A little note: This story does not include Rafael Jones. It is, however, a look into the life of Sir Lynn Fox, his colleague.
KRAMPUS LESSON
Peter Fox pulled off his mittens as he walked to school
alongside his father, Sir Lynn. Sir Lynn had straight, silver hair, and
glittering blue eyes, whereas Peter got his brown curls and dark eyes from his
mother, Susan. “I don’t know why mother has to fuss so. It’s the last day
before the Christmas holidays, and nothing bad ever happens to children around
Christmas.”
“Maybe not to good children,” Sir Lynn said, though he could think
of all too many exceptions, “but there is danger for naughty children. So put
your mittens back on and don’t worry your mother by getting frostbite. You'll
want your fingertips when you’re older, even if you aren’t thinking of them
now.”
Peter had already stuck his
hands in his pockets, because they’d felt the cold the moment he’d taken the
mittens off. He tried to look as if he was only being condescending as he put
the mittens back on and asked, “I don’t exactly call Father Christmas leaving
coal or switches dangerous. Disappointing, to be sure, but not dangerous.” He
was ten years old, after all, the eldest of four children, and had to show he
was too sophisticated for such threats.
“I wasn’t thinking of Father Christmas, Peter. There are other
things to be concerned with, Krampus being the one most likely to harm you. The
Yule Cat tends to stay in Iceland.”
“Krampus sounds like a pain we would learn about in Latin class.”
“Angustiam dolorificam,”
said Sir Lynn, absentmindedly.
“What’s that?”
“The proper Latin for cramps. Sorry, you were asking about who
Krampus is. I haven’t met him, but he’s said to be half-goat, half-demon--
which I have my doubts about the likelihood of. Half-satyr, half-demon would be
possible. Anyhow, whatever he is, he’s known for finding naughty children the
night before St. Nicklaus’s day, and beats them with sticks, then throws them
in his sack and carries them away.”
“Where does he take them?”
“I think that’s a matter of pure speculation. Some people say he
eats them, or takes them to hell, or to his home, but none of that but the
eating is specific about what happens to them, and while goats will eat
anything, demons generally have no more need for food than any other angel.”
“I thought you knew about all sorts of magical creatures.”
“Well, I do, and I know about all kinds of people. But if you looked
up a random name in a telephone directory and asked me to tell you about him, I
wouldn’t be likely to know them specifically. I suppose the best way to find
out about him is… no, no.”
“I know what you were going to say.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. You always say one of the best ways to find out about
someone is to meet them and judge for yourself.”
“That’s right. But the obvious flaw in that plan is that I am not
a naughty child, and those are the only people who he comes to.”
“I could pretend to be a naughty child,” Peter suggested.
Sir Lynn smiled. “Pretend… yes…”
Peter wasn’t sure he liked his father’s tone on that. “I can make
it believable. Plus, I’ll use a summoning circle so it wouldn’t just be random
bait.”
Sir Lynn nodded slowly. He hadn’t
meant to make this into an investigation, but supernatural creatures kidnapping
children did fall broadly into his jurisdiction, as the official Knight
Protector against occult threats. (A little-known title, to be sure, but one he
had well earned.)
And Peter was diligent when it
came to summoning circles. It had been about the only way to get him to care
about his maths studies. Lydia, the second eldest, certainly wouldn’t be
permitted, as she had a bad habit of dragging her foot through the circle as
she worked. What she lacked in spatial awareness, though, she was making up for
in a knack for languages. Susan found her a great help in translating. The
other two, Percy and Lucy, were so young that their only magical training at
this point was learning to redirect emotional reactions so as not to do
something they would regret, and to not touch things they did not
understand.
Perhaps the reason this was the first
year he’d thought about what Krampus actually did was because this was the
first year one of his children was old enough to volunteer to be bait. That
thought troubled him, and he decided he would talk to Susan about it once he
had seen Peter safely to school. He was good at thinking of the big picture, of
strategy and resources and so on. He wasn’t always grounded and able to think
in terms of appropriateness… a failing he almost certainly got from his own
father. Although he was much older than Susan, he hadn’t had experience
parenting until Peter had come along.
He made a few suggestions and
encouraging remarks as Peter rattled off ideas for getting Krampus to come when
they were ready, and what the design for the summoning circle should be. The
idea of drawing wards on the walls with messy crayon to strengthen the
containment and irritate it on the basis that grownups hate scribbles on
the walls was inspired, in his opinion, and Peter admitted it was
inspired because of how the housekeeper, Mrs. Cook, and the maid, Miss Butler,
had fussed about Lucy’s “floral art pieces” a few weeks ago.
