by Helen Harper
‘Ivy Wilde,’ I offered helpfully. I stuck out my hand. For a moment Price eyed it as if it contained germs then he shook it with a limp-wristed grip. He’d be reaching for the hand sanitizer or wiping his palm on his robe any second now.
Price released me and focused on Winter. ‘What can we do for you?’
‘We’re looking for a personnel file,’ Winter said. ‘Oscar Marsh. He works in Geomancy.’
If Price was intrigued by the request, he didn’t show it. ‘Of course, of course.’ He clapped his hands and pointed to Tarquin on the other side of the room, who was pretending to look busy. ‘Villeneuve!’ he barked. ‘Get the file on a…’ He looked back at Winter.
‘Oscar Marsh.’
‘Marsh,’ Price repeated. ‘From Geomancy.’
Tarquin got to his feet. ‘Certainly, Adeptus,’ he murmured. ‘I’m happy to help.’ He walked purposefully to the filing cabinets, as if he were delighted by this mundane task. I was delighted to see him acting like a general dogsbody but I’m kind of petty that way.
‘Tell me, Adeptus Price,’ Winter murmured, in a tone that suggested hidden steel and would have sent many a lesser witch scurrying for the hills, ‘why were you visiting Adeptus Diall earlier this week? Apparently you were rather anxious to speak to him.’
Price jumped but he recovered quickly. ‘Adeptus Diall helped me out from time to time.’ He sighed, although it seemed calculated for sympathy rather than a genuine sound of despair. ‘I’ve been having some difficulties with my staff and I was looking for guidance on how to deal with them. Some people don’t have the respect for their elders that they used to.’
‘Perhaps because respect needs to be earned,’ Winter said.
Price stared at him. ‘Quite.’
Winter switched tack. ‘Do you keep all the personnel files here? I wouldn’t have thought you have the space.’
Price chuckled. ‘Well we are Human Resources. It makes sense that all the personnel files are kept here. They used to be all over the place but I have centralized the system. Between you and me, there was a terrible incident over in Amulets where they misplaced twelve files. It caused some consternation, I can tell you.’ His smile dropped. ‘Although not as much consternation as recent events. It’s simply terrible what happened to Adeptus Diall. And the Cypher Man—’
‘Thank you, Adeptus Price,’ Winter said loudly.
The witch seemed to realise his error in broadcasting what was supposed to be a secret, classified matter. He coughed to cover his mistake. ‘Can we get you any refreshments while you wait?’
‘Tea, please,’ I chirped. I could do with a cuppa.
Winter frowned. ‘Just the file.’ The man had no true understanding of what it meant to be British.
‘Fair enough. No rest for the wicked in Arcane Branch!’ Price grinned and looked at me. ‘So, Ms Wilde,’ he enquired. ‘How are you settling into your new role?’
Ha! So he did remember me after all. ‘Oh, it’s fabulous,’ I enthused. ‘But there aren’t enough tea breaks.’
Price laughed, although it was obviously forced. ‘Indeed. Indeed.’ He licked his lips. ‘I am sorry about the mix-up, you know. It was simple human error that can happen to us all.’ He glanced anxiously at Winter. ‘No one’s perfect. And I do have some incredibly difficult people in my Department who…’
Tarquin cleared his throat. ‘Adeptus Price? Could you come over here, please, sir?’
Fleeting annoyance flashed across Price’s face. ‘Excuse me,’ he muttered, turning away to help Tarquin with the difficult task of opening a filing cabinet.
‘I feel a bit sorry for him,’ I whispered to Winter. ‘He’s clearly out of his depth here. And he did apologise.’
Winter glowered. ‘Then in the same breath he blamed his Department for the cock-up. He’s the one in charge. He should take full responsibility.’
I kept my voice low to avoid being overheard. ‘By his own admission, he doesn’t get a lot of respect from his team. Is he another person who benefited from Diall’s work? It would make sense, given he was looking for him for help.’
‘You mean was Price promoted despite being ill-equipped to manage the job?’ Winter watched the witch put his hands on his hips and glare ferociously at Tarquin. ‘It’s certainly possible. He’s only Adeptus Major. But not many witches are keen to run HR. It’s not exactly a glamorous position.’
