The Heir Chronicles: Books I-III

by Cinda Williams Chima

  All of the buildings were of similar construction, as if the school had erupted, fully formed, out of the ground. It was a jarring contrast to St. Andrew’s, with its ancient stone lecture halls, bell towers, and green lawns, the mountains framing every vista. And UTS—he shoved images of the city out of his mind.

  “You must see a lot of wildlife here,” Seph observed, because Dr. Leicester seemed to be expecting him to comment. Middle of nowhere, he thought.

  “A little bit of everything: moose, bear, wolves, deer. The raccoons and bears can be a problem.” Leicester laughed like it didn’t come easy. It was hard to imagine this man presiding at a fundraising dinner or glad-handing parents.

  They stopped in front of a more modest three-story structure, stone and glass and cedar, similar in design to the other buildings, but on a smaller scale. “This is your dormitory.” He handed Seph a key card. “You’re in suite 302. Need help with your luggage?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.” Seph climbed out and retrieved his bags from the back seat.

  “I’ll arrange for one of our students to give you a full tour before Monday. If you’re hungry, you ought to be able to find something in the cafeteria in the admin. building.”

  Seph wasn’t hungry. His headache was worse. He felt as if someone had been beating against his skull.

  “Swimming is at four thirty,” Leicester said. “Change into your swim gear and follow the signs to the cove. Everyone will be down there, and you’ll have the opportunity to meet the other boys.” The headmaster didn’t give him a chance to argue. The van lurched forward, spitting gravel from beneath its wheels.

  Seph looked around. Sunlight painted the tops of the trees, and here and there a break in the canopy overhead allowed it to penetrate all the way to the forest floor. Otherwise, the ground was bathed in a cool green twilight. Leaves shuffled overhead and branches rattled in the wind. A squirrel scolded him furiously from a nearby stump. He was already chilly, even in his hoodie. Maybe this was swimming weather in Maine, but not where he came from.

  Wherever that was.

  He slung his bags over his shoulder, ignored the elevator, and climbed three flights of stairs to his floor. His room was at one end of the building, rather isolated, off a short corridor. Leicester hadn’t said anything about a roommate, and Seph wasn’t surprised to find he had a room to himself. Students at expensive schools were used to their own space and plenty of it.

  Each school he’d attended was captured by single image in his mind: the cavernous great hall at Dunham’s Field School in Scotland; the view from the bell tower at St. Andrew’s in Switzerland; Montreal illuminated at dusk in midwinter, where the sun seemed to set in midafternoon.

  This room boasted a gas fireplace and a screened porch overlooking the woods. The furniture included a single bed with a heavy oak headboard and a thick comforter with a pine-tree pattern, a dresser, a serviceable desk and bookcase, two upholstered chairs for guests, rag rugs on the floor, and ceramic tile in the bathroom.

  The walls had been left empty, a fresh canvas for someone to paint on. Only, Seph didn’t do much to personalize his rooms anymore. There was no point. He’d learned to carry his sense of self around with him.

  A basket of fruit and several bottles of water were arranged on a small table with a note, Welcome, Joseph, imprinted on cream-colored stock embossed with a sailboat.

  His books had arrived and were waiting in boxes in front of the bookcase. His computer had been unpacked and left on the desk. There was no phone, however, and no data port that he could find. Pulling out his cell phone, he scanned the screen. No signal. He swore softly and returned it to his jeans pocket.

  Methodically, he unpacked his bag, put away his toothbrush and paste and the rest of his washroom supplies, and took two ibuprofen. He located the electrical outlets, set his MP3 player in its cradle, and placed the speakers. He had the best sound system money could buy. He turned the music up loud, hoping it might draw visitors. It didn’t.

  His clothes only occupied three drawers out of six. He moved his books from the box to the bookcase, running his fingers over the familiar titles in French and English.

  Maybe he didn’t need to carry so many books around with him, either. How often did he read a book more than once? He’d learned to pare down, to simplify, like a business traveler trying to force his life into a carry-on.

  By four o’clock his headache had eased somewhat.