Once the boy was safely at the school
yard (to think, Eton was only a year away), Sir Lynn took a short cut back
through a reflection in a window and stepped out through the full-length mirror
in the vestibule. Susan was on the telephone, taking notes. “Certainly,” she said
with a soft urgency. “We can make room for them. Our own children range from 2
to 10 years of age. Three children? We can take twice that many before we need
to add staff.”
She made a few more notes, reading
back a date, time, and train station information, and then responded, “Happy
holidays to you as well, Neville, and good bye.”
She then looked to Lynn. “Refugee
children. Kindertransport. The Germans don’t want Jewish children, and I knew
you’d agree we need to show them a warm welcome.”
Fox nodded. “If there’s one good thing
to come out of this appeasement strategy, it is that we can at least offer that
now. There’s war brewing, though. It’s nothing but wishful thinking to believe
the Germans only want to recover lost territories and wealth.”
“Is that just an opinion, or are you
remembering the future?”
“Pieces. Not as much as I should like
to know, and yet more than I want to. Don’t worry about how many children they
send us now; there will be more later, from cities. We shall need to set up a
large schoolroom in one of the halls. Best to work on it now, I think. It will
be hard to find craftsmen later. How is your sister doing?”
Susan bit her lower lip the tiniest
amount. When Sir Lynn seemed to suddenly change topic, he was probably
following a connecting thread no one else knew about yet. “Which one?”
“Laura,” Sir Lynn said. “As far as I
know, your youngest sister doesn’t stay in touch.”
“Laura is… I’m not really sure how she
is,” Susan said suddenly, “She called yesterday, and I asked, as one does, and
she simply said not to worry. I thought it was odd at the time, but now that
you ask, I’m bothered. Should we go see her?”
“No, but call her back, and make sure
to be clear that she can come visit any time, for as long as she likes.”
“Of course, she and--”
“Oh, no need to mention him. If she
wants to bring her husband, she can.”
“Must you be so mysterious?!” Susan
was annoyed now. There seemed to be vague hints of trouble and as Laura was her
sister, she ought to be informed.
“I see a very likely future of her
wanting to go somewhere on her own,” he said. He gave a small smile. “And it
will work out very well for all of us if she comes and stays with us for a
while, when she’s ready. But now to the big plan of the day.” He sat down,
patted the chair next to him, and once Susan was seated, he took both her hands
in his. “Peter has suggested summoning Krampus.”
“Who?” Susan looked confused for a
moment, but then asked, “Not that Christmas demon some Europeans believe in?”
“There are more things in heaven and
Earth…” he reminded her.
“I know that very well,” she told him.
“Still, is Krampus really Britain’s problem?”
“Europe rather is our problem,” he
told her. “Krampus included. There’s more than enough evil in the world right
now without a demon increasing it.”
“So Peter is going to summon Krampus
and you're going to talk to him?”
“I’m going to do more than that. I’m
going to find out where he takes those naughty children he makes off with, and
if possible, rescue them.”
She sighed. “I can’t possibly say no
to that. But make sure you put wards on our other children so he doesn’t hone
in on their naughtiness instead. Percy was chewing on the head of his little
toy lamb, and Cook complained of a headache, so he’s been accidentally making
magical poppets of his stuffed toys again.”
When Peter arrived home from school,
he wanted to go directly to the west wing, which had rooms for magic practice,
easily isolated from the rest of the house when needed. Susan insisted he wash
his hands, have a snack, and put his school bag on its hook first.
“You don’t do this with father,” he
protested.
“I pretty much have, except for the
school bag, and a briefcase from the ministry is much the same thing. You have
to concentrate in order to do magic safely, and you can’t concentrate with a
growling stomach and other pressing business on hand.”
He argued no further and he did
appreciate the cheese, cress, and crackers, and milky tea much more than he
cared to say.
“This is going to be a family
project,” she added.
“What?”
“This is the first time anyone is
calling an unfamiliar demon into the house and, with the amount of trouble you
lot get into, I don’t want any of you to not be under our eyes when Krampus
comes. It won’t do any good to have your father watching over you if Krampus is
busy snatching away another child. You two can get started and I’ll round up
the others and be there at 15:45.”
