by Tim Susman
Stay, Kip told the fire, stay and do not spread. Do not touch flesh, do not go to other stalls, keep him prisoner. Several minutes would suffice for Alice to get away, and—
Find Coppy or Emily or Malcolm, if they are still at the Inn. If not, find any man patrolling the streets with a rifle.
His awareness was wrenched away from the fire, speeding back to the Inn. No! I need to stay with the fire!
Master, I cannot occupy two places at the same time.
Kip was panting. All right. Quickly, see if they’re still at the Inn.
They were not. So Kip directed Nikolon to return to the barn. He didn’t know how well the fire would obey his orders if he wasn’t in contact with it, and in fact in the few moments he’d been gone, it had spread toward the center of the stall where Farley cringed away from it. The air had grown smoky and Farley was coughing terribly.
Kip reached for the fire and coaxed it back, held it to the stall entrance. And then he heard noises, men shouting at the entrance to the barn, and he brought the rest of the fire down, soothed its hunger, put it to sleep. He waited to see two men of the watch led by Victor Adamson charging into the barn to the stall, and then the energy he’d expended took its toll all at once. He knew he should dismiss Nikolon before falling asleep, so he gathered magic and spoke the dismissal in a fog.
17
Regrouping
“Penfold!”
Kip jerked awake. Cott was shaking him by the shoulder. “Penfold.”
“I’m awake, I’m—what?”
The sorcerer’s sour face and breath receded from Kip’s muzzle. “What did you do last night?”
“I—” Kip wiped his muzzle. Maybe it was his breath that was sour. “Let me get some water.”
Then he noticed the other two shapes standing against the bright sunlit window. Master Argent’s brow was lowered, his normally bright smile gone, and Emily kept twisting her hair around her finger and looking away from Kip. “Emily?” he said.
She half-turned, silhouetting her tunic and skirt against the window, and remained silent. Argent, in his sorcerer’s robes, stepped forward. “Mister Penfold,” he said. “Please accompany us back to Prince George’s. Master Patris wishes to question you about a matter of sorcery that occurred in New Cambridge last night.”
“Oh,” Kip said. “No, wait. I was helping!”
“I did not say I wished to question you.” Argent gestured to the floor. “Collect your things.”
He tried to meet Emily’s eyes, to glean something from them, but the only time she raised her head to look at him, she had the frustrated expression on her face that she got when Malcolm was being too wordy or too glib. So Kip collected his papers and the vial with Saul’s glass bead in it. He rested a paw on the books he hadn’t finished reading yet and his bedroll. “Am I to come back?”
Cott, too, looked interested in the answer to this question. Argent said, “I do not know.”
“You’d better,” Cott snapped at him, and then pointed at Argent. “He’d better.”
“If it were my decision,” Argent said, and left the statement hanging as he reached out a hand to Kip. “Come, Penfold. Miss Carswell, I will leave you to find your own way back as an exercise.”
Kip reached out for Master Argent’s hand. “What’s—”
“—going on?” he finished in the Great Hall.
“I would prefer to let Master Patris explain the circumstances.” But Master Argent waited, looking around the hall.
The elementals stirred in the fireplace. “Penfold?” one said.
“Who’sat?”
“It’s Penfold,” the first one said. “He’s almost a skipper.”
Two of the elementals appeared to be new, because another voice said, “Never heard of someone bein’ almost a skipper. He’s so cold.”
“Not when you get to know him.”
Emily appeared with an exhalation and a shake of her head. “I know it shouldn’t feel different because it’s a longer distance,” she said. “But it’s not even sunrise here and it’s midday there and that makes it harder somehow.”
“Don’t worry about the position of the sun,” Argent told her. “You can’t appear at the wrong time. Remember, focus on the permanent qualities.”
“Thank you.” She nodded, still avoiding Kip’s eyes, and walked to the basement.
He wanted to call out to her but Argent grasped his arm in that moment and guided him toward the stair. In silence they walked up to the fourth floor and all the way down the hallway to the last door, where Argent knocked. “Come,” came Patris’s voice from inside.
