not. I won’t deny you any food. Not beverage either. Just
intoxicating drink.”
Papa folded his arms. “This is complete and utter rubbish.” “Take him to the east wing and find an open room,” the
master suggested. “I'll find Mrs. Pitts and see to it that the
room is cleaned tomorrow. And sir, I have to ask that you not
mention your daughter’s gender. To anyone.”
After a pause of consideration, Papa nodded.
The master pulled me aside long enough to whisper, “I think
you'd better lock him in.”
I nodded in agreement and watched him disappear in the
direction of the servant quarters. Who knew what havoc Papa
could wreak if let loose in the Hall? He'd probably steal
everything worth anything that wasn't nailed down.
“Another flight of stairs?” Papa gazed up the spiral
staircase with dismay. “I have a broken leg, or hadn't you
noticed, Avery?”
I frowned. Now that Papa was staying indefinitely, I should
probably heal his leg. But at the same time, it seemed safer to
have him hobbled while he was here. He would cause considerably
less damage if he was unable to get around. “All right. Hold
still and I'll get you upstairs with a spell.”
After a few muttered words a floating spell took Papa to
the top of the stairs in a thrice. I set him down again, then
strode past him to the east wing and opened a door as far down
the hall from mine as possible. I brought a light into my palm
and looked around.
A thick layer of dust covered everything, and the sooty
smell of fireplace ash permeated the room. But a feather tick
filled the bed frame, and blankets were stacked in the closet,
which was good enough for Papa.
“This will do.” I waved him in. “You'll be fine for
tonight. I'll come and get you in the morning.”
He looked around the room. “It seems dusty,” he said. “If
you could let me sleep late—”
“Sleep as long as you want. I certainly have no desire to
see you,” I muttered as I walked from the room, closing the door
behind me. I locked it with a sticking spell before I went to my
room.
#
CHAPTER EIGHT
A storm blew in overnight, rain that pounded the house and
wind that whistled through the chimneys and rattled the windows.
While lying in bed listening to the cacophony of sound, I
suddenly realized that tomorrow was the make-up trial day. The
master and I had yet to even discuss whether I’d be
participating, with all the other things that had been going on. Unable to sleep, I pushed myself out of bed and stared out
the window into the black night, watching rivulets of water
stream down the warped glass. I didn’t think at all about the
man in the bedroom three doors down. I didn’t think at all about
what an ordeal it would be to have him around for any length of
time.
The musty smell from Papa’s room still clung to my
nostrils. Even now I imagined the sooty scent of charred wood
hanging in the air.
Or was it my imagination? I sniffed and turned my head. Was
that…smoke?
With a whisper of footsteps, I stepped out of my room. Dark
quiet permeated the hallway. Anything could be hiding in those quiet permeated the hallway. Anything could be hiding in thoseBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 106
shadows. I gave a shudder and spelled a light into the palm of my hand. The smoky smell was stronger out here. Only a few steps in the direction of Papa’s room, and the barest hint of smoke filled my nostrils. It intensified the closer I got.
By the time I arrived at Papa’s door, the smell was unmistakable—fire.
I removed the sticking spell and reached for the door handle, only to hiss and drop it immediately. The handle was fiery hot.
“Papa?” I pounded on the door. No answer.
Friar’s bones. He’d die in there if I didn’t get him out. I looked around wildly, and then did the only other thing I could think of. I ran to Master Wendyn’s room.
Several taps brought no response. I tried the door handle and, finding it unlocked, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
“Master Wendyn,” I hissed in a whisper, holding the light in my hand out. No response, although I could hear measured breathing coming from across the room.
I’d never been inside this room before. Entering it for the first time in the middle of the night didn’t do much for my orientation. That large, dark shape against the wall must be the bed. I tiptoed closer, and finally the light in my hand illuminated the sleeping form of the master.
“Master Wendyn,” I hissed again, this time putting a hand “Master Wendyn,” I hissed again, this time putting a handBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 107
on his arm and giving him a small shake. Bones, the burn on my hand hurt.
“Hmmm? Wassat?”
“There’s a fire in Papa’s room!”
He pushed himself up on one elbow. “Papa?” he mumbled. “He’s in Hampstone.”
I gave him another shake. “My papa. Come on, I need your help.”
“Mullins? What’s going on? Mfffg.” He ran a hand over his face before sitting up in bed. The blanket fell away to reveal his bare chest. I stared for a moment, like a deer caught in the headlamps of a buggy. Finally I averted my gaze.
“It’s Papa’s room. I think there’s a fire, and I can’t get the door open!”
“What?” He sprang hastily out of bed and I led the way out of the room and down the hall, speaking all the while.
“I thought I smelled smoke, and it turns out I was right, because the door handle is hot, and I can’t get the door open.” I came to a stop outside of Papa’s door, and the master nudged me aside.
“Stand back, Mullins.”
“What if someone’s trying to kill him again? What if he’s—” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
The master’s voice was grim. “We’ll know soon enough.”
Smoke filled the air, stronger than ever.
