Pride

Chapter 4

Summer's blessings were still upon the mountain. Game was plentiful. Loup chased after a doe and got kicked in the head for her efforts. Rabbits easily outran the black wolf, but she enjoyed the chase. Mice were everywhere and made an amusing diversion. The vermin were easily caught, but still a challenge as they darted away to hide beneath rocks and disappeared into long tunnels. To cap the evening off, she wallowed in the cold waters of a stream. Water sprayed as she shook herself dry and her wet footprints decorated the rocky banks. All in all, a splendid night. She trotted back to Durmstrang's grounds, stopping to sniff at interesting smells and paw at a fresh mound of dirt that smelled of a large rodent. It was with great reluctance that she changed back into her human shape and finished the walk to the gates.

The guards looked her over carefully, making her wait while they followed procedures they would ignore once the school year began and no one from the administrative offices would bother to check. They recognized her. She'd been through many times before, usually with Gregorov, but they dutifully asked a series of inane questions from a well-worn sheet of paper. They chose to ignore the part of the procedure requiring that they examine her wand. One guard pushed a clipboard towards her while the other opened one of the two gates. A quick spell to burn her sigil onto a form and she was through. Even after all of the administrative hoops, it was still early; the grounds were deserted. Loup's feet crunched on the gravel walk that led to the castle.

With only a quick glance at the low stone building that held the Dark Arts offices, she mounted the steps into the castle. The bells may not have sounded, but the building already bustled with activity as servants prepared to meet the day. She gathered only a few glances as she walked towards the stairs to the upper floors. Everyone else seemed to be going into the Great Hall. Curious and not quite ready for a possible confrontation with Lester, she allowed herself to be drawn along with flow. With each step the morning grew more pleasant as the delightful smell of fresh bread and coffee teased. Loup stopped in the doorway, surprised by the number of people there. The staff members, most already wearing their livery of red jackets, spread out along the faculty dining tables. She felt a brief shot of outrage and then was disgusted at herself. At this time of day, there were too many people to fit around the little table in the kitchen. They had to eat somewhere. A few turned to stare at her, but no one motioned to her to join them.

Taking a seat at the least-occupied table, she helped herself to bread and coffee. The coffee proved to be a wonderful surprise. The brew served to the staff was far stronger than what was served to the faculty. The bread was better, too. Chuckling to herself, she grabbed several more slices and spread each with a thick blanket of butter. Breakfast was wonderful. When she had finally eaten her fill, she settled into serious coffee drinking.

The staff relaxed around her, chatting with each other. It took awhile before she realized that she didn't understand a word that was being said. The language wasn't German. It definitely wasn't French. She quickly discarded the rest of the Romance languages and found herself listening intently, trying to understand anything. She was still puzzled when the bells sounded to wake the rest of the faculty. People grumbled. The room clanked with mugs being set down and the soft thunk of jackets being pulled on. Loup refilled her mug and watched as the crowd filed out the kitchen door or into the main hall. She relaxed and enjoyed the silence that lasted for perhaps five minutes until the kitchen staff bustled in and began to clear the platters. A large, beefy woman informed Loup in a thick German accent that she, too, could help. Feeling as though the task was beneath her, Loup made a cursory attempt at piling some of the plates onto a platter. She waited until the other woman turned her back and then disappeared into the main hall and up the stairs.

Once at the top floor, she passed by a corridor of closed doors - a sight that pleased her as it meant that Lester was still not awake. She reached her room and went to open the door and jumped when it swung open at her touch. Drawing her wand, she slunk forward, eyes searching for an intruder, finding none. What she did find was a note on her bed. Sloppy. She should have set her wards before she left. Dropping onto the bed, she pulled her gloves on. It paid to be cautious. One never knew what might be on such a thing. She did an Exhibeo spell to see if there were any spells or charms on it. Nothing.

Satisfied that it would not hurt her, she opened it and unfolded the paper. She didn't recognize the handwriting but the content told her immediately who it was from. "Expected you at 7. I await your apology. RL" Sneering, she began to refold it when another line of writing caught her eye. "Open your window. Something has died in this room and it must be aired." Died? She sniffed cautiously. It smelled normal to her, but she opened the window, telling herself that she needed some fresh air.

Exuberant birdsong filled her room. The effect charmed her to lean out the window and admire the view. From her window, she could see the mountains and, if she stood just so, almost none of the walls or the castle itself intruded on the illusion of endless open space. With a bit more imagination, she could be almost anywhere. The breeze brought her the scent of deer and, in the distance, cattle and sheep. The morning sun slanted into the room, casting a cheery light. Loup allowed herself the luxury of enjoying the effect. The relative warmth and the quiet made her sleepy. The bed seemed to call out and, just as she settled down to take a quick nap, the sound of feet stomping by her door began. The stairway was on a popular path and the new day brought a steady flow of feet and voices by her door. Clearly, a nap wasn't going to happen. Someone stumbled on the landing and fell against her door with a loud thud. The combination of the body slamming against her main defense and the note prompted her to take precautions.

