Lost Prinsipels

By Val Ross

When the Grand Master recalls Albia's best agent from active service and appoints her Vice Principal of the Academy, she's convinced he has an ulterior motive. He does, but it's not what she thinks. Someone's trying to kill her, and the Grand Master wants her safe at home in Veridurum; she is his daughter, after all.
Academy Principal Fergal O'Connor is a man with a mission. He'd rather not have it; he's already fully occupied with undergraduate spies, an unbalanced colleague, unobtainable stationery and unsavoury drains. Now he has a secret to keep; he must protect someone, who mustn't know he's doing it, from something she mustn't find out about. Fortunately (or perhaps not) the Grand Master has a plan.
It could be worse. With five, very physical assignments to complete in less than three weeks, trainee "diplomat" Edwin Harrington has almost given up hope of passing his first term at the Academy. What he needs is a miracle. What he gets is Gothic Boris. And, unfortunately (or perhaps not) Gothic Boris has a plan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Val Ross
• Release date: May 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311245038

Val Ross

Val Ross is a lifelong dreamer and procrastinator. By now, she should have written at least five books in the Veridurum Series, but four of them are still fighting for attention inside her head. She does write an intermittent blog, facebook updates, occasional letters to the local paper and shopping lists; these rare manuscripts will no doubt be worth a fortune one day.A former Primary School teacher and gift shop manager, (not at the same time) Val's achievements include assembling several items of flat-pack furniture and managing reasonably competent parallel parking (also not at the same time).Val lives in Yorkshire, tolerated and humoured by many good friends.

Book preview

Lost Prinsipels

Val Ross

Cover picture by Jon-Paul McCarthy

Copyright 2012 Val Ross

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Nick Wallace

Vicky Knight

Fergal O’Connor

Judith Locke

Kidnap

Equipment & Communications

In control

Supplies

Lenny Vincent

Stock control

Moving Target

The Hostage

Matters of Principle

Accounting

Dream Machine

Telling the truth

Film night

End of Term

Eighteen months later.

Shortlisting

Lucretia Rook

INSTEAD

Planning

New duties

Nick is relieved

Fergal is uneasy

Lost Principal

Undercover missions

Vicky wants answers

Rescue mission

Boris Morisovitch

A place in the sun

Let’s do it

Drouth

Lucretia arrives

Lucretia makes a list

Reporting

The Grand Master’s Bedroom

The Gulag

In the tunnel

Breaking the news

Reme

Fioria

Father Peter

Edwin Harrington

McKeefe the Brief

Task List

Mobility

Water-fall

Radio silence

Boris in action

The Game

Coded message

Physical responses

Madam Rina

The Night Club

Big Donna

Cover story

Carpe Timore

Around the table

Frustration

Teamwork

The wall

The verdict

To be continued

APPENDIX

Connect with Val Ross

I give you fair warning, this gets rather hard at times. {Stop sniggering at the back, please.} And there are a few cheesy bits. {Yeah, yeah, I know.} But life is like that sometimes. Sometimes it’s so hard you can break your teeth just by looking at it. On the other hand, a bit of cheese occasionally can be exactly what you need. It’s a question of balance really. And keeping an open mind.

Nick Wallace

The small, neatly dressed man darted nervously between the trees, his eyes flickering anxiously from side to side. He’d done well – impossibly well – to get this far, but knowing that did nothing to dispel the familiar sense of dread. Because he also knew, deep down, that despite all his efforts, it could only be a matter of time now. He stopped, only partially concealed by the trunk of a large oak tree, and adjusted the fastenings of his somewhat incongruous but highly necessary protective waistcoat.

SPLAT!

A large glob of bright yellow paint hit him squarely in the chest.

Got you! came the triumphant cry, as Rufus de Chevalier emerged from behind the adjacent tree.