Argent opened the door for Kip and gestured for the fox to precede him through. The outer room of Patris’s office, which in all the other sorcerers’ quarters was a dormitory, had clearly been an adjunct office in which he’d added a cot that smelled of Adamson’s perfume, though the young man himself was absent.
The outer chamber lacked a brazier, but the chill of that room let onto a warm, stuffy room where Patris sat flanked by two impressive shelves of books, neatly arranged and dusted. To the left stood a cabinet topped with six cubbyholes much like a smaller version of the Post at King’s, and to the left of that, a small casement window that was closed, though behind it the outer window stood open. That was likely why the copper brazier holding a phosphorus elemental was placed right there, to counteract the chill outside air that seeped in. The faintly glowing elemental did not lift its head to examine the visitors.
Patris’s desk sat clear of all but two pieces of paper, both of which rested under his large right hand. “Stop,” he said as Kip reached the center of the room.
Kip obeyed. Beside him, Argent turned to leave, but Patris said, “Argent, stay.”
The younger sorcerer stopped a pace behind Kip, who kept his eyes forward, waiting. Patris arranged the two papers in front of him and read through them again before speaking. “I have here statements from Farley Broadside and Victor Adamson, as well as a short report from James Burgher of the Watch.” He paused, but Kip didn’t say anything, so Patris went on. “Broadside alleges that you, Penfold, became invisible, assaulted him with physical magic, and then set fire to the barn in an attempt to kill him. He says that if the Watch had not pulled him from the barn, he would have died.” He turned to the other sheet. “Adamson says that Broadside had abducted a Calatian girl and was intending to use her as a calyx. He witnessed Broadside struggling with a spell and heard a voice that he believes could have been yours, but he also admits that the situation was very stressful and he is not prepared to swear to that.”
Not prepared to swear to it, but he had put it in his statement regardless. Or else he’d told Patris and Patris was acting as though it were in the statement. “Adamson also says,” Patris went on, “that the fire was extinguished by the time he returned with the Watch. The Calatian had fled and they did not find her. If she indeed existed.”
“She did,” Kip said as calmly as he could. He could already tell which version of events Patris was inclined to listen to.
“I’m not finished.” Patris said. “Don’t interrupt again or I’ll silence you.”
Kip gritted his teeth but held his tongue as Patris went on. “The account of the Watch more or less corroborates Adamson’s.” He looked up at Kip. “What most interests me is whether you were present in any capacity and what spells you cast.”
He waited, but Kip held his tongue until Patris, clearly annoyed, said, “You may speak now.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kip told Patris as factually as he could of being told of Alice’s abduction, how Farley’s absence suggested he was responsible, how he had commanded Nikolon to search the town. He left out the way in which he’d used fire to find Farley out of fear that Patris would be intimidated by this power, restricting himself to spells Patris would know he’d learned from the school. “He said he was setting a trap for me, that he wanted to bleed her and cut my tail off. The demon loosed Alice, and I only set the fire to protect
her,” Kip said. “I didn’t let it harm Farley. As soon as he started coughing from the smoke, I pulled the fire back. I didn’t even let it consume the wood. Much.”
“The Watch noted charring on the stall,” Patris said. “The owner of the barn will have to be compensated. But that is almost irrelevant. What matters…” His eyes glittered and a nasty smile spread over his face. “Is that you summoned a demon without the supervision of a master and used it to spy on people, which is expressly forbidden.”
“Master Odden didn’t tell me that!” Kip cried.
Patris waved a hand, and Kip’s muzzle clamped shut so hard that his teeth ached. “What’s more,” the headmaster said, “you allowed emotion to overcome your restraint, using fire in an aggressive manner and endangering the life of another student.”
Maybe Kip should have been more clear about Farley intending to kill him. But it was too late now and very likely it wouldn’t matter anyway. He clenched his paws into fists and then forced them to relax. His stomach fluttered but he found he wasn’t as nervous as he might have been a month ago. He’d done what was necessary to protect Alice.
