The Golden Tower (Magisterium #5)(14)

“My dad’s here?” Tamara asked.

“He wanted me to give you his regards,” said Master Rufus. “He was sorry he couldn’t see you, but there are rules against apprentices getting visitors.”

Unless that apprentice was a Makar who might also be an Evil Overlord. Then you got a lot of visitors.

“Call, Mr. Rajavi will be waiting for you in my office. I will accompany the rest of you to the Refectory.” And with that, they were off, leaving Call to eat some cereal and go to Master Rufus’s office alone.

Call took the path that led alongside one of the Magisterium’s many underground rivers. It glowed eerie blue in the light of the moss. On the way, he peered around, looking for Warren. He even called the little lizard’s name a few times, his voice echoing through the caverns. He was sure he’d see Warren during the short boat trip, but by the time he got to the far bank, he decided Warren was avoiding him.

When Call reached Rufus’s door, he tapped on it and heard Mr. Rajavi’s voice echo from inside: “Come in.” The office looked much as it always had. The same papers were tacked to the walls, covered in what Call now recognized as alchemical equations. The big couch was gone, replaced by more bookshelves, and the old workstation had been replaced by one made of a gleaming clear material — quartz, Call guessed. Tamara’s father sat behind Rufus’s rolltop desk.

Oh, God, Call thought. Tamara’s father. And he’d just kissed Tamara. Was that why Mr. Rajavi was here?

Don’t be totally ridiculous, said Aaron. Do you think he’s psychic or something?

Kimiya was grounded for making out with Evil Overlord Alex — Tamara had said so. Mr. Rajavi had a well-established policy of not liking his children making out with Evil Overlords.

Call slid into the chair opposite the desk, eyes wide. Mr. Rajavi gazed at him with an unsmiling expression. He wore an expensive-looking black suit and a thick gold watch on one wrist. His beard was perfectly trimmed.

I need to say something about Tamara, Call thought.

You really don’t, said Aaron, sounding alarmed.

I have to reassure him, Call protested.

Reassure him about what? You DID kiss Tamara. Just keep your mouth shut, Call.

“My intentions are honorable!” Call blurted. He wanted to say more, but Aaron had set up a loud angry buzzing in his head, like a giant bee.

Mr. Rajavi blinked. “That’s good, son. It’s good to hear that despite having the soul of Constantine Madden, you want to live an honorable life.”

Narrow escape, Aaron muttered. At least he’d stopped the bee noise. Call shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Tamara’s father said. “Your mother, Anastasia Tarquin, has been asking for you.”

“She’s not my mother.” A wave of anger passed over Call, erasing his previous embarrassment. “She was Constantine Madden’s mother, and I am not him.”

Mr. Rajavi smiled thinly. “I like your conviction. And I know my daughter thinks highly of you. Then again, I’ve started to be suspicious of those my daughters think highly of.”

Maybe you should tell him you kissed Tamara, said Aaron. He’s a jerk.

He was always like this, Call said. You just never saw it because he wasn’t like that to you.

Call felt instantly bad for having thought that, but he didn’t want to let the silence stretch out too long while he tried to explain stuff to Aaron. “If you mean Alex Strike, I’m glad he’s dead, too,” Call said bluntly. “But I don’t want to see Anastasia.”

“She’s in the Panopticon,” said Mr. Rajavi. “Her sentencing was this afternoon. She’s been condemned to death.”

That shook Call. He tried not to show it, but his hands tightened on the arms of his chair. Maybe he should agree to see her, but trying to imagine himself back in the Panopticon, on the other side of the magical glass, was awful. Besides, he didn’t have anything to say to Anastasia. He couldn’t help her. And he didn’t want to keep pretending to be okay with her calling him Constantine.

He thought about the memories Aaron had found locked away in his head. Maybe if he looked at those, he would have some of the feelings for her that she hoped he would. But that only made him more determined not to unlock those memories.

“Do I have to go?” Call asked.

“Of course not,” Mr. Rajavi said. He seemed relieved at the thought that Call was really saying no. Maybe he didn’t want to go to the Panopticon either. “If you change your mind, tell Master Rufus.”

Call stood up, assuming the meeting was over, only to have Mr. Rajavi stay where he was. After an awkward moment, Call sat down again. “Is there something else?”

“An offer. You’re graduating from the Magisterium soon. Once you finish your Gold Year, you will be a mage in earnest and a very powerful one, a Makar. I want you to go to the Collegium. I will make sure you get accepted into the best programs there. I will clear a path for you to be a very important mage, perhaps an Assembly member yourself one day. But we want you to stop using chaos magic, except with the explicit permission of the Assembly. We want you to be our Makar.”

Call was astonished. It wasn’t like he was running around using chaos magic all the time, for fun. But this was the same Mr. Rajavi who’d gotten Aaron to perform tricks with chaos magic at one of his parties. How had that been okay, but this wasn’t?