The Demon and the Fox

by Tim Susman

  First the Headmaster stared at the dead Gugin, then at Scar, and finally his eyes alit on Kip. “Did you light the lamps?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So you are Cott’s Calatian apprentice,” he said. “I asked him several times to bring you around to meet me, but stopped short of ordering him.”

  “He never told me, sir,” Kip said.

  “I’m Master Cross.” The old man extended a hand, and Kip shook it. “And you are Kip Penfold. So tell me now how you came to discover poor Master Gugin, with every detail. I don’t suppose you can show me? Ah well, then, words will suffice.”

  So Kip spoke as quickly and clearly as he could. The Headmaster nodded, his eyes remaining on Kip. “And the outer door there is locked?”

  “I don’t know,” Kip said. “I haven’t tried.”

  “Silas and Burton will be coming that way, so let us see.” Cross gestured to the door beyond the velvet drapes, and a moment later a series of heavy thunks came from the lock. “There. Now, another question: how have you such experience to summon a demon in your first year of apprenticeship?”

  “It isn’t so uncommon in Prince George’s College,” Kip said. “I summoned an elemental months ago, and I had to summon Nikolon to search the ruins under the tents—I’m sorry?”

  He stopped as Headmaster Cross held up a hand. “Do not name your demon in front of others.”

  Before Kip could ask why, the peppermint tingle returned to his nose and Nikolon said in his mind, My task is complete. A moment later, the door opened. The first sorcerer to push aside the heavy velvet drapes had salt-and-pepper hair and a matching mustache and goatee, along with a pale complexion and a slight squint that darkened his eyes. The second was Master Albright.

  Kip stared, and then Albright met his eyes and he averted his own quickly, stepping back to be out of the way as the salt-and-pepper sorcerer stepped up to Gugin’s body without any trace of surprise. He moved his lips, but either he was making no sound or he was talking so quietly that even Kip’s ears couldn’t catch the words.

  Master?

  Wait, Kip ordered. Stay near me.

  Master Albright came to stand beside Kip. Very quietly, in the same voice he’d used to tell Kip to warn Master Cott off their dinner, he said, I warned you to stay away.

  Kip swallowed. Neither Master Cross nor the other sorcerer turned or gave any indication they had heard. He fox-whispered back, What do you know about this?

  The salt-and-pepper sorcerer straightened. “Choked,” he said. “Hard to tell when. One to three days ago.” His eyes lit on Kip. “What was the Calatian doing here?”

  Kip’s mouth was dry. Now all three sorcerers were staring at him. “Master Gugin was kind of a friend,” he said. “I’d visited him…he said he was lonely. So I came by to see what he was…I thought he might be lonely.”

  They continued to stare. Headmaster Cross said, “And then?”

  “It was quiet. And dark.” Kip swallowed again. “I looked in at the shutters. I saw Scar’s wing, and I didn’t know if Master Gugin might need help, so I broke in.”

  “And why summon a demon?” the salt-and-pepper sorcerer said. “Rather than come get the Headmaster yourself?”

  “I didn’t know where his office was. My demon could search more quickly.”

  The sorcerer raised his eyebrows and then fixed Headmaster Cross with a sarcastic smile. “Really. An apprentice has been studying in this college and never introduced to the Head?”

  “He came directly from the Colonies,” Master Albright said. “He’s apprenticed to Cott.”

  The salt-and-pepper sorcerer’s squint relaxed. “Ah, well, in that case…but how does he know how to summon a demon?”

  “It’s more commonly taught at Prince George’s, I’m told,” Headmaster Cross said. “The Church does not keep as close an eye on them out there in New Cambridge as here in London. Penfold was using that ability in the investigation of the attack there.”

  “Couldn’t get any proper sorcerers to do it, I suppose.” The sorcerer straightened. “It is odd that he wasn’t able to remove the obstruction himself, but that happens sometimes. Can’t breathe, panic, and if they’re not a physical sorcerer, it’s hard to focus on objects in your throat. Might’ve torn his throat out.”

