فصل 2

Chapter 2

THE COLLEGIUM, LIKE the Magisterium, was built in such a way that it was concealed from non-mages. It rested beneath the Virginia coastline, its corridors spiraling deep below the water. Call had heard of its location, but still wasn’t prepared for Alastair to stop them as they were walking along a jetty and indicate a grate at their feet, partially concealed under leaves and dirt.

“If you put your ear close to that, you can usually hear an incredibly dull lecture. But tonight, you might actually be able to hear music.” Although Alastair’s words weren’t particularly complimentary to the Collegium, he spoke in a wistful way.

“You never went here, though, right?” Call asked.

“Not as a student,” Alastair said. “There was a whole generation of us that mostly didn’t go. We were too busy dying in the war.” Sometimes Call thought, uncharitably, that everyone should have left Constantine Madden alone. Sure, he’d done terrible experiments, putting chaos into the souls of animals and creating the Chaos-ridden. Sure, he’d reanimated the dead, looking for a way to cure death itself and bring back his brother. Sure, he was breaking mage law. But maybe if everyone had left him alone, so many people would still be alive. Call’s mother would still be alive.

The real Call would still be alive, too, he couldn’t help thinking.

But Call couldn’t say any of that, so he said nothing at all. Aaron was looking out over the waves at the setting sun. All summer, having Aaron at the house had felt like having a brother, someone to joke around with, someone who was always there to watch movies or destroy robots. As the drive to the Collegium had gone on, though, Aaron had become quieter. By the time Alastair had parked his silver 1937 Rolls-Royce Phantom near the boardwalk and they had passed a giant weird statue of Poseidon, Aaron had pretty much stopped talking entirely.

“You okay?” Call asked as they walked on.

Aaron shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just that I was prepared to be the Makar. I knew it was dangerous and I was scared, but I understood what I had to do. And when people gave me stuff, I understood why. I understood what I owed them in return. But now I don’t know what it means to be a Makar. I mean, if there’s no war against the Enemy, that’s great, but then what do I —” “We’re here,” Alastair said, coming to a stop. Waves crashed on the black rocks around them, kicking up salty spray and frothing in little tide pools. Call felt the light rain of it, like a cool breath across his face.

He wanted to say something to reassure Aaron, but Aaron wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was frowning at a scuttling crab. It crossed a braid of seaweed, tangled with a piece of old rope, the threadbare ends floating in the water like someone’s unbound hair.

“Is this safe?” Call asked instead.

“As safe as anything connected with the mages,” Alastair said, tapping his foot on the ground in a quick, repetitive rhythm. For a moment, nothing happened — then there was a grating sound and a square of rock slid aside to reveal a long spiraling staircase. It wound down and down, like the one in the library of the Magisterium, except there weren’t rows of books here, only the curving staircase and, at the very bottom, a glimpse of a square of marble floor.

Call swallowed hard. It would have been a long walk for anyone, but for him, it seemed impossible. His leg would be cramping by the time they got halfway down. If he stumbled, it would be a very scary fall.

“Um,” said Call, “I don’t think I can …”

“Levitate yourself,” Aaron said quietly.

“What?”

“Levitation is air magic. We’re surrounded by rock — dirt and stone. Push down on it and it’ll lift you. You don’t have to fly, just float a few inches off the ground.” Call glanced toward Alastair. Even now, he was a little wary of doing magic around his father, after all the years Alastair had spent telling him that magic was evil, that mages were evil and wanted to kill him. But Alastair, glancing down at the long stairway, just nodded curtly.

“I’ll go down first,” Aaron said. “If you fall, I’ll catch you.”

“At least we’ll go down together.” Call started to back down the stairs, putting one foot carefully in front of the other. Call could hear the noise of voices and clinking silverware far below. He took a deep breath and reached out to touch the force of the earth — to reach into it and draw it into himself, then push off, as if he were pushing off from the side of a swimming pool into the water.

He felt the drag on his muscles and then a lightness as his body rose into the air. As Aaron had instructed, he didn’t try to lift himself more than a few inches. With just enough space to clear the steps, he drifted downward. Though he wanted to tell Aaron he wasn’t going to fall, it was kind of nice knowing that if he did, someone was poised to catch him.

Alastair’s steady footsteps were also reassuring. Carefully, they made their way down, Alastair and Aaron walking, Call hovering just above the stairs. A few steps from the bottom, he let himself drift gently down. He hit the stairs and stumbled.

