A Proper Education: Chapter Twenty-Five

In the blink of an eye, work detail was finished.

Credence greeted her final morning under Sally's roof with unyielding gloom. When she entered the tavern's main room, Sally had already set the counter with two bowls and cups and was waiting with a sad smile.

"Last breakfast," Sally mumbled, struggling to sound confident and cheerful.

Her voice cracked on the last word and tears rushed to both their eyes. They hugged each other for a long while before turning to eat in solemn quiet. Every bite brought them closer to departing, and as much as Credence attempted to dally in her eating, she knew there was no escape from the inevitability of leaving.

It felt like a death sentence.

"I'll walk you to the school," Sally said, her voice unable to reach above a whisper.

"Thank you."

Credence looked at her half-empty bowl, unable to take another bite, her stomach tumbling in nauseous waves. The words fell from her mouth before she could stop them:

"I don't want to leave."

Sally looked up from her breakfast.

"I don't want you to leave, either."

And that was that.

A simple acknowledgment they both needed to hear.

They loved each other like sisters, but they knew their future could not continue by each other's side.

"Oh! I almost forgot," Sally said abruptly and slapped her palm against her forehead. She rushed into the kitchen and returned with a tall vial in her hand.

"Little confession," Sally began with a guilty voice. "Before you got here the school sent this."

She held the vial towards Credence, who instantly recognized it as the Headmaster's medicine. Credence winced, but Sally didn't notice.

"I was supposed to give it to you every day, once in the morning and once at night. They told me I could give you extra as a treat if you did something particularly pleasing. I'll let you in on a little secret though: I tasted some of the stuff and I didn't find anything treat-like in it. It's terribly bitter, bordering on disgusting. I tucked it away and forgot about it." She grinned sheepishly. "I was told it would keep you healthy and alert, but I'd say you've done just fine without it, eh? Something to consider, maybe, that the school doesn't always know what's best." Sally winked. "Though I imagine you don't need to hear that."

Wonderful, scatter-brained Sally, Credence thought with a full heart. You've been more than a blessing, you've been a savior.

"If you still want it...here's the full bottle for you," Sally added.

Credence took the vial and inspected it. Inside swirled that horrible sap, that tainted concoction that came at the expense of someone else's life.

"You're right," Credence said. "I've done just fine without it."

She smashed the vial on the ground, feeling the ultimate satisfaction in watching the shards of glass separate to release the foul liquid inside, and before Sally could remark on the act, Credence grabbed a broom and began to sweep the remnants into a pile.

"If you'll allow me," Credence said, "I'd like to finish this final chore."

***

They walked the long path back to the school without speaking. As they passed the entry gates of the towns, Credence cast a mournful glance at the futility of escape.

Sally took Credence's hand and squeezed it, trying to reassure her. Feeling the woman needed it just as much as she did, Credence gave a small squeeze back.

When the gates to the courtyard came into view, Credence's blood went cold. The school looked like a house of horrors to Credence, and she wanted nothing more than to take Sally's hand and turn them both away from it.

It was there. It was real now.

They were saying goodbye.

A group was already gathered outside the entrance to the courtyard. Families and students loitered, creating a flock of white tunics and laborer clothes. A handful looked just as forlorn as Credence felt, and some of the families were holding hands with their charges, desperate to stay together for as long as possible. It was a small comfort to know that some shared her despair. Other students chatted idly with their family, or with each other, thinking very little of their separation, and Credence felt a pang of envy for them.

A thought flashed in her mind, a fleeting wish that Sally had been unkind to her, but when Credence looked up at the woman, catching the smile and the look of pride in her eyes, she knew that for all the world she wouldn't have Sally any other way than she was.

She was a gift to the towns, even if no one would ever see it.

The gates to the courtyard opened and two domestics took their place on either side to usher students in. Families were not allowed past the gates. Credence would have to go alone from here, back into the wretched, abysmal school.

She wanted to turn to Sally and beg her to run away together. She wanted to tell Sally that the moment she entered the school she would be in danger.

She was shaken from her thoughts when Sally pulled her close for one last hug.

"I won't touch your room," Sally whispered. "It'll always be yours, Credence. It'll always be ready for you, should you need it again. Might even take a broom to it if I get a free second." She chuckled before adding, "I know it's asking a mountain, but when you leave the school I would very much like it if you came to see me. If you can."

