The Golden Tower Read online

  “Five days,” Tamara said, and Call gaped at her.

  “Days?” he repeated.

  “Let me bring you some food,” she told him, and rose. He caught her wrist on the way to the door.

  “I have to tell you some things,” he said quickly.

  She smiled a soft smile that was at odds with her usual fierceness. “Later,” she told him, and he was too exhausted and wrung-out to protest. He watched her walk out the door, then slowly and painfully pulled himself into a sitting position. His whole body ached, his leg the worst of all.

  In his memories, in those other bodies, his leg hadn’t hurt. But he didn’t miss the feeling. It had been horrible, being that evil, deathless mage. And being caught in those memories had felt like drowning, gasping for consciousness the way he might have gasped for air. He didn’t know how Aaron had controlled them.

  Are you okay? he asked Aaron. And then, because they were alone, and he wanted to know: Are you afraid?

  Yes, Aaron said. For a long moment, there was only silence in Call’s head. And yes.

  Tamara came back carrying plates of lichen and fizzy sweet drinks. Gwenda and Jasper followed her, carrying even more food — sandwiches, pizza — and setting it up where Call could get to it easily without getting out of bed. Soon his blanket was covered with platters of food.

  Tamara went back to the door as Gwenda and Jasper sat down near Call. “Okay, we’re supposed to tell Master Rufus that you’re awake, but we wanted to talk to you before we did,” she said in a low voice. Then she snapped her fingers. “And someone else wants to see you, too.”

  Havoc trotted in. He seemed a little subdued and looked nervously at Call. For a wolf, he had a great side-eye.

  “Hey, boy,” Call said in a hoarse voice, remembering how Havoc had flinched away from him in the forest. “Hey, Havoc.”

  Havoc trotted up and sniffed Call’s hand. Apparently satisfied, he lay down on the floor and stuck his paws in the air.

  “Master Rufus thinks you were sick from using too much chaos magic,” said Jasper, but he sounded dubious. That was probably because he’d heard Call raving about his memories and burning down cities.

  “That’s not what happened,” Call said. No one looked that surprised. Gwenda took a sandwich and nibbled the edge. “Look, I have to tell you something and I promise it’s the last secret I will ever have. Like if it even seems like another secret is coming my way, I will dodge and weave to avoid it.”

  Liar, some part of him said. Some part of him that wasn’t Aaron, but that he couldn’t hide from Aaron. After all, Gwenda and Jasper still didn’t know there were two souls inside of him. But at least he had told Tamara. At least he wouldn’t have any secrets from her.

  “Okaaaaay,” said Gwenda slowly. “So did you remember being Constantine?”

  “Kind of,” said Call. “But I remember being someone else, too.”

  “Like past lives?” Jasper asked.

  “Exactly like past lives if instead of reincarnation, you imagine me as a mage who learned how to push the souls out of living people and put his own soul inside instead.”

  “Like body-hopping?” Gwenda said, wrinkling up her nose.

  “Exactly,” said Call. “Now imagine he only body-hops from Makar to Makar because he doesn’t want to lose his chaos powers. Imagine him — me — shoving the soul out of Makars through history and then becoming different Evil Overlords.”

  “How many?” asked Tamara.

  Gwenda got up and started toward the door. Call sighed. He supposed he should have expected that.

  “Where are you going?” asked Jasper, and Call wanted to tell him to shut up, not to make Gwenda say whatever awful thing she was thinking, because Call didn’t need to hear it. But Call didn’t tell Jasper to shut up because he didn’t want Jasper to leave, too. He especially didn’t want Tamara to follow them out.

  But Gwenda came back a moment later with a big book called Makars Through History. “Okay,” she said, eyes sparkling. “Were you the Monster of Morvonia?”

  “I don’t think so, actually,” Call said. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “I guess it’s good you weren’t every evil mage throughout history,” said Tamara.

  “The Hooded Kestrel?” Gwenda asked.

  “I was that one,” he answered. “Unfortunately.”

