The Copper Gauntlet Page 22

  After eating his fill, Call stumbled to his bed and collapsed, exhausted. He didn’t dream — or if he did, he didn’t remember.

  When he woke up the next day, he realized that his sheets were gritty with smoke and dirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a real bath and decided he’d better take one before Master Rufus got a good look at him and dunked him in one of the Magisterium’s silty pools.

  Looking down at Havoc, he realized his wolf was in even worse shape. Havoc’s fur had turned an entirely different color from filth.

  The washroom was a grotto off the main hallway and shared by two different rooms of apprentices. It had three chambers — one with toilets, one with sinks and mirrors, and one with warm pools that bubbled gently and streams of water that poured down over you like warm rain if you stood in the right place. Walls of rock cleverly separated all of the individual bathing areas, so that multiple people could bathe at the same time without having to see one another with their clothes off.

  Call went over to one of the pools, hung his towel on a hook, stripped off the filthy civilian clothes he’d fallen asleep in and climbed in. The water was so hot it was almost uncomfortable at first, until his muscles relaxed. Then it felt amazing. Even his leg felt good.

  “Come on in,” he told Havoc.

  The wolf hesitated, sniffing the air. Then he took a suspicious lick of the water. Once, this would have annoyed Call, but now he found the idea that Havoc didn’t automatically do what he wanted to be a huge relief.

  “Call?” he heard someone say. It was a voice coming from the other side of the rock wall of his bath. A very familiar girl’s voice.

  “Tamara?” His voice went a little squeaky. “I’m taking a bath!”

  “I know,” she said. “But there’s no one else in here and we need to talk.”

  “I don’t know if you know this,” he said. “But mostly people take baths with their clothes off.”

  “I’m on the other side of a wall!” she said, sounding exasperated. “And it’s really humid in here and making my hair frizz, so could we just talk?”

  Call pushed his own wet black hair out of his face. “Okay, fine. Talk.”

  “You called me a liar,” she said, and the hurt in her voice was unmistakable.

  Call squirmed. Havoc looked at him sternly. “I know,” he said.

  “And then it turned out that you were an even bigger liar,” she said. “You lied about everything.”

  “I lied to protect my dad!”

  “You lied to protect yourself,” she snapped. “You could have told us you were the Enemy —”

  “Tamara, shut up.”

  “Call, I hate to tell you this, but the bathroom is not exactly full of people listening in. It’s just us.”

  “I’m not the Enemy of Death.” Call glowered at his reflection in the water. Black hair, gray eyes. Still Callum Hunt. And yet not.

  “You could have told us the truth about what Master Joseph said to you, and you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t want you to hate me,” Call said. “You’re my best friend.”

  Tamara made a dubious noise. “Aaron’s your best friend, liar.”

  “You’re my best girl friend,” said Call. “I didn’t want either of you to hate me. I need you both.”

  When Tamara spoke again, she sounded less angry. “So I guess what I wanted to tell you is that I don’t want us ever to lie to each other again.”

  “But we can still lie to other people?” Call looked at Havoc, who wiggled his ears.

  “If it’s important,” Tamara said. “But not to each other and not to Aaron. We only tell each other the truth. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Call said, and Havoc barked.

  “Call,” said Tamara. “Is there someone in the bathtub with you?”

  Call sighed. He hadn’t expected his truth telling to bite him back so quickly. “Havoc,” he admitted.

  “Call!” Tamara said. “That is so disgusting.”

  Then she started to laugh. After a second, Call was laughing, too.

  Once Tamara left and Call finished up his bath, he headed back to his room in his robe and pulled on a uniform. When he reemerged, Aaron was already there, clean, dressed, and eating what looked like a very pale pear.

  “What is that?” Call asked him.

  Aaron shrugged. “Magic cave fruit. One of the Silver Year apprentice groups grew it. Tastes a little like cheese, but also like an apple. Want one?”

  Call made a face. Behind Aaron, he saw that their table had a big pile of the weird fruit, some drinks and candy from the Gallery, and what looked like a few homemade cards. A single eyeless fish floated in a glass bowl.

