could say anything, he cast a spell that canceled the gilded
tongue enchantment that had affected them both.
Relief filled me. It would have been simpler if they hadn’t
known I was a girl, but I wouldn’t have felt nearly so close to
them.
Beckstead / Shadowed by Death / 250 Or to the master.
A few days later as I tidied up my room, I found a crumpled note on the floor beneath my bed—the letter from Ingerman. It must have fallen out of my pocket, and consequently I’d completely forgotten about it. I reread it quickly, then pulled out parchment to reply.
Miss Ingerman— I’m sorry, but there’s no way I will ever go to Belanok. Please stop asking.
-Avery I sent it. #
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The reply from Ingerman arrived a week later. It found me beneath a tree in the meadow, where I had holed up with a new book of healing spells Orly had sent me through the message box. It bumped up against my shoulder and tumbled into my lap. I retrieved it and, after regarding it for a long moment, opened the seal and unfolded the parchment.
Avery, You don’t understand what you’re turning down. This is a You don’t understand what you’re turning down. This is a
Beckstead / Shadowed by Death / 251 chance to trade something cheap for something unutterably precious. Please consider my offer one last time. Come to Belanok and become a more powerful magician than any of these small-minded wizards could ever comprehend.
Now I have a favor to ask of you, and I think you’ll do it, because I’ve helped you, haven’t I? I gave you my spell to help you past the Conclave’s physical examination, something you never would have figured out on your own. In return, I ask you to deliver the enclosed note to an underwizard named Rumford Ecklebert. I’ve heard that you know him. Please enclose any reply from him along with your own reply. I wait anxiously to hear from you both.
K Rumford? Why in the three kingdoms would Ingerman have need to communicate with Rumford?
The enclosed note was not sealed. After a moment of contemplation, I slid the flap opened and unfolded the parchment.
Rumford, You have a mother who is alive and well and very much wanted you. I still want you. Will you come to live with me? You would have to leave your master wizard training, but you would
would have to leave your master wizard training, but you would
Beckstead / Shadowed by Death / 252 never regret it, I promise you that. Avery will carry your reply to me. Your Loving Mother
I read the note several times, each more astonished than the last. Ingerman was Rumford’s mother? How was such a thing possible?
Arithmetic had never been my best subject, but I nonetheless ran through the numbers in my head and realized that Rumford would have to have been born after Ingerman’s supposed Punishment. At least five years after.
Was Hammond Ecklebert Rumford’s father, or was that, too, a lie? Or perhaps this supposed Ingerman was the liar, capitalizing on a rumor going around thanks to Rumford’s public fight with his father at the last trial.
I didn’t know what to think. Perhaps the time had come to confide in Master Wendyn. But he had gone on a weekend away with Valerie and Master Uphammer to Old Dupare, a city in northern Hutterland, to hear a series of lectured on the evolution of magic within the three kingdoms.
He arrived home late Sunday night. I had waited up for him curled up in a chair by the fireplace, but sat up when the wizard door from his parents’ house materialized in the center of the room. He’d rebuilt the door in the spring so that Oscar would have an easier method of traveling back and forth.
Master Wendyn stepped through the door and hoisted the travel bag on his shoulder as the entry fizzled into nothing behind him. He stood still for a moment, absently rubbing at a spot on his cheek. Then he loosened his collar.
“Good you’re back,” I said briskly, closing my book.
He started. “Devil’s dawn, Avery. You scared me. What are you doing up so late?”
“Sorry.” I held the book up. “Just reading about healing spells. Do you know there are a dozen spells created to treat specific illnesses, like the cholera spell and the plague incantations, but there is no one spell to treat the wasting sickness?”
“No, I didn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is there a reason that’s important?”
“Not really.” I set the book aside. “It’s just…something to think about.”
“I see.” He sighed. “Well, I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.” He turned to go.
“Did you have a nice time with Valerie?” I blurted, then could have kicked myself for the question. It sounded so…needy, almost.
He rubbed at his cheek again. “Not really, if you must know. The lectures couldn’t have been much more boring. It’s beyond me why Val wanted to go. She knows I hate that sort of thing.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or if he truly didn’t know. “Probably because she just wants to spend time with you,” I said. “She’s in love with you, you know.”
He blinked at me in surprise. “Don’t be ridiculous. Valerie and I aren’t—we don’t have a relationship like that.”
My mouth opened in exasperation. “You’re really not that obtuse, are you? Haven’t you noticed she laughs at everything you say? You’re really not that funny.
A doubtful expression tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure? I think I’m very funny.”
“And she’s always hanging on your arm or saying how cold she is so you’ll pay attention to her. It’s the middle of summer, you know. It’s boiling hot around here.”
“She’s thin. She gets colder than the rest of us.”
“Master Wendyn—” I began, annoyed.
“I’ve told you to call me Garrick.” He hefted the bag on his shoulder and frowned at me.