  Her eyebrows went up. Tamara bent to see the page Gwenda was reading from. “Yikes,” she said. “It says here that he used to use his chaos to churn up his victims’ insides. Gross. Like a magical egg beater.”

  “Do you mind?” said Jasper. “I’m eating lichen.”

  “What about Ludmilla of Prague?” said Gwenda.

  Call nodded. “I was definitely her.”

  “She sent a plague of beetles against the men of Prague when one of them divorced a friend of hers.” Gwenda chuckled.

  “No approving of the Evil Overlords,” said Jasper. He turned to Call. “Look,” he said, “we’ve been through a lot together. So much so that I can say that I don’t really care which evil magician you were in your past life.”

  “Lives,” Call corrected gloomily.

  “Water under the bridge,” said Jasper.

  “But you were Constantine Madden,” said Gwenda. “Right?”

  “I was, but it’s complicated. It looks like the original evil mage, Maugris, tracked Constantine down after he’d become the Enemy of Death. He jumped into his body, and no one ever noticed the difference, probably because Constantine was already pretty evil. It does explain, though, why he never really tried to raise Jericho from the dead after that, just moved him to a mausoleum — Maugris didn’t care.”

  Tamara shuddered. “I can’t imagine having someone else’s memories thrust at me all at once like that. No wonder you were so disoriented.”

  Tell me about it, said Aaron.

  Call nodded. He very deliberately didn’t say that if his soul had started out in someone named Maugris, then those memories didn’t belong to someone else. They belonged to him, even if he wished they didn’t. “There was one thing, though,” he said. “I — I mean Maugris — was around for a really long time. And he saw some stuff. Like another Devoured of chaos.”

  For a moment, they were all quiet, looking at him.

  “Seriously?” Gwenda said. “You’re not just messing around? Maugris saw a Devoured of chaos?”

  Call nodded.

  “Do you know how to stop Alex?” Tamara asked, looking as though she was holding her breath.

  “I have a way,” he said. “Maugris managed to purify the chaos out of the Devoured he fought. According to the rules of alchemy, it took four Devoureds of four different elements to do it. But if we can pull the chaos out of Alex’s body, then we can fight him normally.”

  I wish I could fight him, Aaron said. I wish I could punch him right in the face.

  “So he’d live?” Tamara asked. Call couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or not.

  Call nodded. “Maybe if he’d been Devoured longer, then there wouldn’t be as much of him left, but I think he will be strong enough to be dangerous. Remember, he’s still a Makar.”

  “So he could do it, too,” said Jasper. “He could push out someone’s soul. He could jump into another body when he was dying, just like Maugris.”

  Call started. “But he doesn’t know he could do that.”

  “Come on, Call. Think like an Evil Overlord,” said Jasper. “He knows what Constantine Madden did. He knows how he survived the Cold Massacre.”

  Tamara nodded. “Jasper is right. We’re going to have to be very careful.”

  In Call’s head, the beginning of an idea bloomed.

  “At least we have a plan,” said Gwenda, picking up a fizzy drink and taking a big gulp. “I thought we were never going to come up with one. This is pretty exciting, actually.”

  Jasper shook his head, as though mourning the reasonable Gwenda of days past.

  Call thought that after all the being unconscious and r
aving that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but it turned out that after eating and talking, he was exhausted. Whatever the visions had been, they weren’t restful. Luckily that night he didn’t remember his dreams.

  At the bell, he rose, stretched, scratched Havoc, and went out into the common room. Master Rufus was there, waiting for him.

  “Callum,” he said. “I am relieved to see you up and moving. We were all afraid for you, an altogether too common occurrence these days. Since Aaron’s death, you’ve been taking far too many risks. How many times have you overextended your magic? How many times have you done magic that would be dangerous even if you had a counterweight, which you don’t.”

  Call looked down at the floor.

  “Choose another counterweight and do it soon. No, that person won’t be Aaron, but they will keep you alive.”

  Call still didn’t speak.

  Master Rufus gave a long sigh. “I can’t tell you to be more careful, not when the Assembly is sending you up against Alex. But if this is about guilt —”

  “It’s not,” Call said quickly.