  Aaron followed his gaze. “Yeah, some people were worried about us. Those are ‘get well’ presents, I guess.”

  “ ‘Get back here’ presents,” Call said.

  Aaron grinned. A few minutes later, Tamara came out of her room. Her hair wasn’t frizzed at all: It was in smooth dark braids, and she’d put them up around her head like a crown. Gold earrings hung from her ears, swinging when she moved. She smiled at Call and when she did, he felt his gut twist. He looked away quickly, without quite knowing why.

  “Ready to go to the Refectory?” she asked them.

  Aaron took a last bite of the magic cave fruit, folding the core in half and eating it. He glanced down at Havoc, fluffy from the bath. He smelled a little bit like green-tea soap and looked unhappy about it.

  “Hey, puffball,” he said.

  The Chaos-ridden wolf, striker of terror into the hearts of Iron Year students, looked up with swirling, chagrined eyes. Call reached down to pat his head.

  “We’ll get you some sausages in the Refectory,” he promised. “You deserve to celebrate, too.”

  They headed out into the hallway, only to find Jasper there waiting for them.

  “Uh, hi,” Jasper said. “I was just about to knock on your door. Everyone in my apprentice group is being super weird and staring at me. I mean,” he added, “I am a hero, so I can see how that would be awkward for them.”

  “You’re definitely something,” said Aaron.

  Jasper shrugged. “Anyway, I didn’t want to go to the Refectory by myself.”

  He fell into step with them as they made their way down the hall, chatting to Tamara. It had actually started to feel like Jasper just belonged with them, which seemed like a bad sign to Call. On the other hand, he couldn’t be mean to Jasper when Jasper was, against all odds, keeping his secret.

  But sometimes Jasper cut his gaze over and Call wondered if the secret would get too tempting. If Call annoyed him — and Call was absolutely sure that he would eventually annoy Jasper, just as he was sure that Jasper was likely to annoy him — could Jasper continue to keep his mouth shut? If he was trying to impress another student, could he really resist temptation?

  Call swallowed down the cold lump in his throat. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

  “Tell anyone what?” Jasper asked with a half smile.

  There was no way Call was going to say it out loud. “The thing!”

  Jasper raised an eyebrow. “So long as it continues to benefit me.”

  “We need to agree,” Tamara said firmly. “No one says anything about Call. We don’t know who we can trust around here.”

  Jasper didn’t answer her, and there was no way to make him, no way to extort a promise, and even if they were able to make him promise, no reason to believe he would keep his word.

  Call was practically in a panic when they arrived in the Refectory. They were late, so it was already full. Smells of grilled onions and barbecue sauce filled the air, although kids were carrying plates piled high with grayish puddings, lichen, and mushrooms. Call’s mouth began to water despite his having just eaten.

  After the first few apprentices spotted them, words were murmured and everyone’s heads went up. The whole Refectory fell silent. Call, Tamara, Aaron, and Jasper stood awkwardly in the doorway, feeling the wei
ght of hundreds of eyes on them. People they knew, people they didn’t. Everyone was staring.

  Then the room exploded into applause. Students Call didn’t recognize at all were whistling and clapping and standing up on their chairs, chanting and yelling that the war was over.

  Master Rufus climbed atop the Masters’ table, looming over them all. He clapped his hands together and an instant silence fell — students were still moving their mouths, still applauding, but nothing was audible but Master Rufus.

  “Today we welcome back to the Magisterium four students who have achieved an almost unprecedented victory in the history of the Assembly,” he said. “Jasper deWinter; Tamara Rajavi; our Makar, Aaron Stewart; and our newest chaos magician, Callum Hunt. Please welcome them back.”

  The silence spell dissipated just long enough for a deafening roar of applause to sweep through the room.

  “The Enemy of Death, he who sought to make himself and his minions immortal, he who would have defeated death itself, has now met death. We have not one but two Makars in this generation of mages. Every student here has contributed in some small way to this. We are truly lucky.”

