by Helen Harper
‘Why? What have you done?’
I glared at him. ‘You know what I mean. Why do we need to go to the library?’
Honest-to-goodness surprise flickered in his eyes. ‘So we can study.’ Belatedly he seemed to understand what I was getting at and slowed his speech as if he were speaking to someone of very low intellect. ‘The library is where books are kept. Books contain knowledge. If you read books, you can learn things.’ Winter raised an eyebrow. ‘You can read, right?’
I shook my head. ‘Nope. Not a word. So there’s no point going near any books.’
Winter remained deadpan. ‘Hmm. In that case, we’ll need to spend even more time in the library than I thought. We can begin with basic phonics.’ Damn it. The corners of his mouth twitched. ‘I’ll teach you the alphabet song.’
‘I hate singing.’
‘It seems, Ms Wilde, that you hate everything and everyone unless it involves lounging around at home and doing nothing at all.’
I grinned. ‘So now you understand why all this training is a waste of your time.’
He gazed at me with sapphire-hued promise. ‘I don’t fail, Ms Wilde. Ever. The Ipsissimus wants me to prove myself so that is what I will do.’
‘I’ve told you before, my name is Ivy.’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘And failure is good. People who don’t fail have no understanding of their own limits.’
Winter leant closer to me. ‘People who don’t succeed aren’t trying.’
It was like talking to a brick wall. I suppose I should have been grateful that sometimes he showed glimpses of a sense of humour. I sighed. ‘I’m going for that shower.’
‘Fifteen minutes,’ he called after me. ‘Or I’ll come in after you.’
That was too good to pass up. I turned round. ‘You can come now if you want. I’ll soap your back. You can wash my hair. And then we can—’
‘Shower, Ms Wilde,’ Winter interrupted flatly. ‘Now.’
Scratch that about his sense of humour. The man was no fun at all.
***
As before, Winter took off at tremendous speed. When it became clear that I wasn’t going to sprint alongside him, he tutted loudly and slowed down to match my pace. I could tell it annoyed him from the way he kept clenching and unclenching his fists. This was fun.
‘There are two main methods of performing magic,’ he informed me.
‘Casting runes and herblore.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m not a complete idiot.’
‘I never said you were. If you let me finish…’
I swept out a grandiose gesture. ‘By all means.’
‘Casting runes is effective for spells that need to be completed in a hurry. However, as I’m sure you know, First Level witches can only use basic runes to perform basic spells. Even Second and Third Level witches struggle to remember enough runes to act quickly and effectively under pressure.’
‘So you’re a herb lover, huh?’
‘I use both types of magic equally,’ he responded stiffly. ‘The point I was making, Ms Wilde, is that preparation is the key to magical success.’ He glanced at me. ‘How did you bespell speech upon your familiar?’
‘You do realise that sometimes you speak like a Victorian, right?’ Winter glared at me. I sighed and pushed back my damp hair. ‘Runes.’
‘So you did it when you were a Neophyte? You must have gained access to that knowledge through the library.’
‘No,’ I said distantly, focusing on a group of witches on the path ahead. ‘I did that when I was around fifteen or sixteen.’
Winter stopped. ‘You what?’
Too late, I realised what I’d said. ‘Er … familiars live longer than common house cats,’ I demurred, hoping to deflect his attention.
‘If you were talented enough to achieve that at sixteen, then why would you feel the need to cheat a few years later?’
I shrugged awkwardly. ‘Maybe I was too lazy to study.’
Winter’s eyes narrowed. ‘Indeed.’
I could tell him the truth; it was usually the easiest option and in any other circumstance that’s what I’d have done. But I’d been down this road many times before and I knew he’d never believe me. Tarquin was too slick: I’d given up trying to tell the truth about my supposed cheating years ago. I’d railed and shouted and pleaded; it hadn’t done me any good whatsoever and at some point I’d given up. It was too much effort to continually plead my innocence when the world thought otherwise. People believed what they wanted to. Whatever. It was their problem; not mine.
‘It wasn’t that big a deal,’ I said. ‘Really.’
