Chapter Text
Still thoroughly grounded, Jupiter had taken to dragging himself around the house, miserably testing any door to the outside in the vain hope that it would let him escape.
The window had locked again when he left, and without Raven to pick the lock, there was no way for him to escape.
So it was a welcome reprieve when Mr Smithereens knocked on the door, Bertram in tow, and asked to take him out to tea to clarify some last Wunsoc things.
Unfortunately, Jupiter’s parents were not so jazzed about him leaving the house while grounded, but Mr Smithereens, ever the negotiator, managed to talk them into a compromise. So, Mr Smithereens popped back to his house, retrieved all his fancy teas, and returned to the house ready to make it up himself.
They sat around the North dining table, sipping the fanciest fruit teas (Mr Smithereens had expensive tastes), Bertram and Jupiter kicking their feet, too short to reach the bottom.
Oberon and Belladonna lingered nearby for a while, turning their noses up at Bertram. He was clearly trying very hard to ignore it, but Jupiter shot his parents a particularly nasty glare on his behalf. When their backs were turned, of course.
“So.” Jupiter took a long sip of the very fruity, very sweet tea Mr Smithereens had poured him, “What’s with the doors?”
“It’ll take you to school.” Mr Smithereens said vaguely, stirring his tea mysteriously, “When the time is right.”
“And when is that?”
“Oh, you know the society.” He shrugged, “They take things on their own time.”
“But I want to know now.” Jupiter whined, leaning forward with a dramatic frown.
“This is just one of the parts of being a Wun you just have to get used to, Jove.” Mr Smithereens smiled, eyes twinkling, “The Wundrous Society never tells you anything it doesn’t have to.”
“Surely they have to tell us when we’re going to school, though.” Bertram pointed out from the other side of the table, his tea a lot more… normal than Jupiter or Mr Smithereens’.
“Believe me, when they need you, you’ll know.”
Jupiter groaned, “That’s not helping!” He drew out the ‘e’ sound in a petulant way he would have never allowed himself to be around his parents.
“Look, boys, there’s no point dwelling on it.” Mr Smithereens waved a hand, “Wunsoc will call you when they’re ready to call you. I remember it well.”
“And how long ago was that?” Jupiter grinned.
“A thousand years?” Bertram chimed in with the punchline, meeting Jupiter’s gaze. He looked the way Bertram often did when he finished off one of Jupiter’s jokes, eager, like a puppy waiting for a treat. That wasn’t a bad thing, it just intrigued Jupiter. When he told jokes like this with his friends, the joke rolled seamlessly between them, Bertram always looked like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Jupiter felt bad for him.
Mr Smithereens gave them both a look, “Ha ha. Very funny.”
Sensing that there was no way he was getting answers on the door thing, Jupiter switched gears, “And what about the tattoo-thingy?” He held up his right hand so his patrol could see.
“It’s not a tattoo.” Mr Smithereens shook his head, “Do you really think I’d let them give you a tattoo?”
Jupiter paused, then shook his head. Mr Smithereens was much too reasonable for that.
“It’s something for us to recognize each other by,” He explained, holding up his own hand to show Jupiter his imprint, “Only society members have them, only society members can see them. The pins are for unwuns, the imprints are for us.”
Jupiter blinked a second, “Wait, I could see it before.” The memory flashing in front of his eyes. He had seen that before. It was a bit smudgy, but he saw it whenever he had his eyepatch off, “I never mentioned it, because I didn’t think it was real. I thought it was just…” He gestured in circles, thinking, “A visual smudge.”
Mr Smithereens tipped his head to one side, “Hm. Strange. Though it makes sense, I suppose. If there’s anywhere the imprint would be, it would be on the gossamer.”
“But now I can see it for real.” Jupiter examined the imprint on his own finger, glancing over at Bertram, who was looking at his own imprint.
“Right.” Mr Smithereens smiled warmly at him, “Lucky you.”
Then, he checked over his shoulder, “Look, we have to talk about the elephant in the room.”
Bertram shuffled, knowing what was coming.
“You can’t tell anybody in your unit. About where Bertram is from.”
“But aren’t we supposed to be able to trust them with our lives?” Jupiter recalled the oath they had all sworn a week prior, “Loyal for life and all that. Surely they can be trusted with this.”
Mr Smithereens’ face darkened, “You never know, unfortunately. You’re safe from being deported, Bertram, but you’re not safe from what people might think of you. Assumptions they might make.”
Bertram stared into his tea.
“Surely they’ll understand. I understood.” Jupiter insisted.
“Remember, you weren’t even supposed to know.” Mr Smithereens pointed out.
Jupiter shrank back.
The night before the Show Trial, Jupiter and Bertram had been laying awake together, nervous about what was happening the next day.
Bertram had confessed that he was worried they wouldn’t be friends anymore if only Jupiter got into the society, and that Bertram would be left completely by himself.
Jupiter had promised that they would still be friends, and then to seal that promise, suggested they tell each other their deepest, darkest secrets.
Jupiter confessed that his father regularly broke his things when he was angry, and tore up his room if Jupiter didn’t do exactly what he wanted. He never told anybody that, nobody would ever believe him. His father was so well-mannered in the council office, there was no way he would ever be like that at home. But he was.