It was Alastair who reached out to grab his shoulder. “Steady on,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Call said gruffly, and limped quickly down the last few steps. His muscles ached a little, but nothing like the pain he would have been in if he’d walked. Aaron was already on the ground and gave him a big grin.

“Check it out,” he said. “The Collegium.”

“Whoa.” Call had never seen anything like it. The spaces of the Magisterium were often magnificent, and some were enormous, but they were always clearly underground caverns carved from natural rock. This was different.

A huge hall opened in front of them. The walls, the floor, and the columns that held up the roof were all gold-flecked white marble. A tapestry map of the Collegium decorated one wall. There was a huge dais that ran along one side of the room, and multicolored banners hung behind it. Sayings from the works of Paracelsus and other famous alchemists were printed across them in gold. All is interrelated, said one. Fire and earth, air and water. All are but one thing, not four, not two, and not three, but one. Where they are not together is only an incomplete piece.

A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling. Fat crystals dangled from it like teardrops, scattering light in all directions over the large crowd of people — members of the Assembly in golden robes, Masters of the Magisterium in black, and everyone else in elegant suits and dresses.

“Fancy,” said Alastair, grimly. “Too fancy.”

“Yeah,” said Call. “The Magisterium is a real dump. I had no idea.”

“There aren’t any windows,” Aaron said, looking around. “Why aren’t there windows?” “Probably because we’re underwater,” Call answered. “Wouldn’t the pressure break the glass?” Before they could continue their speculation, Master North, head of the Magisterium, came toward them out of the crowd. “Alastair. Aaron. Call. You’re late.” “Underwater traffic,” said Call.

Aaron elbowed him.

Master North gave him a stern look. “Anyway, you’re here. The others are waiting with the Assembly.” “Master North,” said Alastair with a curt nod. “My apologies for our lateness, but we are the honorees. You could hardly start without us, could you?” Master North gave a thin smile. Both he and Alastair appeared as though they might become quickly exhausted by the strain of being civil. “Come with me.” Aaron and Call shared a look before following the adults through the room. As the crowd grew more tightly packed, people started to press in at them, staring at Aaron — and at Call, too. One middle-aged man with a paunch caught Call’s arm.

“Thank you,” the man whispered before letting him go. “Thank you for killing Constantine.” I didn’t. Call stumbled on as hands reached out of the crowd. He shook some, avoided others, gave one a high five and then felt stupid.

“Is this what it’s like for you all the time?” he asked Aaron.

“Not before last summer,” Aaron said. “Anyway, I thought you wanted to be a hero.” I guess it’s better than being a villain, Call thought, but let the words die on his tongue.

Finally they came to where the Assembly was waiting, separated from the rest of the room by floating silver ropes. Anastasia Tarquin, one of the most powerful members of the Assembly, was talking to Tamara’s mother. Tarquin was an extremely tall, older woman with masses of upswept, bright silver hair, and Tamara’s mother had to crane her neck to look at her.

Tamara was standing with Celia and Jasper, all three of them laughing about something. It was the first time Call had seen Tamara since the start of summer. She was wearing a bright yellow dress that made her brown skin glow. Her hair fell in heavy, dark waves around her face and down her back. Celia had done something weird and elegant and complicated with her blond hair. She was in a seafoam-green gauzy thing that seemed to waft around her.

Both the girls turned toward Call and Aaron. Tamara’s face lit up and Celia smiled. Call felt a little bit like someone had kicked him in the chest. Weirdly, it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

Tamara ran over to Aaron, giving him a quick hug. Celia hung back as though struck with sudden shyness. It was Jasper who came up to Call, clapping him on the shoulder, which was a relief, as nothing about Jasper made Call feel as if his world was tilting. Jasper just looked like his usual smug self, his dark hair sticking up with hair gel.

“So, how’s the ole E-o-D, himself?” Jasper whispered, making Call flinch. “You’re the star of the show.” Call hated that Jasper knew the truth about him. Even if he was fairly sure Jasper would never reveal his secret, it didn’t stop Jasper from making comments and needling him every chance he got.

“Come,” Master Rufus said. “Time is wasting. We have a ceremony to attend, whether we want to or not.” With that, Call, Aaron, Tamara, Jasper, Master Rufus, Master Milagros, and Alastair were herded up onto a raised dais. Celia waved good-bye as they went.

