Black Academy

Chapter 8 - Part 5

She smiled. "Yes. Oh, it's . . . amazing. Yes, of course I love it." Funnily enough, she realised, that was absolutely true. "Good. That's good." He nodded. "Is there anything that concerns you? Any . . . worries?" Elsa shrugged, averting her eyes. "Um. No. Should there be?" Stupid remark, she thought, giving herself a mental kick. But Sir Pitch didn't hear it, or pretended that he hadn't. "I'm glad. I do encourage students to come to me with any problems, no matter how trivial. You will remember that, Elsa, won't you?" He gave her another smile, so radiant and infectious she could only return it. "Some students find me a little . . . unapproachable. Somewhat remote. That's my fault, of course, but I don't want you to feel that way. Feel free to come to my office at any time, Elsa - if you have questions, if you need to ask for help or advice. That's why I'm here."

They'd come to the bottom of the west wing staircase now, and he steered her along the corridor. Elena still hadn't spoken, but her silence was a furious one. She was simmering, but it was impossible to tell if Sir Pitch had noticed. Elsa was glad he was between them. She felt safer with him there, so heart plummeted when they emerged into the grand entrance hall and Sir Pitch halted. "Elena will show you back to your room." "Oh, I don't need . . . I'm fine now, I can manage on my own." He tutted and laughed. "I'd worry. That sense of direction of yours! Please, Elsa, let Elena take you back." "But . . . OK." 

Elsa glanced at Elena, but the girl was glaring into space. "I'm glad to have met you at last. You're going to be an asset to the Academy, I knot that. You fit in here as if you were born to it." He took her hand. "Take care, Elsa." His voice darkened. "Elena. My office. First thing tomorrow." Elena was silent till his footsteps had faded. Then Elsa heard her murmur, so soft she wasn't even sure if Elena was talking to her, "Do you know who all the statues are?" Was she actually trying to be chatty? Taken aback, Elsa shook her head. "Achilles?" she said doubtfully. "And I recognized Leda and the Swan in the courtyard."

Elena made a contemptuous face. "The swan is Zeus in disguise, doing as he likes to a mere mortal." "I know that," said Elsa, irritated at the patronizing tone. "And that one's Hermes, right?" "Yes." Elena, uninterested in Hermes, turned to a stag that was rearing in motionless terror, marble hounds tearing at its haunches. A beautifully sculpted woman looked on, disdainful. There was a chill in the air, thought Elsa. "So who's that?" "Artemis. The hunting goddess," said Elena, sounding amused. "The stag is Actaeon, a hunter who dared to spy on her as she bathed. Artemis turned him into a stag as a punishment. And then his own hounds tore him to pieces."

The silence was think with menace. No, Elena definitely wasn't trying to be friendly. The girl gave an unnerving chuckle. "Oh, it's only a myth. A warning from the ancients. Gods should not be treated lightly, you see? Gods should not be mocked. I mean, take this little tragedy . . ."