  He wanted more than anything to lock the door and collapse into bed. But it was his custom to get introductions over quickly.

  There was no answer at any of the nearby rooms, until he knocked on the door of the room at the far end of the hall, on the other side of the staircase. A solid, athletic-looking black student answered, clad only in swimming trunks. A silver amulet hung from a chain around his neck: a stylized Hand of Fatimah.

  Protection against the evil eye.

  Seph smiled and stuck out his hand. “I’m Seph McCauley. I just moved in at the other end of the hall.” Good social skills, it always said in his evaluations, along with Excels academically.

  “I’m Trevor Hill,” the boy replied, grasping Seph’s hand, then flinching and letting go quickly. “Whoa, you shocked me!”

  Seph shrugged, accepting no credit or blame. How often had he heard that one?

  “I heard someone new was coming this week.” Trevor’s voice was like a slow-moving river: warm and rich with Southern silt. “Would you like to come in?”

  Trevor stepped aside so Seph could enter. It was a mirror image of Seph’s room, but seemed smaller, because it was crowded with extra furniture: a small refrigerator, a television, posters of sports figures. Seph’s room was spar-tan in comparison.

  “This is cool!” Seph said. “Did you do all this in the last three weeks?”

  “Nah, I’ve had the same room for three years.” Trevor glanced nervously at his watch. “I guess we have a little time. You can clear the stuff off of that chair and sit.”

  Seph sat in the desk chair. “Are you a senior?” he asked, trying to put the other boy at ease—knowing he could do it with a touch of his hand, but best not to try that with someone he’d just met.

  “Junior,” Trevor replied. “I’m from Atlanta. Buckhead area. Got no business being so far north. I about freeze to death every fall.” He snatched up a heavy sweatshirt from the bed and pulled it over his head.

  “I’m a junior, too,” Seph volunteered.

  Trevor asked the inevitable question. “Where’re you from?”

  “Toronto, but my last school was in Switzerland. So I’m used to the cold.”

  “Switzerland, huh?” Trevor stopped looking nervous and started looking impressed. “Why’d you leave?”

  “It didn’t work out.” Seph rolled his eyes.

  Trevor nodded, as if this answer wasn’t unexpected. “The Havens your parents’ idea?” He gestured vaguely at their surroundings.

  “My parents are dead. I have a guardian. A lawyer. He set it up,” Seph replied, thinking that he should buy a T-shirt that said, ORPHAN FROM TORONTO. It would save time in these situations.

  “So what’s the deal here? How do you get along with the staff?” Seph continued. Not that Trevor’s advice was likely to be helpful in his case.

  Trevor leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees. “Oh, I was in trouble a lot before I came here, too. You just need to follow the rules. Do that, and you’ll be okay. They specialize in boys who’ve had problems at other places.”

  “Really?” Great, Seph thought. I’ve landed in some kind of upperclass reform school. Trevor seemed normal enough, though, and he’d been there three years. “Do they kick you out if you get in trouble?”

  “No one gets expelled from the Havens,” Trevor said. “You’ll see. Their program is very—what they call— effective.”

  Something in the way he said effective sounded almost sinister. It made Seph want to change the subject. Trevor’s laptop caught his eye. “I have my c
omputer set up, but I don’t see any jacks in my room. Is the cabling included or do I have to pay for wiring?”

  “We don’t have our own Internet access,” Trevor said.

  Seph stared at him. “Why not? It’s so easy. They could use a campus-wide wireless network if they didn’t want to lay cable.”

  Trevor shook his head. “No, I mean, we’re not allowed. They have computers in the library. You can do searches in there if you want, but they screen the sites.”

  “That’s crazy. They can’t do that. I have friends online.” Seph didn’t remember that being mentioned in the glossy brochure.

  Trevor shrugged and looked at his watch again. “Well, it’s about time for swimming. You’d better get changed if you don’t want to be late.”

  Seph rubbed his aching temples. “I’m going to pass. It’s been a long day already.”

  Trevor’s eyes widened in surprise. “Dr. Leicester excused you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Trevor stood up. “Then you’d better get ready.”