Fifteen minutes. He sighed noticeably
and headed to the west wing. At the first door along the corridor, he gave a
short knock and went on without waiting. That was his father’s private library,
full of books and scrolls and things not meant for people to browse without
oversight, and he knew his father was probably there this time of day,
especially when there was occult action to prepare for. Further on in that part
of the manor, there was a room with slate tiles on the floor and
stone-and-mortar walls. It had one window and the roofing was lightweight,
giving a couple of directions to direct energy one did not want bouncing off the
stone.
Peter took a metal rod out of a cupboard and placed it into a
little hole in the center of one of the large slate tiles. In the same cabinet,
he found some cotton string and a piece of chalk, tying the items together to
work as a compass allowing him to roughly draw the circle. A carved wooden box
held several glass jars and from these he picked one containing sea salt,
another with a gooey mix of honey and sap, and, after consideration, a third
with powdered mica. Yes, mica was the thing. Aligned with Mercury, it was good
for communications and should aid in getting Krampus’s attention. It also acted
to repel negativity, helping to reinforce other protective elements in the
circle.
First, he traced the sticky honey and sap mixture onto the chalk circle
with his finger, making sure to dip his finger again every few inches so the
drawing didn’t end up dry and thin anywhere. Then he sprinkled a bit of the
mica on it, all the way around. He stepped back for a moment, not so much to
admire the sparkling circle, but to make sure there weren’t any cracks through
it or scuffing. Then, he carefully drew another circle a foot beyond the first.
For this one, he laid down the salt, not lightly, but a quarter inch deep. When
his jar ran out, he went back to the box for more.
Sir Lynn came in, then. “Sorry I took so long. I was doing a bit
of research. How’s it coming along?”
Peter gestured to the circle and Sir Lynn pivoted to look. “Oh,
very nice. Mica is an excellent choice.” He stretched out a hand. “Incense,
please. I’ll set up an area for the little ones to give them a little more
cover if things get tricky. “
“He’s only half demon,” Peter said, unperturbed, as he found a
second jar of salt to finish the outer circle.
“Possibly so, but what if he’s the son of Pan? That would make his
other half a god and we would have a much less predictable situation. Never
prepare only for the most likely scenario, Peter. Prepare for anything from the
most likely to the worst possible and you’re pretty well covered.”
“Did you tell Arthur that?”
“I could tell him what I liked. But he was a man of faith and such
men tend to assume things will turn out well for them.” He paused. “I still
prepared for the worst, and that helped.”
“Sorry, father. I didn’t mean to bring back a bad memory. It’s
just… learning where things go wrong is how I try to prepare for the
worst. I haven’t got much of my own experience to draw on, so I have to ask
about yours.”
“And it’s quite right that you do so. One day I’ll go through it
in detail, how I lost my best friend in war. But today, we have sigils to
draw.”
“You’ve got your best walking stick with you, haven’t you?” asked
the boy.
“With the Seal of Solomon carved under the cover. Of course.
Should it be necessary, I should be able to bind him outside the circle. That’s
a fallback measure. What signs are you thinking of?”
“The signs of the archangels at the points of the compass, as my
serious ones, and I also thought this would be how I’d get his attention…”
Peter pulled a piece of notepaper from his pocket. Sir Lynn grinned and clapped
him on the shoulder.
Just then, Susan entered with the other children. Lydia was
wearing some of Peter’s hand-me-downs. She had her own school uniform and a
wardrobe full of pretty things, but she liked her brother’s clothes better.
Lucy, on the other hand, was so sweet looking in her little green dress and
white pinafore, one could almost forget she had a tendency to mentally throw fireballs
when she was particularly upset. Lydia was being helpful, and carried a blanket
so that Susan could try to settle Percy down for a nap, and on her arm was a
basket with some toys, snacks, and other pass-time things. This left Susan free
to guide the two youngest.
Peter gave them a brief wave, but kept his focus on the signs of
the archangels, and Sir Lynn grabbed a piece of chalk and set down two of the
signs himself, then stepped back to make sure things were aligned. He stepped
in to fix some tiny details, then gave Peter a nod.
Peter suddenly rushed over to his siblings, gave Lydia a mild but
rudely sudden shove, pulled a box of crayons out of the basket and used them to
make a drawing on the wall. It was approximately the symbol called the Seal of
Solomon, or King Solomon’s Seal. At least it had the basic Star of David
inscribed within a circle, but instead of the inner details being filled in, it
was depicted as being balanced on the nose of a performing sea lion. That seal
had a clown nose and top hat on.
