The Demon and the Fox

by Tim Susman

  “You all right?” Kip asked, reaching out to the otter’s shoulder.

  “Mm. Just tired.” Coppy waved a paw. “Carry on, I can hear.”

  Kip pushed the letter he’d written across the table to Emily. “What do you think of that?”

  She read through it. “You write very neatly,” she said at first, and then, “Do you think this will work?”

  “Adamson sounded horrified when he was talking to Farley,” Kip said.

  Malcolm reached for the letter. “What is it?”

  Emily slid it over to him. “Kip wrote a letter from the College informing Adamson’s father of what Farley has been doing with the tuition he’s been paying.” She looked up at Kip. “You should add a bit about how the newspapers might be very interested in how Adamson’s money is being spent. Thomas used to threaten people with that and it was very effective. There’s the Independent Chronicle and the Boston Herald, those are the ones his clients read.”

  “Good thought.” Kip took the letter back from Malcolm when he’d finished. He worked out the sentences with Emily’s guidance and added them to the end. She read it through again and suggested one correction. He complied and then folded the letter and held it out to her.

  “I’ll need you to bring it to Boston,” he said, “and deliver it. Mister Adamson won’t listen to me.”

  “Should we take it now?”

  They discussed that for a short time. Mister Adamson might still be at home, and would receive the letter, but it would be more effective if delivered to his place of business. That would mean that Emily would have to miss a lesson in the morning, but it shouldn’t take her very long to deliver the letter.

  “And then what will you do?” she asked.

  Malcolm leaned forward. “Sounded like you had a lead with those glass beads,” he said. “What’s next with that?”

  “A library in London. But I don’t know if I can get into it now. Coppy.” The otter didn’t stir. Kip reached across and shook him. “Coppy.”

  “Mm what?” Coppy blinked.

  “When did you go to the sixth floor?”

  “I didn’t. I don’t.”

  “Windsor’s office is on the third floor,” Malcolm said.

  “Yeah. Third floor,” Coppy murmured. “Roses.”

  “You’d better get him back before he falls all the way asleep,” Kip said. “And come tell me how it went in the morning.”

  Emily and Malcolm stood, and Emily helped Coppy to his feet. “M’fine,” he said.

  Kip had never seen his friend that tired. “What have you been doing? Running up and down the hill?”

  “Studying hard and waking early,” Malcolm said. “Pleasing a taskmaster like Windsor takes it out of a man. What you going to do now, Kip?”

  Kip glanced around the Inn. “Find somewhere to sleep for the night. Get up in the morning and maybe…” He stood with his friends and took Coppy’s other side from Emily. “If I can get back to London, maybe look in the library.”

  Emily sighed. “I’ll bring you a book on translocation and you can teach yourself.”

  “That would be all right. But don’t get in trouble.”

  Malcolm, behind them, said, “Kip doesn’t have magic anymore. Don’t taunt the fellow like that.”

  They reached the door and turned to maneuver Coppy’s dragging steps through it. Emily sighed. “I’m sorry. Of course I’ll take you to London.”

  “I’d take a book as well,” Kip said. “I’d love to learn translocation, at least memorizing the spells so when I come back to school, I’m ready. Even if it takes me months after that.”

  “It might take you longer to be readmitted than to learn the spell.” Emily stopped at the base of the hill. “It only took me five weeks and you’re better than I am.”

  “Not at translocation.” Kip’s tail wagged to see Emily’s proud smile. “But I was doing something similar with fire, last night—was it just last night?”

  “Oh? Did you bring that fire in the barn from elsewhere?”

  “No, but I was…talking to fire over long distances.”

  Her eyes flashed with sudden interest. “Do you mean you could talk through fires?”

  “No, but—” Kip stopped. “Maybe? That’s an interesting idea. I don’t think fire perceives sound. It’s all about consuming.”

  “Rather like Broadside himself.” Malcolm came up on Kip’s side. “I’ll take our friend the rest of the way up.”

