by Tim Susman
“Captain,” the middle-aged man on the far side of the table said, “this is a secure meeting and hardly the place to bring visitors.”
“If Madame wishes to make a donation, take her and her retinue down to the bursar,” sneered the young man at his side.
“Quiet, Morgan,” the middle-aged man said. He straightened, filling out a dark blue uniform that bore more decorations than any other in the room, and turned to his left, where the tallest man in the room was staring at Lowell with vague annoyance rather than the curiosity the others displayed. “Jackson, did you send for these people?”
“I did not.” The tall man wore sorcerer’s robes, but as he turned they flowed open to reveal a similar uniform beneath them. This had to be Colonel Jackson. “Lowell, be quick.”
“Yes, sir.” Lowell stood stiffly at attention. “This is Emily Carswell, Kip Penfold, Malcolm O’Brien, and Alice Cartwright. They are sorcerers and they have come with news of an attack on the College of Sorcery in New Cambridge.”
“Zwounds!” Jackson clenched his fist. “Another attack? Well, if Patris hasn’t been killed, he’ll certainly no longer be head. What’s happened, ah…” He gestured to Malcolm. “O’Brien.”
Malcolm stepped forward into the light, drawing an audible gasp from the room. “Aye, I thought perhaps you’d not been able to see me properly,” he said with a smile. “I’d suggest that perhaps Miss Carswell or Mr. Penfold here might be a better source for you, as they were the ones who actually saw,” he did lean on that word, “what happened.”
Jackson looked between Emily and Kip and couldn’t seem to settle on one of them. “Well, then?” he asked impatiently.
Emily kept staring at the man who’d spoken first, and now she nudged Kip. “You start,” she said.
Kip stood straight against the weight of all the military men staring at him. “I summoned a demon,” he said, because he didn’t like to advertise his ability to smell demon presence, “as I often do outside the College. On the Feast Day my demon alerted me that another demon had appeared in the area, but it vanished quickly. A short time later, my demon alerted me that a sorcerer had teleported to the area.”
“I’d cast a ward at Kip’s request,” Malcolm said.
Here Colonel Jackson perked up. “What kind of ward?”
“Inattention.”
“Ah, good.” He waved to Kip. “Go on.”
“The sorcerer was Master Albright from King’s College,” Kip said, fighting the anger that coiled in his chest as he thought of the murderous sorcerer. “The one behind the first attack on Prince George’s.”
“London was behind the attack,” one of the aides said.
“They still claim Albright acted on his own volition,” another said.
The middle-aged man who’d spoken first turned to that aide. “I know of no-one in these Colonies who believes that. Regardless, if Albright was about, there was danger. You are sure it was him?”
“Yes,” Kip said.
“I saw him too,” Emily added. She still hadn’t taken her eyes from the middle-aged man.
“And then Emily took us to the College to warn them, but we were too late,” and he let her tell the rest of it.
She hesitated, making Kip wonder who this decorated man was that Emily felt so intimidated by his presence. But then she spoke as clearly and confidently as ever, so he supposed it might only have been the room itself. “The College was empty when we arrived. Their book of demon names was gone.”
This brought another curse from Jackson, which startled Emily before she resumed. “And then Kip…” She glanced at him; Peter’s existence was secret by necessity. “He summoned back a demon who did chores for the College. It confirmed that a British sorcerer had abducted the masters.”
The middle-aged man rubbed his long chin. “This is troubling.”
“Troubling?” Jackson asked sharply. “It is an act of war, Philip. The raids, I grant you, there is some question, but this?”
“Do not be so quick to jump to war,” Philip told him. “Once we are on that path it will take a great deal to bring us back from it.”
“Yes!” Jackson pounded the table. “Victory over the tyrant George!”
Though Kip jumped at the force of the outburst—as did most in the room—he couldn’t help but agree. This was war, and why did this Philip, of whom Emily seemed so in awe, hesitate?
“We all want that,” Philip said, unperturbed by Jackson’s vehemence, “but we must accomplish it sensibly, and that means we must declare war when the time is right. If we cannot be seen by Spain and France as a serious threat to London, then we stand no chance of winning aid from them, and to be honest, without foreign aid we are not a serious threat.”
