Sophronia was awed by Pillover’s chatter. “Oh, I know what you mean. We’ve got Monique de Pelouse living with us.”
Pillover wrinkled his nose. “Must be quite the lark.”
“Indeed. She’s already tattled me out.”
“No?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And how’s my pestilence of a sister settling?”
“Better than I. Although she fainted again.”
“Blood?”
“Blood.”
“From what I hear of your school, that’s to be expected.”
“We had lessons in knife-fighting from a werewolf.”
“Werewolf? Bully! We don’t have any supernaturals here. It’s quite a dearth in the deanship if you ask me. Any reputable school ought to have at least one vampire professor. Eton has three. You lot are only girls, and you’ve a vampire and a werewolf. Jolly unfair, that’s what I call it.”
By this time they had climbed up several flights of stairs, getting ever closer to the roof, when they came face-to-face with a maid mechanical. Instantly, Vieve and Soap stepped in front of Sophronia and began bouncing about.
“What are you doing?” Pillover demanded.
“Keeping it from deducing that I’m a girl,” explained Sophronia.
“Oh, of course, I forgot.” After a hesitation, Pillover too began an awkward gyration. They all looked so ridiculous that Sophronia had to suppress a giggle. She managed to slip past the distracted maid and thought about reminding Vieve of her obstructor, but it was so much fun watching them dance she decided not to.
They climbed the last set of stairs up into one of the many turrets, only to be faced with a locked door. Sophronia rattled the handle hopefully. Nothing.
She looked around. “Anyone know how to pick a lock?”
“Some intelligencer you are,” complained Pillover.
“I’ve only been there a month! I can curtsy now, and my eyelash fluttering is practically unparalleled.”
“Well, why not flutter your way into the locked room, then?”
Sophronia ignored this and looked at Vieve hopefully. “Inventions?”
Vieve shook her head.
“Stand aside, ladies,” said Soap gallantly. “I shall rescue you.”
Pillover gave Soap a disgusted look at being included with the “ladies,” but made room for him to approach the door.
The tall sootie pulled a tiny leather pouch from some mysterious inside pocket and unrolled it to reveal a set of variously sized metal rods. He examined the lock closely and then selected one of the rods. He stuck this into the keyhole, and after a good deal of fiddling, there came a click.
Before they could push inside, Pillover said, “Careful! It might be booby-trapped.”
Everyone stopped and looked at him.
“Evil genius training school, remember? I’d booby-trap it, if I were them, and I’m only discourteous genius level.”
Sophronia stepped forward. “This was my idea. I’ll do it.”
Acting on instinct—they had yet to cover contravention of houses, house parties, and seating arrangements—Sophronia opened the door a tiny fraction and ran her finger slowly down the crack. A handbreadth up from the ground, she encountered a taut piece of twine. She twisted her fingers around the door, following the string, feeling along the jamb for a tie point. She found it with some relief, as the trap would be impossible to thwart without knowing which end activated it.
She pulled out her sewing scissors, and keeping the twine taut with one hand, cut it with the other. Is it activated by additional tension from the door opening, or a release in tension when the string snaps? she wondered. She put her sewing scissors back in her pinafore and pulled out a hair ribbon. She had to give her teachers credit: they were right to insist all students carry scissors, handkerchiefs, perfume, and hair ribbons at all times. At some point she’d learn why they also required a red lace doily and a lemon.
She tied the hair ribbon carefully to the end of the twine and then, keeping the tension as steady as possible, pushed open the door, belaying the hair ribbon at the same time.
The boys and Vieve watched all of this in impressed silence.
Finally, Pillover said, “You are getting a good education!”
I suppose I am. By that time Sophronia was all the way inside the room, hand extended, twine and ribbon stretching toward a crouched toadlike device to the right, slightly behind the door.
Vieve bustled over to it. “Compressed tension vent with boiled beet projectiles. Ingenious! Not dangerous, but it would cause quite the mess and definitely identify any intruders. Just a moment; let me disarm the catapults.”
The young girl made a few adjustments. There was a sad squelching noise, and the pull against Sophronia’s hair ribbon relaxed. She untied it from the twine and put it back into her pinafore. This is fun!
The room in which they found themselves was built of gray stone and was bare of all furniture, even chairs. There were only the trap and a series of telescopes and other devices set to look up at the skies. These were spaced out, with one to each of the many slotted windows, none of which had glass. The place felt very old, as if they had stepped into some fairy tale. Rapunzel, perhaps? If Rapunzel were a particular fan of astral observation.
One of the windows was bare of devices, and outside it, someone had built an unstable-looking balcony.
“There we are,” said Vieve proudly.
They all went over to the window and looked.