Shadowed by Death

by Jane Beckstead

  He pushed me back into the chair and I sat, arms folded, fuming.

  “Now. Yes, your father is one of the more frustrating people I’ve met in my life, but you’ve passed the mastery over people I’ve met in my life, but you’ve passed the mastery overBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 211

  self trial. You should be able to handle this.” The tears were back, pricking at my eyes, burning the back of my throat. I swallowed hard, disgusted at my own self pity.

  He scooted his chair closer and sat in it, our knees touching. “Mullins—blast it, that sounds ridiculous under these circumstances. I’m going to call you by your given name.”

  I stared at his knees and didn’t reply.

  “Avery, like it or not, we’re stuck with your father, so we might as well live with the man peacefully.” He nudged his knee against mine. “Do you think you can do that?”

  “Couldn’t we just build a wizard door to Belanok and shove him through?”

  “Wizard doors don’t reach that far. Anyway, they’d probably use him against us somehow,” the master said seriously—or perhaps there was a hint of a smile in there somewhere. “Imagine all the damage they could do to us with him on their side.”

  I gave a watery laugh and met the master’s eyes. “You make a good point.”

  His expression turned rather triumphant at getting a laugh out of me, and he jostled my knee again. “There. Are we friends again?”

  “We never weren’t.”

  “Good. Then I’ll talk to your father about the book. In the meantime, refrain from killing him. Better yet, get along with him.”

  Beckstead / Shadowed by Death / 212 “I’ll do my best.”

  “Good. Because I’m fond of my sleep.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t make any promises about that.

  You’ve been gone a lot more often lately. Whati f this is the only time I can catch youa t home?” He stared at me. “I…suppose I have been gone more often of late, but it’s out of necessity. You see—”

  “You don’t have to explain it to me,” I said, holding up a hand, although for some odd reason I wished he would.

  He rose, then seemed to think better of it and sat down again. “There is one more thing we need to talk about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ivan.”

  I raised a brow. “What about him?”

  “You’re holding him back.”

  I folded my arms and frowned. “I’m holding him back? Why is everything my fault tonight?”

  He shook his head. “Can you honestly not see that he wants to be apprenticed?”

  “That’s not what he says.”

  “Right, because he can see that you don’t want it.”

  “Well, why does he need to be apprenticed, anyway? With as “Well, why does he need to be apprenticed, anyway? With asBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 213

  many magic books as you have here, he could learn everything he needs without ever being apprenticed!”

  “Right, but he won’t be a master wizard.”

  “So? Being a master wizard isn’t everything.”

  He tilted his head and stared at me. “Couldn’t I say the same thing to you? I don’t think you’d believe me either.”

  I suddenly felt chagrined. He had a point. How infuriating.

  “You might be right,” I said at last, my voice a mix of tightness that wasn’t quite ready to concede anything and just plain exhaustion. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good.” He jerked his head at the door. “Good night, Avery.”

  I supposed that was my cue to leave. I nodded and rose, moving toward the door. “Good night, Master Wendyn.”

  “This is the second time you’ve rushed into my bedroom in the middle of the night,” he said dryly, rising from his chair as well. “It’s probably time you called me Garrick.”

  Not until I returned to my room did I realize I hadn’t mentioned the note I’d received from the supposed Keturrah Ingerman. Perhaps I’d just wait on that until the time was right. After all, it would only worry the master. Garrick. #

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “…wondering if I could watch the trial today,” Papa said as “…wondering if I could watch the trial today,” Papa said as

  Beckstead / Shadowed by Death / 214 I entered the breakfast room on the morning of my twelfth trial. I stopped, aghast, to hear the master’s reply. Papa

  couldn’t come to the Conclave! He’d act all kinds of

  inappropriate and probably get me disapprenticed.

  “Well…don’t see why not,” Master Wendyn said at last. “It’s

  certainly not forbidden for the public to attend. My own parents

  attended my more important trials.”

  I hurried to the table, anxious to put a stop to this

  ridiculous talk. “Today isn’t an important trial. It’s just

  number twelve. Nothing interesting whatsoever happens in trial

  twelve.”

  “It’s important to me,” Papa said. “I’ve never seen a trial

  before. It could be quite educational. And considering my only

  other pursuit has been taken away from me, I’ll be bored if you

  leave me alone here. Who knows what sort of trouble I might get

  into.”

  My mouth turned down as I took my seat at the table. That

  was a threat if I’d ever heard one.

  Ever since Master Wendyn had confiscated Papa’s manuscript

  and ordered him to put the project on hold, Papa had been as

  insufferable as ever. Master Wendyn had been forced to remove

  all magical items from the library and other public places in

  the house, and now kept his study door locked with a sticking

  spell at all times, since Papa had been found snooping around it

  on several occasions.

  I want to go too, Ivan gestured.

  My eyebrows rose. “You do?” I glanced at Master Wendyn. He was studiously not looking at me. I suppose he didn’t want to give me an I-told-you-so sort of glance.

  “Certainly,” he said. “Let’s take everybody along. Why not? Perhaps Cat wants to come too.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Papa said. “She’s much too busy mixing up foul concoctions in the kitchen.” He took a big bite of a muffin and chewed it untidily. “And these delicious muffins, of course.”

