Page 28 of By the Moonbeam and the Mist
Murmurs broke the silence. We’d talked to snakes last year—and broken up a fight between a boa constrictor and a mongoose during a quarterly test—but only ever interacted with non-venomous ones.
Black mambas… I remembered Fabian and Don warning me to avoid them altogether in Alderwick. This should be fun.
“If you’ll follow me,” Mr. Conine said, “I’ll explain as we walk.”
He began to wind through the smallest passageways of our sector, and we followed in single file. His voice echoed back ashe said, “The Summoners have used their magic to expel the snakes, of course, but…” A gruff laugh. “Mambas are prideful and can hold a mean grudge. No amount of physically removing them will keep them away for long, not when they know where all the food is now. So it’ll beourjob to make the mambas leave for good—by tricking them.”
Interesting. Usually, Mr. Conine warned usagainstbeing deceptive toward animals. The fact that he was encouraging deception now…
Mr. Conine laughed again, probably hearing all our murmurs as we ducked under a painted arch and came to a row of quaint wooden classrooms clogged with objects hanging from strings over our heads: shoes and empty bottles, pocket watches and even some underwear.
“The boa constrictors we dealt with last year are downright docile compared to black mambas. Whereas boa constrictors value companionship in small doses, black mambas value trickery.”
Mr. Conine turned to face us again, his expression tightening into something serious.
“They will try to trick you, to lure you in, so it’s very important that you resist whatever it is they offer. Don’t make any sudden movements, and don’t get too close.”
A group of Summoners passed by, then, each levitating a different object over their heads as if they were balancing buckets. One of them did a double take at the sight of us standing in his sector, and the pitcher that had been floating over his head gave a violent tremor and clanged to the ground.
An instructor screeched out a reprimand. Mr. Conine waited until the boy had picked up his pitcher with his invisible Summoning hands and moved on with the rest of his class before resuming his instructions.
“Your job today is to find a black mamba and trick them into leaving the Esholian Institute. Lie, cheat, steal—I am giving you permission to be the worst kind of person possible when it comes to them. Because trust me—they will see through your lies, but they will commend you for the attempt, and respect you enough to leave. But by the orchid and the owl, class, donotget close enough to touch.”
With that, we all broke apart. Gileon and Nuisance went one way and Rodhi and Emelle went another, so I plunged toward the back of the Summoning sector, where mossy, overhanging branches soon dampened any sound and the wood of the classrooms began to rot.
A tingle climbed up the back of my neck, merging with the constant ache in my head. It was so silent here—besides the low humming of trees—that I looked over my shoulder more than once for signs of any flesh-eating plants swaying nearby.
Nothing. Nothing besides these derelict classrooms with moss-cloaked windowpanes and caved-in roofs. Too familiar. As if I’d been here in a dream or another life.
Just as I was eyeing a broken door with bloodstains splattered on its surface, a high, hissing voice said, “Looking for someone,girl?”
I almost whirled, but stopped myself.Do not make any sudden movements, Mr. Conine had said. So I turned slowly instead.
A pale gray snake, long and slender, had lifted its head from a chipped wooden porch, where it sunbathed in a single strip of light that had broken through the upper canopies. Its scales weren’t black, but I was sure the roof of its mouth would be.
Not that I’d want to get close enough to find out.
“No,” I lied. “Just taking a stroll. What about you?”
The mamba blinked: the only sign it was surprised that I had understood its hissing. That I wasn’t a Summoner who couldexpel it with invisible hands, but a Wild Whisperer who could talk back.
“You smell like you’re troubled,” it said, its tongue flicking out to taste the air. “And slightly sad. Almost as if you are in a constant state of pain.”
“How astute of you.” I backed up a pace as it slithered down the sagging steps and re-coiled itself on the ground before me.
“But you do not tastescared,” the mamba said.“Why is that?”
Because I trusted my knife hand. Because I could feel the antler handle pressed firmly against my thigh, ready for me to wield it.
But I said, “You’ve had your fill of poor, innocent mice, I hear.” Now, more than ever, I was glad I always snuck Willa bits of cheese. She’d never have to worry about venturing out into snake territory for a meal. “Why would I be afraid of you eatingme?”
The mamba seemed to smile, its mouth opening at a slanted angle to reveal two delicate, needle-like fangs.
“Indeed, I have had my fill,but not of mice. Would you like me to tell you about my latest meal?” The mamba didn’t wait for me to respond.“It was a red-sided opossum who’d fallen from a tree nearby. She was wounded, just as you are, and begged me for a dose of my venom to take the pain away. It was a mercy.”
“Is that so?” I tried not to sound too interested, willing the throbbing in my head to go away for one damned second so I could focus. Bored. I had to keep my face bored and disinterested.
The mamba coiled tighter, gathering itself.