In response, Bertram told him that he was from the Republic, and explained everything that being a cursed child entailed.
With all that Bertram went through, Jupiter thought his secret was pretty weak. His father didn’t even hit him. It wasn’t that bad.
Jupiter had promised to keep his secret, but somehow Mr Smithereens had found out.
Bertram hadn’t been in trouble, really, he had just got a strongly worded lecture about keeping sensitive things secret.
Bertram could be kicked out of Nevermoor, he would be kicked out of Nevermoor if the truth came out. Before they got into the Society, anyway.
“But he’s safe now.” Jupiter pointed out, “If we can tell them, that means they won’t say the wrong thing.”
“We’re not having this conversation, Jove. Not now, not ever. You can’t tell them.” Mr Smithereens’ voice turned harsh, signalling the end of the conversation.
Bertram and Jupiter exchanged a glance, Bertram looking away guiltily.
“Yeah, okay.” Jupiter said reluctantly, taking a long sip of his tea.
Mr Smithereens glanced between them, “I’ll leave you two alone to talk about me behind my back for a moment.” He stood up with a knowing smile, walking out to the hallway and hailing one of Jupiter’s parents to locate the bathroom.
Once he was out of sight, Jupiter turned to Bertram.
“It sucks so bad.” Jupiter complained loudly, “I mean, they help me protect you if they don’t know!”
“I don’t need protecting.” Bertram bit back, “Maybe I don’t even want to tell them. I only told you because you said that thing about your dad.”
Jupiter practically flew across the table to shut him up, glancing over his shoulder, hoping his father hadn’t heard, “Shh! Don’t talk about that! I’m not supposed to tell people.”
“Why can’t you have that attitude about my secret? I could be deported if they find out.”
“You’re safe though! Mr Smithereens said so. You’re a citizen now. They can’t deport you.” Jupiter squared his shoulders.
“If they kick me out of the Society, all that goes away. Maybe when they find out, they’ll kick me out of the Society and then out of Nevermoor!” Bertram argued, “It’s not worth it.”
Jupiter whined, “We’re supposed to trust each other with everything!”
“It’s my secret. It’s my decision.” Bertram huffed, “We’re not going to tell them. Mr Smithereens is right, it’s too big a secret.”
Jupiter frowned, but didn’t press the issue further.
Clearly having been waiting just out of earshot and hearing the mumble of their conversation finish, Mr Smithereens re-entered the room.
“All sorted?” He raised an eyebrow.
Bertram nodded, Jupiter didn’t make a response.
Mr Smithereens glanced between them, “I trust you’ve come to the right decision.” He sat back in his chair and finished off his cooling tea, “Now, Jove, I have to speak to your parents for a moment, why don’t you boys run upstairs to your room?”
Taking the hint, Jupiter and Bertram polished off their teas and scampered upstairs.
Once they reached Jupiter’s door, he hesitated before opening it.
“Um. You’re going to see a lot of things on the wall.” He began, a little bit of guilt beginning to roil in his stomach, “Your statue’s not there, though. I put it somewhere safe ‘cause otherwise my Dad could break it.”
Bertram’s eyes widened for a moment, as if he still didn’t believe the present was extremely important to Jupiter, “That- It’s okay.”
Jupiter opened the door and allowed Bertram in.
He was a little nervous, being completely honest. He had been in Bertram’s room a number of times, but he had avoided ever inviting Bertram over to his house. His parents didn’t respect Bertram, he knew that, why would he bring his friend into something he knew he would suffer in?
It was hard enough to see him walk in with Mr Smithereens.
He shut the door behind Bertram, closing them off from the world.
Jupiter watched Bertram walk around like a hawk, as if he could snap at any moment, as if Bertram would notice the little details that were off about it. Things that he hadn’t quite cleaned up, things his mother or father would snap at him for. He was supposed to keep it pristine.
But Bertram didn’t seem to mind.
He sat down on Jupiter’s bed. “This looks a bit like my bedroom back in Jackalfax.” He glanced around, eyes falling on the little fox plushie badly tucked under Jupiter’s covers.
Jupiter’s heart skipped a beat and he raced across the room to grab up the little bundle before he could be seen.
Bertram flinched back, looking confused as Jupiter snatched his toy.
“Sorry.” Jupiter cradled Tricky, the fox, in his arms, carefully smoothing down his ragged fur, “He’s not supposed to be out.”
Much like the stars on the roof of his bed, Tricky was something he was much too old to still have, and equally something he couldn’t bear to get rid of.
Bertram watched Jupiter cross the room to his closet and tuck his friend in the secret drawer where he kept Bertram’s gift and other things he wasn’t supposed to have.
“What’s his name?” Bertram asked when Jupiter turned back.
“Tricky.” Jupiter shut his closet door, “He was named Fuh-Fox when I was younger, but I like Tricky better. I can pronounce the word ‘Tricky’ now.”
Bertram nodded, “Cool.”
Jupiter could tell he wanted to ask why Tricky had to stay in the closet, but also part of him understood, in some way.
