The Revolution and the Fox

by Tim Susman

  The sorcerer smiled. “It had been my very great pleasure. Oh! One moment.”

  He hurried away and then returned carrying a small plate on which two small brown lumps rested. “I do not believe you were able to try our sweets. Please.”

  He held the tray out. Kip and Malcolm each took one. “Thank you very much,” Kip said, placing the sugary treat on his tongue. Sweetness and a profusion of spice burst into his senses. He sorted out cinnamon and perhaps saffron, as well as at least two other fragrant spices he did not have names for. They remained on his tongue even when the candy itself had dissolved.

  “Lovely,” Malcolm said, and Kip nodded agreement.

  Chakrabarti acknowledged their thanks with a nod. “Until tomorrow, gentlemen,” he said.

  5

  Unwelcome Meetings

  Kip and Malcolm visited the rest of the exhibits without finding another healer, and by the time they descended to the first floor by the far stair, both were feeling a little hungry. So they returned to the Salon to get something to eat and to see how Emily and Alice fared.

  The women were deep in conversation with a very well-dressed couple, so rather than disturb them, Kip and Malcolm each took a small luncheon plate of bread, cold meat, and cheese, and as the tables had filled, they stood near the back and ate. Everything was delicious, and the cheese had a rich nutty flavor that was almost too strong for the fox’s palate.

  When they’d finished, they wiped their fingers on the cloth napkins provided and gave plate and napkin to one of the uniformed attendants who wandered the Salon collecting them. Before they had a chance to talk to Emily and Alice, however, Jorey came down the stairs and stopped just inside the Salon, scanning it. As soon as he spotted Kip, he came hurrying over.

  “How’s your work going?” Malcolm asked gently as Jorey skidded to a stop in front of them.

  “I’m trying,” he said, and switched to Kip. “Please, sir, would you come with me?”

  “I’ve got my own work to do,” Kip said. “What’s the problem?”

  “None of the sorcerers up there,” he jabbed a clawed thumb at the ceiling, “will talk to me. They’ll talk to Richard, and sometimes Charity because she’s pretty, but when I ask questions they just ignore me.”

  “Have you told them you’re with the Lutris School?” Malcolm asked gently.

  “Oh aye, of course I have, sir, but it makes no difference! I might as well be reciting Keats or times tables, for all they care.”

  “All right,” Kip said. “We need to go through the first floor anyway.”

  “There are so many rooms, I don’t know if I saw all of them,” Jorey said as they walked toward the stairs. “There’s tables for England and Spain and France, and another room with Russia and Prussia—I thought that was funny, Russia and Prussia, but they’re very different it turns out—and then a room where people are doing different kinds of physical magic and alchemical magic and I hoped someone would be doing spiritual but I haven’t found anyone yet. What was on the second floor?”

  “Egypt and Persia and China and India,” Malcolm said. “Perhaps one or two others, but Kip and I got hungry.”

  “And we found a healer, maybe.” Kip climbed the stairs, Malcolm beside him, Jorey behind. “At least one possibility.”

  “So quickly!” Jorey bounced along behind them. “Is he a Calatian?”

  Kip laughed. “No. I think the only Calatian sorcerers are in Peachtree for the moment.”

  “I came from London,” Jorey pointed out. “There could be Calatian sorcerers in—well, in Spain, I suppose. And here. Where else are there Calatians? India?”

  “No. We are hoping to start a town in Australia, but we don’t even have sorcerers there,” Kip said.

  “Some say that’s an advantage,” Malcolm murmured.

  “There are a lot of politics involved.” Kip smiled back at Jorey as they reached the first floor. “It won’t happen tomorrow, that’s for sure. But I think this kind of,” he gestured around the first room they entered, “international cooperation feels promising.”

  “Let’s visit the British table before you make such grand pronouncements.” Malcolm stood still while his raven surveyed the first room, which was entirely given to the British sorcerers.

  “Are you going to try to get one of them to come to Peachtree?” Jorey asked, hopping up next to Kip.

