I sighed and led them toward the kitchens, passing Edie on the way carrying a tray of tea. She was already frowning, apparently as put off by the unannounced visitors as I. She even muttered and glared when I held the door open for her to pass me into the kitchens.
These unannounced Wendyns had thrown everyone off.
***
Mrs. Pitts and I held a whispered discussion in the hall outside the kitchen, while Cook’s objections and exclamations of dismay carried from the kitchen over the noise of Bastian and Cailyn’s conversation.
“How long are they planning on being here?” Mrs. Pitts demanded in a hiss.
“Until the master returns. Maybe days.”
“Cook will be furious.”
As though to illustrate the point, Cook’s voice carried to the hallway: “I told you, don’t touch that!” Something large and heavy clanged against the floor.
“You have to tell me where to find Master Wendyn.”
Her mouth turned obstinate. “Great Hepzibah’s fiddle, I will not. He gave me that information for emergencies only.”
“Are you prepared to make them wait days for him to return? If her childbirth begins, they could take up permanent residence here.”
"They also might get tired and leave," she reasoned. "The master doesn’t like when his family shows up unannounced. He’ll thank me if he misses their visit."
I massaged my temples. “Fine. Then you get to take care of them. I want no more to do with this drama.”
“Fine, I will.”
“I have packing to finish.” And with that, I retreated up the stairs.
***
Not a quarter of an hour passed before a tap sounded on my door. Feeling a little smug—so Mrs. Pitts had already relented, had she?—I set a stack of books inside my trunk and turned toward the door. “Come in.”
But once the door swung open, the figure standing there bore no resemblance to Mrs. Pitts.
“Oscar?” The man whose life hung in the balance as precariously as my own at the moment.
“Ah. Hello there, Mullins.” He took a few steps into the room. “What’s the idea, sending me a letter saying Garrick’s ill? Mrs. Pitts says he’s fine—at least to her knowledge.”
“A letter? I never sent a letter.” Friar’s bones. Kurke must have written it and signed my name.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “To be clear, my grandson is not ill or dying? And I’ve rushed back here for no reason?”
“I—I guess I exaggerated,” I improvised. “When did you arrive?”
He wore a homespun wool shirt and broadcloth trousers, looking rather haggard. “A few minutes ago. Now out with it. What’s going on around here? My grandson and his wife are in the kitchen cooking up a feast, Ivan is sulking, and Mrs. Pitts says Garrick’s gone fishing? He hates fishing. What’s happened?”
I bit my lip and then straightened my shoulders. Best to come out with it, I suppose. “The master and I had a misunderstanding.”
His gaze sharpened on me. “About what?"
I shrugged and evaded his eyes. I couldn’t tell Oscar the truth. “Why does Master Wendyn do anything? He’s an unreasonable man.”
“At times. But he doesn’t go running away from just any situation. In fact, the last time...yes, it must have been Cailyn.”
“I assure you, I had no idea he was going. He just...went.”
“Ah. But you know why he left, don’t you?”
My eyes flashed to his face.
“I was an underwizard once too. Whatever you’ve done, just apologize and move on. Garrick’s a reasonable man. He’ll understand.”
I shook my head. “How can he understand? He won’t even talk to me.” I turned away toward the window. “Anyway, an apology isn’t going to help. He’s asked me to leave. I’m going tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Has your oath been invalidated, then? Do you have a new master?”
I shrugged as if I didn’t care. “Wizardry isn’t for me, and I’ve accepted it. I’ll go back to...” I trailed off and pondered the possibilities, things I hadn’t even allowed myself to dwell on yet. Would I take in washing again? Perhaps sewing as well? Or would I go back on my promise to Mama and go to thieving? Or would I try something new, such as amateur magician? “I'm not sure what I’ll do,” I said at last, turning back. “Something. It doesn’t matter what, does it?”
He folded his arms and regarded me with a frown and a furrow between his eyes. “So you’re giving up, just like that? After all the work you’ve put into it? Come now. Garrick’s been hard on you, yes, but I thought you two had come to an accord.”
“So did I. But he changed his mind. It’s over.” I paced across the room and stopped before my trunk, throwing haphazard things into it.
“Miranda’s cutlass, underwizard. You mean to tell me that—” He broke off, and after a moment of silence I stopped what I was doing and looked over at him.
He was staring at my desk, at the books and papers scattered across it.
“Mullins, where did that book come from?” His quiet voice held an edge of danger. I’d never heard such a tone come from Oscar before.
“What book?” I glanced over the desk and realized with a start that all my books from the Wizard’s Library sprawled across it, from the two books Orly disguised to the large Belanokian dictionary.
“Oh, that. That’s nothing.” I arrive at the desk in two strides, stacking the books and papers. “Just some books from the library.”
“Stop!” His thunderous voice echoed in the small room. That alone stunned me into compliance, but before I could obey of my own volition, a spell pinned me in place. Oscar pushed past me and unstacked the books and papers. He flipped through them, staring at me after each one.
“I thought this book looked familiar. Not bad work at disguising it, but I recognize the trail of magic this sort of book leaves.” He held the blood magic spell book up. “Where did you get this?” He flicked a finger, and my head broke free from the freezing spell.
