The Copper Gauntlet (Magisterium #2)(36)

Tamara smacked him on the back of his head. “Give it a rest. If you talk too much, you’ll dehydrate.”

“Ow,” Jasper complained.

“Shh,” Aaron said.

“I get it,” Jasper said sourly. “Tamara already told me to shut up.”

“No, I meant everyone, be quiet.” Aaron crouched down behind the moss-covered root of a tree. “There’s something out there.”

Jasper immediately dropped to his knees. Tamara rolled up her sleeves and got into a crouch, one of her hands cupped. Fire was already sparking in her palm.

Call hesitated. His leg was stiff, and he was worried that if he crouched down, he wouldn’t be able to straighten up again, at least not gracefully.

“Call, get down,” Tamara hissed. The light between her palms was growing into a shimmering square. “Don’t be a hero.”

Call almost couldn’t hold back a sarcastic laugh at that.

The shimmering square rose, and Call realized that Tamara had shaped air energy into something that functioned like the lens of a telescope. They all leaned forward, as a valley below them sprang into view.

Looking through her magical lens, they could spot a circular clearing with small, brightly painted wooden houses spaced equidistantly around it. A large wooden building stood at the center. It had a placard over the door. To his surprise, Tamara’s magical lens allowed Call to read the words on it. THOUGHTS ARE FREE AND SUBJECT TO NO RULE.

“That’s what’s written on the Magisterium entrance,” he said, surprised.

“Well, on one of the entrances, anyway,” said a voice behind him.

He spun around. A man stood amid the fallen leaves and ferns, dressed in the black uniform of a Master. Jasper gasped and scrabbled backward until he hit the trunk of a tree.

“Master Lemuel,” he gulped. “But I thought you — I thought they —”

“Fired me from the Magisterium?”

None of them spoke for a long moment. Finally, Aaron nodded. “Well, yeah.”

“I was offered a leave of absence, and I took it,” Lemuel said, scowling down at them. “Apparently, I’m not the only one.”

“We’re on a mission,” Tamara said with vast sincerity and not a little annoyance. “Obviously. Otherwise, why would we have Jasper along?”

She really was a good liar, Call thought. He’d acted like it was a bad thing. But right then, he was glad.

Jasper opened his mouth to protest — or possibly tattle — when Aaron clapped him on the shoulder. Hard.

Master Lemuel snorted. “As if I care? I don’t. Run away from the Magisterium if you want. Use your magic to get into nightclubs. Joyride on elementals. I don’t have any apprentices to look after anymore, thank goodness, and I certainly have no intention of looking after any of you.”

“Uh, okay,” said Call. “Great?”

“What is this place?” asked Aaron, craning his neck to look around.

“An enclave of like-minded individuals,” said Master Lemuel, making a shooing motion with his hands. “Now run along. Go.”

“Who’s there?” asked an older woman with freckled and sun-browned skin, wearing a saffron-colored linen dress. Her white hair was braided up onto her head. “Are you terrorizing those kids?”

“We know him,” said Tamara. “From the Magisterium.”

“Well, come on,” the woman said, turning and beckoning them. “Come have a cold drink. Hiking through the forest is thirsty work.”

Call looked over at Tamara and Aaron. If Jasper started complaining about being their prisoner, would Master Lemuel find it funny? Had he heard that the Alkahest was stolen? Call was sure he wouldn’t find that part amusing.

“We should probably just get going,” Tamara said. “Thanks and everything, but —”

“Oh, no, I won’t take no for an answer.” The woman hooked her arm with Aaron’s, and Aaron, always polite, let her begin to lead him toward the encampment. “My name is Alma. I know what kind of awful food they feed you up at the Magisterium. Just stop in for a visit and then you’ll be on your way.”

“Uh, Aaron,” Call said. “We’re kind of in a hurry.”

Aaron looked helpless. He clearly didn’t want to be rude. Social pressure was, apparently, his kryptonite.

Master Lemuel looked more annoyed than pleased, so probably that meant it wasn’t some kind of trap. With a sigh and a speaking look between himself and Tamara, he followed Alma and Aaron down a gentle sloped incline toward one of the houses with a small porch and blue-painted stars on the door. Inside, Call could see a little kitchen with long wooden shelves lined with hand-labeled bottles. A wood-burning stove smoked in the corner, a hammock swung in another, and a quaintly painted table with chairs was in the center of the room. The woman opened a cabinet, which was full of misting ice. She stuck her hand inside and came out with a pitcher of slushy lemonade, the glass cloudy with cold and several slices of lemon floating inside.

She placed a few mismatched glasses and started to fill them. Aaron snatched one, guzzled it down, then winced in pain.

“Brain freeze,” he explained.

Call thought uncomfortably about gingerbread houses and old ladies and didn’t take a drink. He didn’t trust Master Lemuel and he definitely didn’t trust anyone who could put up with Master Lemuel either.