“Erm...can I help you?” I looked her over as though maybe her appearance could give me a clue why she was chasing me down the hall.
Wrinkles crisscrossed her ill-fitting dress. A long dark braid hung over one shoulder, dark against the olive skin of her neck. She couldn’t be over fourteen. She clutched a book in her hands and smiled at me. “You have a new master?” she asked.
I looked up just as Master Wendyn disappeared around a corner, making no effort to wait for me. “If you can call him a master. Seems like I should call him Tyrant Wendyn.”
“I’m glad.” She grasped the book to her chest and looked up at me. “I heard about what happened to you. How you defended that boy.”
My mouth opened in surprise. “You heard about that? Here in the Conclave? But how?”
She shrugged. “Some wizards were talking. I heard you got disapprenticed. Remember, you borrowed a couple books just before—”
“Mullins, what’re you doing? I said we’re in a hurry, didn’t I?” The master stomped back into view, his frown causing lines to appear on his forehead and between his eyes.
“I’m having a conversation, all right? There’s no need to snap at me; I’ll be right there.” Turning back I said, “Sorry, Orly. I’d forgotten I borrowed those books from the library. Master Hapthwaite must still have them. You'll need to contact him if you want them back.”
Her mouth opened to say something, but I never knew what because I scurried after Master Wendyn, whose scowl had deepened. He grasped me by the nape of the neck until we were within the walls of the secretary’s office.
“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm,” the pruny secretary said, paging through the parchment the master and I had filled out earlier. It listed our names and wizard rank—his of master wizard and mine of underwizard level nought—while the second page was the oath we swore. It would go in the master’s file, while a record of apprenticeship would be placed in mine, along with the other documents which should still reside there, thanks to my previous apprenticeship: documentation of my place of origin, identifying information such as my parents’ names, my eye and hair color, and proof of gender. I had to bribe three men from Waltney to sign that last one. And then, to be safe, I cast a spell of forgetfulness on them. A weak spell, given I had no magical training at the time and learned it from a passing magician.
I hoped the spells still held. Someday soon I’d go back and cast an oblivion spell on those men. The oblivion was much stronger and more reliable than a mere forgetfulness spell. I read about it in Master Hapthwaite’s forbidden book.
“Very well,” said the secretary, stacking the parchment he’d just finished signing and stamping. “Your apprenticeship is official. If you’d like to stop in the office of the trial coordinator, you can schedule the boy’s first trial, if you’ve a mind to. The next trials are just two weeks away. You can schedule them up to six months out.” He rose from the chair and took the parchment with him, disappearing among rows upon rows of files.
“Two weeks?” The master’s dark gaze turned on me. “What say you, Mullins? You’ve three months to pass five trials. When do you want to take the first one?”
My chin rose. I refused to let him know I was nervous just at the thought. “Two weeks is plenty of time to prepare. I’ll take the first trial then.”
He gave a faint smile and nodded. I couldn’t quite tell if he believed me full of the bravado I was trying to portray or not.
You’re supposed to be torturing him with your presence, I reminded myself. But I had a sudden sinking feeling the torture was already flowing in the opposite direction, from the master to me.
***
After returning to Ryker Hall, the master told me to bring Ivan and meet him in the library, a cavernous room off the main hallway. Books and magical artifacts lined the walls and shelves while the fore of the room was filled with a handful of tables and chairs.
I didn’t know why Ivan was to join us. But master said he didn’t want him getting into trouble, so he might as well come along.
The library was empty when we arrived, and it was just as well, because the place took me off guard. I thought the collection in Master Wendyn’s study was enormous, but his library didn’t even compare. The only place I’d seen a larger collection was the Wizard’s Library at the Conclave, kept and maintained for use by master wizards and underwizards in training. But this...the amount of money and time necessary to amass this collection must have been enormous. I looked around with eyes I knew were shining. I browsed through the rows of books while I waited for Master Wendyn to arrive.
I didn’t realize how much time had passed until I looked up with a start at the master’s voice and noted the changed light of the room.
“Sit,” he ordered and then fiddled with some magical items along a shelf. I chose the seat nearest me and lined up my parchment, ink, and pen in preparation to write notes, should my new master say anything noteworthy. I doubted this would happen, but it was important to be prepared. Ivan had ignored the tables altogether and was crouched in a corner.
The master walked the length of the room to stop in front of me. He held something in his hands.
Bones, the man was holding a trammel. I regarded the hinged, neck-sized device with loathing and slid to the back of my chair.
“Starting today,” he announced, “this trammel will be your closest friend.” He fidgeted with the device, opening and closing its metal hinge. It gave a small squeak. “You will wear it at all times, waking and sleeping.” He frowned. “And I don’t want to hear any whining that it’s uncomfortable.”
“If that’s what you want.” I knew I would regret this, but I took the trammel from him anyway and fixed it around my throat. Its metal was cold against my skin, and I shivered. It shut with a precise click. Master Wendyn came around to insert a key from his pocket, which he turned several times. When the key turned the last time, my magic had fled, leaving me bereft, cold, and nauseated.