“Then you give us no chance.” Jackson sneered. “It’s this same caution that got many of your father’s friends the gallows forty years ago.”
“It’s forty years too late to have that argument,” Philip said, “although if you like you may take it up with Father yourself. He’s due to arrive from New York tomorrow.”
“I know that. He’s asked for a sorcerer to bring him.”
“Then save your words for—”
“You have his ear. You have seen the raids in Boston, New York, Philadelphia. Unsuccessful because we were on our guard, but now they’ve abducted—maybe killed—fifteen American sorcerers!”
“Again…” Philip shook his head. “This is neither the time nor the place. Lowell, please take these four to quarters on the third floor.”
“Stop.” With that single word, Kip could see how Jackson had risen to command. Every person in the room stiffened, froze, and turned to him, with the possible exception of Philip, but Kip couldn’t tell because he was staring at the military sorcerer. “Lowell is under my command.”
“As you are under mine.”
“I’m under your father’s.” Jackson stared back at him. “In any event, do not issue orders to my adjutants, especially while I am present. As for these others, sorcerers in the American army are under my command, and so they will report to the rest of the military sorcerers on the third floor to await my orders. Lowell, take them.”
“One moment,” Emily said. “We haven’t agreed to be part of any army. We’re apprentices at the College.”
“There’s a war on,” Jackson said. “You’ve just been drafted. Welcome to the American Army.”
Emily argued with Captain Lowell all the way up the stairs. “He can’t do that,” she insisted.
“There’s a war on, or hadn’t you heard?” Lowell’s calm demeanor cracked just a bit.
“General Hamilton said we’re not yet at war.”
“Major-General Hamilton,” Lowell corrected her. “General Hamilton is his father.”
“I haven’t the patience to learn your language,” Emily said. “Or the way you insist on placing people into hierarchies. Philip Hamilton said we’re not at war, therefore we are not at war, and you have no authority to keep any of us here.”
“You may discuss that with Master Colonel Jackson if you have the inclination,” Captain Lowell said.
“She’d be the one to do it,” Malcolm murmured, his hand on Kip’s arm.
Alice had stayed behind them, tail tucked beneath her dress. She gave a little giggle at Malcolm’s remark, and though Kip was pleased to see her ears up, here in the armory among the military men she seemed very young and frail. Had he done the right thing in bringing her along? “Don’t worry,” he said.
“I’m not worried for me.” She smiled, ears perked. “I’m worried for them. They don’t know what they’re in for.”
That got a smile out of him. “You’ve got the right of it there.”
They’d gotten to the top of the stairs, Emily still arguing, Captain Lowell deflecting her salvos with practiced ease. “Fine,” she said. “But I won’t wait here to be kidnapped. Kip, the usual way.”
And then, before Lowell could react, Emily’s hands glowed lilac and she was gone.
He stared at the space where she’d been and then at Kip. “What does this mean?”
“She’s gone,” Kip said honestly. “I don’t know where.”
“Translocated,” Malcolm added. “I’m guessing, mind you, but it’s a thing she’s been known to do and she’s quite good at it.”
Lowell shook his head, so Alice said, “It means using sorcery to go to another place.”
This snapped him out of it. “I know what it means.” He rounded on Kip again. “She said ‘the usual’ to you, what does that mean?”
“The usual way of communicating, I suppose.” Kip saw no reason to lie. “We use a place in New Cambridge where we leave messages for each other.”
Lowell gripped Kip’s wrist. “Don’t you go translocating.”
He laughed. “You needn’t worry. I’m not nearly as good at it as she is. And besides, I am—” He looked at Malcolm and Alice, got confirmation from them. “We’re all eager to fight.”
The man studied his muzzle and then released Kip’s wrist. “Civilian sorcerers,” he said with a shake of his head. “All right, the rest of the unit is here.”
