Chapter 5

Alastair woke with a start. Morning had come, but the room was unfamiliar. Entirely unlike his whitewashed chambers at Glimmerglass. And for a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was. Memory returned quickly enough. All of it. Emberstone, interim headmaster, his conversation with Eloise the night before. Today was his first day of real work.

His insides did a little turn. A combination of mild excitement, and more-than-mild anxiety.

Stretching, he rose, dressed—still in his old Glimmerglass robes—and ambled into Ozelius’—his—office, leaving Amby to continue its slumber where it ultimately wound up at the foot of the bed. Somehow, a stack of papers had appeared on his desk, and likewise, a new set of robes was folded neatly on the chair.

“Hm,” he said, flipping through the papers containing agenda items for the Board of Governors’ pre-term meeting. “Who did this?”

A shimmering being manifested before him, silent as a mouse.

His voice, however, sounded deep and resonant—the way Alastair thought thunder might sound if it could speak, “It was I.”

The shock at the man’s sudden appearance wore off, and they stood, staring at one another in silence.

“And you are…?” Alastair said finally.

The elemental construct was the color of polished chrome, yet remained slightly transparent. A cool blue glow emanated from every inch of him, even reflecting off the shiny surfaces around the room. And his head—or lack thereof—was just a silver flame with the faintest glimmer of a human face within.

“Quicksilver, sir,” a barely-there mouth said. “Magical servant. Bound to serve the headmaster of Emberstone for life.”

“Whose life?” Alastair asked.

“Mine, sir,” the elemental said firmly.

“Is that so?” Alastair picked up the robe, letting the hem fall casually to the ground. “Well, then, thanks.”

A magical servant… Glimmerglass didn’t have anything like this.

“I have taken the liberty of ordering your clothes. More appropriate for a headmaster than those old rags.”

“Rags…” Alastair fought back what remained of his loyalty to Glimmerglass creeping up within him. “These robes are just fine.”

“Of course they are, sir. However, I do believe you will find the new ones more… fitting to your station. I hope I correctly approximated your size. I eyeballed it, as they say.”

Alastair inspected the robes. Quicksilver wasn’t wrong, they were finer than the simple robes he’d been assigned at Glimmerglass: burnt-orange silk, with subtle gold embroidery on the sleeves and hems, and a neat, black strip of leather along each edge.

“Looks good,” Alastair said. “I’ll try them on in a bit. What, uh, what other kinds of things do you do?”

Quicksilver waved a silvery hand toward the papers on his desk. “You name it, sir. Your desire is my assignment. Today, I organized your agenda. I shall gather any needed materials. Correspondence and the like. If you wish, I can even take dictation, write your letters for you.”

“Won’t be necessary,” Alastair said, holding up a hand. The thought of someone else seeing his personal notes was unnerving, even if they weren’t… human. “I prefer to scribe my own. Causes me to give more consideration regarding my message.”

Quicksilver looked a bit deflated. “Alright. Yes. Well. As you prefer.”

The… man’s… abrupt change in demeanor—from dutiful servant to one who looked as if he’d been told the last slice of cake had already been eaten—drove Alastair to make an attempt to provide the creature some measure of hope. “If you want to help summarize some of the Board of Governors stuff, I’d appreciate it. Just getting caught up and all.”

“Yes. Of course. Never, however, is it about what I desire. Yet, at your command, I shall provide for you a digestible update.”

Alastair nodded. “Please.”

“Yes, yes. Well, things have been well underway since the summer. Since Headmaster Ozelius assigned you to this admirable position, it has been—well, sir, it has been a bit disorderly.”

“How so?”

“Some of the parents are not best-pleased with the decision.”

Alastair flipped through the papers. “They wanted another interim headmaster. Someone more familiar to their students, yes?”

Quicksilver nodded. “Some of them, yes.”

“Any word on who they would have preferred?”

“Our Alchemy professor, Sebastian Shelley.”

“Of course they did.” Alastair sighed.

Quicksilver, having obviously noted Alastair’s frustration, stepped in quickly with an amendment, “But not all. Not even most, as a matter of fact. A lot of them trust Headmaster Ozelius, and abide by his decision. As I do. I am bound to—”

“Serve him for life, right,” Alastair said offhandedly. “If you don’t mind, I think I am going to look these over now. I’ll let you know if I have any questions.”

Quicksilver bowed low. “I will be back tomorrow, first thing, with the day’s business. Should you have need of me prior to my return, do not hesitate to summon me.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“And how do I—” But Alastair didn’t have a chance to finish the question before the elemental blinked out of existence.

“Well, that was unnerving,” Alastair said aloud.

He spent the rest of the morning acquainting himself with the Board of Governors dossier. The board’s current makeup was interesting. When he was young, it was mostly parents and rich alumni who wanted to stay involved in Emberstone affairs. There were still plenty of those, only now, it seemed there was a substantial government presence on the board as well.

Interesting. Trying to bring the school under control?

Emberstone had always operated semi-autonomously from the city. Its wards and magical barriers meant it could be sealed off in times of unrest, and its prestige meant that as long as a headmaster didn’t cause too much trouble, they could function in near isolation. According to these papers, that might be changing. In fact, the change may have already begun. He’d have to ask more at the next faculty meeting.

Quicksilver had helpfully provided him with a calendar and circled the date of the board meeting in bright red ink. Exactly one week from today.