A dark shadow crossed Bertram’s face, and not just metaphorically. Memories pinged bright in the fog, but clearly they weren’t great ones, by his expression.
Jupiter wanted more than anything to press further, but Bertram didn’t ask about Tricky being hidden, so Jupiter would just have to bite his tongue.
He sat down next to him on the bed, staring down at his shoes.
“What do you think our Unitmates will be like?” After a minute of thinking for a good conversation starter that didn’t involve telling Bertram things he was quite afraid to.
Bertram tipped his head to one side, thinking, “Like you, I hope.”
Jupiter couldn’t help himself, “What’s me?”
Bertram glanced over, face as neutral as always, “Nice.” He paused for a second, “We can’t tell them about the curse, but if we did, they’d be nice about it too.”
“I’m sure they will be.” Jupiter bumped shoulders with him, smiling reassuringly, “You’re really easy to like.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, “I liked you immediately.”
Bertram pursed his lips, clearly trying not to smile, “I took a little while to warm up.”
Jupiter laughed, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, Bertie.”
—
There was a strange ringing in Jupiter’s ears, something bringing his attention away from the dream he was having and into the real world.
He rubbed his eyes, sitting up slowly. He grumbled under his breath, trying to grab at the last wisps of the dream he was having where he was travelling through space and making friends with cool aliens.
As much as he tried to roll over and go back to sleep, he couldn’t shake a nagging feeling in the back of his mind.
Usually, he was pretty good at rolling over and going back to sleep, but there was something… something…
Knocking.
He sat up again and opened his eyes, gaze jumping immediately to the door that had appeared in the weeks prior. The beautiful pink and golden thing he loved so much.
And the pulsing light emitting from the ‘W’.
Excitement banished any thought of sleep from his mind and he threw off the covers immediately, scrambling over without even bothering to change out of his pjs.
He pressed his ‘W’ imprint to the oval, and slipped through the door the exact moment it opened enough to fit in his body.
The room inside was very brightly lit, so much so that Jupiter narrowed his eyes against it.
It was just as the door slammed shut that Jupiter realized he hadn’t grabbed his eyepatch from his bedside table.
His heart skipped a beat, and suddenly? He was nervous.
His gaze snapped immediately to the cupboards and clothes hooks that lined the walls. They were almost terrifyingly clean, empty of even the Witness signs of cleaning.
It was frighteningly new.
Not completely empty, though.
His eyes found the footsteps on the ground and he followed them around back to where he had just come from. After a second of wondering whether they were his own and he was just confused because of the new environment, he spotted what was hanging from the back of the door.
He approached slowly, examining the clothes.
They were a lot more alive than the rest of the room. They had clearly been lovingly assembled, pressed and arranged on a combination of a hook and a shelf. Everything he needed for an outfit, coat, boots, shirt, jumper, everything. All in black, save for a starched white shirt.
He wrinkled his nose.
This wasn’t really… his style, was it.
Even his parents would have turned their nose up at it. It was dreadfully bland.
But… he supposed that was all he had, seeing as there was no doorhandle to let him back into his room.
He changed quickly, but left the jumper behind, allowing the white shirt to shine through a bit more. As he turned to leave, he noticed something else hanging from one of the hooks. He grabbed it gently, finding it to be a beautifully embroidered eyepatch. The stitching was done in golden thread, and there was an embroidered ‘W’ on the front.
He walked confidently to the door, pressed his imprint to the oval and… it didn’t open.
He tried again.
Didn’t work.
Jupiter groaned, turned around, and reassembled his outfit, including the jumper this time.
The oval on the door then lit, buzzing almost mockingly. He frowned at it and pressed his imprint into it again.
The door swung open, and Jupiter emerged on what appeared to be… a Wunderground station.
How did he know? The little hanging sign reading ‘Station 895’.
He crossed over the threshold and felt his ears pop, wrinkling his face and tapping his hand against the side of his head to try and clear the discomfort. After a second of failure, he shook his head, trying to get used to the pressure while also examining who was around.
There were four other people on the platform. Bertram, who was sitting on a bench far away from the others, Angela Ventus, the girl with the plane, was leaning up against a brown wooden door, surveying the area with dark brown eyes. Then there were two people he didn’t recognise, a lanky black-haired boy with something attached to his ears, and a rigid boy with feathers instead of hair and sharp yellow eyes. Jupiter figured he was some sort of birdwun.
Though he longed to take off his eyepatch and really get to know these people, he kept it planted firmly over his eye. That was a bad first impression.
Nobody likes people who are nosy, Jupiter. His father’s voice whispered in his ear.
After debating introducing himself to the others, he went over and sat down next to Bertram, feeling self-conscious (a quite rare occurrence for him).
It didn’t help that he could see grey poking out from underneath their jumpers and he was still wearing white.
He hadn’t seen any other colours in the strange liminal closet through his door, had he come dressed wrong? Had they set him up for failure? He shuffled nervously.
“You ready?” Usually, that was Jupiter’s line, but Bertram said it first.
“I better be.” Jupiter muttered, eying the nine doors lined up on the back wall.