‘I consider myself a talented witch, Ms Wilde, but I’m not sure I could manage such a feat even now.’
‘I got lucky,’ I mumbled.
‘There’s no such thing as luck.’
It was my turn to stare in astonishment. Every witch I’ve met is superstitious. Hell, even I’m superstitious. Of course I’m superstitious – it comes with the territory. The last thing I’d pegged Winter for was a fortune sceptic. ‘Four-leaf clovers?’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘Pretty plants.’
‘Magpies?’
‘They’re just birds.’
‘Itchy left palm?’
‘Allergic reaction.’
I gaped. ‘Half of what the Order believes in is rooted in superstition.’
Winter looked at me. ‘So?’
‘I had you pegged as a full convert, worshipping at the knees of the Ipsissimus.’
‘Oh, but I am,’ he murmured, mockingly. ‘But I don’t blindly believe in nonsense.’
He could have fooled me. We started walking again. Winter was more of an enigma than I’d realised. We drew level with the group of witches, whose chatter immediately subsided in case I was in any doubt about what – or rather who – they were talking about. In their midst, Tarquin gazed at me and quirked an eyebrow. I blew him a kiss and kept on walking. As soon as we were past, the whispering started again.
‘You know the way to stop all that?’ Winter asked. His fingers brushed against the skin on the back of my hand and I felt a strange electric shock shiver through me.
I moved my hand. The whole lot of them could gossip and tattle all they liked. I didn’t care. Much. ‘How?’
He grinned. ‘Succeed.’
Chapter Seven
The library was much the same as I remembered. The old rule about technology was still very much in place, with a total ban on anything that might hint at twenty-first-century know-how. Every so often some bright spark came up with a method to scan the old books onto a computer and, without fail, every time they tried the ink on the original pages vanished forever.
It is one of the reasons witch haters give for their ardent anti-magic protests: that the Order are antiquated and have no place in today’s society. Sometimes I wonder if they have a point.
Nothing in the library building ever seemed to change. Even the smell was the same – that memorable aroma of ink and vellum and leather. Sure, some of the more dangerous books were bound in human skin and the like and rumour had it that some of the Cypher pages were written in blood. Most of what was here, however, was paper. The only thing the librarians seemed to fear more than mobile phones was fire.
Winter directed me to a study carrel that reeked of stale marijuana. I was happy to wait while he ventured out to get me the books I was apparently required to read in order to be deemed good enough to work alongside him. I kicked off my shoes and leant back in the chair. Catnaps are good for the soul. Unfortunately, as seemed to be my lot these days, my opportunity for twenty winks was interrupted by yelling. A lot of yelling.
A few minutes later, Winter burst back in. ‘Training is over,’ he said.
I jumped up and clapped my hands. ‘Excellent! You mean I’m free? I can go home?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. It means we have an assignment.’ Compared to his usual demeanour, he seemed positively aglow.
‘Oh goody.’
Winter noted my lack
of enthusiasm. ‘We can go back to the gym if you prefer.’ He flung a pile of books at me. ‘And you still need to read those.’
‘Gee, thanks.’ I left the books where they were. ‘What’s the assignment?’
‘The sceptre belonging to the Ipsissimus was on display up on the third floor,’ he told me. ‘It’s been stolen.’
‘Someone stole a big stick?’ Who cared?
‘A big gold stick encrusted with rubies and diamonds,’ Winter said.
Oh. Okay then. ‘Lead the way.’
Winter turned to leave. ‘Bring the books, Ivy.’
‘They’re heavy. I’ll fetch them later.’
‘Be sure that you do.’
I was tempted to stick out my tongue at him. ‘Do you ever get out?’
‘Out?’
I waved my hands around. ‘You know. To a pub? Or a party? Maybe even just to the cinema?’
He gave me a look as if to ask why on earth he would ever want to. Then he marched off, leaving me to follow in his wake.
There was still a lot of yelling going on. Perhaps the sceptre was sentient and the librarians thought that shouting and screaming would encourage it to return to its rightful place. One particular red robe went past us, his arms flapping and his robe billowing out so that I wondered whether he was about to take off and fly around the room. No witch had ever managed to fly before – not that many of us over the centuries hadn’t tried – but this guy was making a good stab at it.
