I didn’t know why, but her presence was almost comforting. It was insulation against Kurke. Maybe if she was here, he wouldn’t do anything stupid.
“Wait,” I blurted, hoping my voice didn’t sound as desperate to her ears as it did to my own. “Er—would you mind pouring the tea?”
Mrs. Pitts paused and gave me a withering stare. “And he’s lazy,” she said to Kurke. “Poor Master Wendyn has a lot of hard work and frustration ahead of him.” She turned to the tray and set to work pouring the steaming beverage.
“Indeed he does.” Kurke accepted the cup from Mrs. Pitts and, while staring her straight in the face, began to say the words of a spell.
I watched, my dread growing, as I tried to identify the incantation. But I recognized it when the cocoon of silence fell around us. It was a privacy spell, meant to keep this conversation private, no matter how loud it became.
Confusion quirked Mrs. Pitts’s brow. “Pardon, what was that?”
Kurke ignored her question, going right into another spell which I couldn’t identify. Whatever it was, moments later Mrs. Pitts crumbled to the floor with a yelp. Beneath her skirts, her leg turned at an odd angle.
“What are you doing?” I tried to free myself from the spell holding me in the chair. “Leave the poor woman alone!” There was no love lost between myself and the housekeeper, but not even she deserved this.
“I’d like to hear you say the words, underwizard,” he said, his voice unperturbed. “Tell this woman your true gender.”
My mouth opened. All this to get me to admit I was a girl? “I—you—”
Kurke raised a brow and then muttered more words. With a flick of his finger, a sickening crack and a long wail filled the room. Mrs. Pitts’s ankle hung oddly from her foot.
“Fine! I’m a girl, all right? I’m a girl!”
Mrs. Pitts was sobbing so loud I doubt she could hear me or even cared what gender I was.
“Now tell her what you'll help me do.” He gestured at the oath.
“Why?” I shouted, anger pushing its way through the fear washing over me. “What does any of this prove? Let the woman alone!”
A lazy smile made its way across his face. “I will kill her, Mullins, if you don’t do as I say. Tell her what you’re going to help me do.”
“Fine! I’ll help you...dispose of...Oscar Wendyn.” I gulped, almost choking on the words.
Another spell and a flick of his fingers. On the floor, Mrs. Pitts stilled.
For a moment, it felt as though my heart had stopped. “You—you said if I—”
“She’s not dead. Only unconscious. Now, if you don’t mind, it's time to swear the oath.”
My breath came again and relief coursed through me. I felt as limp as old lettuce. She wasn’t dead. “Very well. Let’s swear.” I scarcely knew what I was saying, only that I was in the presence of a true madman. What else did one do in such a situation but agree?
“I’m so pleased to hear you say that.” He caressed my chin in a manner I would have found swoon-worthy only an hour ago. But it wasn’t an hour ago, and I had to force myself not to jerk away. Who knew if such an act of defiance might set him off on another tirade?
“Er—how do you suggest we swear this oath? I’m wearing a trammel.” Oaths were sworn using magic. With the trammel on, I had none.
He reached for his hip and produced a knife. “Not a problem. Your hand, underwizard.”
Friar’s bones, what was he going to do?
He grew impatient and reached for my hand himself. Fighting with a knife-wielding man while pinned in a chair seemed the height of stupidity, so I surrendered the limb and watched his movements. He held the blade to the pad of my thumb and pressed downward. There was a quick prick of pain, and then he put the knife down and squeezed the finger. Blood trickled down my thumb, and it commenced a dull throb. He performed the same deed on his own thumb and then placed the parchment between the two of us.
“Press here.” He left a smudge of his own blood at the bottom of the oath, and I did the same. Hope—a dim hope, but all I had to hold onto—grew within me. None of this bound me in any way. Blood magic didn’t exist, not anymore. Master Hapthwaite told me so himself. Kurke was trying to frighten me into following the oath, by making it seem solemn and realistic. But the truth was no binding magic could be sworn while I wore a trammel.
I wasn’t the gullible schoolgirl he seemed to think me.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me what you have against Oscar Wendyn.” My tone was so timid and careful my own mother wouldn’t have recognized it.
