Chapter 17

Marcus Gold poured himself a cup of decaf coffee, and launched into what was clearly a practiced spiel.

“We know how much money it takes to keep Emberstone running. Trust me. We’re all on the Board of Governors. We approve the budget. And we know the school is currently in a shortfall. Now—that hasn’t affected the student experience yet. Most kids wouldn’t even notice. But that won’t last forever. Eventually, if things don’t change, there will have to be cuts. Big ones.”

“I see,” Alastair said, taking another bite of brisket.

As many papers as he’d received from Quicksilver, he hadn’t come across any sort of financials. Perhaps Gold was lying, or more likely, no one believed an interim headmaster needed to be privy to such information. Either way, Alastair had no intention of showing his cards just yet.

“We heard your presentation at the annual meeting. Now, as you know, some of us would have preferred Sebastian Shelley. I’ll cop to it—I spoke out a bit strongly on that point. But upon reflection, you had some fine ideas.”

Though Alastair remained quiet, an eyebrow raised at this. It was as if the man had never organized an aggressive campaign against him. What game was Gold playing?

“Expanding Non-Magical education—yes, it’s a change. And I must say, my children have been enjoying their maths. It’ll help them in the business world—should they choose to follow in my footsteps. So it seems like it’s a good thing. And Dueling League, that was a good compromise. You seem like someone we might be able to work with.”

There was a but coming. Alastair could sense it. The other parents all leaned in, elbows on the table as if they could sense Gold was finally getting to the point.

“However,” Gold said.

There it is.

“Your proposals require funding. And that’s a sticking point for the school right now, isn’t it?”

Alastair shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to give the man any opening.

“I’ll be blunt.”

That’s a surprise…

“We have money.”

Another shocker.

“And just as you have some good ideas, so do we. We want the school to be a success—and I’m sure you do too. We want to ensure that Emberstone has the financing it needs.”

Alastair carefully placed his knife and fork down. He took his time pulling the napkin from his lap and wiping his lips.

“That was a fine speech,” he said. “Well rehearsed, it seems. However, I have just one question. Why are you coming to me? Like we said in the meeting, I’m just here for one year. Take it up with Ozelius.”

“Well,” Gold remarked, looking a bit peeved. “Ozelius hasn’t been as receptive as we might have hoped. He’s a wonderful headmaster, we all agree, but he’s set in his ways. We were skeptical about you at first, but we’ve discussed—and we think it might be refreshing to have some new blood in for a while. And we might be able to work together.”

“This all sounds rather ominous, no?”

“Not at all. You have ideas, Headmaster Meade, and we have ideas. We have the coin to help you with passions you’re particularly interested in, if you’d like. We could be mutually beneficial to each other.”

So this was… an attempt at bribery? Marcus Gold’s current evenness gave him the willies after the weeks of aggressive letters he’d sent. Did he truly think he could just erase all that by writing a check?

“I’ll certainly think about it,” Alastair said. “Here, tell you what. Dueling League is coming up soon. Like I said, you’ll get an invite. If you end up attending, we’ll discuss things further then.”

Gold didn’t seem thrilled with this answer—his jaw twitched—but he nodded. “Alright.”

“Thanks for the lunch,” Alastair said. He retook his fork, skewered his last two remaining pieces of salmon, and gobbled them up. “Nice change from school food.”

“We could make that better too!” a small woman with frizzy brown hair at the far end of the table said. “If you like the fish! It wouldn’t even take a particularly large donation.”

Gold gave her a withering look. “I agree with Headmaster Meade’s idea, Mrs. Tipple. We’ll discuss among ourselves and regroup at the first Dueling League session.”

Mrs. Tipple looked put out, but kept silent. Gold had quite the control over these people.

Alastair stood. “Pleasure talking with you. We’ll see each other soon.”

He left the restaurant, troubled and uneasy. Gold was a slippery character, and his loyalist parents were proving to be flip-flopping sycophants. He wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing by appeasing them, even though he hadn’t actually promised them anything. Was he just leaving them an opening to continue pressuring the school? How bad was Emberstone’s budget shortfall? And what was their agenda, actually?

He resolved to go over the budget in more detail with Quicksilver as soon as possible. He might have seen the numbers in the prep for the Board of Governors meeting, but he’d been so focused on settling into his new job—and the fact that a group—minor as they were—already wanted him out of said job—that if he had, they hadn’t made an impression. And not knowing left him vulnerable to groups like Gold’s claque who wanted to use him for their own ends.

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Have to be better about that.

As Avi had said, Alastair wasn’t at Glimmerglass anymore. He must be a smarter operator.

“Hey!” a voice called out from somewhere behind, causing Alastair to stop.

“What now?” he asked under his breath.

Turning, he spotted Mayor Samuel Lamkin hurrying toward him, squinting against the bright October sun. He wore the same nondescript gray suit he had at the Board of Governors meeting.

“Headmaster Meade,” the mayor said, catching up. “Lucky, running into you here. I’ve been meaning to send you an invitation. Are you free?”

Alastair looked around to see if any of Gold’s parents had followed him out, but the street was near-empty apart from a few surly-looking laborers rolling a wine barrel down the avenue.

“Alright,” he said. “But I should warn you, I’ve already eaten.”

Mayor Lamkin looked at him like he had two heads. “We’re going back to my office in city hall. I don’t have an expense account, and unlike you mages, I can’t conjure up food out of thin air.”

Alastair considered informing the mayor that no mage could produce life-sustaining elements like food, but he held his tongue.

Suitably chastened, Alastair followed him to the government complex, downtown near the train station. City hall itself was a large brick building with paneled glass windows and a narrow spire. He’d strolled past it many times on his way to and from the train, but he’d never actually been inside. Government types in shabby suits streamed up the stairs on their way back from lunch.

Samuel Lamkin led the way inside, his face blank and inscrutable, but people seemed genuinely happy to see him. He nodded a few curt hellos to those they passed, shook a couple hands, etc.

Inside, the building was nothing like Emberstone. City hall was all peeling linoleum and dirt-caked windows, with faded posters on the wall advertising various city initiatives: “Save Our Streets”; “Small Business Forward”; “Open Arms to Families”.

It was a little depressing.

They turned down a narrow, windowless hallway and almost crashed into an anxious-looking young woman with a complicated braided hairstyle.

“Oh!” she said. “Mayor Lamkin! Do you have a sec—”