The Silver Mask (Magisterium #4)(22)

“I don’t know —” Call said.

“Then I’m going to do it myself.” Alex closed his eyes tightly, as though he were trying to burst a vein in his forehead.

Call could feel the chaos magic in the air, could almost smell it, like a hot wind.

On the table, the stoat began to stir. It shuddered all over. Its back paws pinwheeled. Its whiskers quivered. And then it opened swirling eyes.

Chaos-ridden.

Alex opened his own eyes expectantly, but when he saw what was on the table, he slammed his fist against the wall.

“You should have helped me,” he said. “What we need is more power!”

The stoat jumped off the table and was making for the door when Havoc roused himself from sleep and began to chase after it. Call heard something smash, then a high-pitched cry.

“And a different stoat,” Call told Alex, vowing to never let him anywhere near Aaron’s body.



They decided to break for lunch, though Call wasn’t exactly hungry. Several hours with a dead stoat will do that to you, he thought.

As Alex headed for the dining room, Call pulled off toward the kitchen to get something quick … and to not have to see Alex while he ate. There, he found a young man putting tea things on a tray.

“Hello,” the young man said.

Call, not wanting to be rude, said, “Hi.”

Seeing Call’s confusion, the young man laughed without guile and said, “My name is Jeffrey and I help out around here. I didn’t pass the tests to get into the Magisterium, but Master Joseph offered to teach me anyway, instead of having my magic bound.”

“Oh,” Call said. He had to admit, that was a pretty good way of getting recruits, although Call wasn’t sure how much magic they could learn. But what if the answer was a lot? Call thought of Hugo driving the van, of all the prisoners in the Panopticon, and wondered how many people were on the island.

“You’re Callum, right?” Jeffrey asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Come with me. Assemblywoman Tarquin wanted me to bring you to her when you came out of your lessons.”

Call wasn’t sure exactly what Jeffrey thought he’d been doing, but he followed to a small Victorian parlor where Jeffrey set his tray of tea and sandwiches down on a table between two big velvet armchairs.

There was a large bay window that looked out at the green lawn where a Chaos-ridden pushed a lawn mower in a strange pattern on the grass. Presiding over the room was Anastasia, wearing another of her white power suits. She gestured for Call to sit down in the armchair opposite her.

Jeffrey left and Call took his place awkwardly. The silver stand of iced cakes and crustless sliced sandwiches was between them. He took an egg salad one and held it gingerly.

“You must be very angry with me,” Anastasia said.

“You think?” Call took a bite of the sandwich. On the whole he preferred lichen. “You mean, because you lied to Tamara and betrayed us and let Master Joseph kidnap us? Why would I be mad about that?”

Her lips tightened. “Call,” she said. “You were in the Panopticon. I had to do what I could to get you out. Do you think there was going to be any freedom for you? No. You would have been pursued by the mages from the moment they realized you were missing.”

“I don’t see the difference between them catching me and Master Joseph catching me,” Call argued. “This is just prison with sandwiches.”

“In my life,” said Anastasia, “I have learned that allegiances don’t matter. You can be destroyed by those who call themselves good as easily as by those who are more obviously selfish. All that matters to me, Call, is that you remain alive and safe.” She leaned forward. “Do as Master Joseph says. He will help you raise Aaron from the dead. Then, once you have him back, you can go before the Magisterium and show what you’ve done. Do you truly think that they will reject such a gift? Everyone hates death, Call.”

“But not everyone has to be its enemy.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I’m saying they’ll accept you. They’ll embrace you as their Makar, just as they’ll embrace your magic and use it to bring back their loved ones. You’ll no longer be in any danger.”

“I don’t know if that’ll work,” he muttered, but she didn’t seem like she heard him.

“I’ve filled your room with your things — with Constantine’s things,” she said. “I know you’re still fighting who you really are. It’s ironic, because Con was always stubborn.” Her eyes were soft as she looked at him. “You’ve buried what you are for so long. Just let the pictures and clothes surround you — let your soul remember.” She sighed. “I wish I could stay. I’d tell you stories about yourself every day, about what Constantine did when he was a little boy.”

This sounded like the worst thing Call could think of. “You’re leaving?” he said warily.

“I must return to the Magisterium and give them a good story about how you were taken and I escaped with my life. Hopefully, I can be convincing enough so that I can keep an eye on their plans a little longer.”

“What if I can’t do what Master Joseph wants?” Call asked her, thinking of Aaron’s cold body on the table. Yes, he wanted Aaron back, but he wasn’t going to let Alex raise Aaron as one of the Chaos-ridden. He’d do whatever he had to do in order to make sure that never happened. “Constantine couldn’t bring back the dead — maybe I can’t either. If I fail, Master Joseph is going to use the Alkahest to take my power.”