"I'll find a way. I promise."

Neither of them truly believed they'd see each other again, but it was enough to dream.

Sally kissed the top of Credence's head.

"Goodbye, little tree."

"Goodbye, Sally."

Credence watched her walk away. Sally looked back only once, her face streaked with tears and a mournful longing in her eyes.

It struck Credence as she watched the woman grow small in the distance, that Sally may have been right about herself. There was a thread of sadness that ran through her, and Credence might have been the only person in the world who had spent enough time in the woman's confidence to see it.

I hope you find peace, Credence wished for her, somewhere other than a bottle.

The instant Sally disappeared, a domestic took Credence's arm and pulled her into the courtyard. The gates closed behind the last arrivals, and the Headmaster was waiting to greet them, perched atop a wooden bench like a falcon looking over its prey.

He clapped his hands to settle the crowd and gather their attention.

"Good morning," he said with a wide smile.

"Good morning," came the lackluster reply. The Headmaster frowned.

"Don't tell me it only took seven days to forget your manners. I said, 'Good morning'!"

"Good morning, Headmaster," the crowd replied with a little more enthusiasm.

Credence didn't respond with them, but glared at the Headmaster.

It was strange to be back within his grasp. Under Sally's care, the school had become a distant nightmare that seemed less real the longer she was away. She looked around for her classmates and found several of them standing quiet and attentive to the Headmaster's address.

The only one she couldn't see, she realized, was Penny.

"Very good, very good," the Headmaster continued. "I see sadness in some of your faces. That is a good thing, though it may not feel so right now. Your journey into the towns has been special to many of you, and a very important step in your life. No doubt you've all had a fascinating time, and I imagine that even if you can't feel it, you've changed for the better. We'll discuss your experience in our lessons, but for now we'll see you back inside for a wash and change of clothes, and after that some breakfast and medicine!"

Credence was greeted in the eating room by a very excited Tildy, who was too young for work detail and had stayed behind at the school. She lunged for Credence, grabbing onto her tightly, and even sat at the table with her, remaining a little too close.

As expected, all anyone could talk about was their work detail. The younger students were keenly interested, and their elders were more than pleased to share what they learned.

But not Credence.

Tildy nagged her relentlessly, but Credence remained terse in her speech. She caught Gregory giving her a pointed look, but the boy said nothing about their meeting in the street. Credence silently thanked him for that, more for Sally's sake than her own.

And now that she was back inside the walls of the school, the horrible memory of what she'd discovered in the Headmaster's room was pushed to the forefront of her thoughts.

All these people were trapped inside a cage with a monster who fed on them.

Who fed others to them.

None were the wiser to the grave danger they were in. None could see the wicked glint behind the Headmaster's eyes.

It disgusted Credence to hear a few of the girls whispering about the Headmaster, and how happy they were to be back under the care of such a handsome, generous man.

When breakfast was finished, it was time for medicine.

Credence took her spoonful, though her mind screamed revolt against such a thing.

This might be a spoonful of Adam.

She swallowed and opened her mouth to show a clean tongue.

The second she was on the other side of the door, Credence spat several times into her hand, trying to void the contents of her stomach. She smeared what she released on the wall, then dragged her tongue across the sleeve of her school uniform to wipe away any remaining residue of sap.

The first lesson of the day began with the Headmaster, and he listened patiently as the students recounted their time in the towns. When it was Credence's turn she answered in kind, reciting dully that she had a pleasant time in the tavern but was happy to return to her lessons.

Neither the Headmaster nor any of her peers made note of Penny's absence. Just like Adam, the girl had been completely forgotten.

Because of the unique morning, the Headmaster granted the returning students some free time in the courtyard. When it was Credence's class' turn to be outside, most spent their time sitting on the soft grass and conversing under the warm sun.

Credence remained alone, tucked in a corner of the courtyard near the cluster of gnarled trees. The youngest one, who she assumed was Adam, was not yet as tall as the others, and his branches were lighter in color.

"I'm so sorry," Credence whispered to the tree. "I wish I could have saved you."

She wondered if Adam heard her.

"But I'll find a way to save others."

Credence was so focused on the trees, she hadn't noticed the Headmaster's appearance in the courtyard, until the front gates opened and she looked over to see him approaching a man in stained and tattered clothing, who was clutching a hat in his hands and looking defeatedly at the ground.