  “Shh. No, probably not.” There weren’t any sorcerers Kip recognized, but then, he only knew a handful of the King’s College residents, and that had been three years ago. One bored-looking trio wore robes over military uniforms, four eager young sorcerers engaged visitors, and the rest stood behind the tables talking among themselves and looking put out whenever one of the visitors asked them a question.

  “Should I ask the military sorcerers about physical magic?” Jorey asked. “I don’t see anyone else here doing complicated physical magic. They’re levitating bowls and such, but I can do that.”

  “You should go see the Egyptian sorcerers,” Kip said.

  “Hush a moment.” Malcolm pulled them to the side so they weren’t blocking the doorway, but didn’t move toward any of the sorcerers. He bent his head, listening, and Kip perked his ears to catch the young sorcerers’ words as well.

  “They’re recruiting?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Aye, sounds like it to me. ‘Send your children to King’s, oldest sorcerer’s college in the world’—well, our Chinese friends might have something to say about that.”

  “Who would go to King’s if they weren’t born in the British Empire?” Kip asked.

  “You brought me from London to America,” Jorey said.

  “That’s because King’s wouldn’t take Calatians,” Kip said. “If they would, would you have gone there?”

  “Maybe.” Jorey’s tail flicked. “They still don’t have Calatian masters, and I’d rather learn from you. No offense to you, Master O’Brien.”

  “None taken,” Malcolm said, “but have a care.”

  “I wonder if this is because we’re taking Calatian students from them? Maybe they realize they can take students from anywhere, any other country. If they gain the best students from other countries and take them to King’s, then…”

  “Aye.” Malcolm nodded before Kip finished his thought. “Now I’m wishing we’d paid to have a table here as well. We need students more than they do.”

  “We need teachers more.” Kip kept his voice low.

  Someone stepped up behind him. A moment before he recognized the scent, Victor Adamson’s voice said, “I’m available, if the price is right.”

  Both Ash and Corvi fluttered with the dismay that Kip and Malcolm were able to otherwise contain. Kip put a paw on Jorey’s shoulder and pulled the squirrel back between himself and Malcolm. “We’re not speaking to you,” he said.

  Victor walked forward and turned to face them. Dressed in a sharp ice-blue vest and coat, his blond hair perfectly coiffed (with a lavender-scented oil), he looked as wealthy as a nobleman Emily might solicit for donations. “I’d heard that Americans are all uncouth ruffians, of course, but I’d hardly expect it of someone with a good British education.”

  “Funny thing,” Malcolm said, “you can never tell how someone will turn out even with a good British education.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Victor smiled and his eyes flicked past Kip. “Who’s this handsome fellow you’re trying to hide from me? Hallo there. You know Kip and I were at school together?”

  “We were also at school with Matthew Chesterton,” Malcolm said. “Kept up with him, have you? What’s he been doing lately?”

  Victor kept studying Jorey. “Still apprenticed to Warrington last I heard,” he said. “Taking him a while to earn his master’s robes. Perhaps he should’ve tried being a war hero.”

  “Master Penfold is brilliant,” Jorey said indignantly, “and so is Master O’Brien. They’re quite excellent teachers and there’s nothing they cannot do.”

  Victor stooped, h
ands on the knees of his finely tailored pants, to bring himself to Jorey’s eye level. “Teachers? I see, this is one of your students.”

  “Yes, and we’re taking him around to learn what he can from those who can do sorcery,” Malcolm said, “so if you don’t mind?”

  Victor straightened and looked Corvi in the eyes. “I would not presume that I could learn nothing about seeing from someone with no eyes,” he said.

  “Then you’re exhibiting here, I suppose.” Malcolm met the comment about his eyes with equanimity. “Showing off all the things you’ve learned.”

  “Oh, not here. Ha ha! Can you imagine?” Victor gestured to the tables. “Old men and parlor tricks.”

  “So your experiments aren’t ready for the world to see yet?” Kip couldn’t resist a jab of his own.

