The Princesses of Gavaldon

Chapter 3

Sophie opened her eyes to find herself floating in a foul-smelling moat, filled
to the brim with thick black sludge. A gloomy wall of fog flanked her on all sides.
She tried to stand, but her feet couldn't find bottom and she sank; sludge flooded
her nose and burnt her throat. Choking for breath, she found something to
grasp, and saw it was the carcass of a half-eaten goat. She gasped and tried to
swim away but couldn't see an inch in front of her face. Screams echoed above
and Sophie looked up.Streaks of motion—then a dozen bony birds crashed through the fog and
dropped shrieking children into the moat. When their screams turned to
splashes, another wave of birds came, then another, until every inch of sky was
filled with falling children. Sophie glimpsed a bird dive straight for her and she
swerved, just in time to get a cannonball splash of slime in her face.
She wiped the glop out of her eye and came face-to-face with a boy. The first
thing she noticed was he had no shirt. His chest was puny and pale, without the
hope of muscle. From his small head jutted a long nose, spiky teeth, and black
hair that drooped over beady eyes. He looked like a sinister little weasel.
"The bird ate my shirt," he said. "Can I touch your hair?"
Sophie backed up.
"They don't usually make villains with princess hair," he said, dog-paddling
towards her.
Sophie searched desperately for a weapon—a stick, a stone, a dead goat—
"Maybe we could be bunk mates or best mates or some kind of mates," he
said, inches from her now. It was like Radley had turned into a rodent and de-
veloped courage. He reached out his scrawny hand to touch her and Sophie read-
ied a punch to the eye, when a screaming child dropped between them. Sophie
took off in the opposite direction and by the time she glanced back, Weasel Boy
was gone. She could only she a stylish girl near her. She glanced at Sophie, and Sophie squeaked, alarmed. 
Through the fog, Sophie could see shadows of children treading through
floating bags and trunks, hunting for their luggage. Those that managed to find
them continued downstream, towards ominous howls in the distance. Sophie followed these floating silhouettes until the fog cleared to reveal the shore, where a pack of wolves, standing on two feet in bloodred soldier jackets and black
leather breeches, snapped riding whips to herd students into line.
Sophie grasped the bank to pull herself out but froze when she caught her re-
flection in the moat. Her dress was buried beneath sludge and yolk, her face
shined with stinky black grime, and her hair was home to a family of earth-
worms. She choked for breath—
"Help! I'm in the wrong sch—"
A wolf yanked her out and kicked her into line. She opened her mouth to
protest, but saw Weasel Boy swimming towards her, yelping, "Wait for me!"
Quickly, Sophie joined the line of shadowed children, dragging their trunks
through the fog. If any dawdled, a wolf delivered a swift crack, so she kept
anxious pace. She moved her hands all over her hair, her dress, her skin.... 'That dress was an original...' She moaned to herself. 
The tower gates were made of iron spikes, crisscrossed with barbed wire.
Nearing them, she saw it wasn't wire at all but a sea of black vipers that darted
and hissed in her direction. With a squeak, Sophie scampered through and
looked back at rusted words over the gates, held between two carved black
swans:
THE SCHOOL FOR EVIL EDIFICATION AND PROPAGATION OF SIN
Ahead the school tower rose like a winged demon. The main tower, built of
pockmarked black stone, unfurled through smoky clouds like a hulking torso.
From the sides of the main tower jutted two thick, crooked spires, dripping with
veiny red creepers like bleeding wings.
The wolves drove the children towards the mouth of the main tower, a long
serrated tunnel shaped like a crocodile snout. Sophie felt chills as the tunnel
grew narrower and narrower until she could barely see the child in front of her.
She squeezed between two jagged stones and found herself in a leaky foyer that
smelled of rotten fish. Demonic gargoyles pitched down from stone rafters, lit
torches in their jaws. An iron statue of a bald, toothless hag brandishing an apple
smoldered in the menacing firelight. Along the wall, a crumbly column had an
enormous black letter N painted on it, decorated with wicked-faced imps, trolls,
and Harpies climbing up and down it like a tree. There was a bloodred E on the
next column, embellished with swinging giants and goblins. Creeping along in
the interminable line, Sophie worked out what the columns spelled out—N-E-V-
E-R—then suddenly found herself far enough into the room to see the line snake  in front of her. For the first time, she had a clear view of the other students and almost fainted.