None of the other students gave the pair more than a passing glance, but Credence's attention remained on the men, and she watched their greeting with rising suspicion. She could not hear what they were saying, so Credence moved closer, trying to make it appear that she was wandering the courtyard.

Behind the man was a cart filled with cut lumber, and sitting atop the pile was a red clay pot with a crack up its side. Inside the pot was a thin, curled sapling.

She caught the end of the man's greeting.

"Sorry to arrive so late, Headmaster, it's just...well, we didn't know what to do. That child you sent—she's gone."

"Penny?"

"Wife and I struggled over how to tell you."

"How long?"

"Just this morning. That's why I was late. We feared...retribution. We don't have coin to give you, so I can't buy your loss. But we have this to offer..."

The man patted the stack of lumber.

"We hoped it'd be fair exchange, seeing as she didn't do much during her work detail, beyond her awful wailing, that is."

The Headmaster pushed the man outside of the courtyard.

"Let's talk beyond the gates, shall we?"

Credence couldn't risk listening at the gate without being seen, so she pressed her back against the wall that surrounded the courtyard, moving as close as she dared, praying the barrier was thin enough to carry voices through.

"Don't know why she ran away," the man said, his voice faint behind the stone. "We never hurt her or nothin'. Poor thing was sick most of the time and kept complaining of pain, so we let her sleep. She coughed up something foul and went silent. Days of it, just staring ahead, and no amount of nagging or pushing could move her. This morning we found that plant on her pillow, right where her head would be. Don't know if she meant it as an apology or an insult...but we potted it and decided to bring it to you. Thought you might find use for it, with your green thumb."

"It's in terrible condition."

"Aye, but if anyone could save it, it'd be you."

"Damned runaways."

"Please, Headmaster—I have children. My wife, she's a good woman. We never asked anything of the girl you sent, and we never told her to run off!"

"I'll alert the guards and have them looking for her. I assure you, she'll be found here or by trackers in the woods. We'll have her back in no time and she'll receive the punishment due her."

"That's good news, but—what about me and mine? It's not the girl I'm concerned with, it's my family. If...if you must, just ask for me to get the black stripe. I'll take it for the rest of them, but please, don't ask for my family to be painted!"

There was a pause and the man sniffed.

"I won't call for a black stripe," the Headmaster said at last. "For you, or your family. Penny will be found and brought back, and no one will need to know what happened under your care."

"Honest? And you'll take the wood as apology?"

"I'll take the sapling and nothing more."

"That's more than generous! You sure you don't want the rest?"

"Consider payment filled."

"Does the girl have a family? One that might—"

"That is none of your concern. You may go."

"Thank you, thank you! Pleasant days, Headmaster."

"And gentler nights."

The Headmaster strolled back through the gates, cradling the cracked clay pot like a newborn. Credence knew what it was the instant she saw the sickly-looking thing.

Penny.

And no one but Credence knew why the Headmaster wore a sly grin as he carried his prize into the school.

***

That night in bed, Credence made a vow.

If the chance to escape the towns was behind her, she would go forth with her plan to save the school.

She would free the real Headmaster and help him take down the imposter.

She would possibly die in the act.

But that was her choice.

I make my own destiny.

It's what Ma had given her life for, so Credence could decide what her path in life would be.

She hoped Ma would think it a noble cause.

She hoped Ma would be proud of what her daughter had decided to use her life for.

***

The Headmaster was giving a lecture on the power of olfactory sensation when Credence raised her hand.

"What is it, Credence?"

"I'm sorry, Headmaster, but I need to use the washroom."

"That opportunity is given to you three times during the day. It can wait."

"Please, Headmaster."

The entire class turned to stare at her. The Headmaster leaned against his desk and crossed his arms.

"Are you in danger?" he asked in a slightly mocking tone.

"No, but—"

"You think yourself above my lessons, is that it?"

"No—"

"You will remain quiet and—"

"I'm going to soil myself!"

A chorus of snickers rose from her peers but Credence didn't care.

She was saving them, and one day they might appreciate her for it.

"All right," the Headmaster said and waved his hand dismissively, clearly annoyed. "Return immediately."

"Of course, Headmaster. I'm sorry."

"Just go."

