Oracle (Book I)

Caprice & Thierry

Halfway across the Main Hall, something large and bulky tumbled nosily down the grand staircase. It cleared the banisters and nearly smashed into Bossa.

Bossa jumped back. The thing--a big trunk--slammed into the floor where she'd tread a mere second ago. Shouting echoed in the vast white hall with its many doors and high airy ceilings.

"This is not Rutledge!"

"It isn't my academy either!"

"We aren't in the village at all, so where...!"

With a glare at the trunk, Bossa retraced its path. A small group of four stood at the top of the stairs. The source of the racket echoing the hall was the pale girl and pale boy bickering back and forth. Both wore gray, silver-accented capes and fine boots. The young man stood almost a full head taller than the girl, tall but not quite grown into himself yet with a thin chest and arms that looked a little long. Like the boy, the young woman had platinum-blond hair and skin nearly the color of milk. Several overturned pieces of luggage lay scattered around them, some of which matched the one at Bossa's feet.

Rolling her eyes, Bossa resisted the urge to put her hands over ears as their voices filled the hall and rebounded noisily. It was a few moments before the duo turned on the other two people standing there at the top of the grand staircase. Wordless up until that point, they stood a tense, respectful few steps away, their heads bowed.

"What is this, Cappy? I demand to know where we are!" the girl shrilled. She snapped at the second boy, "Thatch?"

"I do not know, Miss," the boy said gravely, never raising his eyes to her.

The girl beside him didn't say anything. She only stood there stiffly with her hands clasped in front of her. While the young man's hair was sheared, her thick dark hair was gathered in a big, loose bun that hung over her ears and partially obscured her face. Long frazzled, wind-ruffled strands stuck up every which ways.

"Hey. You down there!" the pale boy called, suddenly noticing Bossa.

Here we go. More new ones, Bossa sighed inwardly.

"Where is your master? I demand to know why my sister and I are summoned here."

"Master?" Bossa's eyes narrowed on the party at the top of the stairs. She looked over at the two who were still staring at the floor. The plainness of their clothes, the ratty hems and lack of adornment. The way they stood away from the two pale ones. "A few things are beginning to make sense here," she muttered. To the pale boy, she replied up the stairs, "No one ever sees the Headmaster." With the book on enchanted doors that she had just picked up from the Library, Bossa gestured around the immense, extravagant hall lit by bright uncut crystal sconces. "You can go search for him if you like though," Bossa told him. "Don't get lost. Since its obviously your first time here."

Thatch and Cappy cringed. Their heads jerked back then turned towards their finely dressed counterparts.

"What did you say to me?" the pale boy said coldly. With the pale girl following behind him and Thatch and Cappy gathering the scattered luggage, the boy strode down the stairs at a sharp clip. Bossa blinked and he was in front of her, gray-blue eyes scowling down his narrow nose.

"Best learn your place, girl."

Reflexively, Bossa stepped back a few steps, reached into her robes, and yanked out her wand.

Sharp gasps cut through the hall and everyone froze.

"She's got a weapon, Alastair!" the pale girl cried.

Alastair grabbed her arm and pulled her to his side. "Karrigan, get behind me. This one is hostile."

Karrigan reached beneath her cape. Bossa already knew she wrapped her white hand around a wand. "Alastair, do something!" Eyes full of contempt, she snapped at Bossa, "How dare you raise a wand to us, you-you--!"