“Don’t touch the door handle,” I said as he reached one arm out. “I already burned my hand on it.”
“Turn your face away.” The master held an arm out to hold me away from his spell, and then sent blasting magic at the door. It caved in with a crack and splinter and burst of wood. Fire leaped into the hole it had once filled. The master followed up with a water spell. Flickering flame transformed to splashing water, and it fell to the ground in a singed, soggy puddle. Only a smoky haze remained.
I peered into the room. Fortunately the fire seemed to have been contained to just in front of the door and hadn’t spread to the rest of the room yet. Through the thick smoke a figure sat up on the bed and coughed.
“Avery?” Papa broke into more coughing.
The puddle on the floor sizzled as I stepped over it and hurried to Papa’s side. “Are you all right?” I spelled the candles in the room lit and dropped the ball of light I’d been holding in my palm. Now I could see him properly. I checked him over, looking for injuries. “What happened? Was someone here?” I grabbed his hand and looked at it, front and back, as though it could tell me the truth of what had happened here.
He rubbed his face on his sleeve and coughed again. “I told you I was hungry.”
I blinked, both surprised and confused by the words. “Hungry?”
“All I wanted was to go find your kitchen so I could get something to eat.” His tone turned accusing. “But my door was… locked somehow. Picking it did no good. It wouldn’t open.”
/> “It was for your own good…”
“Yes. Everything you’re doing here seems to be convenient for you but for my own good. I even opened the window and considered climbing down so I could eat a handful of those pine needles down there. That’s how hungry I was. Or maybe milk the cow and at least have a cup of milk. But, you know. I have a broken leg.” He pointed at the offending limb.
I folded my arms. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. Come, tell me truly now. Did you see anyone?”
Papa gave me a bewildered look. “If I’d seen anyone, I would have asked them politely to please let me out of this locked room. I just wanted to get your attention. I thought a little smoke might do the trick.” He gestured at the door again, and I turned to see that Master Wendyn had knelt down to examine the mess of the fire in front of the door.
“Looks like the fireplace grate,” the master said. “And is this a bed sheet on top? And a log from the fireplace.”
I turned back to look at Papa with horror. “You started a fire on purpose?”
Papa fixed me with an expression of impatience. “Of course it wasn’t on purpose. I told you, I only wanted to get your attention. But while I waited for the fire to start smoking, I attention. But while I waited for the fire to start smoking, IBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 110
laid down on my bed and must have fallen asleep.” “I was worried about you.” I threw his hand down and
stalked over to the door.
Master Wendyn straightened with a sigh. “If you’re that
hungry, sir, allow me to show you to the kitchens. Cat keeps a
full larder at all times.”
Papa rubbed his hands together. “Delighted to hear it.” He
pushed himself to the edge of the bed and groped around for his
canes.
I forced myself to meet the master’s gaze before speaking
in a low voice. “I’m so sorry. You don’t have to take him to the
kitchens. I can do it.”
He cleared his throat. “I think you’d better not. At least,
not unless you plan on…covering up a little first.” His gaze
dropped, and then he looked away, clearly embarrassed. It took me a moment to take his meaning, and then I looked
down at myself. My sleep clothes weren’t indecent by any stretch
of the imagination, but they revealed more of my shape than my
wizard robes, and obviously the master could tell. I blushed.
“It’s…never mind. You take him. I’ll get this room cleaned up.” “Don’t worry about it. Your makeup trial is in the morning.
You need your sleep.”
I blinked, having forgotten completely about it. “Bones.
That is tomorrow.”
“By the way, you don’t need to worry about—” he lowered his “By the way, you don’t need to worry about—” he lowered hisBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 111
voice before continuing, “—Robenhurst’s spell. I heard back from Grandfather that this makeup trial is mostly a test to see who does—and doesn’t—turn up. They’ll assume anyone that doesn't show is afraid of a gender spell, and thus has something to hide. Not going tomorrow would be more dangerous than attending.”
I digested that information.
Papa pushed past me. “To the food!” and the master turned to follow.
“I really am sorry.” I put a hand to the master’s arm, at least until the burn on my hand twinged, and I winced and pulled my hand back.
“Here, let me see that.” He grabbed my hand and flattened it out. The palm was red and swollen in a circle the shape of the door handle.
Papa gave an impatient sigh. “Are we going to eat today or what?”
“By all means. This is my favorite time of night for a run to the kitchen,” Master Wendyn said, dropping my hand. “Let’s stop by my room first so I can get a shirt.” Aside to me he said, “You’ll want to heal that. Looks nasty.”
“Fine specimen like you ought to enjoy running around shirtless,” Papa said. “Why, in my younger days I turned the ladies heads, I can tell you that. Out chopping wood…” The two of them moved out of hearing range.
I returned to my room, healed my hand, and laid down in bed. I needed to sleep. But my mind was too alive with thoughts to do so. Papa causing mischief, someone out to do him harm, my trial tomorrow, and a shirtless Master Wendyn.
It was going to be a long night. .