  Master Rufus put his hand on Call’s shoulder. “Aaron’s death was never your fault.”

  Call nodded uncomfortably.

  He’s right, said Aaron.

  “None of this is your fault, Call. That would be like blaming yourself for being born.” Master Rufus waited a moment, as though expecting Call to reply, but he didn’t.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Master Rufus went on. “About my own situation. About how one has to sometimes face uncomfortable things.”

  “Are you going to tell your husband?” Call said. “About being a mage?”

  The older man gave a rueful smile. “If we get through this, yes.”

  There was a knock on the door. Master Rufus went to answer it, swinging the door wide. On the other side was Alastair.

  He looked haggard and drawn, as if he hadn’t slept in a few days. His hair was rumpled. “Call!” he exclaimed, pushing past his old teacher. He reached Call and seized him in a hug.

  “Your father has been very worried about you,” said Master Rufus, when Alastair stopped thumping Call on the shoulder blades and stood back to look at him. “He’s been staying in the Magisterium since you first fell ill.”

  “I thought I heard your voice,” Call said, remembering his dad’s words tangled up among the flood of other memories and visitors.

  Alastair cleared his throat. “Rufus, could Call and I have some time alone?”

  “Certainly.” Polite as always, Rufus showed himself out.

  Alastair and Call sat down on the sofa while Havoc trotted over to investigate. After nosing at Alastair’s pant leg, he curled up and fell asleep on his shoe.

  “All right, Call,” Alastair said. “I know this wasn’t the flu or something like that. What happened to you? You were shouting about burning down cities and marching ahead of armies. Is this something to do with the Enemy?”

  Be careful what you tell him, Aaron warned as Call opened his mouth. If he thinks you’re in danger, he’ll drag the whole Magisterium into it.

  He was right, Call knew. So he told his father an edited version of events: that Constantine’s memories had been walled up in his head, that he had let them loose when he’d thought he needed to save his friends, that they’d overwhelmed him until he’d gotten control and shut them back down again.

  Alastair was already half out of his seat. “I don’t like the sound of this. We should get Master Rufus — surely there’s something the mages here can do to make sure those memories either stay put or are removed forever.”

  No, Aaron warned. If they start fiddling around in here, there’s no telling what might happen.

  “Wait,” Call said. “What did they tell you? Did they tell you about Alex Strike?”

  “The boy who came back as a Devoured of chaos? Yes, but …”

  “Did they tell you they expect me to figure out how to defeat him?”

  Alastair sank back onto the couch. “You? But you’re just a kid.”

  “I’m the only Makar they have,” said Call. “And no one knows how to defeat a Devoured of chaos.”

  Alastair looked at him in horror. “My car is parked outside,” he said in a low voice. “We could run, Call. You don’t have to stay here. We could lose ourselves easily out in the normal world.”

  “But then,” said Call, “I think a lot of people would die.”

  “But you would live,” said Alastair, intensity in his gaze. It made Call feel good to know that Alastair put Call’s life above everything else in the world, but the only thing that would make Call different from Constantine or from Maugris was if he didn’t.

  Again he remembered the Cinquain, the line he’d added: Call wants to live. Again and again he’d thought about it, ashamed. Now that line seemed to cut to the heart of the terrible desire that had led him to become a monster.

  Okay, several different monsters.

  Call, Aaron said. Everyone wants to live.

  And everyone deserved to live. Even if that meant Call put his own life at risk.

  “I really have to try,” he told his father. “And I even have a plan. It just — I need some Devoureds to help me. I know a Devoured of fire, but I need three others, for the other three elements.”

  “And what happens to them?” asked Alastair.

  Call shook his head. “They un-Devour him. Regurgitate him. Get him puked up from chaos. And then they wind up being in the same danger the rest of us will be in, fighting a really angry regurgitated Makar.”

  Alastair blinked a few times. Finally, he shook his head and spoke. “Yeah, I know a guy.”

  “You do?”

  “Up in Niagara. He was in the war. That was when he got Devoured. He might listen if we put the case to him.”

