by Holly Black
“So why’d you pull me out of there?” Alex didn’t look angry now, just curious.
“Nothing good was going to happen,” Call said firmly. “That wasn’t the kind of fight that anybody wins.”
“Maybe,” Alex said slowly. “They just — they make me so angry. They’re all about putting on a show. Like they’re perfect and everyone else is less.”
Call frowned. “What do you mean?”
Alex cut a glance toward Aaron and lowered his voice even further. “Nothing. I don’t mean anything at all.”
Alex clearly thought that Call couldn’t understand. It would be useless to explain that it might seem like Tamara’s parents liked him, but they wouldn’t if they knew the truth. They might not even like Aaron if he wasn’t the Makar. But Alex would never believe that a little kid like Call had big enough secrets to matter to anyone, even if he did.
It was only a few days later that Call had to pack up his new clothes and get ready to head back to school. He stuffed himself with sausages and eggs at breakfast, knowing it was going to be a while before he saw non-lichen-based food again. Aaron and Tamara were already wearing their green second-year Magisterium uniforms, while Alex and Kimiya were in fourth-year white and glowering at each other.
Call sat there in his jeans and T-shirt, feeling very out of place.
Alex gave Call a pointed look, as if to say, You’ll never be good enough for them either.
Mr. Rajavi looked at his watch. “Time to go,” he said. “Call?”
“Yeah?” Call turned toward Tamara’s father.
“Take care of yourself.” There was something in his voice that made Call unsure if the words were kindly meant, but maybe he was just letting Alex get to him.
Everyone headed for the foyer, where Stebbins, his bald head gleaming, was assembling their bags. Aaron and Call both had new duffels, while Tamara and Kimiya had matching sets of snakeskin luggage. Alex had a suitcase with his initials, ATS, on it. He picked it up and headed for the door.
Once outside, Alex started down the driveway. Call realized with a jolt that a white Mercedes was waiting at the end of the drive, its motor running. Alex’s stepmother had come.
Kimiya gave a little gasp. Stebbins looked wistful.
“Nice car,” Call said.
“Shut up,” Tamara muttered. “Just because you’re obsessed with cars.” She gave Stebbins an odd warning look, which Call didn’t have a chance to parse. Too many other things were happening at once.
Kimiya was chasing after Alex, oblivious to the fact that everyone was now gawking at the two of them. “What’s wrong?” she asked when she caught up to him. “I thought you were going to ride with us on the bus!”
He stopped in the middle of the drive and turned on her. “I’m keeping my distance, just like your dad wanted. Anastasia is taking me to the Magisterium. Summer’s over. We’re done.”
“Alex, don’t be like this,” she said, looking stunned by his anger. “We could talk about it —”
“We’ve talked enough.” He sounded as if he were choking on hurt. “You should have stuck up for me. You should have stuck up for us,” he told her, hoisting his bag up on his shoulder. “But you didn’t.” He spun away, stalking off down the driveway.
“Alex!” Kimiya shouted. But he didn’t respond. He reached the Mercedes and climbed inside. It sped away, sending up a cloud of dust.
“Kimiya!” Tamara started to run toward her sister, but her mother caught her by the wrist.
“Give her a moment,” she said. “She probably wants to be left alone.”
Mrs. Rajavi’s gaze was bright and hard. Call decided he had never been so uncomfortable in his life. He kept remembering Alex saying, “Kimiya, tell them,” and Kimiya not saying what he’d obviously wanted her to say. She had to be afraid of her parents. Call wasn’t sure he blamed her.
After a few minutes, a yellow school bus pulled through the gates of the Gables. Kimiya came back into the house, wiping her eyes against her sleeve and sniffing brokenly. She grabbed her luggage without looking at anyone.
When her mother reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, Kimiya shrugged it off.
Call knelt down to unzip his bag to make sure he had everything. He zipped it back up, but not before Mrs. Rajavi had caught sight of his knife, glinting atop his clothes.
“Is that Semiramis?” she asked.
Call nodded, zipping the bag up hastily. “It was my mother’s.”
