The Shadowsong Conspiracy

Chapter 23

 Sawyer could hear mouths drop open behind him as Headmaster Seymour walked, rather timidly, to the front and shook Darlington's hand.

"Sold your soul to the devil, then? The mastermind of the plan," Sawyer said coldly.

The corner of Seymour's eye twitched, and Darlington bared his teeth.

"No, no, I really must state that I quite oppose being called the mastermind of the plan," Seymour said, flattening the thin, greasy strands of hair on top of his head. "You should know that, Darlington. I merely did my part of the, eh, bargain."

"Bargain or not, no matter." Darlington squeezed Seymour, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. "You're still behind this. You let us into Sabinsky's room, you let our Wraith in, you let me in, and you stole The Chronicles of Shadow for that black giant."

"What?" Sawyer said. "You gave Maddox that book, Seymour? You endangered the life of a student?"

"You're not the only one with power, Sabinsky." Darlington snickered. "See, despite his other good qualities, Seymour wasn't very effective in squashing the Para bashing you and your snot-nosed friends were so fond of. When he let that gorilla abuse a Paramagi without consequences, we decided to take said gorilla out of the picture ourselves, seeing that he was already interested in Shadowsong and had even tried it a few times. The Chronicles is always effective, being the supreme book of our ages, and of course, Shadow –blessed be– never says no to another follower."

"Except that he didn't get one this time," Sawyer said. "I hope this was worth turning your back on your own kind, Seymour. After this, no Aristo will even speak to you."

"Shut up, you piece of dirt!" Darlington spat, rounding on Sawyer. "Turn your back on your kind, what rubbish! Let me tell you of my kind that also happens to be your kind. Tell you of my father, Sir John Darlington II, a cold and unfeeling lump of horse dung who beat his wife and kids blue every week, had affairs with every actress the earth bears, and raped every single Para maid that ever set foot in the house. Yet he was praised to the heavens in public as an exemplary father and husband, 'a true Aristo'. That is your kind, Sabinsky, that is the way of life you so desperately cling onto. No feelings, no emotions, just a spotless, inexpressive guise regardless of what turmoil goes on behind it!"

This time Sawyer didn't manage to react quickly enough. An iron-hot whip slashed across his body, from his right arm to the knuckles of his left hand, ripping buttons and cords of fabric from his coat. Sawyer doubled on the floor as pain hurled through his upper body and something warm and moist spread on his chest. Darlington turned away and left Sawyer catching his breath on the floor. A pool of blood was spreading under Sawyer's arm, and there was an odd humming in his ears.

"Sawyer!"

Mia was crouching low and holding her staff flat against the floor.

"Don't move."

Mia's lips moved inaudibly, and little by little, the throbbing pain and the flow of blood ceased, first from Sawyer's arm, then from his chest.

"At least this I know," Mia whispered. Sawyer managed half a grimace and moved a bit, pretending to be in more pain than he was. He could hear Seymour pleading and talking to Darlington in excited tones; apparently, they were tussling about something. An idea struck Sawyer, and he edged his less injured hand to his chest. He could feel his Squilli in his chest pocket, and he nudged himself slightly against the floor so that the Squilli fell into a pocket formed by a slit in the fabric. He let out a small moan and grabbed his chest, sliding his fingers around the device. Kairos turned to look at him, a partly elated and partly disturbed expression on her face. As Darlington shrieked something loudly, she returned her attention to him, and Sawyer wriggled into a position where he lay almost vertically in front of the Resistance group. He waited for a few seconds to see whether any of the Wraiths had noticed, but nothing happened, and Sawyer slid the Squilli toward Caspar along the smooth floor. Caspar straightened his foot straight away as though stretching and fished the Squilli.