“My reasons are my own.” His voice was terse. “Give me your hands.”
Much as it made my skin crawl, I leaned forward and grasped his hands as he seemed to want me to. The parchment containing the oath was between us now, in the circle of our arms. He said a long, loud word in a language I had never heard before.
“Now,” he said, “you say it.”
I repeated the word, and something happened to the room.
No, it was me. Something had happened to me. I felt a shift inside of me. There was a pull, a yank behind my breastbone, lining me up with Master Kurke. An invisible something pulled between us. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there. A tether of sorts. Meanwhile, a crimson pattern crawled its way across the parchment, overlaying the words with something that looked like blood.
No apprentice oath ever did that.
He let go of my hands and stood, dusting his palms on his trousers. “Well, that’s finished. Don’t be alarmed. The pulling sensation is normal. We’re connected now, you and I. My heart’s blood to your heart’s blood. Working together toward a mutual goal.” He retrieved the parchment and rolled it up before sliding it into his sleeve. “You’ll find yourself unable to speak of any of this to anyone other than me, so save yourself the trouble and don’t attempt it. I’d best be off now. Garrick’s on his way here.”
I looked from the still form on the floor back to the wizard. “But...Mrs. Pitts—”
“Oh, yes.” He flicked a hand in her direction and went into several healing spells, some of which I had seen Master Hapthwaite perform before. The breaks in her legs righted themselves, and even the tears on her cheeks dried up and disappeared.
Then another spell, and this time I recognized the words as soon as he spoke them. They were the words I’d been straining to remember as I sat here, the words of the oblivion. He was taking her memories.
I supposed I should be relieved. She wouldn’t remember the horrible things that had happened to her here, including that I admitted I was a girl. Then one last flick of his wrist in my direction, and the spell holding me in my chair released.
“The housekeeper will wake in a few hours. Tell Garrick I came by to talk him out of some betony from that herb garden of his. You’ll hear from me soon, Mullins. But in the meantime, I’d like you to keep an eye on Oscar Wendyn. Become the man’s shadow. I want to know everything about him. Everything. His daily schedule, the food he eats most often, how he spends his time, what side of the bed he sleeps on. If he does it, I want to know it.”
I mumbled something in response. It must have been words of acquiescence, because he nodded. “Good. I’ll be in touch.” And with that, the library door swung wide, and he was gone.
Confusion held me captive. I remained in my chair, staring from the still form of Mrs. Pitts to the doorway Kurke had just vacated, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
But the unpleasant truth made its way through my foggy consciousness at last, and I faced it.
I had pledged myself to kill a man.
CHAPTER NINE
My eyes felt gritty and dry the next morning as I made my way to the breakfast room. Turned out Kurke was right; the trammel was impossible to sleep in. The metal dug into my neck no matter how I lay my head. I wasted an hour trying to find a comfortable position until I realized I would have to sleep upright.
But the trammel wasn’t even the wo
rst of my problems. I couldn’t stop thinking about Kurke or poor Mrs. Pitts crumpled on the floor in pain or the strange pull I felt behind my breastbone, twinging and pulsing now and then.
How I’d promised to help murder Oscar Wendyn.
Nor could I seem to forget what a useless underwizard I was turning out to be. Even with all my training, I was helpless when confronted by a stronger, more experienced master wizard.
I never wanted to be at the mercy of Kurke again. Or any other person, for that matter. I hated that feeling of helplessness. It reminded me too much of the past.
The few times I fell asleep, my dreams danced with images of exploding barrels and angry wizards that looked like Masters Kurke and Wendyn, and a screaming woman with legs bent at wrong angles.
It came to me in the middle of a long night of fitful sleep that I had to find out how to get around that oath we swore. Was it possible to nullify a blood oath? And where would one find such information? Master Hapthwaite was never eager to talk about blood magic, having mentioned it only that one time. I imagined Master Wendyn’s reaction would be much the same.
