“It’s … disorienting,” Rick says. “We get pulled into it, as if we’re really there, and then thrown back to the present. We get used to it after a while, but sometimes it still results in dizziness and nausea.”
I lean forward on my knees. “And you can’t control what you See, right?”
“Well, no, but we can influence it. We have to direct our thoughts a certain way, focus on certain ideas so we’re more open to seeing the important things. It’s also difficult to control the length of a vision. Sometimes I’ll see barely a flash of something, and other times it’s longer.”
“That’s part of your training as well, isn’t it?” Gemma says.
“Yes.” Rick groans. “We have to try and immerse ourselves in the visions so they last longer and we see more details, but it’s tough. Even the instructors can’t always get it right. The other day one of them Saw a fire-breathing dragon in a setting that looked like the foyer downstairs, but it was only about two seconds of a vision, so it was totally useless.”
“That’s a bit scary,” Gemma says. “I didn’t think anything could get inside this Guild.”
“Exactly, which means it probably wasn’t the foyer. So with a vision like that where there’s no useful information at all, you have to just move on. Hopefully if it’s something really important, someone else will See it in more detail.”
“And then how do you record these visions?” I ask.
“We have mirrors with special enchantments in them, like these ones here.” Rick stands and removes the nearest mirror from the wall. As he sits down with it, I see what I missed before: these mirrors don’t reflect anything. “Once I’ve had a vision,” he says, “I just need to recall it while using the right magic, and it will be transferred to the mirror so other people can see it. If it’s something a guardian needs to take care of, and if it has enough details to be useful, like place and time, then everything is written down. Then someone higher up, a Seer who’s already graduated, decides what level of guardian or guardian trainee the vision is sent to.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “At least I have a better understanding now of how it all—Oh.” I stop talking and pull away from Rick as his body goes rigid, his head tilts back, and his eyes flutter back and forth behind his eyelids. Somewhat afraid, I look at Gemma. “A vision?” When she nods, I ask, “Does this happen often?”
“Fairly often, I guess. It freaked me out a bit in the beginning, but I’m used to it now.”
Rick recovers with a shake of his head. “Sorry about that,” he says as he lifts the mirror with both hands. He chants some foreign words while staring directly at it. He turns the mirror to face Gemma and me, and in its surface I see a woman with smudges of dirt on her face and strands of silver in her messy black hair. She laughs—and then she lunges forward, fury flashing in her silver eyes, her arm outstretched as if to grab us. Gemma and I pull back in fright, but the scene vanishes from the mirror. Then it begins replaying.
“That’s unpleasant,” Gemma says as we watch the woman’s snarling face a second time.
“You see?” Rick says to us as he places the mirror flat on his lap once more. “That one really wasn’t useful at all. Do either of you recognize that woman?” Gemma and I shake our heads. “And there’s no sense of time or place, so … yeah.” He swipes his hand across the mirror and mutters a word I’ve never heard before. “That one gets erased then.” He stands and returns the mirror to the wall. As he walks back, he says, “Are you okay, Calla? You still look a bit startled.”
“I’m … yes. I’ve just never witnessed something like that before.” My amber vibrates in my pocket. As I remove it, I add, “But it was interesting to see, and thank you for explaining everything. I understand better now.” What I mean is that I understand Mom better now. I can see why it might be unpleasant to have visions taking over several times a day.
I read the message on my amber, then look up at Gemma. “I’m sorry. I won’t be able to hang out tonight after all. Last minute babysitting emergency.”
“Oh. Whose baby?” Gemma asks.
“Friends of my brother’s.”
“Okay, we can chat tomorrow then.”
I nod and stand. “Thanks again, Rick.” I head across the common room for the door, trying not to look at the creepy mirrors that don’t reflect anything, and trying to forget the image of a woman with savage fury reaching out of the future to grab hold of me.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
“Thanks so much for doing this, Calla,” Raven says as she lets me inside. I follow her and her elegant silver dress past the living room and into the dining room. “My parents were going to look after Dash, and then these extra tickets became available so I invited them to come with us instead, but then I had to find a trustworthy babysitter at the last minute.”
