by Holly Black
“On behalf of the Assembly, which I speak for,” Mr. Rajavi said as the guard seemed to slowly realize both who he was talking to and the confusion of what was happening in the background. He paled and ran off.
Up on his dragon, Alex smiled, smug. The dragon opened its claws and the girl slipped, her scream carrying to them. The dragon caught her again, as though she were a ball and it was playing a game. Her screams went on and on.
“Stop!” cried Mr. Rajavi. “We’re giving you what you want! Only return the children —”
“Sure, I’ll send them back — lightly seared,” said Alex, laughing. It occurred to Call that this was what Alex had always wanted to be. This was what he’d always thought the Enemy of Death was supposed to be like: this maniacal, howling horror.
“The children are innocent,” said Master Rufus. “They have done nothing to you. Take me.”
“Drew was innocent,” snarled Alex. Call struggled not to point out that this wasn’t in the least bit true. He didn’t think it would be helpful. “You murdered him, all of you. You are the teachers of lies!”
“He’s going to freak out,” Tamara whispered, her face pale. “We have to do something —”
“She’s here!” called Master North. Through the swirling air of the tornado phone, they could see Anastasia in the baggy uniform of a Panopticon prisoner, being led out the front door of the jail by two burly guards. She was blinking but clearly unharmed.
Alex made a growling noise. “Set her free!”
The guards stepped aside, and Anastasia looked around in stunned amazement. It was clear she had no idea what was going on. Her voice was audible, barely, through the phone. “What’s happening? Who’s there?”
“Let the children go!” called Rufus.
Alex smiled unpleasantly. “Hmmm. Should I really?”
“You’d better!” Tamara yelled. “Everyone knows what Anastasia looks like and everyone knows she’s a traitor. If you don’t get to her first, any passing mage might grab her and throw her back in prison, or worse!”
Alex bared his teeth. The whole crowd tensed — and the dragon reared forward and swooped, opening its claws. The two Iron Years tumbled free, hurtling toward the ground and then slowing just before they hit. They both sat up, to Call’s relief. Axel was holding his arm, though, and Call supposed that the Masters hadn’t been able to cushion him enough.
Master Rockmaple ran toward the children. Alex’s dragon reared back, letting out a puff of black fire. “You will not follow me,” Alex said, and thrust out his hand.
Darkness poured from it. Call remembered his dream again. A whole city torn apart by chaos.
The darkness began to form a whirling void, like a black, sucking funnel. As it spread toward the Magisterium, it sucked in leaves and stones. It seared the ground as it passed.
It was closest to Master Rockmaple, because he had run to grab the children. He raised his hands, and fire blazed between them. With a stern look, he hurled fire toward the chaos —
And the black wave surged forward and enveloped him. With a howl, he was dragged into the void.
He was gone.
People were screaming again, turning to run back into the Magisterium, but the press of bodies created a blockage at the gates. They were trapping themselves outside. It was going to be a massacre.
Call thrust his own hand out, reaching down inside himself. The counterweight to chaos is the soul. He knew the soul tap, how to find the energy of his own life-force, and he reached for it heedlessly, ignoring the almost physical pain as he drew on it.
Use me! Aaron called. Use my energy, too!
Call only shook his head. His hair whipped on the wind from the chaos void. Tamara was yanking on his arm, trying to get him to back away. He bent his fingers slightly, the way he had in his dream —
The void began to fragment, coming apart in pieces like black glass shattering.
But darkness was all around Call and he felt himself falling.
CALL WOKE WITH a start. For a moment, he thought that he was lost in chaos, until he heard the familiar hum of voices and the distinct mineral smell of the caves of the Magisterium. He sat up, startling Master Amaranth.
He was in the infirmary. Call relaxed and slumped back on the pillow.
The mage came over to him, her coppery hair pulled back and her snake coiled around her head like some enormous headband. Today, it was a bright yellow green that turned to blue and then purple as Call watched. A moment later, red stripes emerged on its scales.