Susan, having made sure Lydia wasn’t hurt, just offended, began to
sternly remind Peter that a need for something to write with was no reason to
forget his manners. But as she scolded him, a cloud of black smoke appeared
within the summoning circle on the floor.
A deep, menacing voice boomed forth. “There is mischief afoot!
Deeds of selfishness or malice must be corrected.” The smoke began to spread,
slowly revealing the form it had obscured. Krumpus stood at least seven feet
tall, not counting his goat-like horns, and his animalistic legs were likely
not fully extended. Long dark hair covered much of his skin, with his chest and
face bare.
“At least you’re wearing enough to be decent,” said Susan. “Is
that lederhosen?” She continued without waiting for an answer. “And I am
dealing with Peter’s mischief, thank you very much.”
Krampus looked awkwardly away from Peter and her, catching Sir
Lynn’s gaze in the process. “This isn’t how it normally goes.”
“We’re not the most normal household. Anyway, you were really
invited here for other reasons. I need to know more about what you get up to…
normally.”
“Invited?” Krampus was even more uncertain, shifting from one bent
leg to the other. “Is this boy so out of control you want to be rid of him,
then?”
“Nonsense. We concocted this plan together and working with him is
always a delight. Oh, he may sometimes eat too many biscuits before dinner or
write rude poems, but nothing that isn’t simply part of growing up. He only
shoved his sister just now to bait you. Quite clever.” Sir Lynn didn’t mention
that Peter had kept that part of his plan to himself to ensure natural surprise
and anger from the rest of them. He generally made it a principle to support
initiative from those working on one of his projects, and he wasn’t about to
make Peter at any greater risk by expressing disapproval.
“What am I here for, then?” Krampus stamped a hoof down in
frustration. The impact shook the room, but, although some of the powder was
knocked out in thin rays, the circle remained intact. That was why the sticky
layer was so important.
“Mind your manners,” Sir Lynn snapped at him. “You are in my
house, and you are frightening the children.”
“I am supposed to frighten children,” Krampus
snarled.
“You’re a little alarming,” Peter said, “but not that scary. We’ve
seen much worse. That man from Inland Revenue, for instance.”
“You stink!” Lucy complained. He
didn’t just look like a goat, he exuded the scent of a billy goat to go with
it; furthermore, brimstone and other rarer chemical smells still hung in the
air from his crossing between worlds.
Susan, still holding her hand,
reminded her. “We do not say things like that to people. If it is necessary,
we…” Susan was at a loss for a moment. Offering a mint wouldn’t exactly do much
for a smell that came mostly from a hairy, goatish hide. “Well, we be discreet.
Mr. Krampus will not be staying long, I think, so offering him a chance to wash
up would not be in order.”
“Is that why you suggested it to Lady
Hortense last summer?” asked Lydia.
“She had spent the entire afternoon in the heat on a sweaty horse.
Whether she smelled or not, she most certainly wanted to wash up.”
Krampus stamped a hoof down. “Excuse me. This still doesn’t make
any sense. This is not my usual entrance and certainly not my usual reception.
What exactly is going on?”
“Sorry about that,” Sir Lynn said. “Things get a little chaotic
sometimes. You were brought here because of the nature of your other visits to
humanity. I understand that when you come to naughty children, you not only
scare them and hit them with switches, which by the way is in itself
inappropriate, but you are known to stick some of them in your bag and take
them away.”
“That is correct. Except I mostly just scare them and leave the
switches behind to be used if needed.”
“I see. You aren’t exactly volunteering information. In that case,
I further compel you to tell me where you take them.”
“I take them to school.”
“They generally are never seen again. What do you mean by school?”
“It’s a boarding school. For troubled children. It’s… it’s not
easy to explain.”
“So far it doesn’t seem hard at all. Where is it? Who runs it?”
“Well… the location. It’s in between places really. And I suppose
you could say I run it. I leave the instruction to humans, though. Some are
graduates, others volunteer for the job for other reasons. It’s… it would be
easier if you saw it.”
Sir Lynn took a deep breath. The demonic being was offering to
take him to where the children were taken. Sure, Krampus said it was a school,
but compelling a creature of chaos to tell you something wasn’t always
effective, and without compulsion, he could well be lying. If he was lying, Lynn
Fox could be stepping into a trap.
He stepped into the circle. “Peter?” he said softly.