“It’s not a problem at all.” I dump my bag of homework beside the messy dining room table. “I’m used to babysitting for Vi and Ryn’s other friends, so I really don’t mind.”
“Oh yes, Jamon and Natesa,” Raven says as she leans across the table past rolls of fabric, bottles of glitter and buttons, and open notebooks filled with her neat handwriting. “Their daughter is such a sweet little girl.”
I nod and lean my hip against the table as Raven’s fingers finally make it past all the obstacles on the table and grasp a pair of plain white heels. “I thought you had a room upstairs for all your clothes casting stuff,” I say.
She straightens and gives me a guilty look. “I do. It’s still there. But I haven’t tidied it in a while—and I bought a whole lot of new stuff recently—so, it’s kind of impossible to work up there at the moment.”
With a smile, I say, “It looks like it’s almost impossible to work down here as well.”
“Don’t be silly. This isn’t nearly as bad as upstairs.”
“She’s right,” Flint says from behind me. He walks into the room with four-month-old Dash on his hip. “You don’t want to go anywhere near that room upstairs. You’ll probably end up swallowed alive by fabric.”
“Heeeeey,” I say, smiling widely at the adorable little boy and opening my arms as I walk toward him. He makes some giggling nonsense sounds and waves his tiny hands, smacking his dad’s cheek in the process.
“Hello to you too, Calla,” Flint says as he hands the child over to me.
I hug Dash to my chest and kiss his baby-soft cheek before saying, “Hey, Flint. Sorry, you know you’re always going to be second when this cute little guy is in the room.”
“Yeah, I know.” Flint turns to Raven, now sitting on a chair paging through one of her notebooks. “Almost ready?” he asks.
“Yes, I just need to decide what to do with these shoes.” She continues flicking through the pages. “I want to do that spell that makes the surface mirror-like, but I’m thinking of mixing it up a bit with that other one that looks like sparkles zipping around beneath the surface.”
“Okay. Will that take long? People are going to be here soon.”
“I know, I know. Shh. You’re distracting me.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Flint looks at me and nods toward the living room. I follow him, asking, “People are coming here? I thought you guys were going out somewhere.”
“We are,” he says as we sit, “but Raven’s parents are bringing their carriage for us all to go in. Vi and Ryn are coming too.”
“Oh, really? I wouldn’t have thought a clothes casting awards evening would be their kind of thing.”
Flint laughs. “I don’t think it is, but we were given extra tickets, and they’re supportive of Raven’s career, so they seemed excited to come along.”
“Okay. Wait, did you say Raven’s parents have a carriage? Like, with pegasi and everything?”
“And everything,” Flint says, nodding.
“Wow.” I bounce Dash on my lap while he watches me with wide green eyes, giving me the occasional smile.
Moments later, a knock comes from outside. Flint j
umps up and opens a section of the wall. Vi and Ryn walk in, looking far more smartly dressed than usual. Vi even put on a dress for the occasion. I turn my gaze back to Dash and occupy myself with giving him more wide-eyed smiles and kisses on his nose and cheeks. Hopefully everyone will leave before my brother or Vi manage to interrogate me again. I was supposed to visit them last night after my assignment, but I conveniently ‘forgot.’ I don’t like the idea of keeping things from them, but I also don’t want to tell them about my unexpected encounter with Chase. It feels too … personal. A story I don’t want to share. My silly heart cracked open again, and I don’t want anyone else knowing that.
No such luck. Vi starts filling Flint in on whatever work she’s currently doing at the Reptiscillan Protectors Institute, and Ryn heads straight for me. “We didn’t finish our conversation yesterday,” he says as he sits beside me.
