134. Where Once was St. Cyprian's

It was ten o’clock sharp in the morning on a splendid summer’s day. Alpin and I were decided to continue with the adventure of finding the five magic pencils. So we had flown to Salamanca the Sapient, seat of one of the oldest universities in the world.

We were standing under an arch that rose where once was a church dedicated to St. Cyprian, expert in Catholic magic. St. Cyprian was an occultist who had been converted to Christianity when he failed to cast a spell on Saint Justina, a very pious lady who convinced Cyprian that her God had protected her because He was more powerful than anyone else.

St. Cyprian’s church was built on the site of a  school from immemorial times that had become, during the Middle Ages,  a notorious school of the occult. It was said that in the crypt of the church there was a gate that led to a cave that in turn was an entrance to Hell.   

We passed under the arch and entered the cave and found it to be very deep. Despite the dark, we only stopped walking when we reached a heavy door that barred our way. On it was a five pointed star, upside down. Inside the star were some criss-crossed iron bars that covered a shut spyhole. Little idea did we have of what we would find behind the door. We thought there might be students similar to rock stars.  

“You knock, Arley,” said Alpin. “People like you better than they do me.”

In answer to my knock, the spyhole slid open and a demoness looked out through it. From what we could see of her, she was in the uniform of a maid, for she wore a lacey coiffe and carried a feather duster. She was not a young woman and her skin kept changing from yellow to green and then to blue and grey. I thought it had something to do with the light behind her, which was also unstable. We later learned that her name was Mariálvara, which I will translate to English as Moll Avery.  

                                  

“What the devil do you want?” she snapped at us. “To beg or sell us shit? We don’t help beggars and we only buy souls. It’s too early for that. Get the hell out of here before I fling a pot of pee at you both.”

                               

                

“Good morning, madam,” I said, pretending to be unimpressed by Moll’s rudeness, “We are searching for a magic pencil and have been told there is someone here who has one.”

“What? What bloody magic pencil, what? There’s none of that here. Get your butt out of here, you shameless brat! Wish me a good morning indeed! The nerve!”

And she slammed the spyhole door shut in my face.

                     

“You let me handle her,” said Alpin, sliding determinedly from behind the shadows. He knocked on the door again, banging much louder than I had. “Open this second, you unfriendly fool!” he hollered. “Who do you think  you are? A French doorkeeper? This isn’t about you, you daughter of Satan! I demand to see the headmaster of this stupid school!”

I was stunned, but before I could be afraid what the doorkeeper might do to us, she opened the spyhole, peered at us and said: “Hmm. Look, lads, the boss won’t come out. He’s far too important to do that. And he’s never here at these hours. No, you can’t come in to wait for him. It’s strictly forbidden.”

“We’re of age, if it’s because of that,” I said meekly. “We’re fay and more than seven.”

“Why would your age matter here?” spat Moll. “This is Hell. Anything goes. It’s because you are only two. Only groups of seven are allowed to pass through this door.”

“But what nonsense is this, you dumbass?” said Alpin. “Why seven?”

“Well...it’s one of the boss’s quirks. He likes the number seven. Maybe it brings him luck. It’s not that I don’t want to let you in. It’s not just forbidden. It’s also impossible. The door is designed so it won’t open unless there are seven people waiting out there on the doorstep. Don’t pester me anymore. There’s nothing I can do about this and I have a lot of work to do.”

“So all we have to do is return with five more people, is that it?” said Alpin.

Moll Avery nodded when she saw he had understood and slid the spyhole door shut.

“Let’s go get them, Arley.”

Alpin put his arm on my shoulder and pushed me towards the exit of the cave.

“I’m not sure I want to return,” I said.

“But why not? The maid has scared you? Why, she’s a cinch to handle. All one need do is tell her what she has to do, not ask. You’re too polite, Arley. That won’t do here. When in Rome do as the Romans do. And speaking of Romans, Nauta’s one brave bloke we might be able to enlist.”