“It’s not what you think.” Stupid words to say in any situation, but in the immediacy of the moment, nothing else came to mind.
“This is a blood magic spell book. Bloodlust, I believe is the proper title, not this Aqua Pura nonsense. This should be in the Conclave’s vault, and yet here it is in your bedroom. Explain.”
I’d never heard Oscar’s voice sound so hard. For a moment I could only stare at him, trying to formulate an explanation. “I—I want to tell you,” I stuttered. “I do.”
“So tell me, then.”
Orly. I couldn’t let her part in this come to light. If it became known she stole a book from the vault, what would her punishment be?
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
He slammed the book down on the desk, and I flinched. “Do not toy with me, underwizard. I am not the fool you seem to think.”
“I don’t think you’re a fool.” But I suppose I did. I seemed to recall terming him “nutty as a fruitcake.” This backboned version of Oscar had me completely flummoxed.
“How did this book come to be in your possession?”
“I bought it,” I lied glibly, thanking the heavens he hadn’t had time to cast a deception defense.
“Bought it?” he echoed. “Where? What bookseller would dare to sell this sort of book?” His voice thundered throughout the room, and I wished I had the use of my limbs so I could shrink away from him.
Perhaps it was an ill-chosen lie. I didn’t expect him to react so angrily. “A stall in Hampstone,” I improvised. “A few weeks ago.”
“Give me the bookseller’s name and location.”
“Why? What are you going to do to them?”
Oscar stepped closer. He didn’t touch me, but his face was so close that I squirmed—at least, everything from the neck up, which were the only parts of me able to move. “Give me the bookseller’s name and location.”
“He’s not there any longer. I only saw him the one time.”
H
e gave me a shrewd glance. “It’s just as well your relationship with Garrick is over. I could have overlooked your being female, even helped you patch things up with Garrick, but I can’t let this go. Dabbling in blood magic is going too far.”
My mouth opened in shock. “You knew I was a girl? And you never said?”
“A girl wizard is one thing, but practicing banned magic is different.”
“I never dabbled in blood magic. At least, not—”
I meant to say not me personally. But the words evaporated, replaced with a familiar stupor that reminded me of...something. Something I couldn’t remember.
“Yes, you didn’t dabble in blood magic,” Oscar said gravely. “You just purchased an illegal book on blood magic from a questionable seller. Perhaps to satisfy your own curiosity?”
I took precious moments to catch on to what we’re talking about, and I realized why the stupor was familiar. It had happened to me before. It was the stupor that came whenever I tried to talk about the cursed blood oath. “Yes, that’s right, curiosity.” I grabbed onto the excuse that Oscar had offered me for whatever question he’d asked—I couldn’t remember what it was. “I ask too many questions. Master Wendyn will tell you.”
He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “This is just what I need. Now I either have to turn you over to the Council or clean up this problem myself. Which would you prefer?”
The Council meant Punishment, and from the look on Oscar’s face, I couldn’t expect much better from him. “I would prefer neither. I’m leaving tomorrow. No, wait—I could leave tonight! You’ll never see me again.”
“Yes, and you could spread your blood magic to who-knows-where all over the three kingdoms.”
“I would never—”
He silenced me with a spell that stilled my mouth and head. A freezing spell. “Enough. I’m well aware of blood spells that twist lies into sounding like truth. I don’t want to hear it from you.”
His footsteps tapped across the floor, out of my line of vision. Whispers of noise made me itch to turn my head, if only I could: the swish of fabric, a clink of metal against metal, the thump of something heavy landing on the floor. From the direction he went, he must be rooting through my trunk. At last he moved back into my line of vision. “Garrick found out you’re a girl, didn’t he. That’s why he’s turning you out. I could have told you he wouldn’t respond well to being lied to. Not with his history.”
I couldn’t respond, though I wanted to ask him who he thought would respond well to being lied to.
“An oblivion might do,” he said, halfway to himself.
I didn’t want anyone tampering with my memories. Poor oblivion spells could remove entire lifetimes, and while Oscar had the skill to perform one, when it came right down to it, I didn’t wish to forget anything in my past. Even the bad things bore remembering, for the sake of protecting myself.
Not to mention that forgetting things such as blood magic and Matthias Kurke could be very, very dangerous—for Oscar.
I struggled against the freezing spell, trying to find a hole in its structure, as Master Wendyn had told me was possible. I wished now I’d had the foresight to practice it.
The spell Oscar cast felt like steel mesh against my skin. I knew he was a powerful magician—he’d have to be, wouldn’t he? The Council wouldn’t just make any old master wizard the PMW—but the tensile strength in the structure of his spell was further proof. No matter where I poked or prodded at the magic holding me captive, I couldn’t find a weakness.
“Yes, I think oblivion is going to be the best choice,” Oscar went on, coming to a stop in front of me. “And then I will release you, Mullins, to go back to whatever life you want. But I think it’ll be best for all parties if you have no memories of magic after this.”
He might as well have just kicked me in the gut, for the way the words hit me in the stomach. Take my memories of magic? It would render the last three years of my life meaningless.