  It seemed that the visit was over, so Seph stood also. “Oka-ay, guess I’ll get ready, then,” he said.

  “I’ll wait for you, if you hurry up.”

  But Seph didn’t hurry fast enough, because a few minutes later he heard Trevor at his door. “I’m going ahead. I’ll see you down there.”

  Seph changed into his trunks and pulled his sweatshirt and jeans on over them. Descending the stairs two at a time, he left the building and followed a wood-chip path back through the woods toward the waterfront. He didn’t see any students around; they must’ve already gone down to the cove. A sign at the dock pointed him to the right, down the shoreline, to a well-worn path along the water.

  A cold slither up his spine said he was being watched. Twice, he turned and scanned the path behind him, then shrugged and walked on. Finally, the path turned back into the woods.

  “Hey.”

  He turned again, and this time a stocky boy with wire-rimmed glasses and a ruddy complexion stood in the middle of the path. He wore husky-style jeans and a sweatshirt, and blinked his eyes really fast, like he was nervous.

  “Hey,” Seph said. “You late for swimming, too?”

  “No, I ...ah ... I d-don’t ...” The boy began coughing, struggling to draw breath. He groped in his pocket and produced an inhaler. He took a long pull off of it, and put it back. Then, with a determined look on his face, he extended his hand to Seph.

  “I’m Seph McCauley,” Seph said, thinking maybe you got excused from swimming if you had asthma. He gripped the other boy’s hand, then flinched as he recognized the sting of power. “Hey! Are you . . . ?”

  “Listen. I n-need to talk to you.” The boy looked up and down the path, mopping sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

  “I’d really like to talk to you,” Seph said, unable to believe he’d met two wizards in the space of a few weeks. “But I have to get to swimming. Could we meet later, maybe at dinner?”

  “No. I c-can’t . . . That won’t . . .”

  “Hello, gentlemen.” Seph looked up to see a handsome young man in a tweed sport coat with leather patches on the elbows, carrying a battered leather briefcase.

  “H-hello, Aar ... M-Mr. Hanlon.” The other student looked petrified, like he was about to wet himself. Or have another asthma attack.

  “Joseph. Aren’t you supposed to be at swimming?” Mr. Hanlon asked, smiling.

  “I was just on my way.”

  “Good. Best be going. Dr. Leicester doesn’t like it if you’re late.” Hanlon placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and propelled him down the path the other way.

  “I didn’t get your name!” Seph called after him. But the boy only hunched his shoulders and kept walking.

  That guy has issues, Seph thought, continuing down the path. I don’t know how much help he’ll be. But I’ll try to find him at dinner.

  Eventually, the path broke out of the trees at a place where the ocean cut back into the shoreline, creating a protected inlet, lined with stones, out of sight of the school buildings.

  There must have been sixty boys in the water, their heads sleek and dark against the gray surface. A few more were stripping off their sweatshirts on the shore. All of them looked miserably cold. Seph spotted Trevor treading water ten yards out.

  Dr. Leicester stood on the shoreline, dressed in a heavy sweatshirt, jeans, and windbreaker. When he saw Seph, he blew sharply on a whistle to get everyone’s attention. “Boys, meet Joseph McCauley. This is his first day at the Havens, and he is late for swimming.”

  The reaction to this was remarkable. The other boys all looked away or looked down, as if they wanted to avoid any connection to his transgression. Some of them peered back toward him, when they thought Leicester wasn’t looking.

  Seph smiled, lifting his hands in apology. “Sorry. I got confused. I was waiting for everybody at the spa.”

  Laughter floated across the water, then quickly dwindled under Leicester’s disapproving gaze. The headmaster didn’t seem susceptible to Seph’s legendary charm.

  Seph left his clothes on a pile of rocks some distance from the water’s edge, and hobbled over the stony beach to the water. He’d hoped that the water would be warmer than the air, but was disappointed. It was like stepping into snowmelt. His feet went numb immediately. He waded out to his knees, then to his waist, gasping.