  “Ah, I didn’t say that.” Victor’s smile made the fox uneasy. “Who knows, if you’re here on the last day, maybe you’ll learn something.”

  “Going to stand up and introduce someone with real magic, are you?” Malcolm asked.

  A shadow passed across Victor’s face. “Don’t think you’re so special with your master’s robes and your ravens and your sorcerer names. I’ve got a sorcerer name too.”

  “Right.” Malcolm steered Jorey forward. “We’ve got many other things to learn, so we’ll take our leave of you.”

  Victor caught Kip’s arm as the fox made to follow. “I do think my demonstration will be of great interest to you,” he said.

  The touch on his arm, the attempted restraint, brought the bright hot siren song of fire to Kip’s mind. A small burn, it whispered, just enough to sear his hand. That would make him let go. He tamped the impulse down with the ease of years of practice and twisted his arm in Victor’s grip instead. “How’s Farley?” he asked. “Murdered anyone lately?”

  Victor let go and exhaled, a dramatic sigh accompanied by a pitying expression. “If only you could let go of the past, you might be able to glimpse the future.”

  “Those are just words that sound elegant and don’t mean anything,” Kip said. “I have an excellent view of the future I and my friends are building—despite your best efforts—and you and your murderous crew are not part of it.”

  “Well,” Victor said, “then I’ll bid you good day.” But his face went cold, even the false friendship falling away from it. He studied Kip a moment longer and then turned on his heel.

  The temptation to create a fire surged even stronger. He could spark a small one that could sit in his paw for a moment and help burn away his anger and frustration, and then it would be gone. Maybe nobody would even see.

  At that moment, Jorey looked back at him, and Kip remembered that he was a teacher too, and a guide for these young students. He put the idea of fire away with not a little regret.

  “Master Penfold?” Jorey said. “What’s a sorcerer’s name?”

  “Sorcerer name,” Kip corrected, and drew Jorey away from the rest of the crowd to speak quietly. “You know the phrases we teach you to help you access magic?” The squirrel nodded. “When you attain the rank of Master, a spiritual sorcerer examines your connection to magic and—with your permission, always with your permission—reads the name that magic knows you by and gives it to you. You can use that to access magic after then.”

  “Why don’t they give us sorcerer names then? It would make magic easier.”

  “It’s only done for masters,” Kip said. “I don’t know why, but that’s the way it’s always been done.”

  “What do they sound like? What’s your sorcerer name?”

  “You’re never to reveal your sorcerer name to another.” Kip put his finger to his muzzle. “And you’re not even supposed to know about it. I didn’t find out until someone did the ceremony for me. So hush, and don’t tell Richard or Charity.”

  Jorey looked away, so Kip said, “I’m serious. Promise you won’t tell the others.”

  “Yes, all right.” The squirrel kicked at the floor. “We promised not to keep sorcery secrets from each other.”

  “This isn’t a secret that will matter. It’s just a thing Victor was using to puff himself up.”

  “Then why can’t we tell anyone about it?”

  “Because it’s tradition, that’s all.”

  “You told us to question tradition.”

  “Yes, yes.” Kip smiled and shook his head. “But you have to learn them first. When you all get your master’s robes and your sorcerer names, we can discuss the tradition further. I’ll tell them I made you keep the secret. Now come on, let’s finish your tour.”

  Kip was glad that his job for the next hour was simply to give Jorey access to the European sorcerers on the first floor, because his mind kept going back to Victor. What could he be working on? What kind of demonstration was he going to put on? He walked absently behind Jorey up to the Spanish sorcerer doing physical magic and nodded when the sorcerer asked if he was Master Penfold, the famous Master Penfold. “I’ll be glad to tell you a little about the Battle of the Road,” Kip said, “if you’ll give my student here a small amount of your time.”

  So the sorcerer answered some of Jorey’s questions and then Kip gave his practiced account of the battle, drawing a small crowd to listen. A few asked questions about details Kip had omitted, or tried to get him to say that he’d destroyed the Road, which he had pointedly not admitted to. He’d learned to navigate these questions without seeming like he was avoiding them, and Malcolm had learned to pull him away so that he didn’t seem rude. “Master Penfold,” Malcolm said after three questions, “we really must be moving on.”