  “But what happened to Scar?” Kip asked.

  “If a raven is very old,” Cross said, “it’s only the will of the sorcerer keeping it alive. Once the sorcerer dies…” He gestured to the small prone form.

  Kip found it very sad that Scar had died. To the extent that familiar ravens had personalities, Scar had always seemed young and energetic. He stepped forward and knelt next to the small feathered body.

  “I see no reason to hold the Calatian,” the salt-and-pepper sorcerer said. “It looks like an accident. There’s the food he was eating.” He pointed to a half-eaten chicken that clearly had been next to Gugin for more than a day. “He choked, his raven died, nobody noticed because nobody comes to see him.” He waved a hand. “I’ve told you, sir, that we need to check in on all our residents daily.”

  “Many of the residents don’t want that,” Cross said equably. “Gugin himself told me he did not want anyone ‘poking around his body,’ in his words.”

  “He was paranoid,” Kip put in.

  “Spiritual sorcerers often are,” Master Albright said. “Seeing the depths of human minds is not always a pleasant experience.”

  “That’s what he said.” Kip didn’t want to look back at Gugin’s body and staring eyes, but remembering the man’s words made it hard not to.

  Master Albright put a hand on Kip’s shoulder. “Headmaster, if I might have a moment with Penfold here? It must be hard on him, being one of Gugin’s only friends.”

  “Aye, of course,” Cross said. “And Penfold, you’re staying with the apprentices?”

  “I’m staying in Cott’s workshop,” Kip said. “There’s more space and I don’t disturb anyone when I study at night.”

  “Hmmm.” Salt-and-pepper left the room, but Cross studied Kip for a moment longer. “Come by my office tomorrow, Penfold. Tell Cott I insist.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kip said. His heart sped up, but his nose and mind told him it was unlikely that Cross meant any harm. Being left with Albright, on the other hand, made him very nervous indeed. But he couldn’t think of any way to get out of it.

  When the Headmaster had left, Albright beckoned Kip to the door as well. “We needn’t stay here.”

  Kip nodded and followed the plump master out. Albright closed the door behind them and beckoned Kip down the tight spiral stair. “There’s a vacant office just below that we can use. Don’t worry, I won’t keep you for long.”

  In the close quarters, Kip was very aware of the sorcerer’s rank scent. He was sweating even in this chilly air, and perhaps that could be explained away by the exertion of having climbed nearly to the top of the tallest tower in the College. But it had a different character to it, not quite (fear), but not entirely (exertion) either. It was also reasonable to be afraid when finding one of your number dead, but Kip thought there might be more to it. Nikolon, he said in his mind, reaching out to the demon. Follow us and if Albright takes any action against me, silence him immediately.

  Yes, master.

  “Here we are.” Albright cracked a door open at the next landing, cautiously peered in, and then opened it wide. “I thought I remembered that Gugin—poor Gugin—enjoyed the buffer of an empty room between him and the rest of the College.”

  Kip followed into a mostly-dark room, but after the dark stair his eyes had adjusted enough to make out a table and two chairs, one lying on its side on the floor. Albright shut the door behind them, and Kip’s first reaction was to go to the window and check the latch on it. He had Nikolon, but the memory of Albright speaking inaudibly stuck in his head; he couldn’t discount the possibility that Albright also had a demon around. Kip could detect the presence of demons, but not to a fine enough
degree to distinguish one from many.

  “Would you mind providing the fire?” Albright’s voice came from behind him, steady despite the odor lingering in Kip’s nose. “To my poor old eyes, it’s quite dark in here.”

  “Of course,” Kip said, and slid the window latch open. It made noise, but Albright didn’t comment. So Kip turned and drew fire into life on the floor, consuming the dust that lay there.

  The light was plenty for him to make out Albright’s troubled expression. The sorcerer put his hands behind his back and drew in a breath. “Please leave the window shut, Penfold. In addition to keeping out the chill, I have taken measures to ensure that we cannot be heard here, which will be slightly less effective with an open window.”

  “I was just checking the latch.”