I knuckled my eyes and found a seat at the long rectangular table. My neck felt heavy and sore, but I endeavored to hold it upright and keep my thoughts from straying toward the nightmares that still wanted to haunt my thoughts. I poured myself a mug of water and drank it. Master Wendyn showed up a few minutes later, late for breakfast as usual. I poured myself a second mug.
“You look tired, underwizard,” Master Wendyn said. He sounded annoyed, as though I’d contrived my weariness as a ruse to annoy him.
“Yes.” Oscar squinted at me. “Is it absolutely necessary for you to wear that contraption at the breakfast table? I can feel it stifling the flow of magic.” He fanned his face. His patched sleeping robe, which seemed to be his usual breakfast attire, was looking even rattier than normal. His white hair pointed in several directions at once. I couldn’t help wondering, not for the first time, why Kurke wanted him dead when he seemed so harmless.
Master Wendyn answered for me. “I warned you, Grandfather. Don’t question my methods.”
“Oh, don’t be so serious all the time, Garrick. Sweet carrot sticks, it’s not as though you can’t feel it. The magic in here is being suffocated by that thing.”
I finished my water and poured a third mug.
“And are you always so thirsty? Save a little water for the rest of us, will you?” Oscar frowned, bit into a sweet roll, and scratched his side.
There wasn’t enough water on the table to fill my thirst, but I was used to that. I was a thirsty person. “Sorry.” I put my mug down and ate a bite of fried egg.
Master Wendyn never came to breakfast in sleep attire, though he didn’t always bother with his wizard’s robes either. Today he was dressed in velvet pants and a fine leather jerkin. The man had an eye for expensive clothing. I noticed he was eyeing my mug with a raised brow and decided I’d better not drink so much water at breakfast.
Ivan settled into the seat next to me and pointed at the fried eggs in front of me. It was the first time he’d done that. Most days he sat there until food appeared in front of him.
We were learning to communicate, I supposed. I slid my plate in front of him, and he fell to shoveling it in with gusto.
“Erm, yesterday—” Something caught in my throat, and I coughed and ahemed several times. My voice suddenly seemed too high to my ears, without the aid of my modulating spell. I’d need to pitch it lower.
Master Wendyn looked up from his meal and raised an eyebrow. I didn’t know what would happen when I said the words I had planned, but for the sake of trying everything possible, it had to be tried.
“That is, yesterday, when your friend Kurke was here—” Yes, that was the right amount of huskiness.
“That’s Master Kurke.”
“Master Kurke,” I corrected, and something warmed in my chest, as though that strange connection in my chest—the tether—recognized who I was speaking of. I wondered if Kurke, wherever he is, could sense it as well. “Our conversation was unusual. He m—” I meant to say he made me swear a blood oath. At least, I thought I did. But then I blinked and couldn’t remember what I meant to say at all. What was I even talking about? I stared at my plate in confusion until Master Wendyn’s voice prompted me.
“Unusual how? You said he wanted betony.”
“I—” I struggled to remember what I was talking about. Master Kurke. Yes. That was it. “Did I say unusual?”
“Yes. Unusual was your word. Now do you have something to say or don’t you?” The impatience in his voice was clear.
The blood oath. That’s what I was talking about. I had to tell them about what happened to Mrs. Pitts. I sat up straighter. “Yes, I do. Kurke—Master Kurke fo—” But I didn’t even get the word “forced” out before I stumbled to a stop in confusion, though I forged ahead again desperately. “Mrs. Pitts, ask her. Ask Mrs. Pitts what happened with Ma—” And then confusion whirled my thoughts away again. What was I doing?
Oh, yes. My gaze took in the food on the table before me. Eating breakfast. I was eating breakfast. I was hungry. And thirsty.
“Are you all right, underwizard?” Oscar said. “Look at him. He can’t even form a complete sentence, Garrick. He didn’t get enough sleep. I’m telling you, it’s unhealthy to make him wear that trammel.”
“It’s not the trammel,” Master Wendyn said. “He’s hardly eaten anything. Dish him up potatoes or something.”
The two wizards muttered between themselves for a minute, and I closed my eyes, shutting out their words and trying to focus on clearing my thoughts. I hadn’t felt so muddle-headed since I woke up in that jail in Bramford. I thought I was over the concussion, but perhaps I was wrong.