{Rufus. Yeah, I know. His father had wanted to call him Ruthless, after a noble ancestor, but his mother had pointed out that everyone would call him Ruthie, which didn’t have quite the same effect, so they compromised. }

Rufus de Chevalier, Grand Master of Albia, was a large, well-built man in his mid-fifties. His clear, piercing eyes had, in his youth, struck terror into the hearts of the enemies, but right now they sparkled with boyish mischief. He waved a paintball blaster at his hapless butler. Six and a half minutes! he remarked. You’re getting better at this.

Thank you Sir. If that will be all, I still have the silver to polish.

Run along then. And see that I’m not disturbed.

The servant hurried away towards the Palace, relieved to be returning to more conventional duties. ‘I don’t think I am getting any better,’ he thought. ‘I think He’s got something on His mind.’

Lord Rufus waited until the man was out of hearing, then lowered his weapon. Where are you, Wallace? he demanded.

Nick Wallace rolled out from the undergrowth at the Grand Master’s feet. Some twenty years His Lordship’s junior, Nick had been Personal Aide to Lord Rufus for just twelve months, and loved his job. He was one of the few people who wasn’t scared of the Grand Master, and one of the even fewer that Lord Rufus liked and trusted.

Walk with me, Nick. I need to talk to you.

They came out of the woods at the top of a wide, grassy slope, overlooking the Palace. Nick waited patiently. Although he did sometimes ask questions of his commanding officer, he tried to avoid it. It was illegal, after all.

{When the law preventing anyone questioning any member of the ruling family had been passed by Grand Master Niccolò de Chevalier, early in the sixteenth century, a huge number of people found themselves inadvertently guilty of High Treason. Lord Niccolò had therefore graciously allowed one legal question (Would you like a drink?) as an acceptable emergency get-out for anyone who suddenly realised they were uttering an enquiring phrase.}

Lord Rufus broke the silence. I’m afraid it’s serious, Nick.

Yes Sir. I thought it must be. You’ve never let him go more than four and a quarter minutes before.

The Grand Master stared out across the lake. I’ve received a report that someone is trying to kill my daughter.

Nick wasn’t surprised. People are always trying to kill Her, he reassured the older man. She is one of our best agents, after all.

This is different. Perhaps I should have said, ‘assassinate’, rather than just, ‘kill’.

Ah. Well, yes, that is different. I presume someone isn’t happy with You appointing Her as Your Successor. Apart from Lady Victorina Herself, that is.

So it would seem, Lord Rufus replied grimly. I’m not worried about what she thinks, she’ll get used to it in time, and she’ll be damn good. But someone clearly wants me to name someone else and, whoever he is, his agent was more scared of him than he was of me!

I find that hard to imagine, Sir.

He was only a boy! Lord Rufus exploded. Twenty five years old, fresh out of the Academy. What kind of person would recruit a child to do a job like that?

Someone who doesn’t know Lady Victorina very well, by the sound of it.

Ha! You’re right there. Fortunately we managed to intercept the agent before he got anywhere near her, otherwise we’d never have been able to question him. Not that we got much out of him though. Only that this.... He scowled. ...Person... he spat out angrily, ...is calling himself ‘The Controller’.

We can assume he’s not modest then, Nick observed.

True, Lord Rufus reflected, more calmly, {But not much more.} and we can assume that he has easy access to our Academy graduates, and has some kind of hold over at least one of them. That poor kid was terrified. He sensed the question Nick was burning to ask. Yes, alright, I’ve got him in protective custody until it’s all over. Better to have a grateful friend than a dead pawn. He sighed. You don’t think I’m going soft, do you?

No Sir. In fact, if You’re asking me to express an opinion, I’d say it was a wise and noble move. He grinned. And it’ll drive our enemy mad!

Then hopefully he’ll get careless. But in the meantime, I’m recalling my daughter from active service. I want her here in Veridurum, where we can protect her properly.

Nick pulled a face. As you command, Sir. But I don’t think She’ll be very happy sitting in the Palace sewing cushion covers.

Lord Rufus snorted. You don’t think I’d try and force her to stay at the Palace, do you? Good grief man, I’m not a complete idiot! He shuddered in horror at the picture his Aide had proposed.