He slipped the key into his pocket and retrieved a handful of books from a nearby shelf. “I’ve a collection of spell books here. I want you to start at the beginning and practice each spell until you know it from memory.”
“I—excuse me? Every spell from memory?” I pitched my voice deeper to compensate for the loss of my voice modulating spell.
“You heard me.” He stopped in front of my table and deposited the books with a heavy, solid thud. I believed the man resented being questioned. “When you’re done with all these, we’ll talk about taking the trammel off.”
I looked at the stack. “It will take days. Weeks, maybe.”
“Don’t be dramatic. There’s maybe a hundred spells there, all told. I suggest you get started.” He glanced at Ivan and frowned. “And see you keep Ivan out from underfoot.” With that, he left the room.
There were five books sitting on the table in front of me. Several of them were fat, as tall as the mug I drank my milk out of this morning.
I would kill the man.
No. I breathed deep of the musty, bookish smell around me, and closed my eyes. I’d been looking for a friend in my master, and I wasn’t going to find it. It would seem he was incapable of close relationships.
I leaned forward and opened the first book.
***
“Sir? You’ve a visitor.”
I jumped, I was so startled by the voice. It was Edie, the maid, her face filled with pity as she regarded me, trussed up in the trammel.
“A visitor?” My voice was thick with distraction. I’d been so involved with my reading I couldn’t even say how much time had passed since the master left.
“It’s Master Kurke,” Edie said.
I sat up straighter. “To see me?” I clarified.
“Young master is out,” Edie said. “So he asked to see you instead.”
Friar’s bones, I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, wearing a trammel. How humiliating. I wanted to tell her I wouldn’t see him. There was no good reason for the man to want to talk t
o me, after all. But there was also a traitorous, pleased flush suffusing my face at the mere notion of spending more time in his company.
Before I could say anything in protest—or worse, celebration—Master Kurke's lanky form filled the door frame, and I rose to my feet.
Edie leaned in closer. “I think it’s terrible mean of the master to make you wear that,” she whispered and then turned and slipped out of the room, her cheeks a rosy pink.
Then it was just the two of us staring at one another. Master Kurke stood tall and elegant as usual, with a bit of the wickedness I’d come to know him for lingering about his mouth. And me: a slim “boy” with a freckled, crooked nose and a metal bracelet fixed around his neck.
Master Kurke gave me a slow bow. “Underwizard Mullins.”
“Master Wendyn is away,” I said.
“I know.” His robes swished around him as he moved toward my table. “I wouldn’t have come otherwise.”
“Wouldn’t have...” The deep blue of his eyes distracted me. No, focus, Avery. Pay attention. “What may I help you with?”
He pulled out a chair and seated himself next to me, turned so he was facing me while leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. It was a distractingly intimate pose. I sank into my chair, my heart thudding against my ribs.
“A trammel, eh?” he observed. “You must be in need of some hefty rehabilitation.”
“I suppose you are right. But my master knows best.” I somehow managed the words without gritting my teeth.
He clasped his hands together and rested his chin on them. “You seem quick-witted, Mullins. I imagine you’ll have it off in a few days. I don’t envy you the sleep you’ll lose in the meantime, however.”
My heart might leap out of my chest with his nearness. He smelled like vanilla, cigars, magic, and... something else. “Thank you for your concern. What is it you need from me?” I tried to keep my voice even.
“Does it bother you?”
My fingers ran over the trammel. “If you’re asking does it hurt, no. It’s just heavy and inconvenient.”
“I don’t mean the trammel.” He leaned back and regarded me with one eyebrow raised. “I mean the lying.”
“Lying? I’m...not sure what you mean.”
He smiled and opened his mouth to say words that sent my world tilting. “Oh, I think you do. You are lying about being a boy, aren’t you?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Lying? About being a boy?” I echoed, my features frozen in place. A girlish squeak ran through my voice, thanks to the trammel’s cancelation of my voice modulating spell. I cleared my throat and aimed for a husky tone. “Of course I’m a boy.”
He continued, undeterred. “I’d be a sorry excuse for a man if I failed to notice you’re a girl, after having you in my arms yesterday.”
I moved my frozen features into the vestige of a smile. “If my mother were alive, she’d thank you, sir. Mama wanted me to be a girl.”
He tilted his head, his gaze curious. It would be adorable if it weren’t for the turn the conversation had taken. “It's clear Garrick doesn’t know. He’d never allow it. Nauseatingly virtuous, that’s Garrick.”
“You are persistent, aren’t you? But you’re wrong. I’m not a girl.” My voice was firm. “Underwizards are boys, and I have three affidavits of gender on file to prove it."
A grin moved across his mouth, slow and lazy. “There are ways around that, as I’m sure you’ve discovered. But you are a good little liar, and I can use that.”
I came to my feet, and my chair tilted backward, meeting the floor with a clatter of wood on wood. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, sir, but you are very, very mistaken. Now, I have a lot of studying to do. If you wouldn’t mind leaving.” I scowled and pointed at the library door. My heart was beating so fast and thumping so hard, I’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear it.
He flicked a finger, and the chair righted itself and pushed at the back of my legs. I was forced to sit down.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better arrangement than this.” He flicked a finger at me, and with a mutter of a spell, I was pinned in my chair by unseen magic, unable to rise.
