“Ah, then you are Hugo. I thought you looked Paradisiacal,” Belterras smiled kindly. “And who, might I ask, is the spirit with you? Can you feel it, Cassis?”
The other mage’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I see what you mean. A ghost of some sort, perhaps.”
Brinley felt a lump in her throat, and Hugo tried to answer them. “Oh, you mean Br—”
“That,” Cannon cut in loudly, “is a matter for Peridot to explain, as apparently only she understands it.”
The two mages looked at him, one stern, the other puzzled. Brinley remembered how guarded Cannon had seemed earlier when she had asked him about her mother. She wondered if he knew more about her than he was letting on.
“Now,” Cannon pressed on, “what can you tell me about my master?”
“Nothing,” Cassis retorted sharply, “with this princeling in the room. Send him away, Belterras.”
Belterras looked apologetically at Hugo. “He is right. This is not a discussion for you. Peridot brought you here, so she may decide what to tell you. For now,” he said, retrieving an empty bucket from under the counter, “you can fill this with flour. It’s in the pantry, first door on the left.” He indicated a small hallway opposite the door they came in.
Hugo scowled. “You have to tell me what they say,” he whispered to the empty air as he left, hoping that Brinley was there to hear him.
She was.
“The door on the left,” Belterras reminded him.
Hugo crossed the room without a word and disappeared down the hallway.
“It feels like a child,” Belterras mused, staring at the place where Brinley stood.
“The other idris?” Cassis asked sharply.
“I don’t think so.”
“She isn’t,” Cannon assured them. “I tested her myself. She appeared at the Magisterium, and claims to have come from Ert.”
Cassis’s brows drew together in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Well,” Cannon started, then thought better of it. “Neither do I, really.”
Belterras waved a hand dismissively. “If Peridot trusts her, that’s enough for me.”
Brinley felt frustrated. She wanted to shout out, telling them that she was right there. Obviously she could hear them. Then she stopped herself, thinking that she would have a better chance of learning something if she kept quiet.
“What did you mean before? About the other idris?” Cannon asked.
“We caught the idris that visited Animus.”
“You did?” Cannon seemed as if he might burst at the seams. “What did it say? Did it tell you what became of him?”
“Cannon,” Belterras began, but Cassis interrupted him. “The Magemother has been captured.”
Cannon stared at them in disbelief. “What do you mean captured? Nobody can capture the Magemother, can they?”
“Almost nobody,” Belterras agreed.
“This is why Animus left,” Cassis explained. “The idris came to him with a promise to take him to the Magemother.”
“Surely he didn’t believe it?”
“He did and he didn’t, I’m sure.”
“And you have heard nothing from him?”
“Nothing.”
Chapter Seventeen
In which Hugo is foolish
Hugo moved down the hallway. Sure enough, he heard a low murmur of voices start up as soon as he left the room. He thought about turning around to eavesdrop on them, but decided against it. They were mages, after all; maybe they could tell when someone was listening to them. He would just have to get Brinley to tell him what he missed. He hoped she would. Hugo got the feeling that she didn’t really trust him yet. She was shy, he sensed, and shy people often take a while to warm up to you.
He reached for the handle of the door on the left. Just as he was about to turn it, he heard something and stopped, listening. He put his ear to the door, but the sound didn’t seem to be coming from inside. He crossed the hall to the opposite door. A sound filtered through it, a faint whimpering, like the noise a dog might make. He almost went in, but remembered what he was supposed to be about. It wasn’t polite to go snooping around in someone else’s house—not that that would have stopped him—and mages probably shouldn’t be messed with. He went back to the door on the left and turned the handle. It was locked. He sighed and took a step back toward the kitchen. There was the noise again. It was clear this time: a small child crying. He tried the handle, but this one was locked too. What was going on? Why would Belterras lock a child in his house?
The child screamed.
Instinctively, Hugo threw his body against the door. It sprung inward with a crack as the latch broke.
Hugo stumbled through the doorway onto a secluded patio. High walls shielded the space from the street beyond. Bins and bags and barrels lined the walls. Then he saw the source of the noise: a little boy sitting between the barrels, knees held against his chest, hands pressed to his eyes, weeping.
“Hello?” Hugo said, taking a step forward curiously.
The boy stopped crying and looked up. “H—hi,” he said in a terrified voice, lowering his hands slightly. He was dressed in rags and had a large black bruise over one eye.
“Are you okay?”
“He c-caught me,” the boy stammered.
“Who?”
“The gray w-wizard!” the boy looked scared at the thought.
“Cassis? What do you mean he caught you? What were you doing?” Hugo took a step closer, lowering himself onto a bucket. The boy was only a couple years younger than himself.
“He caught me stealing,” the boy said. He let out a heaving sigh; now that the truth was out, he seemed to relax a bit. “I’m not proud of it,” he went on, “but I have to eat, you know. I didn’t know that a wizard lived here.”
“Well,” Hugo said, then stopped. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about it. He had never gone without a meal in his life. He knew there were beggars in some places—faraway places, he had thought. Stealing was wrong, of course, but the boy before him looked so pitiful that Hugo was having a hard time judging him. He settled on a neutral tack. “I can see why Cassis was angry, but he seems nice enough to me. I’m sure you can work it off or—”
“No!” the boy shouted, starting to cry again. “He hates me! He beat me!”