I caught up to Winter and nudged him. ‘What’s the big deal? I get that the sceptre thingy is probably worth a lot of money but this amount of panic is ridiculous.’
He glanced at me. ‘You really didn’t pay any attention when you were here as a Neophyte, did you? Objects belonging to the Order, especially valuable important objects, do not just go missing.’
Oh please. ‘Why ever not? You can’t tell me that no one’s ever attempted to boost anything.’ I waved an arm. ‘Anyone could waltz in and take what they wanted. Non-witches who are criminally inclined aren’t so intimidated by the Order that they wouldn’t try to nick something. And if you’re trying to suggest that Order members are too noble or worthy to stoop to stealing, then you’re a naïve fool.’
His jaw clenched. ‘You are treading in dangerous waters, Ms Wilde.’
Apparently so. He’d just started calling me Ivy and now we were back to the Ms business. ‘If the shoe fits, Adeptus Exemptus Winter…’
His glare intensified. ‘Most people know better than to insult me.’
I stopped walking and looked around, a confused expression on my face.
‘What is it?’ he ground out.
‘I was just checking,’ I told him airily.
‘Checking what?’
‘To see whether I was in a school playground rather than a library. I didn’t insult you. I said that if you think the Order witches are too good to steal then you’d be a fool. I didn’t say you were a fool. There’s a vast difference. Besides, I’m only trying to understand.’
Winter muttered something then took a deep breath. ‘You seem intent on testing my patience to its limits. One minute you are almost tolerable, the next I want to throttle you.’
‘Most people feel that way about me,’ I said cheerfully. ‘But cough up the answer. I still don’t get the panic.’
‘Nobody believes that Order members are above reproach. After all, some of them are even prepared to cheat and assault their fellows.’ Touché. ‘And,’ he continued, ‘we are well aware that certain elements of society may wish to steal some of our more valuable items. That is why there are heavy protective wards in place to prevent thefts.’
I shrugged. ‘No ward is infallible.’ Some took more time and effort to break than others but where there was a will there was usually a way. Or so I’d heard.
He pushed back his hair. ‘This library is vital to the Order. Many of the objects and books contained within its walls are highly volatile. I can assure you, Ms Wilde, that the wards surrounding this building are as strong as you’ll find anywhere.’
‘So what you’re saying is that to steal the sceptre, you’d have to be a very powerful witch.’
Winter nodded grimly. ‘Third Level or beyond. In fact, to take it out of the library without anyone noticing, they’d have to be one of the strongest witches we’ve ever seen.’
I absorbed this. ‘Fair enough. At least that narrows down the list of suspects. Let’s examine the crime scene, solve the crime and then we can break for afternoon tea.’
He frowned. ‘Leave the investigations to me. You’re an amateur and I’m the professional.’
While I didn’t object to Winter doing all the work, I was still needled. ‘I thought we were supposed to work in tandem?’
‘As long as you’re with me, the binding will be satisfied,’ he said shortly. ‘If you pay enough attention, you might learn something. Now let’s get moving.’
‘Yessir, Adeptus Exemptus Winter.’ I crossed my fingers and hoped he was good at his job so the sceptre was recovered quickly. More to the point, then I could finally go back home. I did, after all, still have Eve’s burglars to deal with. And Enchantment was on TV tonight.
***
The third floor was busy. Most people were standing around and staring at the sceptre’s empty display box. I’d seen enough episodes of CSI to know that these onlookers would be doing little more than contaminating the scene but Winter had made it pretty clear what my role was in all of this, so I kept my mouth buttoned shut.
‘What are all these people doing here?’ he barked. ‘We need this area clear so that we don’t lose any evidence.’ Maybe he’d seen the same episodes I had.
‘Come on everyone,’ a nervous-looking red robe said. ‘You need to vacate the area.’ Unfortunately his voice was so quiet and lacking in authority that no one paid him any attention. He tried again. ‘Everyone downstairs.’
