Black Academy

Chapter 17 - Part 3

" . . . and we will all miss her." Elsa jumped. It took her a moment to realize Herr Bunnymund was talking about Elena. "The Christmas Ball will not be cancelled, but a minute's silence will be observed at the beginning. Sir Pitch has asked me to let you know that arrangements will  be made for a memorial service at a date early next term. In the meantime, any students who feel the need to talk to a senior member of staff should feel free to do so. Meredith." He smiled kindly at the English girl. "This is a particular shock for you. I know you are keen catch up on your studies, and work can be a good distraction. Please stay behind for a few minutes. The rest of you are free to spend today and tomorrow as you wish. Naturally there will be no boisterous behaviour." 

He surveyed them all severely. "Perhaps a study visit to a chapel or a cathedral would be more appropriate than the avenue Montaigne?" Flynn leaned across to Elsa and Rapunzel as they gathered their books and the murmur of gossip and speculation rose around them. "Notre Dame, then, you guys? Eleven o'clock?" Elsa made a doubtful face. "Half the school might be there after that speech." Flynn grimaced. "Half the school will be in the avenue Montaigne flexing their gold cards, whatever Bunnymund says." "How about the Bois de Boulogne?" put in Rapunzel. "A serene place for thought and reflection, no? Plenty of space. Plenty of privacy."

"Good thinking. I'll meet you both at the Lac Inferieur." Flynn gave Rapunzel a wink. "By the boats."

*

"I'm freezing," moaned Rapunzel. "I shall freeze to death." "Cheer up, my southern flower." Flynn hauled on the oars. "This was your brilliant idea. Anyway, you can die spectacularly of pneumonia, and someone will write a great tragic opera about you." Rapunzel gave him a teeth-chattering grimace, but her expression turned dreamy and distant as if she was already imagining her last heart-rending aria. Elsa cleared her throat in exasperation. "Can we not talk about spectacular deaths?" Flynn's smile faded as he rested the oars in the rowlocks. "I think we have to, huh?" "How can anyone believe that Elena killed herself?" complained Rapunzel, wrapping her vicuna scarf once more round her neck and tucking her fingers under her arms. "I thought you said she had a knife in her throat?"

"Not by that time." As the little boat drifted under the frosted chestnut trees, Flynn fumbled inside his jacket and drew out Elena's knife. Its blade was wrapped p in strings torn off an old T-shirt, and it took him a minute to unwind them. Tentatively he held the knife out in two hands. The girls stared at it, riveted. "Marat covered her body before anyone came," Elsa told Rapunzel. "We saw him do it. After everyone was sent back to bed, he must have moved it, fast." "They must have moved it," corrected Flynn. "Marat can't be the only one involved. Somebody else must have seen that body."

"And who exactly are they?" murmured Elsa. The lake was still, and the bot shifted only a little on the water as they fidgeted in the cold. Feathers of ice were forming on the surface, and Rapunzel trembled. Elsa wasn't that cold due to her powers but she shivered too to make it believable as she examined the knife blade. It was some six inches long, slightly curved, the edge smooth and gleaming in the wintry December light. December. It was the first of December. Her birthday was coming up soon. Elsa could hardly believe it. She'd been at the Black Academy nearly a whole term. Boy, she'd learned a lot . . .

"Look at the handle," said Flynn. "It's weird. I've never seen anything like it." "Nor me," said Rapunzel. "And Papa collects antique swords, daggers, things like that. I'm sure he could tell us something about it, but I have seen nothing like this one in his collection." Elsa reached out to touch the handle. It felt ancient. The elaborate carvings seemed smoothed by centuries, sheened with age. She stroked the pad of her forefinger along them. You had to inspect the handle closely to see the details, because all the figures and beasts and ornamentation were intertwined: snakes, mermaids, caryatids, demons - snarling, twisted things that might have been cats or wolves.

"I bet it's worth a fortune,"  she remarked. "Y'know, at night it looks incredible. There's sort of an optical illusion. The carvings seem to move." "They're so realistic, aren't they?" Rapunzel touched the knife, then snatched her hand back. "I don't like it, though."