Peter Fox swallowed, trying to quelch a sense of trepidation. If
anything happened to his father, he’d never forget this moment. But it had to
be done, if they were to ensure the safety of the missing children. “To the
outer realms, I release thee. Go back to whence you came.” It was the proper
way to send away a summoned entity, so as not to accidentally release them into
the world.
For a brief while, they travelled through a kind of fog, although
Sir Lynn knew it was probably the same kind of smoke that had come through with
Krampus on his arrival. Such things were common in the liminal space between
demons and the human world, but since he was himself effectively now part of
that space, it did not have the intrusive scent and feel it did in his
home.
It felt like it took minutes to travel, but his heart beat only
once before he found himself on a well kept lawn surrounded by the fog. The
clear area was lit as if by sunlight, but, looking up, Sir Lynn could see no
source.
Krampus noticed. “We have a lot of filters going on. There are
energies that wouldn’t be so good for humans, and this is supposed to be a
haven.” He gestured to a large brick building beyond a playground. “There’s
enough light coming through for us to grow a lot of our own food in a garden in
back.”
Sir Lynn took in everything in view from where he was. Aside from
the surrounding haze and the sunlight without a sun, it would be impossible to
tell they weren’t on Earth, in the plane of existence living people called
home. There were about a dozen kids outside right now, with a pair of women in
nun’s habits keeping an eye on them as they played. It was his turn to be
confused. “I really didn’t expect anything like this. What do you do it for? I
thought you came to punish naughty kids?”
“Oh, most children just need a good scare. But some of them act up
because they don’t have any consistent rules and attention. Maybe their parents
are busy, maybe they don’t know what they are doing, maybe they think they
shouldn’t have to provide structure for their child, but expect the rules of
the world to bend to the pleasure of the family. That last group, and the ones
who create and enforce rules, but do so with inconsistent anger and leave the
children confused and resentful, those are the ones whose children are the
naughtiest.”
“When a child has been misbehaving over the course of years, has a
pattern of worsening behavior, well, that’s when I take them away. Because for
them, it’s not really the child being naughty but the parent. If I can get to
them in time, we can give them the structure they need. A schedule, adults who
take the time to know their names and give them individual attention,
responsibilities, but rights, too, that give them reason to believe they can
trust in us.”
“This is unexpected. You are part demon, right?”
“Sure. My mother was a guardian angel before the war. Like a lot
of the ones on the losing side, she got transformed, made into a sort of
goat-bat woman, but she could still look like a human with enough focus. Well,
when she was on Earth one time, she met a teenage orphan, depressed, leaving
his family herd virtually unattended, and she took him under her wing, because
that’s what guardian angels do, even if the wing has gone leathery.”
“And you decided to do the same?”
“Hey. I’m telling the story. You want to see the gardens?
Let’s go around to the back while I explain the rest of my backstory.” They
turned down a neat, gravel path. “So when he’s gone and rounded up the animals
who strayed and fixed the fences and generally gotten things back under control,
she goes on her way, and she doesn’t see him again until years later. By then,
well, he cleans up nice and she realizes he’s no longer a boy, but a man, and
she rather takes a fancy to him. About a year later, there’s me, but she can’t
take me back to hell with her when she needs to leave, and dad has to raise me
on his own. But I’m way too weird for him to take into town. His parents are
gone so he can’t ask them how to raise a kid. He’s worried the neighbors will
think I’m some kind of monster. So I don’t get a chance to develop normal
social skills. I help out around the farm some, but if I wander off, my dad
doesn’t know what to do about it, so I go into the forest a lot. I guess some
of the old stories come because I was always messing around in there. Jump out
at someone who is on their own to scare them, see them scream and run. When I
got older, flirting around with the nymphs and such.”
“So you weren’t the son of Pan or a satyr-- you were what got
humanity telling tales about them.”
He shrugged. “I guess so. Of course, at the time, I was just
trying to have some fun and see people without causing trouble for my dad. But
that’s the thing. I was kind of rotten because I didn’t know better. So I’m
trying to give other kids who aren’t coping well with the parenting they are
getting a chance to try something a little more structured.”
“It’s not exactly a chance to try, though. You’re kidnapping them,
not asking for consent.”
“They already have more freedom than they know what to do with and
no way of knowing how much better off they will be without it. Of course I’m
not going to ask for their opinion on the spot.”
“It’s not right.”