****
When I walked in the breakfast room in the morning, I was confronted by the sight of Papa standing next to the window.
He turned when he saw me, completely without the aid of canes. In fact, he stood on his own.
“What happened to your canes?” I asked. “And why aren't you upstairs?” I assumed the master would lock him in a new room last night after their midnight visit to the kitchens.
He shrugged and walked nearer, without any trace of a limp. “Your master and I had a good talk over our late meal last night. I like this Master Wendyn of yours. He healed my leg and then—get this—he let me sleep in his bed, while he took the floor.”
“You made him sleep on the floor?” I repeated, aghast.
“I didn’t make him. He offered. Although it might have been because he wanted to keep an eye on me. You know, I think he may not trust me very much.”
“Can you blame him?” I burst out. “You started his house on fire.”
He fixed me with an impatient look as he seated himself at He fixed me with an impatient look as he seated himself atBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 113
the table. “That was an accident. He knows that.” He frowned at me, but all at once his expression dissolved into mirth. “I’m sorry. I just can’t take you seriously with that deep voice. It’s so disconcerting.”
I looked around, but fortunately there was no one around to overhear us. “Will you speak a little quieter?” I demanded in a hiss. “You can’t just say things like that. Not out in the open.”
He held up his hands as if to say I surrender. I made a noise of disgust and decided to ignore him completely.
I focused on preparing Master Wendyn’s tea and dishing up Ivan’s potatoes. But by the time I had finished setting out their breakfasts and took my own seat, another question had come to mind. “Where is Master Wendyn? We should be leaving soon.”
“Leaving?” Papa asked. “Leaving where? Eric didn’t mention anything last night.”
I choked on the bite of eggs I had just taken. “Since when are you on a first-name basis?”
“Since last night. We had a good little chat there in the kitchen. He told me all about your rocky beginnings as his apprentice. You know, maybe if you didn’t lie to him so often, he’d invite you to call him Eric too.”
I gritted my teeth. “His name is Garrick. And why should I call him that? He's my master, not my confidante.”
“Garrick?” he asked doubtfully. “Are you sure?” “Of course I’m sure!”
He still looked doubtful, but fortunately Ivan came in at that moment and I was saved from further conversation.
What happened upstairs? Ivan gestured at me. A fire?
I pointed at Papa. He did it.
Ivan’s brow quirked. Why? He took a seat and bit into the bread I’d prepared for him.
Because he’s stupid.
Papa looked back and forth from me to Ivan while sipping his tea. “What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing.”
He raised an eyebrow. After a moment of silence he leaned across the table to catch Ivan’s eye. “So why can’t you talk? Were you that way from birth?”
“Of course he was,” I said, annoyed that Papa was pestering Ivan now. “Anyway, it’s none of your business. Just be quiet.”
Papa frowned at me and sat back in his chair.
No, Ivan gestured. Not true. I talk once. Very little. Almost a baby.
My eyes widened. “Really?” I said aloud. “I didn’t know that.�
�
“What?” Papa asked, leaning forward again. “What did he say?”
Reluctantly I told him.
“Fascinating,” Papa said. “So what happened? An illness? An “Fascinating,” Papa said. “So what happened? An illness? AnBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 115
injury? Magic gone awry?” Ivan shrugged. Don’t remember. One day I couldn’t talk. Disappointed, I sat back in my chair. “He doesn’t know,” I
told Papa.
Papa’s brow puckered. “Well, don’t worry. Maybe it’ll come back to you one day.”
Ivan nodded, looking unconcerned. Remember, today we celebrate my natalis.
My mouth opened in surprise. “That’s right, Ivan. I completely forgot. Happy natalis.”
He grinned. Today may not be his actual natalis, but he was clearly going to enjoy this anyway.
“Wait right here. I have a present I want to give you.” I ran up the stairs and retrieved the book I’d pulled from my trunk the night before. Then back down in the breakfast room I presented it to Ivan. “This was my first spell book. Gavin and I saved up all our money for weeks and bought this together.” I chuckled at myself. “Neither of us could read it. But I held onto it until I could. I want you to have it.”
Ivan’s smile widened and he accepted the gift, paging through it with avid interest.
For a few minutes silence reigned, and I allowed myself to think ahead to the trial I would take. I had as good as passed it last time; there was no reason to think I wouldn’t be successful today—unless there really was a gender spell. In successful today—unless there really was a gender spell. InBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 116
which case this might be my last day as an underwizard. Or an alive person.
But no point in thinking about that.
“So.” Papa leaned forward. “Since you and—Garrick—are leaving today, sounds like I’m going to be left to my own devices. In that case, I don’t suppose you’d mind giving me a hint where you keep the wine?”
I put my fork down. “I can’t do that. You know the rules.”
He frowned. “Fine. Then how far to the nearest town?”
“Too far for you to walk. You’re just going to have to get used to the idea. No drunkenness allowed while you’re living in this house.”
He folded his arms. “You and I need to have a talk, Avery Mullins. You can't treat me this way. I'm your father.”
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