“Your apprenticeship here was predicated upon your ability to control and restrain the significant potential you exhibit. Of course this situation was emotionally charged, but sorcery largely takes place outside the classroom. Of course most students must be given time to learn,” and here his eyes flicked back to Argent, as if that line were specifically meant for him, “but you have been warned from the beginning of the potential danger of your actions.”
Kip tried to talk, but his muzzle was still being held shut. He struggled for only a moment, flattening his ears as Patris went on.
“Therefore, I have no choice but to conclude that no amount of education at this college will be able to help you.”
A chill swept through Kip, down to the tip of his tail. Was he going to be sent to King’s permanently?
“You are hereby expelled from Prince George’s College.” Patris waved a hand, the mean smile still in place. “You may retrieve your belongings from the basement after Master Argent takes you to Master Jaeger’s office.”
To Master Jaeger’s…Kip’s eyes widened. “No,” he said, and found he could talk again. “No, I can go to King’s…I don’t have to stay here…”
“My decision has been made,” Patris said. “If you wish to apply to King’s College, of course you may do so. You may even be accepted. But I will be certain to inform them in full of this incident so they are aware of what a volatile personality they are considering.”
“I made sure the fire wouldn’t hurt him!” Kip couldn’t help the sharpness in his voice.
Patris made a threatening gesture, and Kip shut his muzzle. “My decision is final. What you choose to do now is no longer my concern, and I cannot express what a relief that is.”
Master Argent took Kip by the arm and gently pulled him back. “What about Coppy?” Kip asked. “He can stay, can’t he?”
Patris pushed the papers on his desk to one side and opened a drawer to take out another sheaf of them. He spread them out and examined them as though the fox hadn’t spoken. Kip glared at him, but the headmaster didn’t look up, and so finally Kip turned and stalked out of the room ahead of Argent, leaving the sorcerer to close the door behind them.
“I am truly sorry about this,” Argent said as they walked out to the hall. “I tried to change his mind, you must believe me.”
“Jaeger is going to take magic away, isn’t he?” Kip asked.
“Yes.” Argent pushed Kip gently up the stairs.
The fox resisted. “Can’t I get my things first and do that last? Please?”
Argent exhaled a long sigh. “I don’t believe there would be any harm in that.”
He slowed his pace as he walked down the stairs, taking in every scent and touch on the stone of the Tower so he could fix it in his memory. The Tower was quiet, with most apprentices in with their Masters, and the Great Hall remained empty as he and Argent crossed it to the basement. Even thinking that he might never descend the dank stairs again tightened his throat and made him pause with one paw against the cold wall.
Emily had stirred up a good deal of dust pacing back and forth, and it was from a small cloud of it that she looked up when they entered and then ran to embrace Kip. He returned the hug, and then she stepped back and shoved him in the chest. “What on earth were you thinking, running off without us? We would have helped! We looked all over for you and found nothing, and Malcolm tried every detection spell he could find but you weren’t anywhere around. And then you went and set a barn on fire?”
“I rescued her,” Kip said. “She’s safe. That’s what’s important.” He walked back toward Coppy’s bedroll, avoiding looking at Emily because he didn’t want to have to say good-bye to her.
“So what happened? Fetching food for the rest of the year? Will they have you do laundry as well?”
Kip found the bag he’d brought his clothes up the hill in. Methodically he packed what little of his things remained while Emily talked, and then picked up one of his spell books.
“That belongs to the school,” Argent said softly, apologetically.
Emily came over to stand by Coppy’s bedroll, her face flushed. “Kip, what’s happening? Why are you packing?”
His eye fell on a little red journal in the bookshelf near his bed. It was important for some reason, he thought, but it probably belonged to the school also. He shouldn’t take it. “I’m being expelled,” he said dully, turning to Emily.
Her eyes widened and she drew in a quick, gasping breath. “Oh, no no no,” she said, and stepped forward to put a hand on his arm. “You can’t. I forbid it.”