In one of the few containers not filled with books, Loup pulled out a box. The box itself was a thing of beauty - matte black finish damasked with arcane designs. The object it held was plain compared to the container. Gently, she pulled out a small silver chalice. The metal's dull sheen gleamed coolly in her hands as she presented it to each of the cardinal points. Already settled into the comfort of a ritual, her calm rippled briefly until she could find a place to lodge her chalice. Carefully maintaining her grip on the cup, she used an elbow to smooth a place on top of a pile of clothing. The chalice tipped slightly out of perfect balance and required reverent repositioning until it sat properly. Her brows furrowed at the lack of perfection. Another set of feet clattered down the stairs, reminding her that time was of the essence. Her shoulders tensed as she sorted through the container that had held the chalice. The contents clattered and sifted until she pulled out a long, black padded roll tied with a knotted cord. The knot untied itself at her touch. Loup unrolled it slowly to reveal what looked to be an assortment of sticks. She pulled out a holly branch with one end shredded into a brush. With the tools ready, she began.

The ritual was simple and unspoken. One hand raised in a position of offering as the other pulled at a cord from around her neck. A deep breath later, she tugged a small sheath out. One last deep breath and she freed her anthame. The little knife traced a design on her palm; then, with a precision forged from long years of practice, she made a cut at the base of her thumb and forced it to bleed into the chalice. Dark against the silver, the blood vibrated at each word she whispered into the vessel. With her wand, she described a circle - first around the chalice and then around the room, chanting quietly all the time. The two circles glowed faintly, their brightness growing with each word. At the end of the incantation, she bowed to the four points and, taking the holly stick, dipped it into the chalice. At each possible entry to the room, she drew symbols in her blood, reciting different incantations at each one. The floor received its own spell and she worried briefly that there may not be enough for the ceiling, but there was. She had done the same spell so many times. The work done, she charged the wards and felt them activate. Unless they brought a powerful breaker in, she had a place to go, to be safe. With those pleasant thoughts, she dispersed the lingering energies from the spells and carefully cleaned out the chalice. The old cup grew darker and duller with each use. She secured it in its case and began to yawn. A nap was in order.

The wards helped secure the room, but they didn't shut out the noise. When it became clear that people walked up and down the stairs all day long, she abandoned her last hopes for sleep and collected her things for a shower. At least this time she knew where they were.

There were other people there when she reached the bathrooms. She listened for a few minutes, eavesdropping on the conversations. The students had already started to arrive. Keeping to the walls, she tried to remain unseen. The girls were finishing up, pulling their red robes over themselves and were completely involved in their own world. Loup drew back behind what looked to be lockers and waited them out. She listened to them giggle over boys and grumble about their schedules. Several talked about classes in the Dark Arts and had quite a lot to say about the teachers here. Loup sat down on the floor and listened more closely.

She heard complaints and compliments about Rose Jones' courses. Two of the five girls were enrolled in Jones' Special Projects course and were very excited about it. One of the others had taken the Ritual Magic class the year previous and whined about the amount of homework involved. She had taken the class to learn how to do love charms, but Jones had never covered the topic. Loup had to stifle her laughter, imaging Jones lecturing about love anything. The image of the short, chubby witch talking about love philters, charms and spells choked a brief snort out that was drowned in a gale of giggles from the girls.

Paul Wronski got the next evaluation. The girls debated as to whether Wronski was cute or not, with two saying yes and two saying no, and the last girl having no idea who he was. The four agreed that they thought Wronski didn't seem to fit their image of someone in the Dark Arts. Since she couldn't see any of them, Loup had to identify them by their voices. The one with the lowest voice wondered if Wronski had a girlfriend. Loup smiled and wondered if they'd like inside information as to his very single status.

The giggliest of the girls had classes with both Kessler and Gregorov on her schedule. She had a lot of opinions about Kessler who had dated her cousin Inge the year before. Over the summer, Inge had shared a lot of details about the affair. Too much. Loup heard a lot of details about Kessler's style of lovemaking, what Inge had liked and what she hadn't. Loup tried to ignore the chatter after it became too graphic. Some things should remain unknown. It would be hard to look at Kessler without snickering after hearing the stories.

Gregorov was another matter. The highest-pitched voice had seen him that day and she squealed over his new appearance. "He cut his hair!" Loup smiled, remembering the fight they'd had over that. She stopped smiling when the voice went on about Gregorov's butt and other features. The group discussed the new, improved Dark Spells professor in detail. A new voice, one that hadn't spoken before, mumbled that she had slept with him the year before. Loup inched forward to see who was talking and recognized the girl immediately. The group all leaned towards the small, dark-haired girl who looked decidedly uncomfortable at being in the center of attention.

"Well?" another brunette girl, this one with the giggly voice, asked.

The object of their attention squirmed and tried to change the subject. The other girls closed in, smelling fear. "It was alright. He likes to talk."

"Talk?" The giggler edged closer.

Talk?