I’d say. ‘We should ask him for his own personnel file too,’ I suggested.
Winter quirked up an eyebrow. ‘We should request the personnel file of the Head of HR from the Head of HR?’
I shrugged. ‘Yeah.’ My mouth twitched. ‘You are Arcane Branch, right?’ I teased.
‘We,’ he said. ‘We are Arcane Branch, Ivy.’
‘So you’re saying I should ask for it?’
Price began walking back to us. ‘You will keep your mouth shut,’ Winter told me. Contradictory plonker.
Price stopped in front of Winter, looking worried. ‘There is a slight problem,’ he said.
‘What’s that?’
‘Oscar Marsh’s file isn’t here.’
‘Then,’ Winter said, his voice dropping dangerously, ‘where is it?’
‘Geomancy must have checked it out.’ He looked over his shoulder to Tarquin who was still standing, looking bored. ‘Have you got the logbook there?’
Tarquin held up a battered-looking notebook. ‘Yes.’ He scurried over, handing it not to Price but to Winter. Price glared and tried to snatch it out of Winter’s hands; when that didn’t work, he pushed me out of the way so he could peer over Winter’s shoulder. If that bothered Winter, he didn’t let it show. He flipped through the pages, using his finger to track down the columns.
‘Ha! There!’ Price crowed. ‘Marsh’s file was logged out last week.’ He paused. ‘I can’t read that signature. Honestly, some people have appalling handwriting.’
Winter snapped the book shut and handed it back to Price. ‘Thank you for your time.’ He turned away then paused, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. ‘Where were you yesterday morning, Adeptus Price?’
He blinked rapidly. ‘Er…’ He looked to Tarquin for help.
‘You were at that meeting. With Practicus Lee. It was on your calendar.’
Price nodded. ‘Ah, yes. Of course.’ He smiled. ‘Despite being a witch, Practicus Lee knows a fair bit about computers. We’ve been looking into ways of putting our records online. Not here, you understand,’ he added hastily. ‘Offsite where they won’t affect anyone’s magic.’
Winter grunted then glanced at me. ‘I know who took the file. Let’s go.’ He half smiled, half grimaced at Price. ‘Thank you again.’
‘Adeptus Exemptus Winter!’ Tarquin called. ‘I can come with you if you wish. I know exactly what the personnel files look like, so I’m sure I can help.’
Winter’s blue eyes were cold. ‘I think Ms Wilde and I can manage,’ he said. ‘She’s incredibly talented.’ He took my elbow and gently propelled me away.
‘I love you,’ I whispered.
Winter grinned.
***
Once we were back outside, I nudged Winter. ‘Could you really read that handwriting? Do you know who has Marsh’s file or were you just trying to escape?’
‘I recognised the writing,’ he said grimly. ‘Tobias Worth-Jones. He works over at Runic Magic.’
I whistled. Only the best of the best finagle their way into that department. ‘Friend of yours?’ I asked.
‘Not really.’
‘Do you have any friends?’
‘Ivy,’ Winter sighed.
I shrugged. ‘Just asking. But I don’t think we need to find your double-barrelled acquaintance.’
‘I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking this. Why not?’
‘Price did it.’
Winter turned to me. ‘How did you come to that conclusion?’
‘He was shifty and nervous. There’s no way he got that job without Diall’s help. And,
’ I added, ‘he was wearing slip-on shoes. Never trust a man wearing slip-on shoes.’
Winter started walking again. ‘And here was me thinking you were going to offer something insightful.’
‘I did!’
Winter harrumphed, actually harrumphed. I didn’t know people did that any more. ‘Let me know if you find any real evidence.’
I remained earnest. ‘People always think it’s the big muscly guys you need to be afraid of. It’s not. It’s the weedy ones who have a point to prove.’
‘Go on then,’ Winter said, folding his arms. ‘Why did he murder Diall?’
I thought about it. ‘They were secret lovers. Diall stole the Manuscript in order to become more powerful and Price got worried that he’d be left behind.’
‘So he killed the love of his life?’
‘Okay, I’ll admit my theory needs work.’ I jabbed Winter in the arm. ‘But that guy is definitely shifty.’