  “No.” Emily took a breath and gathered magic, her arms flickering with lavender light. “I’m not carrying him up that hill. Malcolm, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Aye,” the Irishman said, but before he’d raised his hand, Emily and Coppy were gone. He turned to Kip. “Palling around with sorcerers, I ask you. I wish I had a flashy talent like fire or translocation. All I can do is lock doors and stop spells, and that not well.”

  “That’s valuable enough,” Kip said. “That’s the kind of thing that will save lives.”

  “Hopefully never need to use it for that. Rather come up with new and better spells for the people who do need it.” Malcolm kept his cheerful smile on but his eyes told Kip he knew how vain his hope was. “All right, I should get up to bed m’self. Not as badly used as our otter friend, but we’ve been working hard all the same and I need my sleep if I’ve any hope of producing a decent counterspell tomorrow morning for good Master Vendis.”

  “Go on then,” Kip said.

  Malcolm put a hand on his shoulder. “Where you going to sleep?”

  Kip folded his ears back. “Emily reminded me of the old barn. I thought I might go see if that’s abandoned.”

  His friend remained quiet, but the downcast turn of his mouth and eyes told Kip what he thought of that. The fox smiled. “It’s all right,” he said. “It will smell bad, but at least there’ll be hay.”

  “I suppose.” Malcolm’s expression didn’t match his words. “I’ll bring some food down from lunch if you’ve a mind to wander over this way.”

  “I could do that, aye,” Kip said. “I’ll be anxious to hear of Emily’s progress.”

  He wanted to tell Malcolm not to worry, that he could light a fire to stay warm, but again he didn’t quite want to give away his ability to do magic yet. So he settled for a warm good-bye and then set off in the night to find the old barn where Farley had taken Alice.

  Without fires and Nikolon, it took him half an hour, even with the cloud-covered moon providing an adequate amount of light. The barn still smelled of smoke, but he found a stall where Farley’s scent didn’t cling, and the smoky smell reassured him, reminding him of Cott’s workshop. What would the fire sorcerer be thinking now? Had he been told of Kip’s dismissal? Would he think Kip had simply abandoned him? No, he’d seen Master Argent and Emily come and take Kip back, so probably he would assume Kip had been returned to Prince George’s, unless he were told otherwise. And if he hadn’t been told, how long could Kip study there before word got back across the ocean? Patris had to know that Kip had friends who could translocate, and in fact Argent had brought Emily over with him.

  Had Argent done that on purpose, so Emily would be able to bring Kip back? The fox lay back on the straw, warming it with his body even though the air remained cold. What allies did he have in the College still? Vendis, most likely. Argent, perhaps. Odden, he hoped. There was an outside chance that Windsor remained on his side. At least Windsor remained dedicated to teaching Coppy. He wasn’t sure what any of them could do, but it was important that whatever he did, Kip not alienate them.

  Coppy. The otter had been so exhausted tonight. Was he like that every night? Emily and Malcolm hadn’t acted as though it were peculiar at all. But Coppy had always had so much energy that if Kip hadn’t been so absorbed in getting the letter to Mr. Adamson right, he would have been more concerned. And what’s more, the otter had seemed scattered, doing things like repeating himself about the lessons with Windsor. Now, looking back, Kip felt guilty about letting his closest frie
nd sleep without asking why he was so tired.

  And how had Coppy gotten up to the sixth floor to get his scent on the door? The only times he wasn’t with Malcolm or Emily was during his lessons with Windsor.

  Kip sat up. What if Master Windsor were taking Coppy to the sixth floor, and there doing something that tired him out. But that the otter didn’t remember? That implied that Windsor had spiritual magic, strong enough to make Coppy forget their sessions. What could Windsor be doing with Coppy that would take this much time, though? Obviously he needed the otter for something, and if he were the one who’d orchestrated the attack…he could be researching ways to finish the job.

  And Kip had told him there was a spirit in the Tower.

  Peter’s words echoed in his head: Keep my secret. He flexed his fingers, itching with the need to go now, to somehow remedy that mistake. But there was nothing he could do right now, nothing except keeping Coppy away from Master Windsor (and how would he ever manage that?). He would have to convince Emily, then they could transport Coppy somewhere. Perhaps London, if Master Cott were amenable.