  “Indeed.” Albright paced over to the table, looked down at it, then paced back to the door. “I must confess, Penfold, that I have not been entirely truthful with you. The sensitive nature of my work means that I cannot place my trust without a good deal of investigation, and even then only to a select few.”

  Kip’s ears perked. “I understand,” he said, though he didn’t quite, yet.

  “You are investigating the attacks on your school. So am I. I am working under the direct order of Lord Castlereagh—the Foreign Secretary. We had been working under the assumption that it was the work of a foreign power, but recently have uncovered some evidence that the attack may have been planned in part in the colony of Massachusetts Bay itself. You are aware, I believe, that there are factions there promoting revolution?”

  “I have heard of such.” Kip stayed alert for any trace of a spiritual hold, but did not feel any untoward shift in his emotions. “But why would the revolutionaries weaken the sorcery of the colonies?”

  “Indeed. I will point out that the military sorcerers remained unharmed, so perhaps they felt the loyalty of the Colleges was closer to England than that of the military.”

  “That seems backwards.”

  “Does it?” Albright looked across the room at him. “The sorcerers at the College remain in near-isolation, while the military sorcerers work with soldiers and the people of the Colonies. If there is revolutionary sentiment stirring, the military will be more likely in the thick of it than the sorcerers at the College. When the failed revolution happened forty years ago, the only sorcerer to take the rebels’ side was a Royal Army sorcerer.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Kip said. But he thought about John Quincy Adams and his mission to plead his case to the College. That did not feel like a group that had given up on the loyalty of the College. But it was also possible that there were factions within the revolutionaries. Mr. Adams might not know anything about the plot to destroy the college. And it could have been a rogue sorcerer who’d summoned a demon, one trained in London and expelled from this college, or sent to America for some other reason, who’d fallen in with the revolutionary cause.

  “So that’s where my suspicions are trained. I’m sorry if I misled you in certain respects, but coming from the Colonies, you understand why I couldn’t trust you immediately. Cott vouched for you, and after you spent a month here without pursuing any revolutionary ends that I could see, I had already made up my mind that you are not part of the revolutionary movement. I had not intended to reveal myself so soon to you, but this death has rather forced my hand.”

  “Gugin’s death?” Kip sucked in a breath. “You think it’s suspicious too?”

  Albright inclined his head. “Master Clover will have more to say on that than I will. The cause of death—well, anyone may choke, I suppose, and a hermit is less likely than most to be in the company of someone who might render assistance. But it is strange to me that this should happen so soon after you spoke to him.” He glanced upward. “It may be coincidence, of course, but I have learned to be suspicious of coincidences.”

  “You think what he was going to talk to me about was important?” Kip asked.

  “If his death wasn’t accidental, then someone thought so.” Albright rubbed his beard. “Can you think of anything else he might have told you that you haven’t mentioned to me?”

  Kip wanted very much to believe him, but he couldn’t get the smell out of his nose, and Albright still hadn’t confessed to using the spiritual holds on him. That could just be a way he gathered information, but until he did so, he hadn’t been completely honest with Kip, and Kip wasn’t going to be completely honest with him. “No,” he said. “I told you, we only visited a little bit. I told him about the Colonies. He’d studied over there, you know, but hasn’t—hadn’t been back in a while.”

  “I did know that.” Albright gave a quick nod. “All right, Penfold. Do contact me if you think of anything else. I’m on the fourth floor of Lord Winter’s Tower; you may visit me yourself or send your demon. And,” he said, holding up a finger, “do exercise care with the use of your demon. They are not as common here and must not be detected outside the College save in extraordinary circumstances.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kip said.

  Albright turned to leave, and Kip remembered Cott’s words. “Sir,” he called, and the sorcerer turned. “Master Cott said you might have access to the Royal Archives?”

  “Yes,” Albright said slowly.

  “He thinks that perhaps some research there might be beneficial, only he doesn’t want to bestir himself to go. Would it be possible for me to look through the materials there?”