“Ah, Mrs. Pitts,” Oscar said, his voice cutting into my thoughts. “The underwizard was just speaking of you. Do you have any idea what he’s trying to say?”
I sat up straighter and blinked at Mrs. Pitts. She was carrying a tray of fruit, slowly making her way toward the table.
“The underwizard? Speaking of me?” Her voice was blank. “I’m sure I don't know why.”
When did I mention Mrs. Pitts? I had no memory of it. “It was nothing,” I said. “I suppose I’m hungry.”
“Very well.” Master Wendyn slid a plate in front of me. “Eat something, then. I’d prefer it if you didn’t die while under my authority. That looks bad to the Council.”
“Yes. Of course.” I took up a fork and noted trembling in my hand, and what was this faint pulsing behind my temples? Was I getting sick? I gripped the utensil tighter and picked at the potatoes.
Silence filled the room for a moment, but for the thump a-thump a-thump of Mrs. Pitts’s footsteps. In the silence, as I stared at Mrs. Pitts’s face, it came back: what I was trying to say to the master here, the truth about Kurke, everything that happened yesterday.
Kurke said I wouldn’t be able to speak of what happened between us. I couldn’t even seem to hold onto my thoughts long enough to speak them aloud.
The tray clanked against the table as Mrs. Pitts set it down. After Kurke left yesterday, I had wasted ten minutes trying to remove the trammel with my mind and my bare hands, so that I could put into use a lifting spell to carry Mrs. Pitts, one of the new spells I’d just memorized. In the end I’d given up and dragged the inert form of Mrs. Pitts down the hall to her room by myself. It had been no small feat to do so without attracting the attention of all the servants. I suppose it was lucky that I’d had experience lugging Papa to his bed on more than one occasion when he’d collapsed on the doorstep in a drunken stupor. After depositing her on her bed, I informed other staff members she wasn’t feeling well. This was the first I’ve seen her since, and I was relieved that she seemed mostly normal.
“Ma’am,” Oscar said to Mrs. Pitts. “You seem to have developed a limp. Are you well?”
She looked down at herself. “Have I? I don’t recall having a limp. Perhaps I slept wr
ong.”
“Yes,” Oscar said. “I too often develop injuries while lying unconscious in bed.”
“Comes with age, I suppose,” Mrs. Pitts offered and limped out of the room. She hadn’t even shot me one glare in the time she was present. How many of her memories had Kurke taken?
I tried a different tack. “I only wanted to ask, Oscar, how well you know Master Kurke.”
Yes, that was good. If I couldn’t get at the heart of the matter, perhaps I could skirt the periphery.
Oscar blinked. “Matthias? Since he was a boy. Perhaps even from the day he was born. Yes, I expect that’s right. Why do you ask?”
“Only curiosity. Would you say he’s a good friend?”
He shoveled in a forkful of food and chewed it before speaking. “We’ve been close, yes. Matthias used to be something of a rebel, but these days he’s straightened up and become a close friend to the Wendyn family. I’d trust the boy with my life.”
Now it was my turn to blink in surprise. “Your life?” I echoed.
Before he could answer, the master wiped his mouth on a napkin, leaned forward, and said, “How far did you get in the spell books yesterday, underwizard?”
“Partway through Charms Without Number.” Not as far as I’d hoped, but Kurke’s appearance had set the whole afternoon on its ear. “Don’t worry. I’ve taken to heart your deadline. I’ll regain all five levels within three months.” The words came out with more confidence than I felt.
Oscar sat forward, interest splashed across his face. “You set a deadline, Garrick? You realize that if the underwizard passes all the trials at that rate, he’ll be a full master wizard in a year? That would almost beat the fastest master wizard ever, Hammond Ecklebert. He passed all twenty trials in eleven months, and even his Postulate. Why don’t you try to beat that?”
I choked on the milk I was sipping.
“Don’t be absurd,” Master Wendyn said. “Hammond Ecklebert was an exceptional case and a good deal brighter than Underwizard Mullins.”
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