Most looked more or less normal, the only real standouts were Jupiter’s pink and gold door, what he assumed was Bertram’s door, based on the clockwork exterior, and a beautifully painted sky. Jupiter wanted to guess that belonged to Angela, but he didn’t really know anything about her yet.
“Is that one yours?” He pointed at the clockwork one.
Bertram nodded, confirming Jupiter’s theory.
They continued to watch in silence until a red oak door opened and an olive-skinned girl with messy black hair walked confidently into the room, glancing around with slightly narrowed hazel eyes.
Jupiter liked her already. Plus, he recognised her from their inauguration. She was the one who read the sign aloud.
Her gaze fell on him and she marched over.
“You’re Jupiter, right?” She stuck her hand out, “Rosamund Vespera.”
Her name sparked a memory in him. Her trial had been a video of her being dropped blindfolded in the middle of Nevermoor and finding her way back to her house with no help. And then, to chase away any doubt, she stood on the stage blindfolded with a compass, and turned until the compass was pointing north. She got it completely right.
“The very same.” Jupiter shook her hand, “Can I call you Rosie? Your Show Trial was awesome. You know Nevermoor so well.”
“Sure, and thanks,” She grinned, “I’m not just good at Nevermoor though. I’m a navigator. I never get lost.”
She gestured for him to move over and he squished in closer to Bertram to make room on the bench, prompting a nasty look from Bertram.
“I loved your performance.” She sat down, “It was super ballsy.”
Ballsy was one word for it, ill-advised was the word Mr Smithereens had used, Bertram had told him he was an idiot and also extremely lucky.
They had a plan, originally, that Jupiter would go on stage with a series of items and read them, but part way through Jupiter had noticed that the Elders were very obviously growing bored and practically about to wave him off the stage. It was then when he had switched tactics, reading the Elders instead of the items.
He had exposed a few of their secrets, nothing life ruining, he wasn’t good enough for that yet, but some things they definitely would have rather kept secret. Part of him had expected them to lash out and kick him off the stage half way through the display, but they allowed him to take it to the end and, for his performance, shot him to the top of the leaderboard. Mr Smithereens had tried to chastise him for skipping out on the plan afterwards, but it was very hard to stay mad at somebody who had just secured a place in the most prestigious school in the whole wide world.
“Thanks.” He grinned back, “My patron was so mad though.”
Rosamund, Rosie as he had decided to call her, waved a hand, “Your way got you here.”
He shrugged, “I guess so.”
He kicked his legs for a second then gestured to Bertram, who was still glaring daggers at Jupiter for daring to shuffle a little too close, “This is Bertram.”
“The mechanic!” Rosie said excitedly, her face lighting up, “Those robots were so scary!” Though she didn’t look scared, she looked eager, “The way they skittered across the stage…” She laughed, “My little brother couldn’t believe they weren’t actually living spiders.”
Bertram could barely disguise the grin spreading across his face. Jupiter didn’t have to crack his eye patch to see the pride growing inside his friend.
“Thanks.” He grinned, looking past Jupiter completely, “Do you want to see one up close?”
Rosie nodded eagerly and Raven crawled out of Bertram’s jumper. Rosie cupped her hands over her mouth in shock, eyes wide.
“Woah.” She exhaled slowly, reaching out to get closer, “That’s so cool.”
Bertram held out his arm so Raven could crawl over onto Rosie.
She shuddered at the contact, but accepted the little robot with a mixture of horror and awe.
“It’s so… intricate.” She looked closer, especially at the joints of her limbs.
“Thanks.” Bertram looked like he was practically about to explode with excitement.
While they talked, Jupiter turned his attention back to the doors. More people had arrived in the moments since, a girl with freckles and the kind of red hair that Jupiter’s mother would probably call ‘respectable’. She was already talking to another girl with loose golden hair and a wide smile.
He counted eight people, including himself, seven of them in grey shirts.
His hope of not being the only one wearing a grey shirt was dashed immediately when the final member of their unit slinked out from behind a black hardwood door, a platinum blond boy with thick glasses.
Jupiter tugged on his sleeves, trying to hide his white shirt underneath the long sleeves of his jumper.
He liked to stand out, most of the time, but he was trying to make a good impression here. Wearing the wrong uniform on his first day was not the first impression he wanted to make. His mother would be ashamed.
As if interrupting Jupiter’s thoughts on purpose, the station began to rumble and a whistle bounced off the stone. Jupiter clasped his hands over his ears, as he always did instinctively when he heard migraine-inducing sounds. Trying to go through his first day of school with his head pounding the whole time was not his idea of a good time.
The whistling stopped fairly quickly though, and it heralded the exciting arrival of a single Wunderground carriage. It was very tidy, save for a few bumps and scrapes, and a giant black ‘W’ with ‘895’ painted underneath on the side.
It came to a stop with another brief but piercing whistle and the door opened slowly, revealing a woman.
The woman stood tall, sharp eyes glancing at the members of Unit 895 staring at her with rapt attention. She looked to be in her sixties, her hair a tasteful combination of red and grey that could only be described as ‘salt and paprika’.
She looked sort of scary, like the teachers that would give Jupiter disapproving looks when he’d act out during class. He tried to tuck his collar even further below his jumper to hide the fact that he was wearing the wrong uniform.