No Sir. Um... permission to speak freely?

Of course.

I can’t help feeling that when You tell Her that someone's trying to assassinate Her, She’s going to insist on investigating for Herself.

That’s why I’m not going to tell her.

Nick drew in his breath, and shook his head. She’s not going to like that.

Too bad. Anyway, with a bit of luck, she’ll never find out. I’m going to put it to her that we need experienced people like her to teach at the Academy for a time, as part of their service. Who knows, she might even like the idea. After all, he added in a hopeful tone, Edith Shepherd’s a lecturer there, and they’ve been best friends for years. So I’m going to arrange with O’Connor for him to take her on as his Vice Principal. Heaven knows he needs one, with all that paperwork the government is throwing at him nowadays. Lord Rufus paused. The next part of his plan involved a certain amount of personal sacrifice, but it had to be done. I’m sending you there as a lecturer too. I want you and O’Connor to act as her bodyguards.

She definitely won’t like that.

I know. Probably better not to tell her that, either. That’s why I’m giving you a choice now. You can either go and tell O’Connor my orders, or you can find my daughter and bring her home.

Nick thought about it. He was pretty sure Lady Victorina liked him enough not to injure him permanently, even if she was very angry. If it did come to a fight they were quite evenly matched, and he was fairly confident that he could keep track of her in the (admittedly unlikely) event of her deciding to run. ‘She’s more devious than I am,’ he thought, ‘but I’m better at camouflage. Besides, She’ll understand that I’m just following orders. I could probably persuade Her to come back without too much fuss. Probably.’

He considered the alternative. Fergal O’Connor was a good friend, easy-going, and not given to physical violence. But if they were going to be working together again, it might be better not to be the bringer of bad news. Fergal wasn’t going to be very pleased about having to play nursemaid to the Lady.

I’ll go and pack, he said.

Lord Rufus breathed a sigh of relief. Thank you, Nick. I wasn’t looking forward to telling her myself. Draw whatever you need in the way of expenses. You’ll have to go to Brussburg – she’s attached to the Embassy there

I presume She’s using an alias.

Yes. Ask for Vicky Knight.

Vicky Knight

Vicky Knight was indeed attached to an Embassy in Brussburg but, when Nick stepped down from the train at the Central Station a few hours after his conversation with Lord Rufus, the reality of her situation was slightly different from what might have been inferred.

For a start, the Embassy in question wasn’t the Albian one, but the imposing premises owned by the Norikan Republic. And she was attached to it by means of a steel cord fastened to her belt. She was abseiling down the back wall, with a tiny camera wedged uncomfortably in her bra. ‘Wretched thing,’ she thought, with mild irritation, ‘I’ll have red marks on my chest for hours now. Still, I suppose I had to wear one, or I couldn’t have carried the camera safely.’

A scuffling noise from the gardens below attracted her attention. A large guard dog was gazing up at her expectantly, mouth open. ‘It’s all very well Granny saying that a lady only needs to carry a lipstick, a handkerchief and a dog biscuit,’ Vicky thought, ‘but she didn’t meet as many dogs as I do.’ This particular dog had gratefully received his biscuit twenty minutes previously, but clearly that wasn’t going to be enough to buy his continued co-operation.

Six feet from the ground, Vicky reached into her pocket and found her lipstick. Here boy, she whispered, and threw it down a short distance from the waiting dog. He snuffled at it eagerly, giving her just enough time to touch down safely. She released her anchor point with a deft flick of the wrist, and caught the apparatus cleanly as it fell. Clipping it to the front of her belt, she crouched down and called softly to the dog. Sorry about this, she said, stroking his head, I’ll bring you something nice tomorrow. Before the animal had time to register that it wasn’t a biscuit in her hand, she’d swiftly wrapped her handkerchief around his muzzle and tied it gently, but securely.