Hugo looked at the large bruise over the boy’s eye. It certainly seemed fresh, but Hugo couldn’t imagine one of the mages beating a child.
“Hugo?” he heard someone calling faintly from the kitchen.
“Help me, please!” The boy scrambled up, taking his arm and shaking it. “Please!”
“Well, I don’t think—”
“Hugo?” the voice came again, louder this time. He could hear the sound of someone moving in the kitchen.
“Please!” The boy shook the little gate in the wall. The sound jingled down the alley. “Just unlock the gate for me!” He stretched his hand as high as he could. “I can’t reach it! Just let me out! I promise I’ll come back. I’ll pay him, I’ll pay him. Please!” The boy was screaming now, shaking him, placing his hand on the gate. Someone was running down the hall.
Hugo moved without thinking, reaching high to turn the lock. As soon as he did, the boy bolted out into the street.
“No!” Cassis cried from the doorway. He crossed the patio in one step, jostling Hugo roughly as he bounded into the street, but the boy was gone.
At the look on Cassis’s face, Hugo knew he had made a mistake. It didn’t make sense, though. Cassis wouldn’t lock up a street boy just for stealing some food, would he?
“Oh,” Cassis said, his voice filling up with a quiet rage as he made his way back from the street. “You have no idea what you have done.”
“Sorry,” Hugo said, trying not to be intimidated. Cassis looked like he was going to explode. His skin flashed, suddenly reflecting the light like polished steel, and his eyes turned the color of hot iron. “Cassis!” Hugo excla
imed. “I don’t understand!”
At his words, the red left the mage’s eyes. “No,” he said coolly, “I suppose you wouldn’t.” Hugo started to say something else, but Cassis cut him off, reaching out to place his hand over Hugo’s eyes.
Hugo blinked, pushing Cassis’s hand away. Then he understood. He could see it now. The patio wasn’t a patio at all, there was no gate, no high wall, no street on the other side, just an empty stone cell with one high, iron barred window, which was broken. Cassis swept back into the house, pushing Hugo before him. “Belterras!” he shouted. “Belterras! The idris has escaped!”
Hugo apologized more in the next five minutes than he had in his whole life. Belterras assured him that it wasn’t his fault, while Cassis continued to chew him out for his stupidity.
“You must have magic in you, boy, to break those bars, even under illusion like you were. It shouldn’t have been possible,” Belterras said.
Hugo said nothing. Inside, deep down, there was a flutter of excitement. Of recognition. Magic? Was Belterras being serious?
Cannon cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. “How did you catch the idris?”
“It came to us,” Belterras explained. “Walked right up to our door with the same story that it gave to Animus. The Magemother’s been taken, trapped and dying in the Wizard’s Ire. Cassis was quick enough to bind it, thankfully.”
“So,” Cannon said, his face going white. “That’s where he went. The Wizard’s Ire. The dead forest.”
“Now wait just a minute, lad,” Belterras said, rising. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s no use. He won’t be there anymore.”
“You wouldn’t last a minute in the Ire anyway,” Cassis said.
“None of you would.”
The new voice made them all turn. Peridot was rising from beside the fireplace. “Take heart, Cannon,” she said. “I barely survived the forest myself. Animus was safe when last I saw him, but he is no longer there. I am sure of it.”
Cannon seemed to relax.
Peridot turned to Belterras. “Thank you, my friend,” she said, “I do not know how much longer I would have lasted.”
Belterras inclined his head graciously.
“Enough pleasantries!” Cassis said impatiently. “We have wasted too much time already.”
Peridot gave him a sharp look and he softened. “You know that the Magemother was captured,” she said. “Animus has freed her, but only for a time. She is weak.”
The mages went pale.
“The darkness has overcome the light,” she said, and a look of horror spread across Cassis’s face. Belterras looked like he would be sick.
“Lux…?” Cassis asked.
“Is gone,” she finished. “That which walks in his place now is less than whole.”
There was a long silence.
“Do not fear,” Peridot said. “His plan to destroy the rest of you has failed…” Her great voice broke, the smooth sound of it faltering like the wrong note in a song. “The Magemother,” she said slowly, “may not survive the death of Lux.” She waited for a moment, letting that sink in. Brinley wasn’t sure exactly what that meant for her, but she could sense a deep sadness creeping into the room.
“You must all go to the castle,” Peridot said. “Tennebris has failed in one part of his plan. He will strike at the king next. You must be there to help.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cassis spat bitterly.
“He’s right,” Belterras said. He sounded more sad than angry. “If the Magemother dies, we will not survive.”
Peridot cocked her head. “You may yet,” she said gently. “That is why I must take the girl to her now.”
The mages scrutinized Peridot curiously.
“Brinley?” Cannon asked.
“The spirit that is with you?” Belterras said.
“It is not a spirit at all then,” Cassis broke in, nodding.
“It is a child,” Peridot said, taking Brinley under her wing so that they could see the outline of her.