“Jupiter North, Witness, Lloyd Kier, Spy, Angela Ventus, Pilot, Rosamund Vespera, Navigator,” She began to read in a raspy voice. Jupiter began to put together the people around him with the memories of the Show Trail, “Bertram Crow, Inventor, Simon Adderfang, Sailor, Gawain Ward, Marksman, Katie Sheppard, Finder, Mina Steele, Swordfighter.” She glanced up from her clipboard, “Anybody missing?”
They all shook their heads.
“Good.” She tucked the clipboard under her arm and stepped aside, “Come on in then. Find your seat.”
After a second, they all stood up and filed in. Jupiter noticed that the dark-haired boy, Simon Adderfang, seemed to be acting slightly after everybody else, though he wasn’t sure why yet.
The inside of the carriage was drab, to be perfectly blunt. It looked just like a classroom, with walls mostly empty of posters, except for a few clearly educational ones, and ten desks. Nine of the desks were small, typical classroom desks, and one was at the front was what he would call a teacher’s desk, longer and with more shelving underneath. The woman stood beside that one.
Jupiter tried to move towards the back, but he noticed that each desk was engraved with a name. He cringed as he realized his desk was right at the front, prime area for his wrong uniform to be spotted. He sat down gingerly, trying to tuck his shirt in as much as possible.
Immediately next to him sat Simon, who had shown a recording of himself braving a storm just off Nevermoor’s coast, and a little further across was the boy who had arrived last, Lloyd Keir, who had (in a similar way to Jupiter) exposed some information that he had collected, though his was not about the Elders, but some other Society figures that Jupiter didn’t care to remember the names of.
Being right next to Simon gave Jupiter a closer look at the things attached to his ears. He hadn’t seen anything like them, bright blue and snaking into his ears. When he turned, Jupiter noticed that the other device had a black circle attached further up the side of his head, blending into his hair.
“Alright everybody, listen up.” The woman tapped the desk to draw everybody’s attention.
“My name is Gregoria Quinn, you will call me Conductor Quinn.” She began, glancing at all of them, then gesturing to the carriage, “This is our Hometrain. For the next five years of your junior scholarship, I will pick you up from here in the morning, and then again from Proudfoot Station at the end of the day. We will begin and end our days here together.” She took a breath, and Jupiter kind of expected her to stop talking, but she continued.
“As your Conductor, my job is to help you settle into your new lives as burgeoning members of the Wundrous Society. That means if you need any equipment for your classes, you ask me, and I will provide it to you. I’ve already put in an order for everything that you will need for now, but if you find yourselves in need of anything additional, requests can come through me. I will work together with you, your patrons, and your scholar mistresses to maximise your potential as scholars.” She stopped for real this time, “Is everybody following so far?”
Simon looked a little lost, but a silent nod rippled through the group.
“Good.” Her eyes twinkled a little and she cracked what Jupiter would soon come to learn was a rare half-smile, “It’s nearly over, don’t worry.” She crossed the room to gently unpin a poster from the wall and hold it up to them.
The poster depicted a circle with three rings, grey on the outside, white in the middle, and black in the very centre.
“The Wundrous Society is divided into two distinct schools. Arcane,” She pointed to the white ring, “And Mundane.” She pointed to the grey one. “The Mundane stream is the largest group in the Wundrous Society, and is made up of people with knacks in disciplines like medicine, sporting, performing, creative, engineering, and political disciplines. They are the first line of defense in managing the reputation and financial health of the Society, which allows us to continue our vital work.” She pointed back to the white one, “The Arcane school included under a third of our members, but are just as important, if not more. Made up of predominantly magical, supernatural, and esoteric knacks.” Her gaze fell on Jupiter in particular while she explained.
“Most of you, those wearing grey shirts, fall under the Mundane school.” She pinned the poster back onto the wall, “But Jupiter here will be a scholar of the Arcane arts.”
So that's why he was wearing a different shirt.
Jupiter didn't untuck his shirt, though. Even though he was wearing the correct uniform, it still set him apart from his Unitmates in a way that made him feel weird. Sure, it felt good to be in an elite group within an already elite group, but he had the nagging feeling it wouldn't turn out to be all it was cracked up to be. It just sounded isolating.
After a second’s pause, perhaps to allow space for any questions the Unit might have but her general demeanor shut Jupiter’s mouth (he imagined the rest of his Unit was feeling the same), Conductor Quinn continued.
“That’s all for my talk about the Society as a whole, as for your specific Unit,” She stood back in the front of the carriage, “Simon, who is sitting in the front here,” She gestured to him, “Is deaf. You will be taking lessons in Nevermoorian Sign Language as a Unit in order to better communicate with your new Unitmate.”
All eyes turned to Simon and he looked embarrassed at the attention.
“That’s all. Talk amongst yourselves.” Conductor Quinn turned to duck into the driving compartment.
Summoning up all his courage, Jupiter stuck up his hand, “Um, Conductor?”
She turned, “Yes?”
“Can you… not blow the whistle? This time?” He tried to make strong eye contact, “I get migraines, and the sound is really similar to what triggers them.”
Apart from… all the other factors.
