Trapped

Even if Sebastian hadn't been infected, the next few minutes wouldn't be pleasant. I'd have to tell the boy his sweetheart was dead. As a don, I wasn't a stranger to giving students bad news-over the years, there'd been several occasions where I'd had to sit down with someone and say, "We've received a letter from your home…"-but this was the first time I'd have to tell one of my charges about the death of a fellow student. For a moment, I hesitated outside Sebastian's door, trying to compose appropriate words of sympathy in my mind. I failed utterly. In the end, I took a deep breath and knocked before I slunk away like a coward.

Seconds passed. The boy didn't answer my knock.

I knocked again, louder. Still no answer. I told myself Sebastian was just sound asleep; heaven knows, some teenage boys can sleep through anything. But I couldn't help remembering poor Rosalind lying sprawled in her silent room. With my mouth dry, I gave one more knock… then got out my pass key.

There was no wretched smell when I opened Sebastian's door-just the usual fusty mix of unwashed laundry, cheap lamp oil, and apple cores rotting in an unseen wastebasket. "Sebastian?" I whispered. "It's Dr. Dhubhai."

I hadn't brought a lamp of my own and the room was inky dark, curtains drawn to shut out the tiniest glimmer of starshine. "Sebastian," I said more loudly, "sorry to disturb you…"

No response. When I held my breath, I couldn't hear a sound-definitely no snores or rustles from the bed. Feeling nausea grow in my stomach, I moved forward in the blackness, expecting any moment to trip over books or clothes or badminton rackets: the debris that boys perennially leave on the floor. But I found no obstacles until I bumped into the bed itself.

"Sebastian," I said. "Please wake up. Sebastian!"

Not a sound.

I reached into my pockets and found my matchbox. Another chill of déjà vu… but this time, when I lit a match, no ghostly breeze blew it out. The wavering light showed me an empty bed, neatly made, with a piece of paper lying on the pillow. The rest of the room appeared equally tidy-nothing tossed on the floor, every book put away, the desk clear of clutter. I stared around stupidly till the match burned down to the point where I had to shake it out. There was no dead Sebastian here; it looked as if the boy had cleaned up his room, then vanished.

Tonight of all nights, I doubted his departure was coincidence.

Feeling my way up the bed, I found the pillow and the paper lying on it. I could have lit another match to read the note… but I didn't. Instead, I took the page and hightailed it out of the room-locking the door behind me and scurrying posthaste to the chancellor's.

On the way, I couldn't help speculating why Sebastian had left. The least sinister scenario was that he'd learned Rosalind was dead. Perhaps the two had arranged a midnight assignation, like Wallace Wallace and his unknown lady love. Sebastian had gone to Rosalind's room; he'd discovered the girl's corpse; he'd run off in grief and horror. It might have been a shattering experience for the boy, but at least it was basically innocent.

There were so many other possibilities that weren't innocent at all.

By the time I reached the chancellor's room, the Caryatid had arrived… along with the rest of our drinking party, Myoko, Pelinor, and Impervia. When cousin Fatima delivered my message, the Caryatid had sent the girl to round up the rest of our group. "I wanted us all together," the Caryatid said. "For the quest, you know. So we can start right away." From the steely glint in the Caryatid's eye, I suspected she was really thinking, If I get woken in the middle of the night, everybody else gets dragged out of bed too. Motherly though she was, the Caryatid lived by the rule I'm not going to suffer alone. (Which, now that I think of it, is a very motherly attitude.)

While I talked with the Caryatid, Annah sat quietly on the couch, making no effort to converse with the others. She wasn't on bad terms with my tavern-touring cronies; she just didn't have much in common with them. They were all so extravagantly loud compared to Annah… yet Annah was the one who held my attention as she slid sideways on the couch, making room for me. When I sat beside her, she murmured, "You were gone a long time. I…"

She didn't finish her sentence. She didn't have to: as if the words I was worried jumped straight from her brain into mine.

"I had to check something," I said. Raising my voice, I announced to the whole room, "Wallace told me Rosalind had been spending time with Sebastian Shore… so I went to see the boy." I paused. "He's gone. Bed made, room tidied, note on the pillow."

"Uh-oh," said Myoko.

"Dear me," said Pelinor.

Impervia silently crossed herself.

I held out Sebastian's note to the chancellor, but Opal waved it away. "You read it," she said. "Aloud."