  People whistled and clapped. Across the room, Alex Strike winked at Call from under the fall of his messy brown hair.

  “Now, we should remember that while the war is over, we have not yet achieved peace. The Enemy might be gone, but his minions remain. There are battles yet to be fought, and as mages of the Magisterium, it will be your job to fight them.”

  This time there was a much more subdued murmur of applause. Good.

  Master Rufus is right, Call thought grimly. Even more right than he knows.

  “Now. Call, Tamara, Aaron, and Jasper,” said Rufus, turning toward the four of them. “Raise your wristbands. In them you will find a new stone, a tanzanite, representing the greatest of victories achieved in the cause of the Magisterium.”

  Call jerked his wrist up and stared. It was true. There was a purple-blue stone glimmering on his wrist. Beside it was another new stone. A black stone, representing his new status as a Makar, a user of chaos magic.

  Jasper pumped his fist skyward and whooped. Suddenly, the room was full of people shouting: “The Enemy is dead! The Enemy is dead!”

  Only Tamara and Aaron didn’t chant along with them. They looked at Call — Tamara with worry and Aaron with disquiet. They, Jasper, and Alastair were the only ones who knew, Call thought. The Enemy of Death was no more dead than he’d been before. You couldn’t kill a monster when you were that monster.

  Rufus lowered his hands, a gesture that seemed to unlock the students from their places. Everyone started running toward Call and his friends, pelting them with claps on the back and questions about the Enemy and the battle. Call whirled around in a sea of bodies, trying to keep his balance. Kimiya was hugging Tamara and crying. Alex was shaking Aaron’s hand. And then Celia was in front of Call, her eyes rimmed with red, reaching for his arm. Relieved, he turned toward her, thinking that at least she would be normal.

  Moments before she planted a massive kiss right on his mouth.

  Call’s eyes went wide. Hers were closed as she leaned into him. They stood like that for a moment. Call was aware that people were staring at them — Tamara looking shocked, and Aaron, standing near her, started to laugh. Call was pretty sure Aaron was laughing at the fact that Call, having no idea where to put his hands, was waving his arms around like a squid underwater.

  Finally, Celia pulled back. “You’re a hero,” she said, her eyes shining. “I always knew it.”

  “Um,” Call said. So that had been his first kiss. It had been … soft?

  A blush started on her cheeks. “I should go,” she said, and ducked into the crowd.

  “Look at Jasper,” Aaron said, coming up next to Call and clapping him on the shoulder. “What a show-off.”

  At that moment Jasper sailed by, carried around on Rafe’s shoulders as people cheered and sang “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” He had a huge grin on his face.

  Call smiled, too, immediately feeling a lot better. There was no way Jasper was going to say anything anytime soon, not if it meant giving up all of this. Call’s secret was safe.

  “Excuse me,” Master Rufus said, pointing to Call. “I need to borrow you for a moment. That is, if you’re not too busy.”

  Call swallowed a groan of humiliation. Had Master Rufus seen Celia kiss him? Was he going to say something embarrassing about it? Call desperately hoped not.

  Master Rufus led him over to a table in a far corner, a table blocked by a rock outcropping from the view of the rest of the Refectory. At the table, a tall, dark-haired, clean-shaven man was eating a plate of mushrooms like his life depended on it. Alastair.

  Call couldn’t remember any other parent being allowed inside the Magisterium, twice no less, but then the circumstances of his father being there were pretty unusual.

  “It’s been a long time since I sat in this Refectory,” Alastair said, taking a big swig of some greenish juice that Call had never dared to try. “This is the lichen of my youth.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Call said, wondering if the stuff had some kind of addictive properties, given the way his dad was tucking into it. “It’s not so bad after a while.”

  “Mmmm,” Alastair said. Then, after swallowing a final forkful, he stood. “Call, I can’t stay, but Master Rufus agreed that the both of you could walk me out.”

  “Okay,” Call said. “But do you have to go right away? Right now?”