  Kip did not sleep well, tossing and turning, getting hay in his nose and sneezing several times. Each time he waited, listening, but nobody walked by this barn at night unless they were being led here to investigate a crime, it seemed. Several times he thought he saw glimmers of dawn, stood up, and found he was mistaken.

  Finally, after a few fitful hours of sleep, he woke to find the barn lit by the soft light of morning coming in the open front. The fox sprang to his feet, performed a basic toilet on his fur and clothes, and then hurried down to the Inn to wait for Emily.

  18

  Alice

  The Founders Rest hadn’t opened yet, so he waited against one of the maple trees at the bottom of the hill, rubbing paws up and down his arms and hopping from one foot to the other to keep his blood warm and moving. The streets of New Cambridge already bustled with people, and smoke rose from all the chimneys, dominating the other scents in the air. Only a few people came up to the Founders Rest, and none of those ventured beyond, though Elizabeth Scour, the mouse who cleaned rooms for them, waved at Kip as she walked around to the back entrance.

  Old John threw the doors open as soon as the church bells tolled Matins, letting in the three people huddled outside. Kip’s ears were cold enough that he considered going in to warm up, but then he would feel obliged to buy something (and what’s more, his empty stomach would urge him to). His supply of money was limited and now he wasn’t getting free meals at the school, so he felt very frugal at the moment.

  For an hour he walked back and forth between the maple trees, looking up at the patterns their branches made and going over his revelations of the night before. In the light of day, he tested his theories. Coppy had been on the sixth floor; Kip was certain of having smelled him there. But Coppy didn’t remember going to the sixth floor. He had to have gone during Master Windsor’s sessions with him. He couldn’t see any other way around that.

  Every time he crossed between trees, he looked up at the hill where the Tower was framed between the stark, bare branches. Finally he saw a person walking down toward him in a white dress and brown skirt, and he hurried up to meet Emily. “Good morning,” she said, took him by the paw, and before he had a chance to answer, they were in the basement of the Tower.

  “Hallo,” Betty said cheerfully, coming up to the edge of the binding circle.

  Emily released Kip’s paw. “I’m sorry for not asking,” she said, “but this way it’s not your fault, you see, it’s mine. I wasn’t going to stand outside and have a whole conversation in the wind and cold, and besides, Betty asks after you constantly and so here you are.”

  “Thank you.” Kip sat as close to Betty as he dared, and she curled up at the edge of the clear area, warming him considerably. “So how did it go with Adamson?”

  “Well.” She brushed down her shirt and skirt, which Kip now saw were the finest ones she owned. “Better than we’d hoped, in fact. I had thought that I would most likely have to leave it with a secretary. But he wasn’t busy first thing in the morning, and I think I made an impression on the men in his office.” She brushed back a lock of hair from her forehead. “So he received me personally. I said that I knew his son from Prince George’s College and that I bore a letter from the college regarding his son’s best friend. Oh, don’t look at me that way. The letter was from the college, just not the College.”

  “I’m not arguing with your rhetoric, simply admiring it.”

  The door opened abruptly. Both of them turned, staring, but it was only Malcolm. He slipped in, then turned and cast a spell on the door. “There. Won’t be disturbed now.”

  “Where’s Coppy?” Kip asked.

  Malcolm brushed his hands against each other. “Still at his morning lesson, I’d wager. I told Master Vendis I felt quite unwell and he’s released me, and if Coppy does the same with Windsor as we arranged, he’ll knock and I’ll let him in.”

  “With Windsor?” Kip sprang to his feet, his tail sending papers flying. Betty leapt on two that came within her reach. “We’ve got to go get him.”

  Both Emily and Malcolm stared at him. “Whyever for?” Emily said.

  “Windsor’s the one who planned the attack.”

  There was another moment of silence, and then both of them chorused, “No, no.”

  “How did you come up with that?” Emily said faintly. “Windsor has been horrible at times, but he Selected Coppy.”

