real revelation had been Anah, whose ability to cry on cue was unsurpassed (an absolute must-have skill, the teacher had told them, when enlisting the aid of kindly strangers and getting out of trouble with the Stink). She didn’t even need to fake it; she was just really good at thinking of sad things that made her cry.
The rest of Unit 919 was quite looking forward to today’s workshop, and the opportunity to practise the skills they’d learned so far. But Morrigan couldn’t help feeling a little frustrated. It all seemed like a colossal waste of time.
Why bother learning to shout ‘FIRE’ in a crowded building when she could be down on Sub-Nine, making actual fire? Or tending to her slowly growing patch of the Gossamer-Spun Garden? And what could their Minor Distractions teacher possibly show her that would compare with learning how to Weave still water into waves from Decima Kokoro herself? Surely, building her skills as a Wundersmith was more important than anything else?
But when she’d spoken to Miss Cheery about it, the conductor told her that Mundane and Arcane skills were still useful, and it was important to be an all-rounder.
And when she’d spoken to Rook about it, the Scholar Mistress told her it was important to remember this was a marathon, and not a sprint.
And when she’d spoken to Sofia about it, the foxwun told her it was important to go gently, to pace herself, to use caution.
But inside her head, drowning all of them out, she heard the words Ezra Squall had spoken the last time they’d met.
You are not a mouse, Morrigan Crow. You are a dragon.
‘Why aren’t you telling people about the green eyes?’ Morrigan asked Jupiter over dinner that night.
‘Hmm? Oh yes, you said … the eyes.’ He bit the end of a spear of asparagus and chewed thoughtfully. ‘Mog, what exactly did you see?’
She groaned. ‘I already told you …’
‘Tell me again.’
‘It was the same with all three of them: Juvela, Brutilus and Victor. I know it sounds weird, but it was like someone switched on a lightbulb inside their skulls and they glowed bright green.’ Morrigan paused, pushing food around her plate. ‘It’s just that … you didn’t mention it during the gathering and it’s not on the list of symptoms on those posters you made.’
‘Oh, I didn’t make those.