“Wha—let me up!” At least I still had control of my voice.
“No.”
“What is it you want from me, Master Kurke?” I asked through gritted teeth. I wanted to argue, but I saw little point in it when he wasn’t listening.
“First off, call me Matt. You, my dear girl, are going to help me destroy the Wendyn family.”
Of course I will not call him Matt was my first ridiculous thought. As if that were the issue.
And second: Destroy the Wendyn family? But they’re old friends!
And third: Bones! With this contraption around my neck, I won’t be able to perform an oblivion spell!
I had never performed an oblivion spell, but I had read about them in Master Hapthwaite’s forbidden book. It had been my in-case-of-disaster plan ever since. I couldn’t have foreseen that on the day I'd need to use the spell I'd have a trammel locked around my neck.
Some said that Ladarius the Heroic, great mage of the Oceanic Wars, wore a trammel during the final battle. He’d been captured by the enemy and the trammel placed around his neck to keep him from aiding Faronna and the Three Kingdoms. But his powers were so great the device couldn’t contain his magic.
After several minutes of intense mental strain, I realized Ladarius and I did not share the same talent.
“Stop whatever it is you think you’re doing,” Master Kurke said. He had been scouting the shelves, examining the magical items and devices perched among the books. Now he was holding a long flat metal object with a crank on one side. I didn't know what its purpose was. “Get used to the idea that not only do I know more magic than you, but I’m stronger and cleverer. If you try to defy me in any way, I will make you regret it.”
This was what came of mooning after a man I knew nothing more about than the deep blue of his eyes. I was so absorbed in Master Kurke’s pretty face I left myself open to his schemings.
“I’m not a girl,” I insisted. Perhaps it was naïve of me, but I felt it was worth one more try.
He put down the object and strode closer to grasp my jaw. His hand squeezed, and for a moment I wondered if he meant to force words of agreement out of my mouth. But then he tilted my face first one way, then the other, eyeing me.
“Not handsome, but definitely girlish,” he declared, stepping back. “Now, let’s come to an accord, you and I, so we can work together on this. Never fear. I offer something in return for your help.” He pulled parchment from inside his robes. “Here, read.”
The parchment dropped into my lap, and filled with trepidation, I picked it up. It was an oath. That the undersigned, Apprentice-Underwizard Mullins, will assist Master Wizard Matthias Kurke in any way required to permanently dispose of Master Wizard Oscar Wendyn and any other souls who impede the carrying out of said task before the winter solstice. In return, Master Kurke will not reveal the true state of Underwizard Mullins’s gender.
“I think it’s a fair trade,” he said, “but please don’t feel compelled. I’ll warn you, however, that if you refuse me, it’d be best if you head for hiding as soon as you can. Remember what happened to Underwizard Ingerman when it came out that he was a she? They only found pieces of her after she underwent the Punishment.”
Not surprising. The Punishment involved being rolled down a mountain inside a barrel filled with spikes. Once it stopped moving, the barrel was ensorcelled to explode. So if you didn’t die from the spikes, you’d die from the explosion. It had been in use in Faronna for centuries under a variety of circumstances.
“‘Permanently dispose’?” I looked across the table at him where he had just pulled out a chair and seated himself so we were facing one another across the wide wooden expanse. “You mean to kill him?”
“Let’s not quibble over terms. If you want to be vulgar about it, I suppose yes. Kill.”
&nbs
p; I put the parchment down and stared at him. “But he’s just a crazy old man. Surely he hasn’t harmed you enough to warrant your killing him.”
“What do you know about what he’s done?” Kurke sounded almost petulant. “Not to mention the harm he’s done Faronna.”
“What harm?” I asked, but perhaps I shouldn’t have, because he fixed me with a look so forbidding that I remembered I was at his mercy, pinned in a chair by his magic. “I mean...I’m just curious.”
After staring at me for a moment or two in silence, he pushed to his feet.
“Perhaps you need persuading,” he said. “And here I thought the threat of Punishment—” he cut himself off.
Footsteps tip-tapped across the room. I craned my neck to look behind me at the doorway.
Mrs. Pitts made her way toward us, a tray in her arms. She nodded to Master Kurke and frowned at me.
Friar’s bones, had she heard anything?
“Tea,” she announced, setting the tray down on the table before me. The aroma of steamed leaves wafted on the air. “I thought you might like some refreshment, Master Kurke, although it’s beyond me why you’d want to speak to the apprentice. Perhaps while you’re here, you can introduce him to the importance of behaving oneself.”
“Yes, perhaps I can,” Kurke said.
I focused more precious seconds on attempting to remove the trammel using only my magic skills. But I could no longer feel the surrounding magic. I knew it must be there—I could almost always feel the tingle of magic along my skin—but now I felt nothing around me at all. Nothing but the heavy weight of metal against my neck and the jitter of nerves through my body.
If only I dared raise my hands to the trammel. Perhaps if I could tug at its locking mechanism, I would know if my attempts at loosening it were having any effect.
Mrs. Pitts turned to go, and I gave a quick glance from her retreating back to Master Kurke’s deliberative expression.
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