You almost died, Aaron said in his head.
“Oh,” Call said. He remembered something like that. Something about the hole ripped into chaos and trying to close it and trying to tap into his own soul.
I tried to hold on to you, but it felt like you were slipping away, Aaron went on. He sounded panicked and angry. Call guessed that made sense. If he’d died, Aaron would have died, too.
That is NOT the point — Aaron began, but Master Amaranth interrupted.
“Against my advice, your friend is still here,” she said.
Call thought for a bizarre moment that she meant Aaron, before he whirled around to see Tamara sitting on the cot beside him. She set down the anatomy book she’d been reading and hurried over to his bed.
“Sorry,” he said, although whether he was saying it to her or to Aaron, he wasn’t sure. “I guess I am not so good at defeating my enemies, huh?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” said Tamara fondly. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
You don’t understand, Aaron said. I wasn’t going to die. If your soul was used up, I would have been alone in here.
Call guessed that was one way that Aaron could get a body.
That’s not funny, said Aaron.
Tamara sat down in the chair next to his cot. She was smiling, and he was incredibly relieved to see her, too. Things hadn’t been looking good when he lost consciousness. “You’re all right?” he said. “Everyone’s okay?”
“Mostly,” Tamara said. “You tore Alex’s chaos tornado apart, and then you passed out and I didn’t exactly notice what else was going on.” She blushed. “But basically Alex escaped in all the yelling.” She bit her lip. “We lost Master Rockmaple, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Call said again. He knew he should have acted earlier.
“I told you it’s not your fault,” Tamara said, with a return of her usual bossiness. “I don’t know what we’re going to do about Alex, though,” she added. “After you passed out, I managed to talk to my dad. He said that Alex was right, that there’s never been a Devoured of chaos. There are so few Makars already and so few mages become one of the Devoured, and Makars never have before. We don’t know how to stop him. We don’t even know much about the Devoured. In the mage world, we don’t like to admit it can happen.”
Call thought of Tamara’s sister, Ravan, and of Master Rufus’s own teacher, Master Marcus. Both of them had become Devoured and, indeed, they were spooky. No longer quite human, not quite elemental. Call never knew whose side either of them were on, and no one seemed to know how much of their former selves remained.
Although, for what it was worth, Alex seemed exactly like the same evil, obnoxious self he’d been before he was a Devoured of chaos. Just with a lot more power.
“This is a mess,” Call said. “I have no idea how to stop him.”
Tamara sighed. “Me neither.”
You can’t tell her that, Aaron said. Say something encouraging.
“But I’m sure we’ll think of something?” Call tried weakly.
Tamara frowned.
Say that if we work together, we’ll find a way to defeat Alex. We always do.
Call repeated the words, trying to sound like he really felt that way. The way Aaron would have said them.
Tamara held up a hand. “No. Absolutely not. Why are you talking that way? The Call I know would never say that. The Call I know would be talking about packing bags and running off to a remote location where we could
disguise ourselves and hide. Then later he might reluctantly do something heroic.” She gazed at him with deep suspicion. “Something is going on.”
Call winced and thought of his dad, who not too long ago had actually suggested they run away to a remote location. Tamara knew him alarmingly well. He couldn’t put off telling her any longer.
“Uh,” he said. “Aaron is in my head.”
“Call, don’t lie to me,” Tamara said. “This isn’t the time.”
“I’m not lying, and I’m not kidding,” Call said in a harsh whisper. “When Aaron died — on the battlefield — his soul passed into me. And not that sort of weird half Aaron, but real Aaron. Aaron’s soul is alive and it’s in my head.”
Tamara looked at him with her mouth open. She was clearly trying to decide if he needed a massive dose of medicine.
Tell her you can prove it, Aaron said.
“I can prove it,” Call said. “Give me a chance.”
After a long hesitation, she nodded.
Let me talk, Aaron said. Just for a minute.
Call didn’t exactly know what he meant, but he nodded. Tamara was staring at him — definitely noticing he was nodding for no reason — but Call was past caring. He needed someone to believe him that this was true. Go ahead.