  “So sorry,” Kip said to the crowd, and escaped with Malcolm and Jorey to the next set of tables.

  This same general pattern repeated at the Prussians, the Russians, and then at the alchemical magic table that two of the Dutch sorcerers had set up, which Jorey had decided he wanted to write about. This was likely because the alchemical sorcerers were the friendliest they encountered and did not even wait for Kip to introduce Jorey before asking if the squirrel was a student of sorcery (Kip still promised to tell them his story).

  While they were talking to Jorey, Kip spotted a familiar face: Master Janssen, the headmaster of the Dutch College. The tall grey-bearded man had just left a conversation with one of the Dutch tables and strolled through the room, hands clasped behind his back.

  Kip caught his eye and smiled, and the sorcerer changed direction to come over to Kip. “Master Penfold,” he said in his deep bass voice. “We are so delighted you could come see our Exposition. What do you think of it?”

  “It’s wonderful,” Kip said. “To have so many sorcerers here in one place talking about sorcery is like a dream come true.”

  “Have you had the chance to have many productive discussions?”

  Kip smiled. “A few. I greatly enjoyed meeting the sorcerers upstairs. Here I find myself mostly talking about myself.”

  Janssen nodded gravely. “That is the risk of doing great things.”

  “I was in the right place at the right time…”

  Janssen’s smile returned. “With the risk should also come the reward. You did those things, after all, and nobody else did.”

  “So everyone keeps telling me.” Kip swished his tail and stood straighter. “I have a question for you, as it happens.”

  “Of course.” Janssen guided them over to one side of the room, away from the crowd. “How can I be of assistance?”

  “You know that we are trying to build up our school. We currently have masters to teach alchemical magic, translocation, defense, and physical magic, but we are still lacking a healer. I have been enquiring here but have only found one who might be willing to come teach for us. If you know of any masters—from your school or elsewhere—who might desire to teach in America, I would be very grateful to be introduced to them.”

  “Ah.” Janssen stroked his beard.

  “It needn’t be permanent,” Kip added quickly. “A span of five years, perhaps; enough time for us
to find another teacher.”

  “Or perhaps a rotating post, to be filled every two years by a different master?”

  “Yes, that would suit.” Kip exhaled. If Janssen were willing to help them, his task would be far easier.

  “There is a small difficulty, which is that our healers, most of them, did not work with you during the war and do not know you well, so they lend a small amount of credence to rumors of your inexperience and incompetence, which I am certain are lies spread from London.” Janssen fixed Kip’s gaze with his. “However, we have a newly robed master in healing who is both less opinionated and less empowered to choose his own posting. It is usual for new masters to continue to work with an established healer for a year, but de Koning is quite skilled and we could shorten that time.”

  “I would greatly appreciate it. If he’s willing to come, of course.”

  “I don’t think you need worry about that.” Janssen straightened to his full height and met Kip’s eyes with the air of one sharing a secret. “He’s still beholden to the Athæneum, and we owe you more favors than a hundred healing masters could repay. If he is not eager, he will certainly at least be willing.”

  “Thank you. I hope he will be eager as well.” He chose not to pursue the matter of rumors, nor the irritation he felt at how widespread they had become, and focus instead on the possibility of having two healers at the school. He would have to ask Emily how to pay both of them, but hopefully she would have a solution to that problem by the time the Exposition ended.

  “I’ll speak to him. In the meantime, may I introduce you…”

  Janssen guided him to a table and introduced Kip to two sorcerers practicing translocation, then to a foursome showing off demonstrations of physical magic building elaborate sculptures from sand and mud, and finally back to the alchemical magic table where Jorey remained talking to one of the two sorcerers.

  “Please,” Janssen said, “I hope you will attend a dinner tonight at the Athæneum as our guest. Master de Koning will be there and I will prepare him to discuss a temporary appointment to the Lutris School.”