Part 27 (1/2)

”Shall we stash our bags?” Adam asked.

”Might as well.”

They pa.s.sed Mr. Frist, who called after them, ”Train's leaving in three minutes, boys!”

Henry slid open the door to the servants car and then knocked on the door to the storage car, sliding it open. ”Frankie?” he called.

There was no answer.

”Are you there?” Henry called, lifting up the corner of the tarp to reveal her hiding place.

It was empty.

The train whistle shrilled, making Henry jump. ”She's not here,” he said, trying to think.

”Well, where is she?” Adam asked.

”She was sent on an errand,” Henry realized with a gulp. ”I don't think she came back.”

”What do you mean, you don't think?” Adam accused.

Henry closed his eyes, trying to remember. ”The basket she took wasn't back in the kitchen when we got the hamper,” Henry said finally.

”What do we do?” Adam asked, panicked. ”The train's about to depart!”

”We can't leave her!” Henry said.

”Well, we can't stay in the Nordlands, either! What about school? What about money?”

”I'm not stranding her here,” Henry protested. ”We'll figure something out if we stay. There will be another envoy next month.”

Adam went white. ”A month,” he moaned. ”My family would panic. Not to mention, I'm a rubbish servant, and Jewish to top it off.”

”You go back with the envoy,” Henry said quickly. ”Tell the headmaster what happened. I'll stay with Frankie.”

Adam shot Henry a look of pure anguish as the train whistle sounded again. ”Henry, you can't leave me! They'll ask questions!” he wailed.

Henry grimaced at this. ”Cover for me as long as you can. Say I'm feeling poorly.”

”Wait!” Adam cried, but the carriages had already begun to groan at their couplings.

Henry stepped onto the hitch between the cars. ”I have to go,” he said. ”I'll sign on as a servant at Partisan. It'll be fine.”

”It won't!” Adam exclaimed. ”I'll be expelled if I turn up at school without you! And what if the headmaster doesn't believe me and thinks you two have run off together?”

Henry gulped. He hadn't thought of that. The compartment shuddered as the train began to roll forward. ”I don't know what else to do!” Henry cried in exasperation. ”I'm sorry. I can't leave her.” And with that he jumped onto the tracks.

”Henry!” Adam called, and then took a deep breath to steel his nerves. ”Wait! I'm coming with you!”

As they watched the train depart without them, Henry was struck with the horrible realization of what they'd just done. They were stuck in the Nordlands-for a month. The three of them.

Henry bit his lip and brushed off his livery. ”We should get out of here,” he said.

Adam groaned. ”I just jumped off a moving train. Give me a minute.”

”It wasn't moving!” Henry protested.

Adam glared.

”It wasn't moving that fast,” Henry amended.

Adam climbed to his feet and shouldered his bag.

”I can't believe you stayed,” Henry said.

”Neither can I,” Adam said, and snorted. ”The starvation must be making me mental.”

”Well, mental or not, I'm glad you're here,” Henry admitted. ”Come on.”

They changed from their livery in the train station and trudged back up the hill to the Partisan School wearing their raggedy s.h.i.+rts and trousers. Their hands were blistered and raw from scrubbing dishes and soft rains had come overnight, dampening the soil, which clung desperately to the soles of their old boots. They looked tired and wan, with circles under their eyes and stomachs rumbling with hunger.

Somehow, Henry thought wryly, he didn't antic.i.p.ate problems convincing anyone that they were down on their luck and desperate for work.

He was right. No sooner had they turned up at Partisan and inquired after serving work than they were standing once again in the staff kitchen, being scrutinized by the large-bellied man they'd seen sleeping in front of the hearth the night before.

He didn't seem to recognize them, and Henry tried a bit of a Nordlandic accent, explaining that he and his cousin had been living in South Britain before Mors closed the border, and they had some experience with serving work.

The man scratched the side of his stomach, sized the boys up, and asked them to follow him. He lumbered out of the kitchen and down the corridor, twisting down a narrow pa.s.sageway that barely allowed for his girth. The pa.s.sageway deposited them in a much larger and far shabbier kitchen.

”Cook?” the man yelled. ”Got ye some new lads.”

Cook, a man with an enormously drooping mustache and biceps like hams, looked up from the rind of cheese he was slicing. ”What's yer names?” Cook asked.

”Henry, er-Gray. And this here's me cousin Adam, er-Beckham,” Henry said nervously.

”We've been wantin' some lads in the staff kitchen, but let's see how ye do here first,” Cook said with a scowl.

”We're hired?” Adam asked.

”Aye,” Cook said. ”May I not live to regret it.” He sniffled loudly, wiped his nose on his sleeve, and pulled a string that connected to one of the dozen bells on the wall.

”Sit ye down and wait,” the cook said, pointing his knife toward a rickety wooden table with a dreary collection of wobbly stools. Half a loaf of bread sat on the table. Adam's stomach growled loudly as he stared longingly at the bread.

”Please, sir, is there something we might eat?” Henry asked.

”Yesterday's bread's on the table. Take a slice fer yer luncheon if ye've had none,” Cook said.

Adam was already cramming the bread into his mouth with enthusiasm. Henry rather suspected that when they got back to school, Adam wouldn't be nearly so much of a picky eater as before.

School. Henry's stomach lurched at the thought. They were to find out the results of their half-term exams that week. He pictured Rohan and Derrick and everyone going to cla.s.s without them, Rohan alone in their triple room, and Valmont left with running the battle society. Professor Stratford, worrying. Adam's parents.