Chapter 35

“Hey,” Ms. Shadow said as the elementals cleared their plates away. “I was thinking—how would you feel about doing this once a week, maybe… To work on your Scrying, of course?”

Alastair’s next word caught, “Sure.” He cleared his throat. “Scrying is very important.”

“Also, I’ve got something else I’d like to show you.”

Alastair swallowed audibly.

Ms. Shadow continued, “Montgomery. I’ve been trying to see if there’s a way to get through the dwarven wards and see him.”

“Oh.” Of course it was about Montgomery. That really should be their first priority. Alastair cleared his throat again, and leaned in. “Tell me more.”

“I can’t. Just… here, take a look. Craghammer’s guarded against outside magical interference. Makes sense, right? They’re dwarves and they’re at war. I tried every option I could think of—crystal, water, mirror, everything—just in case they’d missed something, but it’s all sealed up.”

She glanced behind her in case the elementals were listening in—the kitchens were empty.

“I think there might be a way around it,” she said in a whisper. “I can’t do it alone. My Elemental Magic is fine, but eighth-year at best. I think we need to combine some kind of Scrying—not sure what format yet—with a braided Elemental spell to disable the wards.”

“Alright,” Alastair said. He slid his hand through his messy red hair.

He wasn’t advanced enough in Scrying to know if she was right, but he could disable a ward system in his sleep. The distance might be a challenge. As would dwarven magic—it was older and more complex than the human arts—though he could probably figure it out. “When do you want to try?”

“I need to do a little more work on what kind of Scrying might be best.”

“And I need to do some research on dwarven warding systems.”

“Two weeks?” she said.

“Done.”

With that settled, they parted ways. Alastair bit back a smile as he walked down the hallway toward his room. He was looking forward to the work ahead.

Yes. It was definitely just the work he was looking forward to.

* * *

He’d been hoping for a slow start to the winter term—wholesome days of students sledding, snowball fights, and building snowmen—but he’d only gotten a few days of peace. Late at night, well after hours, he was in his office, poring over a book about dwarven Fire Magic, when he heard an urgent rap on the door. He didn’t feel like leaving his snug spot by the fire, so he pointed at it and cast a quick charm. The gargoyle knocker let out a shriek, and the door opened to reveal a disheveled-looking Sebastian Shelley.

“Shelley. Hi,” Alastair said mildly. “What’s going on?”

“Why aren’t you at House Primordium?”

Good to see you too.

“Last I checked,” Alastair feigned looking at his watch, “I’m the only person in the school who’s both headmaster and a head of House. Can’t be there every night.”

“That’s… fair,” Sebastian said, looking irritated in his concession.

“Why? Should I be at House Primordium?”

Sebastian took a seat in the armchair across from him and scratched his cheek, which was uncharacteristically stubbly. “It’s Caliban. He’s missing. I stopped by Primordium to see if he was there—he and George are close now, you know. Nothing. Both boys are gone.”

Alastair set his papers down on the little round table between them. This was alarming. “And you’ve done a castle trace?”

“Obviously. Nothing. They’re simply not here. Hopefully, they’re just out in the town somewhere.”

Alastair sighed. They shouldn’t be able to get out after hours. There were wards on the castle doors keeping students inside at night. They’d always been something of a formality—sixth-years and above usually knew how to bypass them. Alastair remembered doing it back in school. Two Elemental Mages working together hadn’t had much trouble finding a way to be free. But he’d strengthened them after the riot, and they should have been near-unbreakable now.

“I know you did the Tracing spell right,” Alastair said, taking care not to offend Sebastian, “but I’m going to do it again. Just to confirm.”

“Fine,” Sebastian said, going to Alastair’s cupboard and helping himself to a little brandy. Alastair considered stopping him, then decided against it. They’d reached a tenuous peace now—why risk breaking it?

“Pass me the map, would you? Middle drawer on the left.”

Sebastian took a detour on the way back to his chair, retrieved Alastair’s map of Emberstone, and handed it over before plopping back down.

Alastair held it up to the light and muttered the quick Trace spell Emberstone used to find a missing student.

“Revealla Morta.” Lines of red ink spread out along the page, searching through the map’s hallways and classrooms. “Caliban Elmwood and George Redding,” he added, then watched and waited—though not patiently. His knee bounced nervously.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “They’re not here.”

“I know I’m right.”

“Wait—”

The red ink had returned. It drifted toward the side door that the students often used and dropped a large blot.

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“They’re back,” Alastair said. “Let’s go.”

“What?” Sebastian sat forward and made an attempt to pull the map from Alastair’s hand. Instead, Alastair held it up for him to see.

“Right here.”

“Well, I’ll be…” Sebastian drained his brandy. Then the two sprinted out of the office and down toward the side door, hoping to catch George and Caliban before they could get back to their Houses.

They caught them alright—Alastair almost barreled into them as he rounded one of Emberstone’s narrow corners. The boys leaped out of the way, muttering curses.

“Oh! Mr. Shelley, Headmaster,” George stuttered.

“What in all the gods’ names are you doing?” Sebastian barked. “Where were you? How did you get out of the castle? Did you break the wards? Did you—”

“Whoa!” Alastair said, patting the air. “We’re glad you’re back safe, boys. We were worried.”

“That’s an understatement!” Sebastian said, scoffing. “The city’s dangerous right now. Why did you go out there? You could have been killed.”

“They’re mages, Sebastian,” Alastair said. “And you’ve seen them—they each hold their own in dueling. Unless they ran into the Night Coven, they’d likely hold their own.”

“Night Coven?” Sebastian asked, his barrage on the boys stopped to turn toward Alastair. “Where did you hear that name?”

Alastair shrugged. “I don’t know. You hear things.”

Sebastian gave him a hard look. “Well, you’re right.” He turned back to the boys. “You’re bloody lucky you made it back unscathed.”

Rumors of Dark Magic in the city had reached all of them. The boys huddled against the wall, faces pale.

“Are we in trouble?” George Redding asked.

“Yes,” Sebastian said.

“Let’s go back to my office,” Alastair said. “You boys must be freezing. I’ve got plenty of tea, and I’ll see if Quicksilver can scrounge up some cookies. Mr. Shelley, you’re welcome too.”

“Cookies?” Sebastian said with derision. “These two break the rules, and you want to offer them chocolate chips?”

“I was actually thinking oatmeal raisin. But choco—”