“I know. I remember when she made it. She was a very skilled metal mage.” Tamara’s mother cocked her head to the side. “Semiramis is named for an Assyrian queen who turned into a dove when she died. Callum means dove, too. Doves stand for peace, which is what your mother wanted more than anything else.”
“I guess she must have,” Call said, feeling even more uncomfortable that her scrutiny had turned to him, and also a little sad that this woman had known more about his mother than he did.
Mrs. Rajavi smiled down at him, brushing a lock of his ink-black hair out of his eyes. “She must have loved you very much. And you must miss her.”
Call bit the inside of his cheek, remembering the words his mother had carved in the ice of the cave where she died.
She must have spent a long time picking out the name Callum. She’d probably made a list, argued back and forth over a half dozen favorites with Alastair before settling on Callum. Callum, which stood for doves and peace and the end of the war. And then Constantine Madden had killed her child and stolen that small body for himself. Call was the opposite of everything she’d ever hoped for.
Call realized he was biting down so hard that the inside of his mouth was bleeding.
“Thank you, Mrs. Rajavi,” he forced himself to say. Then, barely even seeing where he was going, he boarded the bus. Havoc followed, flopping down in the aisle so everyone else had to step over him.
There were a few kids already seated. Aaron was up near the front. He shoved over, leaving room for Call to flop down next to him and watch as Mr. and Mrs. Rajavi kissed Tamara good-bye.
Call thought about Tamara’s stories about her parents and about the third sister who’d become one of the Devoured. He remembered how stern and cold they’d seemed at the Trial. Were they pretending to be the perfect family for Aaron’s benefit, trying to act like the fantasy parents he’d never had?
Whatever impression they were trying to make, Call wasn’t sure they succeeded. Kimiya sat in the back and cried all the way to the Magisterium.
Call remembered the first time he’d ever arrived at the Magisterium and how alien and strange the caves had seemed, glowing with bioluminescent moss, underground rivers lapping at silty shores, and shimmering stalactites hanging from the ceilings like fangs.
Now it seemed like home. A laughing, chattering group of students poured in through the gates. People ran around hugging one another. Jasper came across the room to hug Tamara, even though, Call thought with annoyance, it had been barely two weeks since he’d seen her. Everyone crowded around Aaron, even the fourth and fifth years with their silver and gold wristbands, clapping him on the back and ruffling his hair.
Call felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Alex, who’d made it to the Magisterium before their slow bus. “Just remember,” he said, looking over at Aaron. “No matter how much of a fuss everyone makes over him, you’re still his best friend.”
“Right,” Call said. He wondered if Alex was upset over the breakup, but he didn’t look it.
Someone was running toward Call through the crowd. “Call! Call!” It was Celia, her mass of dirty-blond hair tamed into a ponytail. She looked delighted to see him, beaming all over her face. Alex moved away with an amused smile.
“Did you have a good summer?” Celia asked. “I heard you were at Tamara’s. Was it awesome? Were you there for the party? I heard the party was great. Did you see the mage tricks? Were there really frozen manticores?”
“They were ice manticores … not, like, actual manticores that had been frozen.” Ca
ll felt dizzy trying to keep up. “I mean, I think. Are manticores real?”
“That sounds so cool. Jasper told me all about it.”
“Jasper’s a —” Call looked at Celia’s beaming face and decided not to pursue the topic of Jasper. Celia liked everyone; she couldn’t seem to help it. “Yeah. So how come you weren’t there?”
“Oh.” Celia blushed and ducked her head. “It’s nothing. My parents don’t really get along with Tamara’s. But I like Tamara,” she added hurriedly.
“It would be okay if you didn’t,” he said.
She looked confused, and Call wanted to kick himself. What did he know about what was okay and what wasn’t? He was the person who kept a mental list of potentially evil behaviors. Was it okay if she didn’t like Tamara? Wasn’t Tamara his best friend, along with Aaron?
Havoc suddenly barked and put his paws up on Celia’s shirt, cutting off the discussion. Celia giggled.