  “He’s using him to come up with some spell to break the Tower’s defense,” Kip said. He pointed at the basement door. “I smelled Coppy up on the sixth floor, but he swore he’d never been there. Windsor’s making him forget.”

  “That’s curious, to be sure.” Malcolm walked around to stand beside Emily. “But what if something Coppy touched was up in that hallway. Would that smell different?”

  “Yes,” Kip said, but now his memory wondered. What if someone had taken one of Coppy’s tunics up there and it had rubbed against the stone? “It wouldn’t be as strong. I can tell the difference.”

  “There could be any number of reasons for that.” Emily didn’t sound convinced.

  “Like what?”

  Malcolm shrugged. “Maybe that’s where he takes people for untoward activities. Doesn’t want to besmirch his office, does he?”

  Emily made a face. “Or Coppy could have gone up there once and Master Jaeger made him forget. It doesn’t have to have been with Windsor.”

  Jaeger…what could Coppy have seen? The old sorcerer was temperamental, but he’d seemed very respectful of people’s minds, just as Gugin had been. “I don’t think Jaeger would have done that.”

  “Jaeger, whom you’ve met once? Twice? As opposed to Windsor, whom we practically lived with? You think it more likely that Master Windsor has been plotting the demise of the College for months?” Emily shook her head. “You’re desperate to solve this mystery so you can come back, and you’ve seized on the first idea you had. Think this through, Kip.”

  Kip sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.” He paced back and forth. “Coppy was so tired last night. Is he always that tired now?”

  His friends exchanged a look. “No,” Emily said. “But maybe once a week or so he’s exhausted all day.”

  “You said Coppy’s with Master Windsor now, right?”

  “Aye,” Malcolm said.

  “All right.” He stood with his feet pressed to stone. Peter? Can you see my friend?

  Silence. He asked one more time, and again got no answer. But he knew there was a way he’d thought of to go around the school unnoticed. Why couldn’t he think of it now?

  “I have to show you two something,” he said, and as they watched, he reached into the earth and gathered magic. Purple light bathed his arms, eliciting a gasp from Emily and a curse from Malcolm.

  “You’re not supposed to have magic,” the Irishman said.

  “I know. Jaeger…didn’t quite do it properly
.” Kip recited the spell to break a spiritual hold. It can’t hurt, Jaeger had told him, and it might help if things didn’t seem right.

  “What are you casting?” Malcolm took a step back.

  “That’s why I don’t think Jaeger did it,” Kip said. As he finished the spell, he remembered clearly the red journal and what he could do with it. “Malcolm, open the door, and leave it open until I get back.”

  “You can’t go out into the Tower,” Emily said.

  “Have you cast an invisibility spell?” Malcolm asked curiously, going over to the door and releasing the binding on it. “I thought Broadside was inventing stories to cover his own failures.”

  Kip walked over to Coppy’s bedroll and pulled the red journal from the bookcase, breathing in the otter’s scent. “Better,” he said, but they were already turning toward each other and engaging in conversation about him and what they were going to do now that he’d been sent away. Kip hurried out the door, not wanting to hear too much of this discussion. Betty followed him with her eyes but didn’t say anything as he eased his way through the door.

  As quietly as he could, he padded up the stairs and through the Great Hall, which was fortunately empty. His nose tingled there, but he edged away from where the tingle was strongest and got to the staircase, where he stopped dead. Master Splint was descending the stairs and had almost reached Kip.

  The fox stepped back to one side, and Splint walked to avoid him. “Afternoon,” the red-haired sorcerer murmured.

  Kip nodded and set his foot on the stair, listening. No other footsteps sounded, so he walked quickly up the first flight, then the next. At the second floor, he had to avoid Master Patris and Victor Adamson leaving the library, but the stairs were unoccupied going up to the third floor. There he crept along the hallway to Master Windsor’s office, listening at each door. At the third door, he heard Master Windsor’s voice, and he waited.

  Finally, there was Coppy responding. The otter sounded as though he were still tired, but it was him. It was hard to make out the words, but Kip thought they were working on a translocational spell.