“I know. I’m sorry.” I bounce my legs up and down and Dash continues his gurgling. “But if you’re hoping to go after him, I can’t tell you anything else useful. He didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address after vanishing from his Underground home.”
“Do you have his amber ID? We can try to track it if you—Vi, are you sure it’s okay for you to lift that?” Ryn asks, raising his voice and half rising from his seat.
Vi looks over the top of the box in her arms. Beside her, Flint is holding an even larger box. “Yes, Oryn,” Vi says, sounding more than a little annoyed. “The baby and I have no trouble picking up a few old weapons.”
“Weapons?”
“Yes. Flint’s donating some stuff to the Institute.”
“Uh, I’m happy to carry both boxes,” Flint says, obviously trying to avoid an argument.
“Don’t you dare,” Vi says. She walks to the wall where Flint opened a doorway just now and lowers her box to the floor. “There. Now we won’t forget to take them later.”
Ryn sighs and mutters, “I don’t know why she doesn’t just use magic.”
“Because I’m not lazy like you,” Vi calls across the room.
Ryn rolls his eyes, lowers his voice, and says, “Anyway, we were talking about tracking what’s-his-name’s amber.”
“Yes. You could try that. But I’m about a hundred and fifty percent sure he’ll have anti-tracking spells on it.”
“Hmm. True. Have you tried sending him a message?”
“No, Ryn, I have not. It’s rather difficult to sum up one’s feelings in an amber message after finding out that the guy one likes is actually an evil halfling prince.”
Ryn’s eyebrows climb up his forehead, and I want to kick myself for making the moment so awkward. After a pause, he says, “You knows he’s too old for you, right?”
“OH MY GOODNESS.” I stop bouncing my legs, and poor Dash looks like he wants to cry at my sudden outburst. I lower my voice to a fierce whisper. “That’s what you’re worried about right now?”
“Everything okay?”
I look up and see Raven in the doorway, newly casted sparkly shoes just visible beneath the hem of her silver dress. “Yes. Sorry. Everything’s fine.” I restart my leg-bouncing. Dash chews on one finger while looking concerned.
“Great,” Raven says. “I’m just going to put this little guy to bed.” She crosses the room and lifts Dash from my lap. “Hopefully by the time that’s done, my parents will be here.”
As she leaves the room, another knock comes from the direction of the wall. Vi takes that as her cue to join Ryn on my side of the room. “Anything useful to report about …” She hesitates, then mouths the name Draven.
“No,” Ryn answers for me. “Calla’s being spectacularly unhelpful.”
I elbow Ryn. “It isn’t my fault he was spectacularly secretive. If I knew something useful, I’d tell you.”
Would you really? asks a tiny, traitorous voice at the back of my mind.
“Did you tell Calla about the news from Velazar?” Vi asks.
“Oh, I forgot about that.” Ryn leans a little closer to me as Raven’s mom hurries upstairs—probably to steal a few minutes with Dash—and Flint chats with Raven’s dad. “Someone from Velazar Prison notified the Guild two days ago that the man we told them to look out for, Jon Saber, tried to visit our old librarian friend.”
“Amon?”
“Yes. So Saber is now in custody. Turns out this isn’t his first time in prison. That’s how he and Amon met. Hopefully we can get some information out of him about the man who has your Griffin Ability. Without letting the Guild know exactly what we’re asking about, of course.”
“Of course.” I chew on my thumbnail, then start shaking my head. “This won’t stop whatever Amon is planning, though. I’m sure he has plenty of other followers to carry out his dirty work. Other prisoners he’s met over the years who have finished serving their sentence.”
“The guards have been told not to allow him any visitors,” Ryn says, “and to send us all details of those who try to visit him.”
“I don’t know why they were allowing him visitors in the first place,” Vi says.
“I’m sure they didn’t in the beginning. They all know he was one of Draven’s men. But perhaps good behavior earned him a visitor or two over the years.”