For goodness’ sake. ‘Oi!’ I yelled. Every face turned towards me, some pale and in shock, others merely confused. That was more like it. ‘Everyone clear out! No one leaves the building until your details have been noted or you’ve been questioned.’
There was a dissenting murmur from several of the onlookers but they did as I asked, shuffling downstairs no doubt to congregate and gossip about the culprit. The librarian gave me a grateful nod while Winter raised an eyebrow. I shrugged. ‘The sooner you investigate and solve this crime, Sherlock, the sooner we can leave.’
He looked like he was about to say something then thought better of it and turned his attention to the display cabinet. As I watched, he circled round it a few times before pursing his lips and beckoning over the hapless librarian. ‘Talk me through the wards,’ he grunted.
The librarian’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. ‘Well, you see, er, there’s, um…’
Winter was obviously growing impatient. He tapped his foot and glared at the man. No wonder he was nervous. We’d be here all day at this rate. I stepped up. ‘What’s your name?’ I asked softly.
‘Philip. Philip Maidmont.’
‘And you’re a librarian here?’ I questioned, ignoring Winter’s frosty demeanour.
‘Yes. Four years now. I’m Practicus but I never managed to proceed to Philosophus.’
‘Those exams are a bugger.’
He tittered slightly. ‘Yes, yes, they are.’
I ignored the question in his eyes about what level I was at and gently touched his arm. ‘Philip, can you tell us what wards were in place around the case?’
His eyes widened. ‘Oh, the very strongest. The Ipsissimus himself put them in place.’
‘When did that happen?’
‘After the swearing-in ceremony for last year’s Third Level witches.’
I calculated: that would have been during the Winter Solstice, which was almost five months ago. The Order liked using auspicious dates to add to the pomp and circumstance of their ceremonies. ‘And no one’s opened it since then?’
‘No,
of course not.’
‘Thank you, Ms Wilde,’ Winter interrupted tautly. He focused on Maidmont. ‘When was the last time you saw the sceptre?’
Maidmont swallowed again, his eyes shifting nervously as if Winter were accusing him of stealing the damn thing. This time, at least, he held it together to answer. ‘Last night. I did the final rounds around ten o’clock.’
‘Bloody hell!’
Both Winter and Maidmont turned to me. ‘What is it?’
‘The library closes at ten?’
Maidmont nodded.
‘You have a thought, Ms Wilde?’ Winter asked.
‘I’m having several thoughts, Adeptus Exemptus Winter,’ I returned. ‘Who in their right mind is studying at ten o’clock at night? Clearly, they’re several sandwiches short of a picnic.’
Winter’s blue eyes filled with exasperation. ‘You have the logbooks?’ he asked Maidmont.
‘Yes, yes, I’ll get them for you. But everyone left.’ He shot me a look. ‘I made sure of it.’
‘Just get us the books,’ Winter demanded.
Maidmont half bowed and half curtsied, as if he couldn’t make up his mind how to treat either of us, then skedaddled downstairs.
‘You are not exactly helping,’ Winter informed me.
I crossed my arms. ‘I think I’m helping a lot. That poor man would still be trying to answer your first question if I hadn’t stepped in. Softly, softly catchee monkey.’ I shook my head. ‘Getting things done quickly takes a gentle approach sometimes.’
A muscle throbbed in his cheek. ‘I’m not interested in getting things done quickly, Ms Wilde. I’m interested in getting them done right. Now stay quiet and let me do my job.’
I rolled my eyes. Fine. I leant back against the nearest wall and let Winter go to it. Idiot man.
He withdrew a stick from the inside pocket of his jacket. It was similar to a chopstick in length, maybe a few inches longer. I stared at it then snickered. Was that supposed to be a magic wand? Winter ignored me. Using the wandy chopstick, he probed the display case. The moment the tip touched the glass there was a faint hissing sound and the stick turned green around the edges. It didn’t take a Second Level genius to realise that vestiges of the original ward were still in place. All the same, as far as I could tell the sceptre had been lifted right out of the case with incredible ease. Some ward.