“Tamara,” he said. He hadn’t meant to say it, the word had just come out of his mouth. He sat still — it was like listening to Aaron. What was he going to say next? “Remember that first night after the Iron Trial?” Aaron said.
Tamara nodded, wide-eyed.
“Call went to bed early. We were sitting in the living room and you said, ‘Don’t worry that he’s in our apprentice group. He won’t last the week.’”
She stared at him for a long moment. “You could have told Call.”
It was a good sign that she was acting like she was talking to Aaron. Good, but weird. Call had given Aaron permission to control his body, but he still didn’t like it.
“Okay,” Aaron made Call’s mouth say. “How about this? When I stayed at your house that summer, your dad kept walking around in that white robe with all the gold trim on it and one day you put it on and pretended to be him, but he caught you and he caught me laughing. Remember? I was so scared he was going to throw me out, but he just walked away and we all pretended it never happened.”
“Aaron!” Tamara cried, and threw her arms around Call. She was sobbing. “It is you. I know nobody else knew that.”
“I can’t believe this,” Call muttered. He was enjoying holding Tamara, but there was nothing about what Aaron said that he’d liked. “You both wanted to get rid of me! You suck!”
Tamara pulled back a little, her eyes shining with tears. “We got over it,” she said.
Call wasn’t feeling entirely over it himself yet, but he was glad she believed him. When she looked at him again, there was something new in her face, something she’d never seen before. “Call,” she said. “I was wrong. You did something amazing. I don’t know how you did it, but you brought Aaron back from the dead.”
“And that’s good,” Call said, not sure of how to navigate such a weighted conversation. “Right?”
Well, obviously I think so, said Aaron.
“I keep thinking of something you said when you first came to the Magisterium, when you were just learning about the mage world. You didn’t understand why the Enemy of Death was such a scary name. Do you remember what you said? Who wants to be the Friend of Death?”
Call did not remember saying that. He shook his head.
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Tamara told him. “About how there’s nothing wrong with wanting no more death. We all want that. That wasn’t Constantine’s problem, and bringing Aaron back is so good it’s incredible. It’s amazing. Call, you did something no one has ever done before.”
“Well, two problems,” Call said, although he was reluctant to give up any of her good opinion. “One, Aaron more or less got pulled into my head by trying to keep me from being destroyed by chaos and I’m not sure we could ever do anything like it again. And, uh, two, we have to get Aaron a body.”
Her eyes widened a little. “Oh, yeah.”
Before they could get down to the nitty-gritty of the ethics of body stealing, Master Amaranth returned. Beside her was an Assembly member Call recognized but didn’t know by name. Master Amaranth’s snake had turned an aggressive orange and its head was hovering in the air over one shoulder, like it wanted to strike at the new visitor.
“Callum,” said Master Amaranth. “Against my advice, key members of the Assembly have come to the Magisterium and are eager to have a meeting with you and some of your friends. You would think they would be a little more patient, but it turns out they are very bad at waiting.”
The Assembly member beside her wore an increasingly pinched and unhappy expression but didn’t rise to the bait. “We’re sorry,” he said. “But this is a matter of urgency. Alex Strike has sent us his demands and they involve both of you.”
The Assembly was meeting in the large stone room around the round table where Call had sat in front of them before — most notably, when he’d brought them Constantine Madden’s head in a bag. That had been a big hit, or so Call liked to think.
When he and Tamara came in, he was surprised to find Jasper already there, talking in hushed tones with one of the members. Call got close enough to hear that their conversation was about Jasper’s dad, currently imprisoned in the Panopticon. If Anastasia had been sentenced to death, what was Jasper’s dad’s punishment? He couldn’t be in really bad trouble, Call tried to reassure himself. Surely Jasper would have told them. But looking out at the unsmiling faces of the mages, a chill went through him.