“You think not? How many messed up families have you seen? When I
got to your house, I expected a drunk father, mother with mental health issues,
and a group of younger siblings bullied by the oldest, who was on the edge of
puberty and about to break into potentially criminal behavior if it wasn’t
nipped in the bud. I didn’t know what to do because I found family unity and
loving support. I’ve barely seen what happy families look like… but I knew it
when I saw it.”
“Ah. Well. We do our best. But what about the families of the
children here?”
“Sometimes they are ones I visited a year before. Other times, I
can see that they been ignoring other warning signs. Guardian angels err too
much on the side of free will and parental rights, but they do often try to do
some interference and correction, and I can see where that’s been falling on
deaf ears. Look, my mom wouldn’t have been a demon if she didn’t think she knew
better what was right than the Almighty. Maybe I’m not doing what I do by the
book, but I’m getting damaged kids to a place where they heal.”
They turned the corner. Sunflowers grew higher than their heads,
blossoms pointing straight above. Climbing peas were trellised against the
building, reaching the second story. Fruit trees had larger than average fruit
weighing down the branches, and the herbs were kept in neat containers to
prevent wild overgrowth. “The plants, at least, are thriving,” said Sir Lynn,
reaching out a hand to a touch the flowers of a mustard plant that had a bee
exploring another part. “Where did that come from?” he asked.
“We have five hives. The original bees came from Earth, of course,
generations ago. Sometimes I bring back a drone or a spare queen, to keep the
lineage fresh. Most things I brought down myself. The lawn, for instance, is
sod I tore up and took here piece by piece. The building is magical.”
“I wondered why it was so
like a modern English boarding school.”
“The
first one was based on Plato’s symposium. I update it as domestic engineering
gets innovated in the human world. Seems to make things safer and more
comfortable for the mortals, and it makes it easier for them to graduate back
if they are used to modern things.”
“Very few
children went to school until the last century. What made you think of it?”
“They
needed lessons. Of some kind. They needed looking after. Schools are a place
where children learn from someone they can trust and respect. And even if most
cultures had them just for the elite, that isn’t always the case. What they
learn has changed over time, too, but they always leave competent in something
that they should be able to put to use.”
“Such
as?”
“Well,
Marcos wants to be a beekeeper. He works with Sister Brigit on the hives.
Kathleen wants to paint and is building a portfolio. Eyes-of-Elk is quite a
good typist and working on her shorthand. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able
to come up with a way to simulate switchboard operation for her, but she can
probably get an office job without it.”
“May I
talk with some of the staff?”
“Certainly.
Anyone in particular?”
“I’m more
interested in their perspectives than their specialties. One of the former
students, I think, and one of the Sisters, and perhaps someone who isn’t your
usual source of workers?”
“Let’s
start with Alice. She’s in charge of the kitchen. I don’t just want to call her
the cook, because she makes sure the children are fed properly, but she also
teaches them, so they will be able to take care of themselves when they grow
up. She learned the same way from Pierre.”
“Who did
he learn from?” Sir Lynn asked casually.
“Hannah.
Although he also remembered techniques he’d learned before coming here. His
father worked in a kitchen, and sometimes left Pierre to handle the food while
he got marinated.”
“You have
an excellent memory.” That spoke well of Krampus. If you supervised that many
people over that much time and remembered them in detail, you had to care. Of
course, it was always essential to verify what one could. He added. “I always
thought of demons as being chaotic, but you’re giving the children stability.”
“I had
too much chaos as a kid.”
Just
then, one of the children ran past them. Well, tried to run past, he collided
glancingly with Krampus, who put hands on his shoulders and stopped him,
“Piotr, what is the rush? You could get hurt or hurt someone when you run
without paying attention.”
“Sorry.
Just excited. We’re going to meet new students today, aren’t we?”
“Possibly
later, but not just now. Would you believe I got distracted by a magician with
a happy home?”
“Why
would that distract you?”
“Maybe
because both those things seem rare.” Then he knelt next to the boy and
explained to him, “He’s got power and influence, Piotr. When you get asked a
question by someone like that, if you are doing right, giving them a full
answer can get someone on your side worth having. Why don’t you say hello to
him?”
Piotr
looked inquisitively at Sir Lynn. “Hello, sir. Who are you?”
“Well,
you can call me Mr. Fox. Have you been here long?
“Just a year. This will be my
first time welcoming new students. I made scarves for them with the school
motto.”