The rest of the unit proved to be eight other sorcerers, all men older than Kip and Malcolm, all in a restless mood. The small room they gathered in must be the private quarters of a few of them, to judge by the strong scent Kip got of unbathed men, mixed with an undertone of raven.
When Lowell left, the oldest sorcerer, who introduced himself as Captain Marsh (and whose scent pervaded the room), asked Kip what had happened, so the fox told the story again. Early on, as he described summoning a demon, the interest of the other sorcerers grew. “Ah,” one said. “So this is the Calatian sorcerer.”
“And a good one too,” Malcolm said. “Taught me demon summoning for when I’ve a need for another pair of eyes.”
“Why not just get a raven?” Marsh asked.
“Ah, well.” Malcolm kept his cheerful demeanor. “Our Headmaster adheres quite strongly to the rule that only full sorcerers may have ravens, and I’ve not passed the proper tests yet.”
“Despite the fact that it’s his fault Malcolm’s blind,” Kip said. “Letting an untrained sorcerer leave the College.”
Malcolm put a hand on his arm. A few of the sorcerers nodded in sympathy, but some looked uncomfortable. “Only Captain Marsh has a raven of all of us,” one said, pointing to a perch in a dark corner on which a single raven stood dozing.
“And Master Colonel Jackson,” Captain Marsh added.
“Anyway,” Kip said, “it hasn’t stopped him being a fantastic defensive sorcerer.”
Alice stayed quiet, and the men didn’t ask about her. But they appreciated Malcolm’s ward as much as Kip’s demon summoning. “Luke there is a dab hand at wards,” Captain Marsh said, “but none of the others of us can do much with them.”
It was a good thing Kip kept his story short, because he’d barely finished when Master Colonel Jackson entered the room, flanked by Captain Lowell. Jackson marched directly to Kip, and from his several inch height advantage, barked down, “Where’s she gone? Carswell?”
“I don’t know.” It was difficult not to be intimidated by the man. Besides his height, his eyes bored into Kip’s, unflinching, and the deep tone of his voice demanded submission. “As I told Captain Lowell.”
“What men tell Captain Lowell and what they tell me are often not the same.” Jackson straightened and rubbed his chin. “But you can communicate with her?”
“Aye,” Kip said.
“Lowell, draft a letter telling her to return immediately and then arrange with Penfold here to take it.” His eyes drifted down to Alice. “We don’t have women in the army, but if they have sorcery, we can find a use for them.”
“I can fight as well as anyone.” Alice stepped forward.
“I’m sure when it comes to teeth and claws, you’d best any woman I know,” Jackson said with a patronizing smile. “But the Army doesn’t put women in harm’s way.”
Alice subsided, though Kip saw the unquenched rebellion in her eyes. Jackson informed the room that he would be meeting with General Hamilton soon and expected that the next day would see the official beginning of the war. “So be ready for deployment, all of you. As for you,” he said to Kip and Malcolm, “you’re one sorcerer short of a full unit, so your first task is to find Miss Carswell and complete your unit.”
“Unit?” Malcolm said. “Begging your pardon, sir, but we’re not familiar with that term, being naught but simple apprentices.”
“Captain Marsh, educate them and see that they are sent properly on their way. Caldwell!” He motioned to one of the other sorcerers. “Come take me to New York. We shall see if this information may not speed up the molasses mind of General Hamilton.”
The sorcerer hurried to Jackson’s side with a sharp, “Yes, sir!” and they left the room together.
“Right.” Captain Marsh, a short, stocky man with bright red hair and beard, came over to Kip and Malcolm and Alice. “You two have had your papers?”
“Three,” Alice said indignantly.
He ignored her. “If not, you’ll have to go down to the secretary on the first floor for your enlistment papers. After that you can contact the fugitive and bring her back.”
“Hang on a moment,” Malcolm said. “She’s not a fugitive.”
“She defied a direct order from Master Colonel Jackson.” Marsh tried not to look at Malcolm’s face.
“You’ve just given us enlistment instructions.” Malcolm turned to Kip with uncanny accuracy. “Have I not heard that right? Me da used to say, the devil hasn’t got your soul until you sign your name, and I haven’t felt a pen in my fingers yet.”