“Callum Hunt!” It was Master Rufus, striding toward them through the crowd. “Keep your chaos wolf silent, please.” He gave Havoc a beady eye and Havoc slid to the ground, looking chastened. “Tamara, Aaron, Call, come with me to your rooms.”
Aaron grinned at Call as they slung their duffels over their shoulders and followed behind Master Rufus through the tunnels. They knew their way, and Call found that he was no longer unnerved by the dripping stalactites and the quiet cool of the caves.
Tamara paused to look into a pool where pale fish darted back and forth. Call thought he saw a crystalline shape scamper over the wall behind her. Was it Warren? Or some other elemental? He frowned, remembering the little lizard.
Finally, they were in front of their old rooms. Master Rufus stepped back to allow Tamara to wave her new copper wristband in front of the door. It unlocked instantly, allowing them into the chambers.
The rooms were just as they’d been when they arrived for their Iron Year. The same chandelier carved with designs of flame, the same half circle of desks, the same duo of plush sofas facing each other, and the same massive fireplace. Symbols picked out in mica and quartz shimmered when the light hit them, and three doors adorned with each of their names led to their bedrooms.
Call let out a long sigh and dropped onto one of the couches.
“There will be dinner in the Refectory in a half hour. Then you’ll put away your things and go to bed early. The first years arrived yesterday. Tomorrow, lessons begin in earnest,” said Master Rufus, with a long look at each one of them. “Some say that the Copper Year of apprenticeship is the most grueling. Do you know why?”
The three of them glanced at one another. Call had no idea what answer Master Rufus was looking for.
Master Rufus nodded at their silence, clearly pleased. “Because now that you know the basics, we’ll be going out on missions. Classes here will be confined to keeping up with your maths and sciences as well as a few new tricks, but the real learning will be out in the field. We’ll begin this week with some experiments.”
Call had no idea what to make of their new curriculum, but the fact that Master Rufus was delighted about it could only be a bad sign. Going out of the stuffy, damp Magisterium classrooms sounded like fun, but Call had been wrong before. During one of their “outside exercises” he’d nearly drowned under a pile of logs, and Jasper of all people had pulled him out.
“Get settled in,” said Master Rufus with his usual regal nod, and swept out of their chambers.
Tamara dragged her suitcase toward her room. “Call, you’d better put on your uniform before dinner — they should have left one for you in your room, like last year. You can’t show up to the Refectory in jeans and a T-shirt that says DOCTOR MONKEY KNOWS WHAT YOU DID.”
“What does that mean, anyway?” Aaron asked.
Call shrugged. “I don’t know. I got it at the Salvation Army store.” He stretched. “Maybe I’ll take a nap.”
“I’m not tired. I’m going to the library,” Aaron said, abandoning his bag and starting for the door.
“You want to find out about the Alkahest,” Call guessed. It was clearly some kind of weapon, but none of them had been able to piece together exactly what it was or what it did. No one seemed to want to answer any questions about it in anything but the vaguest possible terms. And the library at the Rajavis’ house hadn’t held any answers either.
Call hated to admit it, but he’d been relieved. The more they talked about the Alkahest and the Enemy and his possible plans, the more Call felt like he was going to get caught.
“I need to be able to protect people,” Aaron said. “And I can’t do that if I don’t even understand the threat.”
Call sighed. “Can’t we look up stuff after we unpack?”
“You don’t have to come,” Aaron said. “I’m not going to be in any danger on my way to the library.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Tamara said. “Of course we’re coming. Call has just got to put on his uniform.”
“Yeah,” he said with obviously forced enthusiasm, heading for his room and throwing his duffel on the bed.
He had a little trouble getting his feet into the big boots they all wore around the Magisterium to protect them from rocks and water — and on occasion, lava — but he figured he’d get used to them again. When he headed back to the common room, Aaron and Tamara were perched on the back of the sofa, sharing a bag of Ruffles. Tamara held it out to him.
Call grabbed the bag, shoving a fistful of chips into his face, and started toward the door. They followed, and Havoc ran after them, barking. By the time they spilled out into the hallway, Havoc was in the lead. “Library!” Call told him. “Library, Havoc!”