“Enough, enough.” A sharp voice cut through the chatter as Call and Tamara took their seats. Master Rufus seated himself opposite them, his arms folded. A few other teachers from the Magisterium were with him. “Enough. Everyone come to order,” called Assemblyman Graves — ancient and grumpy, he was one of the senior voices in the Assembly. “We have business to discuss.”
Everyone settled down. Call tried to catch Jasper’s eye, but Jasper was staring at his own folded hands.
“We have suffered a great loss today,” said Master North. “Master Rockmaple, after a long life dedicated to selfless service to his fellow mages, is dead.”
“Not just dead,” said Master Milagros, red-eyed. “He was sucked into chaos. Who knows where his soul may be wandering.”
“He was saving two students,” said Master Rufus. “He will be remembered as a hero. As should Call,” he added, shooting a look at Assemblyman Graves. “If it were not for our Makar, Alexander Strike might have succeeded in murdering even more innocents.”
“And it is Alexander Strike who this meeting has been called to discuss,” said Graves. He lifted a piece of paper from the stone table in front of him as if it were a distasteful object. “I have here his list of demands, which reached us after he was reportedly seen at the Panopticon, ‘rescuing’ Anastasia Tarquin from a very deserved punishment.”
“He sent a letter?” Tamara whispered. “Who does that?”
“What kind of demands?” snapped Master North. The rest of the group was abuzz.
“We have no reason to give in to any demands of his!” said Master Taisuke. “He is no longer holding hostages. We should not cooperate.”
“In a sense, he holds us all hostage,” said Rufus. “No one knows what a Devoured of chaos can do.”
“He can burn the forest,” said Tamara. “He can create black holes of chaos that only Call can dismantle. And Call practically killed himself doing it.”
Assemblyman Graves looked down his long nose at her. “Tamara Rajavi,” he said. “I’d imagine you’d want to hear this list of demands, since it specifically mentions you. Or would you rather chatter?”
Call grabbed Tamara’s hand under the table before she could climb over it and take a swing at Graves, who cleared his throat, perched a pair of glasses on his nose
, and started to read.
To the mages of the Magisterium,
By now you know that I, Alexander Strike, have become a Devoured of chaos. I am chaos, and chaos is me. I can unleash the destructive power of chaos on the earth any time that I want. I can burn down cities and evaporate oceans. I can destroy the world.
You have only one chance, and that is to do whatever I say. I would consider a truce with the Magisterium if the mages are put immediately at my disposal to construct a stronghold for me. I have enclosed a drawing. It will be massive, made of marble and granite. I want it built near the Magisterium so every apprentice has to look at it whenever they’re outside of the caverns, and I want it to have a big movie room and also a balcony. It must dwarf any stronghold Constantine Madden ever had.
As soon as the stronghold is constructed, I will occupy it. Then you will bring me more things I want. Deliver to me Callum Hunt, Tamara Rajavi, and Jasper deWinter, and have them bound so they can’t do magic. In fact, have them gagged, especially Call. Lastly, I want Kimiya Rajavi delivered to me, though she will come willingly.
Alexander Strike.
“That’s ridiculous!” said Master Taisuke the moment Graves had finished, standing up to slam his hand down on the table. “It can’t really say that. It sounds like the petulant letter of a child! These aren’t reasonable requests. He wants us to build him a mansion and give him — what? His enemies to punish? A girl? He wishes to play at being some kind of villain from a fable?”
“He believes my daughter Kimiya was in love with him,” Mr. Rajavi said. “She is a foolish girl, but very ashamed of being led astray. Being with him again is the last thing she would wish.”
Graves gave him a skeptical look but didn’t comment.
“I saw Alex,” Mr. Rajavi went on. “He didn’t seem at all like the boy I remembered. He wore an enormous cape and seemed to delight in frightening us. All his demands might seem absurd, but he does really have power and the childishness of his desires. That, to my mind, makes them all the more frightening. A grown mind is reasonable, but a child’s mind is capricious.”
“A Devoured of chaos,” Assemblyman Graves said after a moment. “We have no experience with such a thing, do we?”