  Albright looked keenly at him. “It could be done,” he said slowly. “Do you expect to be here another fortnight?”

  Kip nodded. “I don’t know when I’m to go back to Prince George’s, sir. I believe Headmaster Patris is happy to keep me far away.”

  “Very well.” Albright put a hand on the door. “I will make an enquiry on your behalf tomorrow. I may reach you via Master Cott, as usual?”

  “Or you could translocate a letter to me,” Kip said. “That works for my friends in the Colonies.”

  The sorcerer smiled. “Indeed. Good night, Penfold.”

  When he’d gone, Kip sagged back against the wall. He turned his eyes upward, toward the ceiling beyond which Master Gugin lay. They hadn’t been friends, not exactly, but he’d felt sorry for the old half-crazy sorcerer, living far away from everyone else, separated not only by distance but by history and his abilities. Kip had liked that they’d gotten along, and he’d fancied that Master Gugin enjoyed his company. And now he’d choked to death, an undignified end. He deserved better.

  16

  Ignition

  He wanted badly to tell his friends about Gugin’s death, but no letter had appeared from Emily since the day he’d returned, when she’d sent one telling him how good it had been to visit with him. She hadn’t named a time when they might talk via demon, but promised to name one in her next letter. And yet it had been a week, and no letter came.

  Kip told Master Cott of the death the next day, and Cott showed little surprise. “He lived alone, much as I do. I expect to die alone as well.”

  “But it’s sad. And a surprise.”

  “I lost friends in the War,” Cott said with abrupt sharpness. “I know what’s sad. It is a waste that he died in such a way, but he was wasting what was left of his life anyway. He fought in those wars, you know.”

  “Gugin did?”

  “Not ‘fought,’ I suppose, not like I did.” They had been working on the underwater fires, and Cott now turned from the large glass bowl to Kip. “I was at Albuera, you know. Napoleon had a fire sorcerer as well. We went back and forth, burning rifles and tents and ground and putting out each other’s fires until we were both exhausted. I noticed that certain fires were put out faster than others and guessed where he was located, and Master Twine raised the dirt all around that area in a great storm. While he was occupied, I sent fire to devour the ground beneath their feet so they could not find a footing.”

  “Can’t you just burn their clothes?” Kip asked. “Or the soldiers themselves?”

>   Cott reacted more strongly than he had to the news of Gugin’s death. “God’s blood, boy, we’re not savages. That’s what the barbarians did when they sacked Rome: burned people, performed alchemy right on their bodies. They didn’t have demons, nor some of the spells we have now, but still, it was horrible. No, we’ve risen above that.”

  Kip pictured the glass beads and thought, Not all of us. Aloud, he said, “So what did Master Gugin do?”

  “Ah. He was present at the talks, so I heard. Great work in monitoring the moods of the other heads of state to put together the coalition to fight Napoleon. Everyone brings their own spiritual sorcerers, you know, all probing at each other.” He mimed this with his hands. “To see if they can influence a bit here, a bit there. To gauge the moods of the leaders as the talks progress and report back. I know Gugin was offered a post with Lord Castlereagh but he turned it down.”

  That was the second time in as many days that Kip had heard that name. “The Foreign Secretary?”

  “Aye. Don’t know why he turned it down. Quite the sinecure when there’s no war on.”

  Was there some other connection between Gugin and Albright? Kip stored the question away. “He seemed to have a very comfortable life.”

  Cott nodded. “I’m certain he did. He brought a good payment into the College, as I did from the war. The College funds him as it funds me.”

  “Funded him,” Kip said.

  “Eh?”

  The fox shook his head. “Can you show me the underwater fire again?”

  The lack of interest in Gugin’s death, as far as Kip could see, bothered him both that day and the next. To his surprise, the two apprentices Albright had sent to keep him company (whose names failed to stick in his head, especially as he rarely had to address them) continued to take him out. He didn’t see that they were enjoying his company, but they did appear to enjoy the evenings, and in the week following Gugin’s death they tried to engage him more, now with talk of the Colonies and the revolutionary movement there.