“And there’s always blackmail,” I add. “He seems to be pretty good at that. Anyway, hopefully you’ll soon know where Gaius is. It should be easy to get that information, right? Just give Saber a compulsion potion and ask him the right question.”
“Yes, well, unless he’s been trained to cheat a compulsion potion,” Vi says, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Cheat? How? I thought that when compelled to tell the truth, you have no choice but to, you know, tell the truth.”
“Yes, but there are ways of … bending the truth,” Ryn says. “He might tell us details that are true, but unhelpful. Or, in certain cases, if he can convince himself that something is true, even though it isn’t—or if he’s been told a lie by someone else, but he believes it to be the truth—then we could wind up with false information.”
I flop back against the cushions with a groan. “That sucks.”
“It does.”
“Okay, let’s go,” Raven says, returning to the living room with her mother. “We don’t want to be late. Calla, feel free to eat anything you find in the kitchen. And if you need any materials for your outfit for the Liberation Day Ball tomorrow night, you’re welcome to take what you want, either from the table down here or the room upstairs, if you feel like venturing in there.”
“Which I wouldn’t recommend,” Flint adds. “I’m not coming to find you if you get lost in there.”
“Thank you.” I stand along with Ryn and Vi. “But I’m not going to the ball.”
“What?” Raven looks horrified. “Of course you have to go. The Guild balls are amazing. And the theme this year is so much fun.”
“I know, I just don’t really … feel like it.”
“Nonsense,” Raven says. “Go play around with all the fabrics and accessories in the room upstairs. You’ll soon be in the mood to dress up.” She heads to the wall as Flint reopens a doorway. Through it, I see the front half of a pegasus waiting patiently outside.
Vi steps closer to me and touches my arm. “I know why you’re not feeling in the mood for a party, but you should go. The sooner you can get over whatever hurt you’re feeling, the better.”
I nod, not because I’ve suddenly decided to attend the ball, but because I know she means well. “Thanks. I’ll take a few things in case I change my mind.”
“Come on, let’s go,” Ryn says to Vi. “I need to forget about today’s drama.”
“Today’s drama?” I ask as the two of them head for the doorway. “What happened today?”
“Nothing,” Ryn says.
“Someone escaped from the detainment area this morning and hasn’t been found yet,” Vi says over her shoulder.
“What?”
Ryn stops to glare at his wife. “Does the word ‘confidential’ mean not
hing to you?”
“Oh, come on. She’s your sister. And she’s a member of the Guild. I’m sure she’ll find out tomorrow.”
“Who was it?” I ask, my heart beginning to pound faster as I wonder if it might possibly be …
“Confidential,” Ryn says firmly. “Confidential, confidential.”
“Hurry up, you two,” Raven calls from outside. “We’re going to be late.”
Ryn and Vi step outside, the doorway seals up behind them, and I’m left standing alone in the quiet of the living room, wondering if it’s at all possible that Zed was the one who escaped.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
“So you’re seriously not coming?” Gemma whispers to me as the mentor at the front of the lesson room, a tall woman named Anise, explains the exact order in which ingredients should be mixed to create the perfect antidote to common poisons.
I add a few details to the scales of the dragon I’ve been sketching on one of the blank pages at the back of my notebook. I’ve been working on this one for several days now, half focusing on it while listening to whatever the mentor for that day is talking about. I try not to let any mentor see the sketch, of course. Who knows if they’d believe me if I had to explain that drawing helps me concentrate. “I just don’t feel like going to a big party, that’s all,” I say to Gemma. “As Olive pointed out, we celebrate our freedom every day simply by being free. Why do we have to make a huge deal about it?”
“Oh my goodness. I can’t believe you just agreed with your mentor on something.” Gemma leans over and touches my forehead. “Are you sick?”
I roll my eyes and swat her hand away with a quiet laugh. “No, I’m not sick.” I glance toward the front of the room again, then flip back to notes section of my book and start copying down the instructions currently being written on the board by an animated stylus.
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