Call knew they were in trouble when he saw there were chairs up on the dais. Chairs meant a long ceremony. He wasn’t wrong. The ceremony went by in a blur, but it was an extended and boring blur. Various Assembly members made speeches about how integral they personally had been to the mission. “They couldn’t have done it without me,” said a blond Assembly member Call had never seen before. Master Rufus and Master Milagros were praised for having such fine apprentices. The Rajavis were praised for having raised such a brave daughter. Alastair was praised for his diligence in leading their expedition. The kids themselves were credited with being the greatest heroes of their time.

They were applauded and kissed on their cheeks and patted on their backs. Alastair was given a heavy medal that swung on his neck. He began to look a little wild-eyed after they stood up for the sixth round of applause.

No one mentioned severed heads or the whole misunderstanding where they had thought Alastair was in league with the Enemy or how no one at the Magisterium had even known that the kids were going on the mission. Everyone acted like this had been the plan all along.

They were all given their Bronze Year wristbands and stones of glimmering red beryl to show the worth of their accomplishment. Call wondered what the red stone meant exactly — every stone color had a meaning: yellow for healing, orange for bravery, and so on.

Call stepped up to have Master Rufus place the stone in his wristband. The red beryl went in with a click, like a lock being shut. “Callum Hunt, Makar!” someone in the room shouted. Someone else stood up and cried out Aaron’s name. Call let the shouts wash over him like a bewildering tide. “Call and Aaron! Makaris, Makaris, Makaris!” Call felt a hand brush his shoulder. It was Anastasia Tarquin. “In Europe,” she said, “when they discover someone is a chaos mage, they don’t celebrate them. They kill them.” Call turned to stare at her in shock, but she was already moving away through the crowd of Assembly members. Master Rufus, who clearly hadn’t heard her — no one had but Call — came forward toward Aaron and Call. “Makars,” he said. “This isn’t just a celebration. We have something to discuss.” “Right here?” Aaron asked, clearly startled.

Rufus shook his head. “It’s time for you to see something very few apprentices ever see. The War Room. Come with me.” Tamara looked after Aaron and Call worriedly as they were led away through the crowd. “The War Room?” Aaron muttered. “What’s that?” “I don’t know,” Call whispered back. “I thought the war was over.”

Master Rufus led them expertly behind the floating ropes, avoiding the eyes of the crowd, until they reached a door set into the far wall. It was a bronze door, carved with the shapes of tall ships sailing, cannons, and explosions over the sea.

Rufus pushed the door open, and they entered the War Room. Call’s words about why there were no windows echoed in his own head — because there were plenty of windows here. There was a marble floor, but every other surface was glass, and the glass glowed with enchanted light. Beyond the glass Call could see sea creatures swimming by: fish with brightly colored stripes, sharks with coal-black eyes, graceful flapping rays.

“Whoa,” said Aaron, craning his neck. “Look up.”

Call did and saw the water above them, glowing with the light of the surface. A school of silvery fish shot by and then pivoted according to some unseen signal, all of them racing off in the new direction.

“Sit,” Assemblyman Graves — old, grumpy, and mean — said. “We realize this is a celebration, but there are things we must discuss. Master Rufus, you and your two apprentices should sit here.” He indicated chairs beside him.

Call and Aaron exchanged a reluctant glance before shuffling over to take their seats. The rest of the Assembly members were arranging themselves around the table, making small talk. Above them, visible beyond the glass, an eel ribboned its way through the sea and snapped up a slow-moving fish. Call wondered if it was an ominous sign.

Once the room had quieted down, Graves resumed speaking. “Thanks to the efforts of our honorees this evening, we are having a very different discussion than we could have anticipated having. Constantine Madden is dead.” He looked around the room as if waiting for that information to sink in. Call couldn’t help feeling that if it hadn’t sunk in yet, it never would, given how many times The Enemy of Death is dead! had been repeated during the honoring ceremony. “And yet” — Graves slammed his hand down on the table, making Call jump — “we cannot rest! Constantine Madden might be defeated, but his army is still out there. We must strike now and root out the Chaos-ridden and all of Constantine’s allies.” A murmur went around the room. “No one has been able to detect any sign of the Chaos-ridden since Madden’s death,” said Master North. “It’s as if they disappeared when he died.” Several mages looked hopeful at this, but Graves only shook his head grimly. “They are out there somewhere. We must assemble teams to hunt them down and destroy them.” Call felt a little queasy. The Chaos-ridden were basically mindless zombies, all their humanity pushed out to make room for chaos. But he’d heard them speak. Seen them move, even kneel to him. The idea of a pyre of their burning bodies made his stomach turn.