Lynn Fox
scrutinized the one held up for him to see. “‘Caprae non ovium’… that
means ‘Goats, not sheep’.”
“Because we misbehaved, which makes us goats, but also
because we don’t follow mindlessly, and also because Mr. Krampus is a bit
goatish.”
“I see. Very nice craftsmanship, too.”
“Thank you. I used a tool to cut the motto out from felt
that I could sew on and make them all standardized. It’s also faster than
embroidery.”
“Did you learn to do that here?”
“Yes. Mr. Johanson teaches us to work with machines.”
“Is Mr. Johanson a former student?” Sir Lynn asked of
Krampus.
“No. He’s a former counterfeiter. I’ll let you get his
story straight from his mouth for the most part, but just so you understand how
it works. A little boy was going to paint something rude with whitewash on the
same bridge Mr. Johanson was going to jump from. He’d gotten out of prison to
find out he couldn’t get a job and no one in his family wanted to speak to him.
Well, that was a bigger priority than a bit of vandalism, so I pulled him back
from the edge. I guess the boy saw me and ran off, but I offered Mr. Johanson a
place here.”
“Thank you. You mentioned having me on your side.” They
were moving up a few low steps to the kitchen door. “Do you have something
working against you?”
“Just the usual. Maintenance costs, retirement funds, food
bills. Then there’s getting the graduating kids back into the real world.
That’s where someone with your influence might be able to give us a hand.”
“I’ll be frank. I believe we are on the verge of a war.
That wouldn’t make it hard to find work for them. But you have children from
many different countries. They might not feel comfortable sewing uniforms for
an army not their own. Or being asked to put on a uniform themselves-- I
wouldn’t ask it of them, but while I could give them an identity for their new
life, that identity wouldn’t protect them from being treated like other young
men and asked to do their bit.”
“You’re using a lot of euphemisms.”
“War is terrible. It’s easier, sometimes, to avoid talking
about what really happens. That the bit we ask young men to do includes
fighting and dying; losing their innocence, if nothing else. I remember too
much sometimes, past and future. This war-- this one is important. It’s worth
fighting. It’s also worth trying everything we can to make it less horrible.
Krampus, do you only visit the children who celebrate Christmas?”
“No. Like I told you, I grew up in pagan times. It’s just a
matter of which people keep stories of me.”
“I’d like to fund an expansion of your school. Can you… can
you go to Germany, and Poland, especially the ghettos? Just this year, focus on
those children. They won’t be there next year, one way or another.” Darkness
moved behind his blue eyes.
“Are you a seer?” Krampus asked. He looked more closely.
“You’re only half-human yourself. What are you?”
“Someone not quite bound by time.” He paused. “I remember.
I remember the war that is to come, and other things. I remember setting up
documents for the students you collect this year, later on, when the war is
ending. I remember Eyes-of-Elk getting a medal from the War Office, as she
worked with code talkers in the field, translating and relaying information. I
have a friend who is an American senator. I’ll ask him about finding a job for
an Indian girl educated in an English boarding school, a scholarship student.”
His manner was increasingly positive as he continued. “This will work. And
since I have, in one timeline, already interviewed your staff and students… I
remember them. Let’s just go to your office and figure out what I can do to
help with the expansion, and then I can let you get back to your work.”
Stepping between worlds was easier for Sir Lynn than it was for
most. Some beings were all spirit, while others were all earthly. Spirits often
needed help to interact with the earthly world, and it took either a rare gift
or special training for a human to see into the spirit world under normal
circumstances. But Sir Lynn was of both worlds, and could choose when to travel
unaided. Still, in some places the veil was thinner than others. On the one
hand, Krampus’s school was built for earthly beings, and so was more real than
the rest of the astral plane. The timbers were natural wood, the lawn the
children played on was real sod, and they were, in fact, going to go back into
the world one day. So it was as close to earthliness as a hidden realm could
be.
Meanwhile, in his own home, the summoning circle was still there,
creating a kind of tunnel to the spirit world. Easy as mince pie to walk
through. “Home, sweet home,” he said, as he saw his family eyeing him.
Susan’s face fell in dismay. “Where are the children? Couldn’t you
rescue anyone at all?”
“I didn’t need to, darling.” He stepped out of the circle and came
over to kiss her on the forehead, then all of his children likewise. “They were
already rescued.”
He picked up the two youngest children and nodded to his wife.
“I’ll explain everything. Over a bit of cocoa.”
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