‘I’ll take that under advisement,’ Winter said drily. With that, we both lapsed into silence.
***
It was quite a trek to the building where Runic Magic was housed. Along the way, forgetting that I’d never got round to having my shoes re-soled, I stepped in a puddle. Soon I was walking along with a sodden sock and chilly toes, which didn’t exactly put me in a good frame of mind.
The Runic witches didn’t appear fazed by the weather. As soon as we rounded the corner and their grand old building came into view, I spotted several of them out on the grass in front.
Winter hissed in irritation. ‘They’ve been told time and time again not to do that.’
‘Do what?’ The words were barely out of my mouth when the group separated: five witches on one side of the lawn and five on the other. A few others peeled off to the edges including, I noted, my old mate Anthea. Well, well, well. She might be in Tarquin’s pocket but she was certainly doing well for herself if she’d been assigned to this department. I was proud of her; whether Anthea had avoided me for the last eight years or not, and regardless of her tattle-tales to Tarquin about my sudden reappearance, I still remembered our friendship.
I focused on the others. Winter was still bristling by my side; I had the feeling that he was about to put a halt to these proceedings, whatever they were. I placed a hand on his arm. ‘Can we just watch? Pretty please? You don’t need to enforce every rule. People will like you more if you loosen up a bit.’
‘I don’t need people to like me.’ He sounded irritated but even so he relaxed slightly. I rubbed my palms together; whatever was about to happen, I reckoned it would be a whole lot of fun. And at least I wouldn’t be expected to do anything for a few minutes. I’d take my moments of blissful inactivity wherever I could find them.
A tall, gangly witch on the right stepped forward. He tossed a coin in the air, caught it deftly and flipped it onto the back of his hand.
‘Heads,’ called out a witch from the opposing team.
The first guy looked down and grinned. ‘Tails. We go first.’ The other four witches with him pulled back their shoulders, a movement so synchronised that they must have practised it. They began drawing runes.
‘They’re attacking,’ I breathed, finally understanding.
Winter rolled his eyes. ‘Yes. They’re idiots.’
Each witch apparently had a different speciality. One cast a rune for wind, sending a gust out towards their competitors. Another conjured up a swirl of leaves, seemingly from nowhere. It blocked the other team’s vision long enough for a third and fourth witch to work together and draw twin runes to open up a long fissure in the ground.
The other team worked on defensive manoeuvres, casting runes to counter-balance the aggression and keep themselves safe. One almost tipped into the gaping magic sinkhole but another drew a rune quickly enough to snare his arm with a lasso and pull him back. It wasn’t enough, though; the final witch on the attacking side cast his rune, a clever spell designed to momentarily alter the very physiology of living creatures. The other witches realised what he was doing and tried to counter it but they couldn’t. Within moments, all their legs had turned to jelly and they’d fallen to the ground, yelling.
The winning side cheered while all the runes were undone. The sinkhole sealed up again and the losers staggered to their feet, their bones returning to normal. I wasn’t impressed. They’d tried to defend themselves by blocking the spell; what they should have done was mirror it. It’s an easier rune to draw so they’d have had more time to reverse it and win the day.
Winter folded his arms and glared icily at them all. ‘The infirmary has to deal with the aftermath of these kinds of things far too often,’ he muttered. ‘And affecting the ground in this area can weaken the foundations of the buildings. It’s completely irresponsible.’
‘Spoilsport. No one was hurt.’ I paused. ‘Not permanently. The environment is back to normal. It’s a waste of energy, sure, but don’t witches have to practise?’
‘In safe warded places. Not here.’
‘It’s harmless,’ I told him.
‘It’s foolhardy.’
Winter was still in snort mode when Anthea finally spotted me and jogged over. Her eyes were shining. ‘Ivy! Isn’t this great?’
‘It seems like a good way to burn off excess energy,’ I agreed. Not that that was a problem I suffered from.
She arched an eyebrow in my direction. ‘It’d be fun to see a match between you two. Two partners, squaring off against each other, one on one…’
Winter snorted impatiently. ‘We don’t have time for this.’