This request annoyed me too. Why should I call him by his given name? It felt too familiar. But if it would appease him, I’d do so this once.
I came to my feet. “Fine. Garrick, the woman complimented your ridiculous frilly shirts. Believe me, there’s no woman alive who would think you looked nice in those shirts.”
He looked down at his frilly white shirt. “Now you’re insulting my clothes? Enough of this, Avery. I”m going to bed.”
“I’m just trying to get you to see what’s right in front of your face. If you’re going to marry the woman, marry her and get back to being my master so I can have your help again!”
“Of course I’m not going to marry her!” he thundered, turning on me. “And it’s none of your business if I do!”
Clearly I had overstepped my bounds. I stopped where I stood, then took a step back. “You’re right. I’m apologize. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
He held a hand up. “No. No more. You have a trial in the morning, and whatever you need to talk about is apparently not as important as talking about my love life. Go to bed, Avery.” He swiveled and left the room.
I stood alone in the center of the room and wished I’d kept my mouth shut.
***
Master Wendyn descended the staircase the next morning wearing something I’d never seen him wear before—a straightlaced boring old button-front shirt, with not a frill in sight. He looked like any other master wizard. He also looked supremely uncomfortable.
“Is…is that what you’re going to wear?” I asked tentatively.
He held a hand up. “Do not mention my clothes, Mullins. It’s not your concern.” He passed me and headed in to breakfast.
I stared after him. He’d called me Mullins. Not Avery. Had our relationship actually taken a step backward? ***
The first thing I did when we entered the Conclave was head off in search of Rumford. I found him outside the testing room and dragged him aside.
“Rummy, do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, what is it? I’m up for my last three trials today. Should’ve happened last testin
g day but—well, things got sidetracked.”
“It’s just—I need to talk to you about something important. It’ll only take a minute.”
He shrugged. “I guess. I have time.”
We went down a dark side hallway, where I cast a privacy spell. “This is probably going to sound a little dramatic, but I need you to promise me you can keep this a secret. Do you promise never to reveal what I’m about to tell you?”
He looked interested now. “Sure. I can keep a secret.”
I bit my lip, then dived right in. “I’ve been receiving notes for some time from a person who identifies him or herself as Keturrah Ingerman.”
His expression turned skeptical. “Ingerman died.”
“I know. Maybe. What if she didn’t?”
“Her barrel used to be in the cathedral hall, Avery. For years.”
“Right. I know that. This person claims she was banished to “Right. I know that. This person claims she was banished toBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 257
Belanok rather than Punished.”
He shrugged. “She sounds like a crazy person. I don’t think
I’d listen to anything she’s told you. Why is she sending notes
to you anyway?”
I pushed on hurriedly. “That part doesn’t matter. What
matters is the latest note she sent me. She wanted me to pass it
on to you.”
“Me?”
I pulled the note from my pocket while his brow took on a
confused angle. “Just read it,” I said, handing it over. He scanned the parchment, face paling. I watched his eyes
return to the top of the parchment and reread the note. And
again. And again.
“I know what it says, Rummy. Forgive me, but I read it. Can
it be true? Is Ingerman your mother?”
He shook his head. After staring at the note for a long
moment, he finally spoke. “I suppose anything’s possible at this
point. A month ago I would have said it was impossible that my
own mother wasn’t mine, but I’ve since come to learn that’s not
true.”
“So that woman is really your stepmother?”
“Apparently.” His voice turned bitter. “And they never
planned to tell me.”
“I’m sorry, Rummy. What are you going to do?”
He stuffed the note into his pocket. “I don’t know,” he He stuffed the note into his pocket. “I don’t know,” heBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 258
said frankly. “I suppose I’m going to talk to my father some more and see if I can get him to admit who my mother is. If his account goes along with this one,” he gestured at the note, “then I suppose I’ll give it some consideration.”
“You wouldn’t leave your master wizard training, though, would you? When you’re so close?”
“I honestly don’t know.” He glanced in the general direction of the testing room. “I’d better go. My trials could be starting soon. I’ll send you my reply in the message box as soon as I decide, Avery. All right?” And without waiting for a reply, he turned and moved down the hall.
I followed him eventually. Got to the testing room in time to watch him pass his three trials.
Rumford had done it. All he had left to finish his master wizard training now was to complete his Postulate.
That is, if he didn’t leave it altogether to go live with Keturrah Ingerman in Belanok.
***
My trial, too, was over before I knew it. During my healing trial, I was given a patient with fevers and rashes, similar symptoms to the wasting sickness, although this was not that. I healed them with little trouble and passed the thirteenth trial.
I squared my shoulders and left the testing room, feeling rather proud of myself.
As we returned to Ryker Hall via the master’s study, I As we returned to Ryker Hall via the master’s study, IBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 259
turned to him and said, “I’m sorry for what I said about your shirts. I was wrong. You do look nice in them. That one doesn’t suit you at all.”
He waved a hand at me. “Never mind. It’s stupid to be so fussy about clothing anyway.”