Belterras spoke in a whisper, “Where will you take her?”
“I will take her to her mother, if I can,” Peridot said, turning slowly on the spot and sweeping Brinley out of the room. “I will meet you at the castle as soon as I can. You should take Hugo there.”
“Where is he?” Belterras said, looking around.
Cannon swore under his breath then, and Peridot turned back around to glare at him.
“I’ll check the back,” Cassis said, heading for the hallway. “Is he foolish enough to do what I think he has done?”
“Oh, yes,” Cannon said, following Cassis out of the kitchen. “I think he is.”
Chapter Eighteen
In which there are witches
As soon as he was no longer the center of attention, Hugo slipped away.
He slunk back down the hallway and onto the little patio that wasn’t a patio. He wanted to be alone. He hadn’t felt this ashamed since Sir Eagn and his cousin had convinced him that a young lady had a crush on him. She didn’t, of course, and they had mocked him for a solid month afterward. He hated being deceived. He had been angry with the knights, but then, he expected such things from them. He didn’t expect to be fooled by a little boy, even if it was an idris. He should have known better.
He stopped pacing and leaned out of the gate.
A pair of eyes stared back at him. They were peering around the corner across the street.
He took a step toward them, then broke into a run as he realized who they belonged to. It was the boy! It had to be! He paused. Maybe he should go back and get the mages. He could tell them that the idris was right outside. But if he did, the boy would probably just run again. If he could just get the idris back, lure him back to Belterras’s house somehow, he could redeem himself. He had to try.
He set off, running to the red brick store where the boy was still peeking at him, but as soon as he got close, the boy vanished.
He chased glimpses of the boy across town for several minutes, down alleyways, through a broken fence behind an old mill, and into the forest.
“Not again,” he groaned. He had just gotten out of the forest. He almost turned back then, but something stirred in the distance. There it was again, between two trees. Was it the boy?
He would just check and see, then he would go back.
Twenty minutes later he was still searching; whatever he had seen earlier had vanished. He made a large half circle through the trees and doubled back to the trail he had found. He would take it back into town.
As he walked he thought about what Belterras had said. Magic. Could it be true that there was magic in him? Wouldn’t he be able to tell somehow? He wished there was somebody he could ask.
He thought of Lux. He thought of how the mage had come out of nowhere at the sound of his name. That was magic. If he spoke the name now, would Lux appear? Maybe the mage could answer his questions about magic.
He stopped short. There was something ahead of him, dimly visible atop a fallen tree. He couldn’t tell what it was, only that it didn’t belong. It twitched, and he jumped, then let out a nervous laugh.
It was just a magpie.
Hugo chided himself for being so skittish. He was about to move on when he saw something else. It was a shadowy thing, another bird, he thought, but huge! Bigger than any bird he had ever seen. Bigger even than the giant eagles. It drifted down from the trees like a ghost, its wings silent against the night air. It drifted straight toward the magpie, its talons reaching out like deadly invitations. “Move!” he breathed, and he wasn’t sure whether he was talking to the magpie or himself.
The smaller bird tried to fly away at the last moment, but it was too late; claws pierced it and lifted it into the air.
Hugo gave a little shout, and the giant owl turned its heart-shaped face on him. In that moment Hugo was sure of two things: it really was the Kutha, and he didn’t want to be here anymore.
He knew running through
an unfamiliar forest in the dark was asking for trouble, but still he ran. He didn’t stop, not even for a moment. He knew that if he looked behind him, even once, that owl would be there—or worse, it wouldn’t be there, and then he would know that it was just out of sight somewhere above, hunting him.
Hugo stopped running sometime later when he finally realized that he was lost. He hadn’t been paying any attention to where he was going. He thought back on it now, trying to remember which direction he had run when he fled from the owl, but he couldn’t piece it together.
“Great,” he said bitterly. His voice sounded small in the endless expanse of dark trees. Moonlight filtered faintly through them, providing just enough light to make his way without running into anything. He moved slowly, scrutinizing the forest floor as he went. Nothing seemed familiar. There was no path, no trail.
He heard a faint rustling in the trees and spun around. He caught a flash of brown. He felt his heart start to beat faster and he stumbled backward. Why was this thing chasing him? How was he going to get away from it?
It was at that moment, as Hugo jumped between two trees, that he remembered the bell. It happened because his leg bumped the tree as he jumped, and he felt the hard bulge of the bell in his pants pocket. A second later he had it out, and was ringing it wildly as he ran. He didn’t think for a second how silly he might look, running through the forest at night, alone, ringing a little bell. He wanted help, he wanted someone to come—anyone, and he was willing to try anything. He was still running, ringing the bell and glancing behind him. Presently, as he rang the bell again, a giant gong sounded over his head and he collided with something soft, tumbling to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.
“Ouch!”
“Brinley?”
“Ouch! Yes, it’s me. What’s going on? Ouch! You’re stepping on my face!”
“Sorry.” Hugo bent down to help her stand but she brushed him off.
“How did I get here?” she said, staring around. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Hugo said awkwardly. “Somewhere in the forest. We can’t be far from the city. How did you get here?”
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