Snatching up her lipstick {she’d only bought it the previous day, and it had cost more than forty thousand Liri!} she ran for the fence, took a flying leap, and scrambled over into the deserted street.

Vicky pulled off her balaclava helmet, releasing her long, chestnut brown hair. Confirming that she was still unobserved, she took off her black jacket and turned it inside out. Moments later, any passer-by would have seen only a slim, attractive woman of about thirty, wearing tight black trousers, a white jacket, and a wide leather belt with a large silver buckle.

Unfortunately, the next passer-by didn’t pass by, and was rather annoyed at finding his dog had been nobbled. The guard burst through the bushes at the side of the building, just in time to see Vicky disappearing round the corner, on the other side of the fence. He was a lot smaller than she was and, being accompanied by the dog, lacked the desire or ability to climb the fence. Instead, he raced round to the front gate then allowed the dog to lead the way.

Aware she was being followed, Vicky made quickly for the crowded Old Town. ‘I need to throw him off the scent,’ she thought. ‘How in the Land could anyone build a city without a river in it? Now, what’s the next best thing to water?’ She smiled, remembering an excellent dinner she’d enjoyed the previous evening. ‘That should do nicely!’ Swiftly retracing her steps of the evening before, she soon arrived in a bustling, cobbled street.

To say the road was lined with restaurants would be an understatement. It was more the case that the establishments on both sides of the thoroughfare had encroached so far across the narrow pavement and into the road, that there was barely space for pedestrians to pass in single file between the tables. Thus impeded in their progress, they were easy prey for the head waiters who lounged in the doorways, sleepy-eyed, yet ready to pounce on anyone who looked like they hadn’t eaten in the last two minutes. Not that potential diners needed much additional encouragement. Outside each restaurant was a trestle table, groaning under the weight of a tempting display of seafood, and about half a hundredweight of ice.

Vicky began to run up the slight incline, glancing rapidly from side to side. She knew her pursuer was getting closer but, if this was going to work, she had to let him get closer still. Up ahead, she saw what she was looking for. Next to one of the frozen displays, several large bags of ice were stacked against the wall. She slowed slightly, allowing the panting guard and dog to come in range. Then, moving at top speed, she grabbed a bag, tore it open, and allowed the balls of ice to cascade down the road towards them. Two more bagfuls followed in quick succession, causing the precipitate downfall of her unwanted companions. Unfortunately for them, they took with them a number of tables and chairs. From all sides, head waiters closed in on the man and his dog, while Vicky melted away into the crowd.

Walking quickly, she soon arrived back at the Albian Embassy. She winked at the gatekeeper.

Evening, Alfred. Lovely night for a stroll, don’t you think?

Yes Miss. Alfred sighed. He would have given a lot to go strolling with her, or even to stand still with her, for that matter. He wasn’t the only man to think like this either. Most men felt that way about Vicky but, so far, she hadn’t met anyone she could seriously consider as anything more than just a friend.

For a start, she had to remember her position. It was bad enough being a Chevalier, but now that she was the named Successor, she couldn’t just please herself when beginning a romantic liaison. Well, she could, of course, but she was fully aware of the implications for her country if she made a mistake. The other problem was the nature of her work. Vicky was one of the best, and had survived in the field for five years. Some of her friends and associates hadn’t. She had decided early on in her career not to get too close to anyone in the same business but, sadly, had never been attracted to anyone who wasn’t. Normally she was too busy to worry much about the matter, but tonight’s job had been relatively undemanding, and she was still restless.

She decided to go for a swim. The Embassy was equipped with a gymnasium and pool in the basement, and it was there that she made her way now. Diving in at the deep end, she swam several lengths. Then, aware that someone was watching her, she rolled onto her back and began sculling lazily. She smiled when she recognised the newcomer. Hello Nick, she called. Are you coming in?

Nick stood on the side of the pool, and returned her smile. He couldn’t help it, despite the nature of his mission. ‘That’s another point she beats me on,’ he thought. ‘She looks a lot better in a swimming costume than I do.’ He dived in, and they swam together for a while in companionable silence.