Loup wondered.

"Yeah. He talks. You know..." The girl looked down and grabbed her bag. "I want to get unpacked."

The rest grabbed up their bags and followed, leaving an amused Loup to use the facilities in peace.

The shower cleared her head considerably. She dried off and got dressed, enjoying the quiet and solitude. Even when she was done, she lingered in the cold room, waiting to hear the bells so she would know what time it was. They chimed noon. Noon! How could it be so late?

She raced back to her room and, pricking her finger, identified herself to her wards. The glow made her feel safe as she dumped off her clothing. A steady thunking of footsteps announced that the migration of hungry people downwards to the Great Hall had begun. She wedged herself into the crowd and slowly descended the stairs. The smell of lunch made her salivate. The trauma of passing by the Dark Arts' table wasn't as bad this time. Hidden in the group, she merely turned instead of going straight and made her way into the kitchen.

The kitchens were loud with the chopping of knives, pots skidding across the central preparation table, the sizzle of frying meat and, above it all, orders being shouted by the beefy woman who had tried ordering Loup around in the morning. Loup tried standing still in the doorway, hoping to be ordered out or told to get out of the way.

"Decided to finally appear? Lunch is over. The staff ate an hour ago. You must wait until after the meal has been served. There are always leftovers." The woman glared at Loup and pointed towards the round table by the door.

Hungry and annoyed, Loup sulked at the table. This was no place for her. She hadn't spent seven years as an apprentice and then twenty plus years as a Dark Mage to be employed in a kitchen. It was so…low. She slouched lower in her chair as an almost manic level of activity went on before her.

A scullion clunked a huge bowl of potatoes down in front of her and presented a knife with a flourish. Loup and the scullion glared at each other until the worker went back to her own tasks, leaving Loup to share the table with the potatoes.

On her next circuit, the large woman stopped. "Do you want to eat?" she asked. When Loup didn't answer, she said, "My name is Bette. This is my kitchen. All of the food that serves the castle comes from here. I control it. If you want to eat, then you must work. Do you understand?" Loup slunk lower in her chair, preparing a retort. "Do not believe that you can threaten me with magic. If anything happens to me, the Headmaster will not like it. You signed a contract with him. You do honor your contracts, no?

That was enough. Loup hauled herself into an upright position and scowled. The expression satisfied Bette who resumed her circuit, pausing long enough to taste, poke and stir at different stations. Having never been much of a cook, Loup poked at the potatoes with the knife. She knew there were spells for this sort of thing, but she knew none of them. Why would she? Either she ate at restaurants or hunted in her wolf form. Potatoes? Using the tip of the knife, she gave a halfhearted jab at the topmost spud. The scullion who had sat the bowl down threw herself into a chair next to Loup, grabbed up a potato and began to peel. Loup watched, interested in the abstract sense, but not so interested in doing it herself. When the scullion finished peeling the first potato, the knife was pressed into Loup's hand. The mighty fell another notch as she clumsily attempted to copy the sure strokes the other had used.

When the platters came back into the kitchen, she was given the opportunity to eat. Her hands slippery with potato starch, she picked through the leftovers until she found enough to quiet her roaring belly. Lunch had lost its glamour.

After an unsatisfying meal, she had hoped to slink back to her rooms and be alone. Feeling dirty and irritable, she started towards the staircase only to be barred by a peevish Lester. "I expected you last night. Where were you?"

"Can we talk about this later?" She tried to pass him, but he shot an arm out to block her.

"No. I wish to discuss it now."

Standing at the base of the stairs, she was forced to look up at him. He was impeccably dressed and groomed. In contrast, she was sticky with potato starch and smelled of the day's lunch. Her mood blackened.

People straggled by them. Most were wise enough to continue onwards and avoid the passion play. But plays require an audience and a small, but interested one lingered in the hall. She could feel their eyes and caught their scent.

"Is there a problem?" de Rais' soft voice asked in French.

She half turned to see him; her shoulders sagged when she looked at de Rais and could see who else was with him. "No. Thank you." Her voice was flat and her posture defeated. For the interested audience, this was the dialog, not the words.

"That didn't take long," Loup heard Rose Jones say with unmasked delight.

With great effort, Loup looked back up at Lester. He folded his arms in attitude of waiting, looking for all the world as if expected an apology. That would be the scene most saw. Loup could almost feel his dark eyes hard upon her. It was the game of dominance and she had already lost the first round. So much for her alpha status. "Where do you want to talk? Your office or my room?"

"Your room, lady dark? I think not. Follow me." And, like a cowed dog, she followed him, hating every stair she tread. Below, Gregorov watched with interest, trying to catch the nuances.

Haken watched their ascent. "She has nowhere else to go, Yuri. You have placed her in a position where she has to keep his favor."

Gregorov continued to watch her back until she reached the landing of the next floor. "It is done. Siegfried has promised me a year of fine hunting. That should be entertaining." Gregorov sounded tired, not excited by a prospect of hunting - be it deer or girls.