  I sighed and turned my attention to my own meal.

  ***

  We passed through the wizard door in relative silence, Master Wendyn, myself, Papa, and Ivan.

  “Wow,” Papa said, looking around the cathedral hall. “This is the master wizard headquarters? I imagined it more…”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I thought there would be more cobwebs and dark hallways and flickering candles. Probably some hooded chanting figures too.”

  Ivan looked around. These all master wizards?

  “No. The ones with the colors at the collars and sleeves are underwizards.”

  “That means something, does it?” Papa asked. “I thought it was just whatever color you felt like wearing that day.”

  “Come along,” Master Wendyn said, probably seeing that my patience was wearing thin. “This way to the testing room.”

  We stood near the back, observing a handful of trials, while Papa made ridiculous comments in loud whispers that earned us a few annoyed glances.

  Raised voices near the doorway drew my attention. Was that Rumford’s voice?

  “I’ll be back,” I murmured to the master, and slipped from the room. A small group had gathered outside the door, a group that had circled around Rumford and Colwyn.

  “How dare you be so careless? I’m going to kill you,” Rumford said, lunging at Colwyn.

  “Will you get hold of yourself?” Colwyn said, sidestepping him. “It was an accident! And she’s just fine now.”

  “No thanks to you!” Rumford sent a handf
ul of fire at Colwyn, who jumped out of the way.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “My temper, sure. Not my mind. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  “Rummy, stop!” I said, aghast. “You can’t do this, not here!”

  “Keep out of this,” he said to me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. That idiot nearly killed my mother this week with a defense spell gone awry.”

  “But still, to attack him like this, publicly—”

  “Rumford!” From the opposite side of the room Hammond Ecklebert stomped into view, his face livid.

  Rumford flipped his red hair out of his eyes. “Look, don’t tell me you’re going to take his side here. He practically killed Mama.”

  “Accidents happen with underwizards. And that’s all it was.” Ecklebert looked around at the group that had formed and that was still growing. “Let’s take this discussion somewhere more private.”

  “What, so you can tell me how wrong I am and how perfect he is?” Rumford gestured at Colwyn. “No. Maybe you won’t say it, so I will. He’s incompetent, he nearly killed my mother—your wife, in case you’d forgotten—and he shouldn’t be an underwizard.”

  Ecklebert spoke with a clenched jaw. “Lower your voice.”

  “Do you know I used to idolize you?” Rumford went on, heedless of his father’s anger. “Wanted to be just like you. I thought you were the smarted underwizard ever. But now I know the truth. You’re just a weak-willed man who puts on a show for others so that they’ll think the best of you. You don’t even care about Mama, do you?”

  Ecklebert grabbed him by the upper arm and jerked him close to his face, where he hissed at him, loud enough for Avery to hear, “That woman isn’t even your mother, so will you shut up? She is my wife, and no relation whatsoever to you. She cared for you out of pity and nothing more!”

  Rumford’s jaw went slack, arms limp. He stood still, apparently unable to respond. His father, evidently satisfied that his son was finally going to stop talking, let go and strode toward Colwyn.

  “Let’s go, Trumble.” They disappeared into the crowd.

  Rumford still hadn’t moved.

  “Rummy? Are you all right?” I asked tentatively.

  Finally he moved, shaking his head and waving me away. After another moment he pushed his way into the crowd in the opposite direction from his father.

  I watched him go, feeling helpless. But my own trial was coming up, and there seemed to be nothing I could do to help.

  After one more glance backward, I went back into the testing room.

  ***

  “Twelfth trial. Avery Mullins.”

  “You two are not to leave this spot. Do you understand?” I whispered, aiming my words entirely at Papa.

  He nodded and reassured us he wouldn’t dream of leaving, and why couldn’t we ever trust him?

  On the testing dais, we cycled through the usual formalities, and then the proctor directed me to list my deepest fears.

  Nothing like getting right to the heart of the matter. But I’d planned this all out before, the sort of answers I must make I’d planned this all out before, the sort of answers I must makeBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 219

  so that I could tell the truth but also not arouse suspicion. Some of my fears were not exactly things I could admit outright in a trial.

  “I have a lot of fears. Mostly I’m afraid to die. But I’m also afraid to face the consequences of my personal decisions. I’m afraid to lose my family, and I’m afraid to lose my friends too.” I bit my lip and forced myself not to look out at the audience, where I would see Ivan’s face watching with more interest than I really liked. At least he couldn’t hear what we were saying, because of the privacy spell. “Another big fear is that I’ll fail as an underwizard.”

  The proctor nodded, nonplussed by what felt to me like an endless list of fears. “You must face these fears, Underwizard Mullins. You will begin today with the mastery over fear trial.”

  I nodded and forced myself to think of Master Wendyn’s advice. “The proctor will send you into a…well, a dream, for lack of a better word. But you’ll still be present on the dais, and anything you say can be heard by the judges and proctor. Whatever you do, you must not cry out anything that you wouldn’t want them to hear. Nothing about your gender. Nothing about lies. The dream will feel real, but you must remember it is not, and you must retrieve the flags. You’ll never pass otherwise.”

