Chapter 55

Alastair wended his way through town with the words Quicksilver had spoken at their private meeting echoing in his head.

“Apply for a government grant,” the elemental had said. “Even a loan would be helpful to buy us sufficient time to resolve the issue. They may turn us down, but it is worth a try.”

It was a warm April day, and the air smelled of spring flowers, but Alastair’s mood was grim as he crossed the magical district toward city hall. He didn’t share Quicksilver’s optimism. He’d seen firsthand how little money the city government had. How could they spare anything for Emberstone, which had always been able to function perfectly well on its own?

And could the school even survive without the Gold’s wealthy parents?

The Night Coven, Alastair reminded himself. Dark Mages. Not people you want to owe a debt to.

“Oy, lad!”

That voice was a surprise! Jonny Pumpkin sauntered toward him, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Thought you’d be halfway to the beach by now,” Alastair said more cheerily than he felt. “You seemed ready to retire last we spoke.”

“Oh now,” Jonny laughed. “Ye can call me a foolish old man if ye want.”

“I’d never.”

It was true: he wouldn’t. It hardly felt his place, given that Jonny had known him back when he was a mere boy of twelve.

“But, ye know,” Jonny went on, “got to the south, I did. Spent a few days sittin’ in the nice sunny weather. Relaxin’, you know? Takin’ in the sunlight. But a funny thing happened—after a week, I was dreadful bored.”

“Really?” Alastair grinned.

He might have suspected it. Jonny wasn’t the type to stay still. Even in the shop, he was always hopping from one area to the next, talking to this customer and that. Alastair could hardly imagine him alone by the sea, no matter how beautiful and warm it may have been.

“I been workin’ all me life, lad. That’s—well, more years than I’ll admit to here. I always rose with the sun and had a place to be. Sittin’ on the beach all day just makes ye old, and I ain’t never wanna be old.”

“You could’ve founded a store down there,” Alastair said. “The weather’s more pleasant.”

Jonny scoffed at this. “I’m a northerner, born and bred. It’s nice to visit, but I don’t belong down there. No, I grew up here. Lived here all me whole life, and when the gods call me home—let’s hope that ain’t for a while yet—I’ll die here too. We’re movin’ the Haberdashery, but it’ll still be here in Watermere. Send yer students to visit sometime.”

“You’re moving it? Where?”

“Not sure yet. Just too expensive ’round here, lad, that’s for sure. I was thinkin’ of headin’ toward Brusklyn. Maybe not fully in the district. Could stay on this side of the bridge. But that might be a spot I could afford.”

“Brusklyn is dangerous, Jonny,” Alastair said. “Are you sure?”

“Lad, I’ve been in Watermere since I was in diapers. I’ve seen her in all seasons, good and bad, and I can take care of meself. Had a brief flirt with an easier life, but we’re back now. So my store got torched. So what? This time’ll pass and we’ll be on the upswing again before ye can pull yer wand.”

“Alright.”

Alastair wasn’t fully convinced, but he’d known Jonny long enough to know that the man would do as he pleased.

“And,” Jonny said, nudging him in the ribs with a bony elbow, “maybe I can persuade you all to do a little wardin’ for me, eh? Just in case.”

“Sure,” Alastair sighed. “I’ll send one of our eighth-years. Just say the word when you’re settled in.”

Jonny gave him a jaunty salute. “Aye. I will. Oh, it’s good to be back, lad. It was hotter than a pot of neck bones.”

They parted ways and Alastair continued his journey to city hall, feeling better than before. If Jonny Pumpkin was back in town, there was hope for Watermere yet.

By the time he arrived at Mayor Lamkin’s office, he was practically whistling “Emberstone, Strength of the Nation.”

The mayor greeted him with less enthusiasm than he might have hoped for.

“Ah, it’s you,” Lamkin said without looking up from his paperwork. “The staff let me know you might be stopping by. What news from Emberstone?”

Alastair was unsure whether to stand or sit. After the awkwardness stretched, the mayor gestured toward a chair, looking beleaguered.

“Sit down. Please. I’ve got some lukewarm tea in the pot there. Can’t imagine that’s very appealing, but if you want it…”

Alastair poured out a cup for himself and took a sip. However, the mayor was wrong. It wasn’t lukewarm, it was ice cold and fully unappetizing. He set the cup down and pushed it away. Mayor Lamkin looked at him levelly, clearly fighting the urge to get back to his paperwork.

“So,” he said, “what brings you over?”

Alastair took a deep breath. “I know you’ve been following Marcus Gold.”

“Very closely. I’m very familiar with what he’s been up to. We consider him and his crew a major threat.”

“Then you know he’s organized a group of parents to withdraw their donations from the school.”

It sounded ridiculous even as he said it. Why would the mayor concern himself with Emberstone’s financial woes?

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Lamkin gave a look that said he was thinking the same thing. “I do know that. I also know he’s been doing much worse.”

“Right.”

“As in, he’s been instigating riots in town.”

“Right.”

“So, I’m sure you can understand our focus is on that right now.”

“I’ll be blunt,” Alastair said. “The school’s at risk of closure if this isn’t resolved. Maybe not next year, but soon. I know we’re both in agreement that Emberstone’s a major asset to the city—and since we’ve started working with the mayoral office on some of your initiatives this year…”

He trailed off. Lamkin’s expression was carefully neutral, his gray eyes blank.

“I see,” the mayor said. “So to clarify, Emberstone Academy of Magic is asking the city government for money. That’s why you’re here?”

“Um,” Alastair said, practically wilting under the mayor’s fiery gaze. “Yes. That’s why I’m here. We’re looking for a grant, a loan, anything that can help us weather this storm.”

“A loan,” Samuel Lamkin repeated. “Have you considered a bank?”

Alastair’s lips made a straight line. “I have not.” He didn’t like the way the man was speaking to him. “But in light of our work in Brusklyn after Yule—”

“Which was excellent, but came after years of neglect on the school’s part. Anyway, it’s a moot point, because as you can see after walking through this building, the city government has no funds to give. We can barely keep up. In fact, Emberstone had all the funds. If you no longer do, I’m sorry to hear it, but we can’t help you.”

Alastair took a sip of his frigid tea to keep from responding in anger.

The mayor’s expression softened slightly. “Look, I like you, Mr. Meade. You’ve done good work with the school to the extent you’ve been able. I did warn you about Gold. He’s not got anyone’s best interests at heart except his own. I’m not surprised he’s caused trouble for you just as he’s caused trouble for us. But you’ll have to deal with him yourself. We’ve got our own fish to fry.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Alastair said. “It’s my first year—”

“During my first year on the job, I reached out to your old headmaster for help. He’d been in there for years. Emberstone had all the money, all the connections, and I was new to the city. In short, I hoped he’d be able to provide some guidance.”

The mayor poured another half cup of tea for himself and made a face as it touched his lips. “I always let it get too cold. Unpleasant. Anyway, Ozelius refused. Told me the school and the city were separate and he liked it that way. That he couldn’t help us with any of Emberstone’s then-substantial funds. That your mages were too busy teaching and doing their own research to help us with our problems—which he saw as completely irrelevant to him. His mind was on the school and the school only.”