The Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen - Delia Sherman [5]
Not a brownie, then. A mortal.
The Pooka put his foot on the bottom step. The face’s owner came outside and crossed her arms over her black silk bosom. In the sunlight, she looked a lot more solid than the Pooka. Of course, she was wider than he was, and much better padded. But that wasn’t it. If I had to describe it, I’d say he was air and she was earth.
I wondered if all mortals were like that.
The Pooka flashed her his most charming smile.
The mortal door keeper frowned. “No exceptions,” she repeated firmly.
The Pooka turned to me helplessly. “I’ve little choice, it seems, but to leave you to face your fate alone. Never fret, my heart. You’ve faced dragons worse than this.”
He shifted into a black dog, lifted his leg on the steps of Miss Van Loon’s, and trotted off across the courtyard into the friendly green oasis of East River Park.
The door keeper tsked. “Tricksters. Well, are you coming in or aren’t you?”
The front hall of Miss Van Loon’s School for Mortal Changelings was long and low and echoing. The ceiling was curved, the floor was a black-and-white checkerboard. A flight of black steps led upward. On the landing stood a tall wooden box with a metal disc stuck into it, ringed with numbers from 1 to 12. A short metal arrow pointed at 9; a longer one hovered just before 12. Below the disk, a long metal rod swung gently back and forth. As I watched, the long arrow jerked forward onto the 12. The box bonged nine times.
I jumped.
“Never seen a clock before?” The door lady was amused. “Well, you’ll learn—that’s what you’re here for. Follow me.”
The door lady led me to a room furnished with more books than I’d ever seen, a big wooden desk, and an uncomfortable-looking chair. Behind the desk sat a mortal woman (I could tell right away, this time) with skin the color of tree bark and gray hair in little coils, like sleeping snails. Despite the heat, she wore a scarlet sweater zipped up to her throat.
“I’m the Schooljuffrouw,” she said briskly. It sounded like “school-you-for-now.” “That’s Dutch for school mistress. You’re late.”
“I got here as soon as I could.”
The Schooljuffrouw pointed to a gray bundle on the chair. “That’s your Inside Sweater. Hurry, now. Tester is waiting for you.”
So school was going to be all about following orders I didn’t understand. Fine, I could do that—I’d been doing it all my life. Still, I was disappointed. I’d hoped mortals would be different.
I took the bundle, bowed to the Schooljuffrouw, and went back into the hall, where the door lady was waiting. “Got your Inside Sweater?” she asked, sounding comfortingly like Astris. “Good. Put it on.”
The last thing I needed on a warm late summer’s day was a sweater. I took off the Pooka’s coat, tucked it into Satchel, and unfolded the bundle. The Inside Sweater had two pockets and a little collar and a zipper. It was wool, scratchy, and made me even hotter than I’d been before. I pushed up the sleeves. The door lady pulled them down. “Against the rules,” she said. “You’ll get used to it.”
We passed the clock, its arrows pointing to 9 and 2, on our way up the stairs. The door lady led me to the second floor, where double doors opened onto a low hall lined with more doors. She pointed at one of them.
“In there,” she said kindly. “It’s time to start getting educated.”
I took a deep breath and went in.
The room contained four other mortal changelings about my size. They were sitting at little tables, looking as hot and nervous as I felt. A tall woman stood between a big desk piled with paper and a piece of black slate with TESTER written on it in white.
“Welcome to Miss Van Loon’s, Neef,” the woman said. She pronounced it Van Lo-ens. “You’re late.”
The desks had chairs attached. I slid into one, catching the pocket of my sweater on the chair back. The other mortals giggled. I kept my eyes on my desk. There were words scribbled on it: “I hat sppelin” and “Phone likes gnomes.