The Golden Tower (Magisterium #5)(4)

“But we are friends,” she said. Her eyes sparkled fiercely. “Look, everyone here believes something different about you now. They don’t know anything about how you — about Aaron being raised. They know Master Joseph kidnapped you, and they know you helped defeat him and Alex.”

“Good?” Call said cautiously. “That seems … good?”

“But they all know you have the soul of the Enemy of Death now. Everyone knows it, Call. I don’t know how much they’re going to be able to understand that you’re not him.”

“I could just stay in this room all year.” Call glanced around. “I can get food by enchanting bologna the way Master Rufus did when we first arrived.”

Tamara shook her head. “No way. First of all, we don’t have any bologna. Second, we’re going to go out there and face them. You need to be able to have a normal life as a mage, Call. You have to show everyone that you’re just you, that you’re not some monster.”

I might never have a life as a mage, Call thought. This might be it.

Aaron, in his head, remained silent. Call was pretty sure he shouldn’t say anything to Tamara about his father’s suggestion to skip the Collegium and run out on the mage world altogether. He was too confused about it himself.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m in. What do you want to do first? Go to the Gallery?”

“First, I have something to give you,” Tamara said, surprising him. She went into her room, her braid swinging, and came out carrying — a knife. Call’s knife, made by his mother, the hilt and scabbard decorated with swirling patterns.

“Miri,” he breathed, taking the weapon back. “Tamara — thank you.”

Now, if anyone in the Refectory bothers you, you can chop off their head, Aaron thought cheerfully.

Call started to choke, but luckily, Tamara chalked it up to emotion and patted him on the back until he stopped.





WALKING INTO THE Refectory gave Call a feeling not unlike déjà vu. He felt as though he was in a familiar place, but nothing quite looked right. And he realized it was because he recognized so few of the other students. All the older kids he knew were gone. He didn’t know anyone in their Iron Year, barely knew anyone in Copper or Bronze Year, and even the Gold and Silver Year students he knew looked a lot different. A few had what looked like the scraggly beginnings of beards.

Call put his hand to his own face. He should have shaved this morning. Tamara would probably like that.

Focus, Aaron told him.

If Aaron were here, in a separate body, he would remember to shave. He would sculpt his facial hair with natural confidence and skill, and everyone would admire him for it.

We’ll find me a body soon enough, said Aaron.

Wait. What? Call thought.

But before he could dwell on that more, Tamara gave him a shove toward the food. With his stomach in knots on the way to the Magisterium, he hadn’t eaten very much, but having Tamara on his side made him feel so much better that he found he was starving.

He got some greenish lichen, some slices of large mushroom, and a few purple ball-like dumplings in a blue sauce.

Get some turnip cakes, Aaron said. They’re good.

Call had never cared for the pale turnip cakes, which looked too much like they were made from eyeless fish for his taste, but he plopped a few on his plate anyway. Taking a cup of tea, he followed Tamara to a table. She found one where it was going to be just them, set down her tray, and looked around, as though daring someone to approach.

No one did. Lots of people were looking at their table and whispering, but no one was coming over.

“Hey, um, how is Kimiya?” Call asked finally, just to say something.

Tamara rolled her eyes but surprisingly also grinned. “Grounded and kept home from the Collegium for a whole year for making out with Evil Overlord Alex. Also for joining his evil army of evil.”

“Wow,” said Call.

He looked up to see three Iron Year kids heading toward the table. Three boys — a pale kid with white-blond hair, a darker-skinned kid with lots of curls, and another kid covered in freckles.

“Um, hi,” said the pale kid. “I’m Axel. Are you really the Enemy of Death?”

“He’s not the Enemy!” Tamara said.

“Well,” said Call, “I have his soul, I guess. But I’m not him. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

All three Iron Years had taken a step back when he’d begun talking, so he wasn’t sure how convincing he’d been. They were looking at him as though waiting for him to bare his teeth, when Jasper came up behind them.

“Scram, munchkins!” Jasper yelled, causing them to yelp and run back to their table.

Jasper laughed uproariously. He had an even weirder haircut than before — somehow both spiky and shaggy at the same time — and was wearing a leather jacket over his uniform.

“That’s not helpful,” said Tamara. “We must reach out to them with understanding, not scare them off like they’re little kids at a Halloween party.”

Jasper made a face at her. “Good to see you all, too!” he said, and headed off toward Celia and the food. Call couldn’t help gazing after Celia, who was wearing a headband in place of the old sparkly hair clips she’d worn when she was younger. Once, she’d been his really good friend. She’d even wanted to date him. Now, she wouldn’t look at him.