“What about Chaos-ridden animals?” asked Anastasia Tarquin. “Most of them never served the Enemy of Death; they’re the descendants of the unfortunate creatures that did. Unlike the Chaos-ridden people, they’re alive, not reanimated bodies.” “Still, they’re dangerous. I move that we exterminate them all,” Graves said.

“Not Havoc!” Call yelled before anyone could stop him.

The members of the Assembly turned in his direction. Anastasia had a small smile on her face, as though she’d enjoyed his outburst. She seemed like someone who didn’t mind when things didn’t go the way everyone else expected. Her gaze slid to Aaron, gauging his reaction.

“The pet of the Makaris,” she said, looking back at Call. “Surely Havoc can be exempted.” “And the Order of Disorder has been studying other Chaos-ridden beasts. Keeping some alive for their research has value,” added Rufus.

The Order of Disorder was a small group of rebellious mages who lived in the woods just outside the Magisterium, studying chaos magic. Call wasn’t sure what he thought of them. They’d tried to force Aaron to stay and help with their chaos experiments. They hadn’t been nice about it, either.

“Yes, yes,” said Graves dismissively. “Perhaps a small number can be saved, although I have never much cared for the Order of Disorder, as you well know. We need to keep an eye on them, to be sure that none of Constantine’s conspirators are hiding out among them. And we need to find Master Joseph. We cannot forget that he’s still dangerous and will almost certainly attempt to use the Alkahest against us.” Anastasia Tarquin made a small note on a paper. Several other mages murmured among themselves; quite a few were sitting up straight, trying to make themselves look important. Master Rufus was nodding, but Call suspected he didn’t much like Graves, either.

“Lastly, we must make sure that Callum Hunt and Aaron Stewart use their Makar abilities in the service of the Assembly and the larger mage community. Master Rufus, it is going to be integral that you report regularly on their teaching as they move into their Bronze, Silver, and Gold Years, readying themselves to go to the Collegium.” “They are my apprentices.” Master Rufus raised a single brow. “I need to have independence to teach them as I see fit.” “We can discuss that later,” said Graves. “They are Makars before they are students of the Magisterium. It would be well for both you and them to remember that.” Aaron shot Call a worried glance. Master Rufus looked grim.

Graves went on. “Due to the Magisterium’s proximity to the largest number of Chaos-ridden animals, we’re going to expect the school to take point on their destruction.” “You can’t possibly expect the students of the Magisterium to spend their school time murdering animals,” protested Master Rufus, rising to his feet. “I object strongly to this suggestion. Master North?” “I agree with Rufus,” said Master North, after a pause.

“They’re not animals. They’re monsters,” Graves argued. “The woods around the Magisterium have been full of them for years, and we haven’t treated the situation with the seriousness that we could, because the Enemy could always have made more. But now — now we have a chance to exterminate them.” “They may be monsters,” said Rufus, “but they look like animals. And there are those, like Havoc, who give us all pause and reason to wonder if they might be saved rather than destroyed. Surely it is in the interests of the whole mage world for our students to learn mercy. Constantine Madden,” he added, in a low voice, “never did.” Graves shot him a look of something very close to hatred. “Fine,” he said in a clipped voice. “The removal of the Chaos-ridden animals will be dealt with by a team headed up by myself and other members of the Assembly. Please don’t expect me to entertain any complaining about how we’ll be cluttering up the woods where your students practice. This is more important than your school.” “Of course,” Master Rufus said, still in the same low voice. Call tried to catch his eye, but Rufus was imperturbable.

“That leaves us with one last point of business,” said Graves. “The spy.” This time the murmur that ran around the table was very loud indeed.

“We have reason to believe there is a spy in the Magisterium,” Graves pronounced. “Someone freed the elemental monster Automotones and sent him to kill the Makar Aaron Stewart.” Everyone looked at Call and Aaron.

“Yep,” Call said. “That did happen.”

Graves nodded. “We will be placing various spy traps in the school, and Anastasia will be guarding the tunnels where the great elementals are kept. The spy will be caught and dealt with appropriately.” Spy traps? Aaron mouthed to Call. Call tried not to laugh, because what he was picturing was a big pit in the ground hidden with important papers or something. But since, for once, it seemed like the Assembly and the Magisterium had an actual plan to take care of a real danger, maybe Call could spend his Bronze Year just learning stuff and getting into the regular, fun kind of trouble instead of the world-ruining kind.

So long as he kept Havoc out of the woods and away from the animal murderers.

So long as Master Joseph didn’t come back.

So long as there really was nothing wrong with his soul.