Marsh’s already ruddy complexion reddened further, and his raven on its perch fluttered. “Go enlist and then bring back Miss Carswell,” he said.
“Just a moment.” Malcolm folded his arms. “If we’re to join an army, should we not be given a grand speech about the cause and what our duties will be? What pay shall we receive? We must decide whether there are better ways we could serve this war.”
Marsh threw up his hands. “What did you come here for, if not to enlist?”
“Emily brought us here to bring news,” Malcolm said.
“You wish to fight for independence, do you not?” Marsh glared at Kip and Malcolm in turn. “This is how you must do it.”
“Yes,” Alice piped up.
“We’ve already done a good deal of fighting.” Kip wanted to join the army, but Marsh’s insinuation that they were valueless outside of it stung him.
“I’ve heard stories of your fighting, but this is a war.” Marsh’s eyes gleamed. “A war isn’t a single sorcerer scheming to bring down a College.”
“Two sorcerers,” Malcolm said, “but your point is taken.”
“A war,” Marsh continued as if Malcolm hadn’t spoken, “is an enormous enterprise and the army that fights it must be wielded as one great soldier of unified mind. Your talents will be useful, but they must be sent to the most important location and used in the most appropriate way. Do you think you can win this war all by yourself?”
“No,” Kip said, ears flat at the condescension.
“Then I suggest you do your patriotic duty. The secretary is on the first floor.” Marsh turned on his heel.
“That wasn’t quite the rousing speech I’d hoped for,” Malcolm said, “but it will have to do.”
“A moment.” Kip searched for any way to disrupt the smug captain. “I believe Colonel Master Jackson ordered you to educate us. What is a unit?”
“Master Colonel Jackson,” Marsh corrected as he turned back, his expression remaining dark. “A unit is a trio of sorcerers, one translocational, one defensive, and one offensive. The purpose of the unit is to allow for the maximum impact on the enemy with the minimum personnel. The translocational sorcerer must be able to move two other people with him and the defensive sorcerer must be skilled in warding and defensive magic.”
�
��Seems obvious,” Malcolm murmured.
“The offensive sorcerer may be spiritual or alchemical or even physical in specialty, whatever is called for at the site of the battle.” Marsh sped up his recital. “The translocational sorcerer is also responsible for retrieving orders from the commander, but secondarily to the safety of the other two. The defensive sorcerer is responsible solely for protecting himself and the offensive sorcerer. Is that sufficiently clear?”
“Perfectly,” Kip said. “Thank you very much.”
The sorcerer stared at him. “You should address me as ‘sir.’”
“Once we’ve enlisted, I shall. What rank shall we all be assigned, by the by? Will we be made captains?”
“Hah!” Marsh looked down his nose. “War is an opportunity for advancement, and if you do well you may end up as a captain by the end of it. But sorcerers enter the military as lieutenants, meaning you have a commission from the government to serve and you will be able to command sergeants, corporals, and of course privates.”
“Of course,” Malcolm said. “And how will we be able to tell whose privates we’ll be allowed to command?”
Marsh snorted. “First floor,” he said, and walked away.
The only hitch with the tedium of registration was that the secretary would not give papers to Alice. “She’s a woman,” he said, and that was the end of it.
“I’m not going to be sent away,” Alice said. “For one, I want to keep learning sorcery, and who else will teach me?”
“Don’t worry.” Kip had been heartened by the talk of units and the idea that he, Emily, and Malcolm could be one. “Malcolm can protect three as easily as two.”
“Indeed,” Malcolm said, “although I’d as soon protect four, and so let’s go find our Miss Carswell.”
Their meeting place was the old barn where Farley had taken Alice, but getting there was likely to be difficult without another translocational sorcerer. Over the past year, Alice had not shown an affinity for that branch of sorcery, nor for alchemical magic. Her physical magic outstripped Kip’s, but he thought her real talent might lie in summoning. He’d been loath to teach her that very dangerous spell and had put it off for more than a month, but elementals and demons would prove useful in a battle.