She nodded, “Of course.” And sat down in the driver’s seat and the carriage roared into life. The whistle didn’t sound.
Simon tapped on Jupiter’s desk, drawing his attention.
“I don’t uh… Like whistles either.” Simon spoke with strange intonation, “Makes uh…” He tapped his fists together, paused, then made a ‘eeee’ sound, “That.”
Jupiter laughed, “Yeah! It does.” He tipped head to one side, “But… how do you hear it? If you don’t mind me asking.” He added the last part hastily.
“With these.” Simon gestured to the machines on his ears. He looked eager to explain, but hesitated, “They um.” He made a gesture with his hands, Jupiter assumed one of the signs they would eventually learn, “Make sounds louder.” He thought for a second, “Amplify.” He pronounced the word slowly and carefully, “They amplify sound.”
“Cool.” Jupiter nodded with a grin, “You’re a sailor, right?” He recalled what Conductor Quinn said, trying to keep the conversation going, “Do you have to take them off? When you’re in the water?”
Some of Bertram’s machines couldn’t be around water for the risk of short-circuiting.
“Yeah.” He paused, “Well, I’m supposed to. Sometimes I forget.” He shrugged, “I haven’t fallen in yet, so.”
Jupiter liked Simon already.
They pulled into what Jupiter assumed was Proudfoot Station, and filed out of Hometrain 895, gathering in a pack on the station platform.
They all stared, wide eyed, around. Six platforms with ivy-covered red-brick bridges connecting them, glass waiting rooms and polished wooden benches dotted around. Jupiter spotted two other hometrains, 894 and 892 painted on their sides, pulled into the station. The two units they belonged to were starting to make their way across the bridges, laughing and chasing each other, getting excited for the day ahead.
Jupiter glanced excitedly at his new brothers and sisters, hoping that would be them one day.
“Alright, Unit 895.” Conductor Quinn stepped off Hometrain and locked the door behind her, “Welcome to Proudfoot Station, let’s go.”
They waded through the sea of people bustling around, trying to keep sight of each other.
Jupiter was falling behind, though. Posters covered the walls of the station, he wanted to read them all, but it was difficult to keep up with both. Just as Conductor Quinn slipped away from his vision and he began to panic, a hand grabbed his arm.
“Don’t get lost.” She said. It was the golden-haired girl.
He tried to recall her Show Trail, “Sorry.” He apologized preemptively, unable to recall who she was from the list of names.
“What?” She gave him a weird look.
“I can’t remember your name.” He muttered, jogging to keep up and stop himself from being dragged.
“Mina.” She said, letting him go once he had caught up, “You’re Jupiter, right?”
He nodded.
“Nice to meet you.” She gave him a crooked smile and turned back to following Conductor Quinn.
Jupiter kept up a lot better after that. Most of the posters had disappeared as they found their way underneath a canopy of trees. He managed to catch up with the rest of his Unit as the crowd thinned.
“Don’t look into the woods. Don’t stray off the path.” Their conductor warned, “The Whining Woods have a lot to say, nothing good.”
Jupiter had never wanted to stray off a path more, and a quick glance at the others showed him that a few others seemed eager too. Maybe they could do it as a Unit, something to bond over.
Conductor Quinn led them to the steps of Proudfoot House, then glanced around. She frowned.
“Where is he…” She muttered under her breath, eyeing the stairs.
“HELLO UNIT 895!” A voice echoed around them as if bouncing around the walls of a small room, “ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR WUNSOC TOUR?”
It sounded like a trollosseum announcer.
Early morning light was flitting through the last of the trees, but suddenly it went dark around them.
“Oh, Divine.” Conductor Quinn sighed, shaking her head.
The Unit drew close together, looking up just in time to see two “spotlights” focused at the top of the Proudfoot House stairs, revealing a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties, wearing an elaborate three piece tuxedo, the coat having dramatic tails.
Jupiter had never wanted to be somebody so bad.
A series of air horns went off from… somewhere, and the man jumped on a skateboard (Where did he get that?) and rode smoothly down the stairs.
“Welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives.” He grinned, coming to a stop in front of the awestruck Unit, the skateboard disappearing in a puff of smoke, “My name is Paximus Luck, and I will be your tour guide for this morning.” He bowed deeply and with much flourish from his hands.
Jupiter was slack-jawed. Was this what a Wundrous Society member could look like? He had only really seen Mr Smithereens and people like him. Calmer people. Older people, if he was being completely honest.
Paximus was the kind of person Jupiter wanted to grow up to be.
“Thank you for bringing them to be, Gregoria.”
“Uh-uh. I’ll stop you there. That’s Ms Quinn to you.”
Paximus deflated, “Sorry. Ma’am.”
She nodded, then turned back to her Unit, “Be good.” She said simply, then disappeared into Proudfoot House.
“That was so cool!” The words burst out of Jupiter before he could stop it.
Paximus’s grin returned, “Thanks! I’m an illusionist. I’ve worked very hard on these.” He glanced down at Jupiter’s collar, “Ohoo! I see you’re Arcane as well. You’ll see a lot of illusionists down in the Arcane halls.”