At last they climbed out, and sat on the side of the pool.

You haven’t asked me why I’m here, he said.

Do I need to know? She studied his face, then sighed. Alright, what does He want?

Briefly, Nick told her about her new appointment as Vice Principal of the Academy in Veridurum. As ordered, he left out all reference to the plot against her life, and to the fact that she was gaining two unwanted bodyguards. He’d practised his speech, and thought it sounded quite plausible. Vicky seemed to agree.

That sounds quite plausible, she remarked when he’d finished. Only I don’t believe a word of it. Fergal O’Connor was Father’s Aide before you, and although I’ve never met him, I’m pretty sure that someone who can live with Father for three years is more than capable of dealing with any amount of mere paperwork! No, if He’d just said He wanted experienced lecturers I might have bought it, but He always has to make things more complicated than He needs to. She frowned at Nick. He’s just trying to get me at home in a desk job, so I can start taking over some of His ceremonial duties, isn’t He?

I can’t say what His motives are, Nick replied carefully, But I can tell you that He is really serious about the lecturing thing. He’s sending me there too. He looked so miserable that Vicky softened a little.

So we’re in this together, then? Oh, I don’t know, I have been feeling a bit unsettled lately. Maybe I do need a change of direction, or something.

I know what you need, Nick replied, without thinking.

You may be right, at that. Are you offering? she teased.

He was horrified. Good grief, no! I mean, no offence or anything, and sincere regrets… his eyes travelled over her body, … sincere, deep regrets, but if I was looking for romance, it’d be with someone a lot less devious than you, and with considerably less emotional baggage.

And I’m looking for someone who can deal with who I am, but who isn’t in this business, and isn’t working for Father. I’ll always treasure your friendship, but I’m afraid you fail on two out of three. She smiled at her treasured friend. Besides, she added, you snore.

I still don’t believe you about that, he replied, good-humouredly. No one else has ever complained.

How many other people have you shared a tent with for three weeks, who’ve had to try to keep a look-out while you slept?

About as many as wanted to go on that mission with you in the first place!

He smiled, remembering their first meeting, nearly five years ago. Vicky had just graduated from the Academy, and came complete with a reputation for reckless and unorthodox behaviour that hadn’t diminished over time. No one else had been prepared to risk even a simple reconnaissance mission with such a dangerously attractive partner, especially one with such an awesome family background, and so much to prove. Luckily, Nick was a good judge of character, who’d never needed to prove anything.

Even more luckily, Vicky was a quick learner, who recognised his superior experience and responded to his relaxed attitude. They’d become firm friends, but both acknowledged that there could never be anything more between them.

Vicky sighed. Alright, if you’re going to be involved, I suppose I could give it a go. But you can tell Him that I’m doing it under two conditions. First, I’m going as Vicky Knight – only you and Edith know who I am, and I want to keep it that way. Although, she conceded, I suppose O’Connor will have to be told. But secondly, any hint of public duties, and I’m out of there!

Sounds fair enough to me, Nick agreed. I don’t think He’ll raise any objections to that.

Right, that’s settled. So, you know this Fergal O’Connor. What’s he like then?

He’s a good man, Nick replied. I think you’ll like him.

Fergal O’Connor

Fergal O’Connor. Picture, if you will, the most handsome man you can think of. Give him the kind of hair women want to run their fingers through, and the kind of eyes that invite them to do it. Give him sensitive hands, a lean, athletic body, and the skill to use them both with devastating effect in a wide range of physical activities. Add all the heroic and noble virtues, combined with a lively mind and a thoroughly relaxed attitude. Got all that? Good. Now double it, and you’re getting close to the shadow of Fergal O’Connor.

Whilst Nick had been sitting on the train to Brussburg, Fergal was sitting astride the window ledge of his first floor office, with a chilled bottle of beer in his hand. Below him on the grass stood his new First Year class. They were looking up at the wall with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Right then, Fergal began, as this is your first time, I only want you to get up to here. He waved the bottle at them. And there’s one of these for everyone who makes it. Now, who’s going to be first?