  “Can you drive?” Call asked.

  “What?” Alastair said. “Right now?”

  “Right now.” Call stood up and started to wake his friends by banging loudly on their doors.

  AN HOUR LATER the Phantom was flying up the interstate with Havoc’s head hanging out the window, pink tongue flapping in the breeze. Call was in the front seat with Havoc while Tamara, Gwenda, and Jasper sat in the back.

  They’d stopped for fast food already and torn through a box of chicken. Cold sodas were balanced on their laps.

  “Even better than lichen,” Jasper had said blissfully, gnawing on a drumstick.

  The radio was tuned to some jazz station. Call tipped back his head and started thinking about the future. Once Alex was defeated, he would ask Tamara out on a date, a real date. She liked sushi, so they’d go somewhere for a big fish dinner. Then maybe they’d go for a movie or a walk, get ice cream. He started to idly picture it when he realized he wasn’t alone in his head. Quickly, he tried to think of something else.

  He’d like to get Havoc a new leash. Yeah, that was good.

  And me a new body, Aaron reminded him. If you ever want to kiss Tamara again without me being there, too.

  Call sighed.

  “You’re all good kids, helping Callum out,” Alastair said, which made Call feel humiliated and also about seven years old.

  Tamara grinned. “Someone’s got to try to convince him to stay out of trouble.”

  “Someone should,” said Jasper. “Too bad that someone isn’t you.”

  Gwenda knocked him on the shoulder. “Why are you the way you are?”

  “People love me,” Jasper said.

  “So how’s Celia?” Gwenda wanted to know. Jasper scowled. “Still mad at you for being friends with Call?”

  “We’ll work it out,” said Jasper.

  “I hear she didn’t like that your father was in prison for helping the Enemy either,” said Gwenda, and shrugged when everyone stared at her. “What? I hear things.”

  “We will work things out,” Jasper said, tight-lipped.

  “I don’t think I like this Celia,” said Alastair.

  “She came to visit me while I wa
s sick, actually,” said Call. “And apologized.”

  “She did?” Tamara was round-eyed.

  Jasper seemed relieved. “I told you.”

  Gwenda chuckled. “She apologized to Call,” she said. “Maybe she can date him.”

  “But —” Tamara said.

  Jasper looked at her with innocent eyes. “But what?”

  “Nothing.” Tamara crossed her arms and stared out the window. It was getting dark, and there was almost no one else on the road. The GPS showed that they were in Pennsylvania, near the Allegheny National Forest. Tall spiky trees lined the road.

  Alastair cut a sideways, amused glance at Call but said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things. Call stayed quiet, thinking through what lay ahead of them.

  After another half an hour, Alastair pulled off the road into a motel that had a diner attached to it. Neon promised cherry pie and cheesesteak. Call and the others followed Alastair inside as he checked them all into separate rooms and told them to meet outside in forty-five minutes for dinner.

  Call was just pulling on a new shirt and doing his best to stick down his unruly hair with water when there was a knock on the door.

  It was Jasper, wearing a T-shirt that read ANGRY UNICORNS NEED LOVE, TOO. Call blinked at him. “What?”

  Jasper strolled in and sat down on the bed. Call sighed. In his memory, Jasper had never waited to be invited anywhere.

  “Is this about Celia?” Call said.

  “No,” Jasper said, after a pause. “It’s about my dad.”

  “Your dad?”

  His dad’s still in the Panopticon with all the others who joined Master Joseph, said Aaron helpfully.

  I know! Call said. I just don’t know why he wants to talk to me about it.

  Maybe he thinks you have a sympathetic face.

  Jasper went on. “One of the Assembly members told me that they’re considering putting all the mages who sided with Master Joseph to death.”

  Call gaped. “I —”

  Jasper waved his hand impatiently. “You don’t have to care. It’s just that we’re going on this big mission to help out the Magisterium. And if we succeed, you’ll be a hero.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “If that happens, I want you to intercede with the Assembly. They’ll do whatever you want. Tell them to let my dad go.”