On the way, Call vowed to be helpful. After all, what made Evil Overlords bad was how they acted, not their secret thoughts. There was no such thing as a helpful Evil Overlord.
It was a huge relief to be able to walk around the corridors of the Magisterium openly with Havoc, instead of hiding him in the bedroom. The other students cast them glances that were a mixture of respect, fear, and admiration when they saw the Chaos-ridden wolf loping ahead of them.
Of course they were impressed by Aaron, too, the black gem stark in his wristband. But Havoc belonged to Call.
Not that that was what anyone thought. Aaron’s wolf, he heard the students whisper to one another as they passed. Look at the size of that thing. He must be pretty powerful to control it.
“You forgot your wristband,” Aaron said with a sideways grin, dropping Call’s new copper wristband into his hand. “Again. Don’t make me always have to remind you.”
Call rolled his eyes, sliding the wristband on. It felt good on his wrist. Familiar.
They reached the library, which was shaped like the inside of a conch shell: a spiral room that narrowed as it went down until it reached a flat lower level where long tables had been set up. Since classes hadn’t started yet, the place was empty.
“Where do we start?” Call wondered aloud, looking around the vast expanse of books that stretched down and away.
“Well, I’m no library expert, but A for Alkahest seems like a safe bet,” said Tamara, skipping ahead. She was obviously thrilled to be back.
As it turned out, the library was divided into sections and subsections. They eventually turned up a book entitled Alkahests and Other Indices of Magick on a top shelf that required Aaron to stand on a chair to reach it.
They brought the book over to one of the long tables, and Aaron carefully cracked it open. The spine shed dust.
Call tried to read over Aaron’s shoulder, catching every few words. An alkahest, the book said, was a universal solvent, a substance that dissolved all things, from gold to diamonds to chaos magic. As Call frowned, not sure what that had to do with what they’d overheard, Aaron flipped the page and they saw a drawing of the Alkahest, which wasn’t a substance at all, but an enormous glove — a gauntlet, really — made from copper.
Forged from a combination of all the elemental forces, the gauntlet was a weapon created for o
ne purpose — to push the ability to control chaos out of a Makar. Instead of controlling the void, the Makar would be destroyed by it. The gauntlet could be wielded by any mage, but it required the living heart of a chaos creature to give it power.
Call sucked in a long breath. He’d seen the exact same gauntlet in the drawing in his father’s creepy basement ritual room. The Alkahest had been the reason Alastair had wanted to cut out Havoc’s heart.
Alastair must have tried to steal the gauntlet from the Collegium.
Call’s head swam. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself upright. Aaron flipped the page.
There was a black-and-white photograph of the gauntlet in a glass case, probably in its resting place in the Collegium. A brief history was recorded in a sidebar beside the picture. It had been created by a group of researchers who’d called themselves the Order of Disorder. Master Joseph and Constantine Madden had once been part of their number, hoping to plumb the depths of chaos magic and to find a way to allow more mages to access the void. When Constantine Madden broke away and became the Enemy of Death, the Order had hoped their Alkahest could stop him.
Apparently, the Alkahest had fallen into the Enemy’s hands near the end of the war, allowing the Enemy’s minions to kill Verity Torres on the battlefield while Constantine Madden led more of his forces to the mountain in La Rinconada for the Cold Massacre.
The book said that the Order of Disorder still existed, researching Chaos-ridden animals, though no one was sure who their leaders were now.
“The mages will figure out who tried to take it,” Tamara said. “And it’s in a safer place now.”
“If one of Constantine Madden’s people get ahold of it, the next time I see the gauntlet, it’ll be pointed at me.” Aaron exhaled a long, worried breath. “Let’s see if this book says anything about destroying the Alkahest.”
Call wanted to say something, to reassure Aaron that it wasn’t the minions of the Enemy who were after the gauntlet; it was just Call’s dad.
But before he could decide to do it, Master Rufus made his way down the nautilus stairs of the library. All three of his apprentices turned to look guiltily in his direction, even though there was nothing for them to look guilty about. They were in a library, researching. Rufus ought to have been thrilled.