Credence scrambled from her seat and into the hallway, feeling the heat of everyone's judgment on her back. It was vital for her to know where the imposter Headmaster would be, and now was the only time when she had such knowledge.

As it had been before, the door to the Headmaster's room was unlocked. Credence wondered how he could be so careless and leave his personal quarters open—

Because no one is foolish enough to enter his room without permission, her mind bit sharply.

No one except you.

With an equal mixture of fear and determination spurring her onward, Credence went to his desk and retrieved the key to the hatch.

Sitting on a corner of the desk was the cracked pot with Penny inside. It was an ominous sight, a frail sprig beginning to curl in on itself.

The poor thing almost looked sad.

But Credence didn't have time to dally, so she turned from the plant and threw the rug away from the hatch. She plunged the key into the lock, and when she heard the faint click of its mechanism releasing, she grabbed the poker near the fire and pried the door open.

Darkness greeted her from below.

"Hello?" she whispered into it. "Headmaster? Are you there?"

Credence hoped something hadn't happened to the man while she was away.

His voice croaked out, "Galeia?"

"Yes! I've come to help you. I'm sorry...for leaving you before."

"We are both sorry, my dear child. I was not in control of my thoughts. It's that damned sap! I crave it to the point where sometimes I think I might go mad."

"I spit mine out when they're not looking."

"Good girl!"

"I'm going to get you out."

There was a rustling outside the door as students began to walk through the halls. Their noise tore Credence's attention away, and she realized with a heavy dread that more time had passed than she thought. The first lesson of the day was being dismissed, and students were moving on to the second. The imposter had probably already left her room, but where was his next destination?

"You'll have to help me, Galeia. Remember my arms."

How could she forget those twisted branches in place of hands and elbows, clutching at her clothes?

"I have an idea, Headmaster."

She pulled the chair from the front of the desk to the hatch and tipped it halfway over the edge.

"I'm going to lower a chair to you. You'll be able to stand on it."

"You'll make too much noise!"

"I cannot lift you myself. You need to climb."

"All right." The voice did not sound confident with her plan. "I've moved away."

"After I lower the chair I need to get back to my class so I don't raise suspicion. Will it be enough?"

"We can only hope."

"Here it comes."

With great struggle, Credence lowered the chair into the hole. The weight proved too much to keep a firm grip and it slipped from her hands, landing with a great clatter.

Credence's heart fluttered.

"Did it break?"

"No," came the reply. "Now run, Galeia! Run!"

Needing no other prompting, Credence raced from the room and into the hall. Her heart was beating at a furious pace, and sweat had broken across her forehead.

She had done it.

She freed the real headmaster!

But it was only the beginning, Credence knew, and more than ever she needed to remain alert and ready.

The imposter would not be silenced without a fight.

She might even have to use magic to stop it.

She rounded the corner into the hall that contained her first lesson—

And ran straight into the imposter headmaster. The force of their connection knocked him back a few steps.

"Credence!" he cried in shock and she felt the air leave her lungs.

"Sorry, Headmaster!"

"What has gotten into you, girl?"

She fumbled for an excuse.

"I...I...I was—"

"Speak," the Headmaster commanded with a bite in his tone.

"I was...I was afraid I would miss the lesson! I wanted to get back as fast as I could."

It was a decent lie, and Credence was proud of herself for being so quick.

The Headmaster scowled.

"You've already missed it. First lesson ended minutes ago."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Students are not permitted to run in the school. Do you need a punishment to remind you?"

"No! Please! I only wanted to make you happy!"

His face softened. "I've been very generous with you, Credence. From now on, no more running. And no more trips to the washroom during lessons."

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Your class has gone to the next room. You'll make sure to speak with one of your peers and catch up on what you missed."

"I will!"

She began to move on, but the Headmaster reached out and caught her roughly by the arm. Credence winced as he pulled her close and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"My patience with you has reached its end."

Credence met his eyes and saw nothing but a threat in them.

"I understand, Headmaster. No more trouble from me, I promise."

"I hope you're telling the truth. You've run out of chances. Consider this my final warning."

He released her and walked away, wearing a false smile.

Credence rubbed her arm, which was humming with faint pain. The Headmaster had grabbed the scarred portion, certainly on purpose.

She stared after him, and though a shock of discomfort jolted through her, inside she was filled with glee.

I'm not the only one who's run out of chances.