Jupiter suddenly felt a rush of excitement. He was in the same school as him? Maybe it wasn’t all bad.
“Alright, everybody. Follow me!” He gestured a wide arc and spun towards the entrance.
Jupiter glanced at Bertram, who had ended up by his side. Bertram’s eyes were wide. He looked a little afraid, honestly.
“Let’s go.” Jupiter brushed his knuckles with Bertram’s and followed eagerly after Paximus.
“Our lovely school year is split into two terms.” Paximus launched into the explanation eagerly, “The first begins in the spring, and the second in the autumn. So don’t worry, you won’t miss Christmas.” He winked back at them, “Sure, sometimes, you might have to do some stuff over the holidays, but don’t worry about that just yet. You’re here to enjoy yourselves!”
As a surprise to all of them, Paximus did not lead them up any of the five levels of Proudfoot House, and instead led them down a long, dark hallway. It wasn’t as scary as it could have been, though, Paximus made a swarm of fireflies to follow them around. Jupiter tried to grab one, and it passed right through his fingers.
They skipped the first Sub-Level (“Off limits for you lot. Boring adult stuff.”) and took them straight to what he called ‘Sub-Two’.
“Dining Hall, commissariat, dormitories for senior scholars,” He listed, “All kinds of things to make your life easier.”
He craned his neck to see inside the Dining Hall. It looked nice enough, cozy probably, but he didn’t have much time to, afraid of falling behind again.
“And here are probably the most important thing for traversing the twisting labyrinth that is this campus.” Paximus stopped quite suddenly. Jupiter slammed face first into the red-head’s back, getting a mouthful of her hair.
He stumbled back and cringed, waiting for her to get mad, but she just glanced back at him, “You alright?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” He said quickly, painfully aware of what a terrible impression he was making.
Thankfully, before he was forced to explain himself, Paximus started talking again.
“These are the railpods. It travels in all directions, up, down, left, right, and everything in between. They’ll take you throughout the subterranean levels.” He shepherded the stunned-looking Unit 895 into one of the railpods, apologising to those queuing as he hopped in.
The first noticeable thing about the railpod was a panel on the wall with massive levers, the next was a series of rings hanging from the roof that none of the scholars could reach. Jupiter reached up to attempt it, but his fingertips could barely curl around, certainly not effectively and without significant discomfort. None of them brought their brollies.
“Don’t worry about remembering any of this.” Paximus began pulling levers, “Your imprint knows where you can and can’t go. The railpods can take you basically anywhere though, as long as you’re allowed. Anywhere on Wunsoc and some Wunderground stations off campus, cool, huh?”
They nodded listlessly.
“Hold on everybody!” He announced, hitting one last lever before anybody had the chance to actually complete his request.
As the railpod tumbled across the tracks, knocking the scholars off their feet, Paximus yelled over the noise.
“Subs Three, Four, and Five are for Mundane Scholars! Six, Seven, and Eight are for the Arcane! Sub-Nine is off limits, just like Sub-One.” He rattled off. Jupiter could barely pay attention, “Mundane scholars won’t need to go deeper than Five, sorry Mundanes.”
The railpod came to a crashing halt, and with it the pile of scholars. They untangled themselves from each other, muttering apologies, and followed Paximus out of the railpod.
“Welcome to Sub-Three. We call it the Practicalities department. Medicine, cartography, astronomy, engineering, blah blah blah.” He surged in front of them, “Important for you lot will be. Hm.” He summoned a cartoonish scroll and squinted at the writing on it, “On this level is engineering, cartography, The Map Room, lecture theatres one to nine, and the teaching hospital.”
They popped into a lecture theatre briefly to have a look at one of the lectures, something about aerodynamics that made Jupiter’s head spin but Bertram and Angela look excited.
They continued on to Sub-Four, (“Humanities. History, diplomacy, literature.”), then to Sub-Five, (“Extremities. Everything else. There’s big dragonriding caves. None of you do that but I think they can get planes in there and flood it for boats. Plus the espionage wing. Boy, those classes were fun.”).
When they came to a stop in front of the railpods again, people were beginning to yawn. They had been walking for ages, and if they were anything like Jupiter, they hadn’t eaten breakfast before leaving. Jupiter was starting to feel the ring of a migraine in his ears, a frustrating consequence of being hungry. He was about to open his mouth and ask Paximus when they were going to get some food, when Paximus spoke again.
“Right, this is where the tour ends for most of you. I’ll take you in a railpod back to Proudfoot Station, where Conductor Quinn will meet you to take you home.” He cast his gaze over them, “Jupiter will stay with me for the Arcane tour.”
It sounded daunting, but Paximus’s wide grin made Jupiter feel a little braver.
He ushered the rest of Unit 895 into a railpod. Bertram looked like he was going to put up a fight, but he just stared at Jupiter until the railpod doors closed. Jupiter waved goodbye hesitantly.
“I’ll be back soon!” Paximus called out as they set off, leaving Jupiter alone.
The halls of Sub-Five were big and daunting, but they were especially big and especially daunting when he was left completely alone.
Students bustled around, in and out of classrooms, and Jupiter felt himself tugging at his sleeves. Everything was so loud, and he felt rather alone, standing there without any of his Unitmates. Or even Paximus Luck, who he had only just met but already felt fairly comfortable around.