But I still couldn’t help feeling bad. Being fussy about clothing was basically the master’s entire personality. “No, it’s not—” I began.
“Never mind, I said.” He sat behind his desk and pulled out some parchment, which he began scrawling on. I hovered near, hopeful that now would be the right time to mention the notes from Keturrah Ingerman.
He glanced up. “What is it?”
“It’s just…remember what I mentioned last night? That I have something I need to talk about?”
“Oh, yes. That. Please don’t tell me you want to talk more about Valerie.”
I blinked in surprise. “Why would I want to talk more about her?”
“I don’t know. But you seem to have a fascination with her.”
“I do not. You’re the one who’s fascinated with her.”
“I am not—” he caught himself and shook his head. “Never mind.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking fishing sounds nice right about now. I think I’d like some time away.” “You mean…your cottage?”
“That’s just what I mean. And please don’t disturb me there.”
“But—” I began.
“Get started on your next trial while I’m gone. Mastery over discomfort. There’s several books of pain spells in the library.” And he put his pen down and excused himself.
I stared after him, feeling foolish. Why was he always running away from me these days?
#
CHAPTER TWENTY
The reply from Rumford came a few days later.
Avery— Please forward this note on to your mysterious note-sender. I suppose you can read it if you like, since you are already aware of the last note’s contents. Thanks.
—Rummy
After a moment of inner debate, I gave in to my curiosity and opened Rumford’s reply. It read as follows:
To the woman who claims to be my mother— Apparently the woman I’ve known as “Mama” for my whole life is…well, not actually that woman. Having discovered this all of is…well, not actually that woman. Having discovered this all of
Beckstead / Shadowed by Death / 261 thirty-one days ago, I am still getting used to the idea. I’m not opposed to the idea of meeting the woman who gave birth to me. Is that you? If it is, then come face me and introduce yourself in person. My father refuses to tell me anything about my real mother, so all I have is this note from you to signal that the woman even exists.
Forgive me for saying so, but sneaking around, sending notes, and claiming to be a deceased and disgraced former underwizard doesn’t speak too highly of your sanity. Of course, if you really are Keturrah Ingerman, then it stands to reason that you couldn’t walk into my life and claim to be her, as everyone believes you have been Punished.
…still, I find myself full of curiosity and questions, but mostly doubt. You’re probably a fine person, but I don’t think I should meet the writer of this note.
So no, I won’t be coming to live with you. —Rumford Ecklebert
I also included my own note back to Ingerman. I’ve spoken to Rumford as you asked, though I share his doubts about your true identity. I’m sorry, but once again I must reiterate that I won’t be going to Belanok. Nothing could interest me less.
Thank you for your help, but please. Don’t ask me this question again.
Avery
A few days passed wherein I practiced various spells meant to bring pain. The wildest part of all was that I practiced them with the purpose of inflicting them upon myself. Mastery over discomfort meant I had to prove my capacity for pain—and that I wouldn’t let it break me. If I made through the trial without losing myself to the inevitable agony, I would pass. The best preparation, therefore, was to submit myself to pain and do my best to incr
ease my capacity for it.
One morning while sitting atop my bed weaving a pain spell that would simulate the feel of a licking flame, something dropped from the chimney. It flopped into the grate, teetered on the edge, and flipped to the ground before sliding itself across the floor toward me.
Another note. I gratefully scrapped the pain spell—I’d been dreading it anyway—and leaned down to pick up the parchment.
I wish I knew how far these traveled before arriving at Ryker Hall. They were never very dirty, so perhaps they weren’t traveling through the smog of a city or different weather patterns. Ingerman had to be in fairly close proximity to send these notes this way, didn’t she? Notes didn’t just fly over hundreds of miles on their own, and magic couldn’t sustain them hundreds of miles on their own, and magic couldn’t sustain themBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 263
that far.
The parchment unfolded easily, and the handwriting was becoming more familiar with every note I received.
Avery, Your reply has grieved me indeed. You will see now that I have other ways of convincing you. Despite what you think, you
will come to Belanok. I promise you that. Write to me when
you’ve changed your mind.
K “Is the master back yet?” I asked Ivan and Papa hopefully at the breakfast table. Ingerman’s note had unsettled me, and I wished that I could talk to him about it. Still, he’d gone to his fishing cottage and didn’t want to be bothered. Which would make him angrier, my disturbing him, or my not telling him about this new possible threat?
Not back, Ivan gestured.
Papa spoke around a mouthful of bread. “I didn’t even know
Garrick was a sportsman. Does he often go fishing?”
“Not often,” I answered honestly. “Only when he’s upset
about something.”
“What’s that mean?” Papa asked.
I didn’t feel like explaining, so I changed the subject.
“Have you found a new hobby yet?”
Papa shrugged. “I don’t know. I liked the last hobby I
had.”
“You mean book-writing?”
“Yes.” He sat forward. “Have you reconsidered letting me
write that book yet?”
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