An eager volunteer stepped forward. I’ll try it Sir!

Good man! Alright, the rest of you get hold of the sheet. Hold it nice and high now, so you can give a bit if he falls. Watch him closely, so you can do the same if he gets it right, and avoid his mistakes if he doesn’t.

The class did as they were told, and the young man began his climb up the ancient brickwork. He was confident, yet careful, and made good progress. At last, when he was almost there, he reached out his hand for the bottle… and fell off into the outstretched sheet. A groan of sympathy went up from his friends.

Well now, that was a good try, for your first attempt, Fergal told him. What do you think went wrong?

I stopped thinking about the wall, and started thinking about the beer.

That’s right, that’s just what you did. I could see it in your face. Fergal addressed the whole group. He stopped living in the moment, d’you see? You’ve got to concentrate the whole time on now. You can’t change the past, and you must try not to worry about the future until you come to it. Plan it, by all means, but then get on with now. He grinned at the crestfallen boy. ’Twas a good try though. Here… He threw down the bottle, and the young man caught it happily.

A couple of hours later everyone had made an attempt and the beer crate was almost empty. Fergal dismissed the class, and climbed back into his office. He pulled a face at the mounds of paperwork on his desk. ‘Too bad,’ he thought, ‘I haven’t got time for that, now I’m lecturing again as well. The students have got to come first... although I suppose it really is time I found a replacement for Stefan.’ His face grew serious as he remembered his late colleague, who they’d lost just two months before on a mission. ‘I’d better check how Judith’s doing too. She looks like she’s coping, but I’m not so sure. It’s never easy to lose a friend, but to lose someone closer than that must be hell.’

A soft knock at the door announced his secretary. The Grand Master telephoned, she informed him. He told me not to disturb you if you were teaching, but you’re to call at the Palace as soon as you’re free. Apparently He’s got some good news for you.

There’s a novelty! What were His exact words?

She consulted her notebook. He said, ‘You can tell him I’ve got some good news for him’.

Ah, there it is, you see. ‘You can tell him’. Not, ‘I’ve got some good news’, but, ‘tell him’. I wonder what the old devil wants now? One thing’s for sure, it’s not likely to be good.

The secretary smiled. You never know. He does like you, after all.

That’s no guarantee of anything, where He’s concerned. Ah well, I suppose I’d better go along. He looked at his watch. At least I might get lunch out of Him.

Leaving the Academy by the front door, Fergal turned left, then walked briskly along Temple Street. At the junction with Moon Street he turned right, towards the river. Just over the bridge there was a concealed door in the wall, through which privileged visitors like Fergal could gain admittance to the Palace. Most people didn’t even realise it was there.

As he walked, Fergal considered the problem of getting another lecturer at the Academy. ‘I’m not prepared to put everyone through what happened with Stefan again,’ he thought, ‘however important the mission is. There’s no way I’m going to have anyone else who’s still on active service.’

………. So, Lord Rufus finished, you and Wallace will effectively be on active service. Is there anything you want to say? You can speak freely.

There were plenty of things Fergal wanted to say, but he settled on the only safe comment he could honestly make. It’ll be good to work with Nick again. I’m sure the students will benefit from his experience.

Come on, out with it, man. I know my daughter’s reputation.

Yes Sir, so do I. Her Ladyship is a highly skilled and effective agent. She’s known for being unorthodox, but there’s nothing necessarily wrong with that. I’m just rather surprised that She wants to give it all up and come home, that’s all.

Ah, well, I may have given you the wrong impression there. She’s only doing it because I asked her to, and only then because she’s bored. It won’t be easy for you, I’m afraid. If there’s no challenge she’s hell to live with, but once her brain starts ticking, it’s…. scary. I can't imagine where she gets it from!