He managed a smile. “You may go plead your case to Patris. I wager you’ll have more luck than I did.”
She whirled, fingers still closed around his forearm, and opened her mouth to talk to Master Argent, but he already had a hand up. “I have also attempted to sway the headmaster, without any success. Obviously. I would counsel you both to keep quiet and follow his orders—for now. I will talk with Masters Odden and Windsor, and together we may impress upon Patris the importance of having Penfold continue as a student of this college.”
“When?” Emily asked. “In a year? Two?”
“The headmaster is stubborn, but not bereft of reason,” Argent said. “In the meantime, Miss Carswell, you are free to spend your evenings visiting whomever you choose, as are Lutris and O’Brien.”
She whirled back to Kip, standing awkwardly with his bag in one paw. “Where will you go?” she asked. “We’ll come see you.”
“I…” He shook his head. He could go to Georgia and live with his parents, or possibly he could go back to London if he wanted to attempt to get Cott’s endorsement to enrol at King’s. Abel might be able to put him up somewhere on the Isle. “I don’t know. I’ll have to arrange something.”
“Tell me as soon as you do.”
“I will.” He stepped forward to embrace her again and breathed in her scent, fixing that, too, in his memory. She had a light sheen of sweat and dust from all the pacing and worry, which to Kip smelled like friendship and family. “Tell Coppy and Malcolm I’m sorry I didn’t get to say good-bye.”
“This is ridiculous.” She let him go, bracing his shoulders. “Be down at the Inn tonight and we’ll meet you there.”
“All right,” he said. Having a plan for the future, even a rendez-vous in the evening, brought some solidity to his world. He could go to the Founders Rest and wait there until sunset. He had a little money to pay for some ales, which he hadn’t drunk in a while but which he felt would be entirely appropriate today.
Argent guided him up the stairs, all the way up to the sixth floor and Master Jaeger’s office. It was very much as Kip remembered it, with the Persian carpet, the brazier, the shelves and shelves of scrolls, and the light scent of dust and neglect. Jaeger himself shuffled over from one of the shelves, and Kip, realizing he’d never see
n him sit, wondered if perhaps the old sorcerer spent his entire life walking circles around his room. The thought reminded him that he’d rarely seen Master Gugin stand up, and then of the London sorcerer’s body dead on his couch. He shuddered and tried to drive that image from his mind.
“Most unfortunate,” Jaeger said. “You know, Argent, I wonder that Patris did not ask me to see the truth of the incident from Penfold’s point of view.”
Neither Argent nor Kip responded to this, and Jaeger gave a wheezy laugh. “I beg your pardon. The humor of an old man must not seem amusing to you at this moment. Of course I do not wonder at that, nor do either of you. And yet here we are, all bound to the orders of a man whose judgment we know to be flawed, eh? And should you wonder, Argent, young Penfold here does have death on his mind, but not that of his fellow student, nor one dealt by his hand. I had not been told of Dmitri’s passing.”
“I’m sorry,” Kip said. “I forgot that he said he studied with you.”
“I have lost many friends,” Jaeger said with a cough. “Many I did not learn about for years. So consider this a very prompt conveyance of news. I wonder, though, what brought you to my friend’s deathbed.”
Kip said, “He—” and then thought very deliberately about his lessons with Gugin, the work on spiritual holds. “He was an acquaintance of Master Cott’s. I was running an errand for Master Cott.”
“Yes,” Jaeger said. “I see. Thank you, Penfold. Now, let us get this unpleasantness over with.”
He lifted one hand, closed his eyes, and spoke a series of syllables that were completely unfamiliar to Kip. A chill ran through the fox and then Jaeger lowered his arm. “Ah, ah,” he said, catching his breath. “I do dislike performing that spell.”
Kip swallowed. He didn’t feel any different, but when he reached out to the earth for magic, he felt nothing. No power ran to his arms, no purple glow appeared. His fists clenched again and his tail curled up behind him; this was like when he’d woken in Splint’s office, but now it would be permanent.