  Nerves rippled through me.

  Add that one to the list of fears. I was now afraid of the mastery-over-fear trial too.

  The proctor gestured at me and said the words of a spell, and the room around me faded to black.

  ***

  A figure, lit by a subtle glow, moved toward me in the dark.

  “Mama?” I said, and then aware that I had spoken and wasn’t that bad?—I clamped a hand over my own mouth.

  She moved to the side and I saw now another figure behind her—Gavin. He bent down to retrieve something that might have been a ball and tossed it to Mama. The scene brightened, and I saw now that they played in a grassy meadow. In the distance a figure stood to the side watching as well, and I recognized Papa’s profile.

  What was he doing here?

  Suddenly I realized they were moving further away, and I gave chase, anxious to stay with them. But the harder I ran, the further away they seemed. Wait, I wanted to call. Wait. I couldn’t say how much time passed where I chased them, but it seemed to go on and on and on. Then all at once it ended as I finally reached them. Only they weren’t playing in the grass any longer. They were two corpses now, stretched out upon the grass with arms crossed upon their chests.

  I stumbled to my knees, crying out. Grief filled me, thick and bitter and heavy, and I lost myself to it.

  After a time I realized dimly that this was one of my After a time I realized dimly that this was one of myBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 221

  fears. I couldn’t give in to it. My limbs shook as I forced myself to my feet, trying to compose myself. Out of the corner of my eye I was still aware of Papa standing to the side, watching.

  The flag. There had to be a flag here somewhere for me to retrieve. I hunted around in the meadow, looking all around for anything resembling a flag, until at last I forced myself to approach the corpses. Not until I nudged Gavin’s corpse aside did I see it peeking out from under his shoulder. I plucked the yellow fabric off the ground, magic buzzing against my skin as I tucked it up my sleeve.

  Papa approached. I clenched my fists as he did so. I wanted to shout at him to get out of my dream, that here, at least, I should be free of him. But I couldn’t say it in words that would be heard on the dais. I didn’t want them knowing my personal business any more than they already did.

  As he got closer, I saw that he had a smile on his face, something that seemed very un-Papa-like. Almost kind. Or—maybe it was like Papa. I seemed to remember him like that, long ago. I was suddenly certain I’d seen such a smile in the past. I knew this friendly Papa.

  Still closer, he linked his arm with mine, a familiar gesture I had no idea what to do with. Just as I was about to wrench my arm from his, he called out, “She’s over here! Come and get her!”

  The space around us flooded with master wizards, Council guards, and PMW Robenhurst.

  I’d been betrayed by my own father.

  ***

  The meadow faded away, replaced by the solid, unfriendly lines of a meeting room that must be in the Conclave. I looked down at myself and saw shackles on my hands and feet. A tribunal of Council members stood around me, listening to my father testify about my true gender as well as the dozens of dishonest dealings in my past.

  Next came Master Wendyn. He spoke of various lies I’d told him, of how he’d agreed to help me out of guilt because I saved his grandfather, and that taking me as his apprentice had been the worst choice he’d ever made. “If I could go back and make that decision again, I’d have turned her in to the Coun
cil on day one,” he told them earnestly. And then, turning his gaze upon me, he concluded, “You destroyed my master wizard career. Now I’ll die because of you.”

  The room faded away to become a mountain. Green-robed Council guards sealed the master in a barrel and pushed it over the side.

  I couldn’t help it. “No!” I screamed. “He’s innocent!”

  And then it was over. They dragged me to a barrel next, Papa standing there and watching all the while. Panic filled me, bile in my throat, and I knew I was about to die.

  Somewhere, far away, something tried to speak reason to me, to tell me this wasn’t real. But I was too far gone to listen.

  And then they pushed me inside, spikes slicing at my flesh, and dragged the lid closer.

  “No!” I cried. “Please don’t!”

  Breathe. I had to breathe.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind came that thought again, the thought of reason. Stay in control, Avery.

  I forced myself to breathe. These were just fears. Just emotions. There was no emotion that could kill me.

  The flag. That’s right. There was a flag. Somewhere there must be.

  I craned my head around, looking, looking, and somewhere down the hill, down where the master had rolled, my eyes caught a glint of yellow.

  The only way to get that flag was to go down the hill in the barrel.

  I ducked down as the guards placed the lid on my barrel and pounded it on. And then I was rolling, rolling, rolling, and somehow I lay next to the broken bits of barrel, without any memory of the horror of dying.

  Master Wendyn’s broken barrel lay next to me in similar pieces. I crawled closer, knowing that he was dead now too, just like Mama and Gavin. I caught sight of the flag, grasped tight in his bloody hand.

  But he wasn’t dead. I saw his eyes, open and watching me out of a bruised and bloody face. I leaned down and took the flag from his hand, trying not to see how injured he was.

  “Avery,” he said in a whisper. “This is all your fault.”

  His eyes closed.

  I looked down at the flag in my hand. It was covered in blood. So were my hands. I turned and looked back up the hill, and Papa still stood there watching me.