  “I’m afraid I do. There’s still some business with the Assembly. Some more questions to answer. And I have left my affairs in some disorder. But I will see you over the winter holidays and we’ll have lots to talk about then.”

  Call sighed, but after all the terrible things his father had said about the Magisterium, he wasn’t surprised he was ready to leave so fast. Call wondered if he’d visited the Hall of Graduates and looked at his wife’s handprint — Call wasn’t sure if he was allowed to think of her as his mother anymore — but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

  They walked together in silence out of the Refectory and down the long corridors that led to the front gates of the Magisterium, Alastair’s hand on Call’s shoulder, Master Rufus a few paces behind them.

  At the doorway, Alastair turned and put his arms around Call, hugging him tightly. Call froze a little as his dad’s hand smoothed his hair down. He wasn’t a touchy-feely guy, Alastair, but Call could hear his dad swallow as he pulled back from Call and looked down at the band on his wrist. He raised Call’s hand gently.

  “Constantine Madden had this same black stone in his wristband,” he said, and Call winced inside. “But he never had this.” His thumb moved to the purple-blue stone. “The tanzanite. This stone indicates ultimate bravery. The only other person I ever knew who bore the tanzanite was Verity Torres.”

  “I’m not a hero,” Call said. “But I’m not going to be like Constantine. I promise.”

  Alastair let go of Call’s wrist and smiled one of his rare, crooked smiles. “You put yourself in a lot of danger, staying behind in the tomb,” he said. “But I will never forget the look on Assemblyman Graves’s face as long as I live.”

  Call couldn’t help smiling. Alastair gave him one last touch on the shoulder and began to make his way toward the long black car waiting for him on the cleared dirt outside the gates.

  “Take care of yourself,” Master Rufus called.

  Alastair paused and looked back at Rufus, then at Call. “Take care of my son.”

  Master Rufus nodded. Then, with a half wave to both of them, Alastair ducked inside the car. It drove away, the tires squeaking on the gravel.

  Call turned around to head back to the Refectory, but Master Rufus stopped him with a quick hand. “Call,” he said, “we ought to talk.”

  Call turned, full of cold dread. He wondered what Alastair had told him. “Uh, okay. What about?”

  “There is something I did not want to say to you in front of the
other students.”

  Call tensed. That couldn’t be good.

  “Call, there is a spy in the Magisterium. It could be someone on the Enemy’s side. Working for Master Joseph now, most likely. Or it could be someone with a distrust of chaos mages.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You may remember from your Iron Year lectures about the origins of magic that not all parts of the world are welcoming to Makars. Some mages believe that no one should ever work with chaos magic — and that those who can should be stopped or killed.”

  Call vaguely recalled something about that, something about Europe not being Makar-friendly. “Why would you think there’s a spy, though?

  “Automotones.” Rufus spat the name. “The mages here would never have sent a deadly elemental to retrieve you. He was too powerful and too violent. And if we had sent him, we would never have sent him with orders to hurt any of you, even Alastair. Someone here sent him with orders to kill the Makar. We thought that meant Aaron, but now that you’re a Makar, no doubt that same person wants you dead, too.”

  A cold shudder went through Call. Whoever had sent the elemental after them hadn’t been worried about Call’s safety. Which meant it couldn’t have been one of Master Joseph’s minions, since Master Joseph had thrown himself in front of Call to keep him alive. Which meant Master Rufus was right.

  “Go back to the Refectory,” Master Rufus said. “Your friends are waiting for you. We have time enough to discuss the future when your classes begin. Tomorrow. You’re back just in time to go out with the other Copper Years on their second mission.”

  “Second mission?” Call asked, astonished.

  Master Rufus nodded. “Yes, finding seven speckled frogs in the surrounding forest.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Call said. “We killed the Enemy of Death. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “Of course it does,” Master Rufus said with a rare, small smile. “It counts as your first mission. You won’t have to do any makeup work. Now get going.”

  “Tomorrow,” Call echoed. He started back through the passageways of the Magisterium, past glowing crystals and rock formations, his mind a swirl of uneasy thoughts.