Fergal could. He didn't have to tax his imagination much, either. Oh, I don’t mind that, he replied. We see all sorts at the Academy, and anything that stimulates the students’ brains is probably a good thing. I’m more concerned about trying to protect someone who mustn’t know I’m doing it, from something She mustn’t find out about.

I have every confidence in you and Wallace. She’ll have to spend a lot of time with you anyway, learning the job. And she’s been friends with him for years, they’ll naturally spend time together.

Yes, but I can’t ask him to spend all his free time with Her! A thought struck him. Oh… unless, of course, there’s something between them?

Not as far as I know. She’s never been much involved with anyone, really. No, you’ll just have to... you know... befriend her yourself. Show an interest; get to know her, that sort of thing. She’s not unpleasant to look at, and she can be quite good company, if she likes you.

Fergal wasn’t sure he understood what he was being told to do. And if he did understand, he wasn’t at all sure whether he’d actually be prepared to do it. Sir, are You asking me to… I mean, do You want me… I’m sorry, but I don’t quite…

Oh, spit it out, man! Ask the damn question!

Yes Sir. Sorry. Are You telling me to show an interest in Her Ladyship, romantically?

Good grief, no! There are some things that even I wouldn’t order a man to do. Mind you, he added, I’m not forbidding it, either. You’re free to make up your own mind on that one, just as she is.

Fergal was relieved. Active service was one thing, but that sort of action was something he really didn’t have time for. Thank you Sir. I’m going to be rather too busy to think about anything like that at the moment, but I do appreciate the honour.

Lord Rufus put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. You’re a good man, O’Connor, but this I must tell you. If anything happens to Victorina, you know what I’ll have to do, don’t you?

Honestly, Sir? I’m not sure.

Lord Rufus gave a wry smile. I thought you would have worked that out. If anything happens to Her, then you’re the next in line to be Grand Master.

In that moment, Fergal suddenly understood a whole lot more about how Lady Victorina looked at life, and why she acted as she did. I won’t let it come to that, Sir, he promised.

Make sure of it. But be careful, because if anything happens to you, it’ll have to be Wallace, and I don’t think the country would ever be ready for that! Now, come and have some lunch, and tell me how that young woman of Stefan’s is bearing up.

Judith Locke

As Fergal had suspected, Judith wasn’t coping very well at all with the death of her lover. Oh, she was carrying out all her duties with her usual efficiency, but with such an air of detachment that her friends were becoming increasingly concerned for her sanity.

Judith hadn’t cried when Fergal broke the news to her, and at first he wasn’t even sure that she’d understood. She’d insisted on continuing to teach a full timetable of classes, with such determination that he hadn’t dared to suggest she took some leave at the end of the previous term. So she’d remained at the Academy during the break, planning almost all of her lectures for the coming year.

She’s got to work it out in her own way, Edith Shepherd had decided. We all react differently to shock, and she’s never found it easy to share her feelings anyway. We just have to accept that this is how she wants to deal with it, and make sure she knows we’re there for her when she needs us.

I know you’re right, Fergal told her, but I feel so helpless, seeing her like this. If only she’d scream, or break something, I’d know what to do. I’m not even sure if she’s really accepted that he’s gone.

Oh, I’m sure she understands that. But it’s bound to take some time for her to re-plan her future. She doesn’t know where she’s going any more, so I think she’s doing exactly what we tell the students; if you get lost, stay safe and don’t move about, because someone will come and find you.

Well I hope this someone turns up soon, Fergal had replied, otherwise we might really lose her.

As he walked back to the Academy after his meeting with the Grand Master, Fergal reflected on how the new arrivals might affect Judith. ‘If Nick’s going to take over Stefan’s duties,’ he thought, ‘it might provoke some sort of reaction from her, if only resentment. And maybe Lady Victorina… no, I’ll have to start thinking of Her as Vicky Knight… maybe, being a stranger, Judith will be able to talk to her. I’ll have to make sure I brief her on that as soon as she arrives. If I’ve got to have her as Vice Principal, she’s going to