He waited ten minutes (There was a clock on the wall. He was counting.) before he heard the rumbling of a railpod behind him. He turned around eagerly, waiting for Paximus to exit. Instead, Paximus reached out a hand through the door, grabbed Jupiter’s wrist, and tugged him into the railpod.
“Are you excited?” Paximus’s eyes shone.
Jupiter stared up at him, blinking, “Um. Yes?”
“Of course you are.” He grinned, “Hold on tight.”
Jupiter tried to grab onto something, but the only thing within reach was Paximus’s sleeve.
He didn’t seem to mind, though, he allowed Jupiter to hold on for the rest of the ride.
“Welcome to Sub-Six.” Paximus was a lot calmer than before, Jupiter wondered if he was only talking so loudly so that all nine of them could hear him, “Now, all the Arcane floors sort of… blend together. Literally and figuratively.” He started out of the railpod, glancing over his shoulder and slowing down when Jupiter fell behind, “The rooms and hallways change, you’re not always going to be sure where all your classes are. Don’t worry, though, you’ll get used to it quick- duck.” He cut off his sentence and tugged Jupiter down. Something whizzed above their heads, narrowly missing them. It smashed against the wall, sizzling ominously.
“What was that?” Jupiter squeaked, standing up once Paximus gave him the all-clear.
“Probably a potion or something.” He stared off again, “Arcane students are free to use their knacks in these halls, whereas it’s not allowed in the Mundane halls. And before you ask- yes, you’re fine to go around as a Witness in the Mundane halls. That’s more for knacks like mine. There’s a lot of illusionists down here.” He made a flourish of light as if to demonstrate, “A lot of pranks down here, so keep your wits about you.”
Jupiter nodded, reaching out to hang onto Paximus’s sleeve so he could look around without fearing losing his tour guide. There was so much to look at. Between the illusions being cast by students in the halls, and the puffs of magic issuing from the classrooms, Jupiter wished he had a hundred pairs of eyes so he could see it all.
“If you get lost down here, and you will, the older scholars look scary, but you can always ask somebody. Sometimes there’s even signs on the walls.” Paximus pointed to the wall, where a signpost-looking decal was painted. While they were watching, it shifted, one of the signs pointing in the opposite direction.
“Okay.” He nodded, “I’ll remember that.”
He wasn’t sure he’d remember anything, honestly, the ringing in his ears was starting to get worse with the overwhelming crowds. He was glad he was wearing his eyepatch, this would be a nightmare without it.
“Can we slow down a little?” He was practically being dragged along, “I haven’t eaten all day.”
Paximus slowed down to a normal walk, instead of the speed-walk he had been sporting.
“There’s lecture theatres down here, and a few other rooms, but…” Paximus tipped his head to one side, thinking, “You don’t really have a knack that… fits nicely into any of the categories.”
Great. Jupiter thought miserably, Even my tour guide doesn’t know what to show me. I’m going to get so lost.
“We don’t get many Witnesses through the Society.” He commented.
“We are pretty rare.” Jupiter responded, already mentally checking out of the conversation, trying to ignore the ringing and blossoming pain.
They reached a railpod again and Jupiter sunk to the ground, pressing his face between his knees and trying to block out the lights. He was starving. He was tired. His head hurt. He wanted to go home.
“You alright, kid?” Paximus paused moving the levers to peer down at him.
“Do I really need to see the other floors?” He whined, feeling a little embarrassed at the pathetic tone of his voice, “You said all the floors blend together anyway.”
Paximus paused, then hit a few more levers, “Alright.”
The rumbling made Jupiter want to vomit, but he managed to keep it in until they reached Proudfoot Station.
Conductor Quinn was waiting on a bench, shockingly, with Bertram in tow. Jupiter’s vision was beginning to go blurry, but he could see the scowl on Bertram’s face and his crossed arms. He tried a little smile, but it hurt.
Bertram stood up immediately, running over and shooting Paximus a death glare at the sight of Jupiter’s condition.
“Is he alright?” Conductor Quinn asked Paximus.
“I don’t know, he just-”
“He gets migraines.” Bertram interrupted, still bristling, “You didn’t let him eat and then walked him around for hours.”
“You don’t have to.” Jupiter muttered, holding his eyes shut, “Immalright. Just take me home.”
Conductor Quinn put a hand on his shoulder to guide him back to Hometrain, “Thank you, Paximus.”
Jupiter shuffled along, Bertram following him like an angry shadow.
“You’re going to give yourself a nosebleed.” Jupiter muttered as he got into his desk. Bertram sat in Simon’s chair.
Bertram didn’t respond, still glaring at nobody in particular.
When they reached Platform 895 again, Jupiter ignored Bertram’s offer of late breakfast at Mr Smithereens’ place, and shuffled through his own door, collapsing into the sheets.
He tried to assure himself every day wouldn’t be like that, that now he knew what time school started he could eat beforehand, but the Arcane floors still intimidated him. Was he really going to get as lost as Paximus described?
He pressed his face deeper into his pillow.
He supposed he’d just have to find out.