“It isn’t anything personal,” he went on, looking me in the eye. “But I’ve been fighting blood magic for a long while, since before my tenure as PMW, and I’m not about to let an upstart of a young girl change that.”
A picture formed in my head. I was in Waltney, working as a barmaid at the Oak and the Cross, Papa’s favorite tavern. I served the boys—now strapping young men—who once pronounced me too stupid for book learning. The me in my imagination had no recollection of any attempt to break free from such a life.
It was a sad picture, but the alternative depressed me equally. I could either be Oblivioned Avery, with no memories of magic and no memories of Oscar Wendyn, who had been murdered by Master Kurke. Or I could be Dead Avery.
I deserved Oscar’s oblivion spell and more, but if he performed it I can’t stop Kurke from killing him.
Master Wendyn said distraction was a wizard’s best option in any fight. If Oscar would just release me from this blasted freezing spell, I could try it.
Oscar took a step back. “Perhaps I’m being too hasty. Let’s converse, you and I. But first—” He turned his back on me as he performed a long spell which I didn’t recognize. And then another shorter spell which I did—deception defense.
Hope rose in me as I watched him work. Had he had second thoughts about taking my memories?
“Before the oblivion, I’d like answers. I will release you now, but I do so with a warning. If you lie, I will know it and so will you. Deception defense is like a kick to the head from an angry mule.”
The hope died within me. If I had the power to talk, I’d tell him his warning was unnecessary. I knew the pain. But I couldn’t help wondering why he would release me when moments ago he didn’t trust me not to blood-spell him.
Dust clouded up from his trousers as he seated himself in the chair next to the fireplace and crossed his legs, leaning back as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Although, from the way his fingers were tensed against his legs, perhaps he wasn’t as relaxed as he looked. “Now, speak. Tell me what your connection is to blood magic.” And with those words, he waved a hand, and I came free of the freezing spell.
I looked down at my fingers, stretching them, and then I looked at Oscar accusingly. “I hate that spell.”
An eyebrow rose. “You’ve had it performed on you before?”
I frowned. “More often than you’d think. First Kurke, then that great oaf from Bramford.” I froze, staring at my fingers curled up in a fist, as I realized what I’d said. Shouldn’t I be swooning in confusion right now?
Bemusement flitted across Oscar’s face. “Kurke? Matthias Kurke? He cast a freezing spell on you?”
My mouth opened and closed. Shock and hope crawled through me. “I—yes, he did.” My words came tentatively as I waited for the swoon—and still nothing happened. My thoughts remained my own.
“Why ever did he do that? Helping Garrick during a lesson, I suppose?”
“No.”
Oscar looked at me closer, perhaps drawn by the strange tone my voice had taken on.
I gulped and plunged ahead. “He cast it the day he forced me to swear a blood oath.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I tensed, waiting for something awful to happen—I didn’t know what. But nothing did.
Oscar stared while I blinked and wondered if I were dreaming. Had I just said that?
“Blood oath?” Oscar repeated, coming to his feet. “Matthias Kurke has been practicing blood magic?” Confusion colored his face. “But how did he—”
I snapped my fingers. “That first spell you cast. It’s some kind of blocking spell, isn’t it? Something to stop blood magic? You wanted me to try casting a blood spell. You wanted to catch me in the act.”
He put his hands on his hips and stared at me, as though trying to make sense of a riddle impossible to unravel. “It was a neutralizing spell. It renders blood spells useless.”
“But this is—this is tremendous.” I paced to the window in excitement and then swung around
. “I’ve been trying to speak of the oath for months!”
“It’s Matthias.” Oscar stared at some spot on the floor beyond me. “He’s the one causing all of this chaos. He’s following in the footsteps of his father. But how did he know?” His sharp glance darted to me. “The attack on the vault. Were you involved too?”
“Attack?” I echoed. “What attack?” But then I remembered. “Friar’s bones, that explosion? Was that Kurke?”
It made sense. That was where Kurke got the blood spells he’d been using. Where else would he have learned them?
Oscar snapped his fingers with impatience. “I need you to come straight out and tell me. Were you involved in the attack on the vault?”
“Of course not.”
He gave me a hard look, and then apparently satisfied that the deception defense spell hadn’t knocked me silly, he gave a tight nod. “Very well. Then tell me what you know of his doings these past months. Have you been helping him?”
One wrong word would earn me a blow to the head from the deception spell. I chose my words carefully. “I helped him, but only because he forced me to with the oath. He wants to kill you.”
“Sweet carrot sticks.” He sank into his chair. “I’ve been wrong all the way around, haven’t I. About you. About Kurke.” He ran a hand over his face, looking unutterably weary. “I thought the best way to prevent Matthias from becoming like his father was to keep the truth from him. And I’ve always regretted what happened with Ingerman. She shouldn’t have had to die. I thought I could correct things with you. But all I did was give Matthias someone to assist him in his experiments.” He leaned forward, head in his hands. “What a fool I am.”
“It’s not your fault. Kurke’s crazy, that’s all.”
“No, I should have caught this sooner.” Oscar shook his head. “What a slip-up. Maybe it’s time to retire.”
His words confused me. “I thought you were retired.”
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