‘We had time for your detour,’ I pointed out. ‘What’s another five minutes?’ I knew this was a safe bet: Winter was never going to agree. Unfortunately, it appeared that Anthea was well aware of that too.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘in that case you and I should take a turn, Ivy. For old times’ sake. I’d love to show you what I’ve learned. You can show off as well. I’m sure you’ve been doing some magic over the years.’
The tone of her voice suggested that I’d been out in a barren wilderness instead of suburban Oxford. ‘Adeptus Exemptus Winter is probably right,’ I said, using his formal title to remind her that he was supposed to be the one in charge. ‘We really should get going.’
‘What’s another five minutes?’ she asked, throwing my words back at me. Darn it. ‘You should let Ivy off the leash, Adeptus Winter.’
I felt his sudden tension. ‘She is her own person,’ he said stiffly.
Anthea clapped her hands in delight. ‘Brilliant. I’ll take the right.’ She skipped away.
‘Bloody hell, Winter,’ I muttered. ‘You were supposed to put your foot down and refuse her.’
He gave me a blank look. ‘How on earth was I supposed to know that?’ His jaw tightened. ‘And for the record, you’re not on a leash.’
‘Apart from the magical binding one.’
He growled, ‘That one’s not my fault. It doesn’t count.’
‘Come on, Ivy!’ Anthea called.
I sighed. I should have made up more excuses and wriggled away but it was probably faster to do as she wanted.
I shuffled over to the left-hand side. The witches who’d already competed had formed a half circle round us and more were wandering over out of curiosity. As a non-Order witch, I was an object of some fascination.
‘The goal is to bring the other person to the ground.’ Anthea bopped around, still brimming with enthusiasm. ‘Only runes are allowed and there’s to be no physical contact.’ Humour flashed across her face and she wagged her index finger at me. ‘And no sudden death spells or serious dismemberment. Whatever you do has to be immediately reversible when the combat ends.’
Combat? This was all getting a bit too serious. I eyed her then glanced at the audience. Whether I was attacking or defending, I knew deep down I’d have no difficulty in besting her. It wasn’t ego. Anthea put her stock in rote-learned runes that had been taught by the Order for decades; I’d gone guerrilla. She wouldn�
��t expect anything that I threw at her. But if I let my pride get in the way and showed what I was really capable of, I reckoned some of the other witches would clamour for more action. Not just today, either; it was possible I’d be here at the Order for some time. I dreaded to think what it would be avoiding potential challengers for the next ninety-six days. If I proved to be the weakling they expected, I’d be left in peace. There was really no contest.
The witch from the first fight stepped forward, tossed his glinting coin and caught it. He addressed me. ‘Heads or tails?’
I shrugged. ‘Tails.’
He revealed heads. Even better.
‘If you’re still standing after I’ve attacked,’ Anthea said, ‘we swap places. We’re allowed to cast one rune each.’
I nodded to show I understood and banked down the temptation to check Winter’s glowering face. Don’t worry, I tried to project silently, this won’t take long.
‘Ready?’ Anthea called. ‘I’ll go easy on you, I promise.’
I smiled. She grinned back and started her first rune. Her movements were slow, at least compared to someone like Winter, and I knew before she was halfway through what she was preparing to do. The magic she was using was barely Neophyte level. As her fingers drew upwards in a sweeping motion, it was clear that she was conjuring up a ball to fling at my shins to knock my feet out from under me. To stop it, all I had to do was cast a simple wall. It would take barely a breath. I pasted on a dull expression and waited.
Anthea’s ball appeared five metres to my side. She had indeed progressed a great deal since we were teenagers; around double the size of a typical bowling ball, it was hurtling towards me with incredible speed. I furrowed my brow and concentrated. I had to get this just right.
Using jerky movements, I cast my defensive rune. There was a whistling sound as the air drew in around me. I slammed out the heel of my palm at the last second, pushing out a gust of air to knock the ball off course. Given the ball’s velocity, however, the energy I put into it wasn’t nearly enough. I half turned and it crashed into the side of my calf. Even if I’d wanted to stay upright, I doubt I’d have managed it. I just avoided sprawling face first by bracing my palms against the damp grass. There were a few huffs from the crowd; I was certain I caught at least one witch mutter, ‘I told you so.’