  The water was murky and unpleasant. The rocks along the bottom were slippery and invisible, so that even in the cove the waves threatened to knock him over. Something squirmed under his left foot and he thrashed backward, into unexpectedly deep water. His head went under, and he swallowed a mouthful. He came up like a sounding whale, spraying water everywhere.

  He’d had enough. A few quick strokes took him back to the shallows. Shivering, teeth chattering, he hauled himself onto the shore. He’d almost made it back to his muddle of clothes when someone gripped his arm.

  It was Trevor, covered in gooseflesh, lips pale with cold, water sliding off his dark body onto the rocks. “Get back in the water, Seph,” he said, without meeting Seph’s eyes. “Just do it. Come on.” He put a cold hand on Seph’s shoulder as if to urge him along.

  Seph blinked at him. He looked over his shoulder at Dr. Leicester, who stood expressionless, watching. All right, he thought. If he was going to try to stay here two years, it was best not to get into a battle of wills on his first day. Gritting his teeth, he picked his way back across the beach and waded out into the water, not looking back to see if Trevor was following.

  This time the water seemed more tolerable. Maybe he was getting used to it. His extremities tingled as the feeling returned, and he was no longer shivering. He strode ahead more confidently, continuing until the water lapped at his collarbone. Though the sun was gone, intercepted by the surrounding trees, he felt almost warm.

  He looked around. The other boys stood as if frozen, staring down at the water in disbelief. Another minute passed, and the surface of the water began to steam in the cold air. He might have been neck deep in the warm Caribbean.

  No. This can’t be happening. Seph looked over at Leicester, who was in conversation with one of the boys on shore. He hadn’t noticed that anything was amiss. Seph splashed toward a crowd of boys standing to one side, near the shoreline, positioning himself so that his head was just one of many pocking the gray surface. Now, just relax, he commanded himself, closing his eyes, trying to loosen his muscles, to empty his mind.

  How long could he last? He was in trouble already, and it was just the first day.

  He sorted through a litter of memories from his school career. The homicidal ravens at St. Andrew’s. The explosions and fires in Scotland. The wolves that had startled the nuns in Philadelphia.

  By now the water was close to spa temperature. All conversation in the cove had died. The swimmers looked down at the vapor collecting at the surface, rising up around them like morning mist on an upland lake. No one said a word, to each
other or to Leicester.

  Finally, the boy who had been speaking with the headmaster broke away and stepped into the water. He stumbled backward with a yelp of surprise and sat down, hard, on the rocks. Gregory Leicester swung around and stared at the boys in the water and the steam boiling up around them. Then he began searching the faces of the boys in the water until he found Seph.

  Try as he might, Seph couldn’t look away. The headmaster stood, studying him like a specimen on a slide. No questions, no disbelief, no challenge or confusion, only this intense and clinical scrutiny, as if he were looking into Seph’s soul with full knowledge of what lay within. Then Leicester smiled like it was Christmas.

  Shuddering, Seph took a step backward.

  The headmaster’s gaze shifted to include the whole group. “Gentlemen, perhaps it is a bit brisk for swimming after all. You are dismissed to your own pursuits until dinner.”

  For a moment, no one moved. Then the exodus began, silent as lemmings in reverse. Seph left the water on the far side of the cove, keeping as much distance between himself and Leicester as possible. He pulled his sweatshirt and jeans over his wet skin and picked up his shoes, unwilling to linger long enough to put them on. Slinging his towel about his shoulders, he followed the others toward the woods.

  “Joseph.”

  Seph froze in midstride and stood waiting without turning around. The headmaster’s gaze pressed on the back of his neck.

  “Come up to my office after dinner. I think it’s time I explained a bit more about our program.”

  Seph nodded and walked on, into the trees.

  Chapter Three

  A Magical Collaborative

  Seph awoke to a loud pounding. Still groggy, he stumbled to his door and opened it. It was Trevor, dressed for the outdoors, smiling tentatively.

  “Seph. Supper’s at seven thirty. We have time before then, if you want to look around.”

  Seph rubbed his eyes and looked back at his bed. “Sure. Thanks. I’m glad you knocked. I might’ve slept right through.” He yawned. “Do we have to dress for dinner?”