Magic University Book One: The Siren and the Sword

by Cecilia Tan

  Kyle snorted. “Perhaps if they’d been more scientific at the time, we’d have an explanation.”

  Alex laughed quietly. “Just hope it doesn’t happen again, because we’d be next.” He gathered up the paper clips. “Now that I’ve distracted you thoroughly from your studying, care to discuss our plans for the ambush?”

  “The ambush” was what they had been calling the plan to try to get Monica to confess at the Masque.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Alex went on, “that getting Bell into the right place at the right time is the most likely failure point in the plan. Once you touch Monica, she ought to be in your thrall if I’ve read the spell correctly, so all you have to do is get into a dance group with her. But we need the dean to hear what she says before he decides to put ‘the Whammy’ on me.”

  Alex had taken to calling the Geas “the Whammy” partly to make fun of Kyle, but Kyle had a feeling Alex needed to make fun of the Geas itself. Make light of his fears.

  “Even masked, he might pick me out, so it can’t be me who gets him into place. We need someone else.”

  Kyle thought about that. “Is there someone we can use without telling them the whole story? Or do we need to find someone we can trust with the whole plan?”

  Alex frowned. “Do you have someone in mind?”

  “What about telling someone I’m trying to catch the person who hurt Frost and leave you out of the story entirely? The two people I can think of who would want Frost’s attacker caught most are Candlin and Cavendish.”

  “Hm, the boyfriend and the roommate. That has some possibilities.”

  “Well, and Master Brandish, but I don’t think she’d take well to being duped.”

  “No, indeed not. Though you’re right, like a lioness with her cubs.” Alex’s eyes brightened. “And she does have a history with the dean...”

  “No,” Kyle said. “We just ruled her out. She’ll see through it too easily and she won’t approve of us taking things into our own hands, either.”

  “Damn. All right, which one then: Michael or Persy?”

  Kyle considered for a long moment. “I don’t know.”

  “Which one does your gut tell you? Forget science for a minute.”

  “Hmm, Persy.”

  “Okay, now ask why.”

  “ Because he’s dumb enough to play along with what we say without delving into it deeply. Michael’s too smart. He’d ask too many questions.”

  “Just so. Besides, Persy is here in your own house, which means you could go talk to him right now, instead of having to engineer a time to get Michael alone.”

  Kyle nodded and got to his feet. Michael was rarely alone, although without Frost at his side he looked rather bereft. But Marigold and Kate seemed to feel it was their duty to make sure he didn’t get lonely—or maybe they were just happy to be with their friend without his pill of a boyfriend around. “I’ll go talk to Persy now.”

  “That’s the way, Ace.”

  * * * *

  The night of the Masque arrived the following week, far too quickly for Kyle’s taste, and yet it seemed to come so slowly because of how much dread he felt. But when the day actually came, he felt the dread lift. Tonight he would do it all. Save Alex, expose the siren and while flush with triumph, make Jess’s dream come true with a silent request to dance, at the end of which he would conjure the first of the traditional courtship gifts—a gold coin—and formally ask for the right to court her.

  But first he had to get his stockings on. He sat on the edge of the bed with Alex giggling at him, trying in vain to get his feet through. “Why do I always end up in these flimsy things on cold nights?”

  Alex took pity on him. “How did you get that Batman costume on? Seriously, like this, Kyle.”

  He sat down and pulled off his own tights, then put them back on, demonstrating the technique of gathering the whole leg together, putting his foot directly against the toe seam, then pulling the tights up his legs. “See? Like magic.”

  Kyle grumbled and emulated him and the tights went on. Over that, breeches, shirt and vest, jacket, and finally mask. Everyone from Gladius House was in black and white, with silver and gold accents, and at the mask-making night they had all made more masks than they would need for the entire house to wear. It had been easy to get an extra one for Alex. Kyle checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror in the hall and hardly recognized himself.

  He didn’t recognize Alex either, who had slicked his hair back into a club, which made his hair look much darker and changed the shape of his face. So did the seriousness of his expression. When he added a three-quarter face mask atop that, he could have been anybody.

  They made their way down the stairs together, along with other housemates heading in the same direction, and Kyle found most of them hard to recognize. He could tell Caitlyn Speyer by her laugh, though, somewhere ahead of them as they crossed the yard headed toward Lowell House. It was a clear night, just a few streaks of clouds, and for February the wind felt strangely balmy, above freezing. Kyle still wished for some of that Red Heat from Halloween, though.

  One of the first people he saw on walking into the hall was a tall, courtly warrior, wearing a sword. Then with a start he realized it was Master Brandish. He wondered if that was thesword, or if it was only for show.

  The crowd was more colorful than he had been expecting after all the monochrome of the Glads, but no other house coordinated colors. There were people in purple and emerald and scarlet, some in head-to-toe gold, others in fabrics that seemed to change color with the light. A group of musicians was on a riser at one end of the room, playing the traditional tunes, loud enough to energize the dancers but not so loud that those not dancing could not flirt verbally. The entire place was lit softly, the chandeliers overhead giving off champagne-colored light, and large stands of candles in tall glasses placed along the walls.

  Alex caught sight of Persy and tapped Kyle on the shoulder. Yes, there he was, and Dean Bell was not far from him. Persy looked to be on task. Kyle did a slow circuit of the room but he didn’t see Jess or Monica yet. He knew Jess would be in a green satin gown, with her hair up and some kind of pearls woven in it. She’d text-messaged him to say so, but hadn’t sent a picture. He’d never come up with a polite way of asking so, and what is your roommate wearing?

  A half hour passed with no sign of them. He was intimidated by glares from Caitlyn to get into a dance, which he found actually helped to calm his nerves when he didn’t make any major mistakes. As he was going along, he thought he saw Jess in the crowd of people watching, but when the dance was over and he went back to where she might have been, she had either moved on or it had been someone else in a green dress.

  At last, though, he spotted Monica, entering with Kate and Marigold and Michael. It was Michael he recognized first, small in stature and only wearing a domino of a mask, his silk-fine black hair hanging straight down as always. In that context, Kate and Marigold were easy to identify, and he realized that it had to be Monica with them, by the streaks in her hair. Her dress was red with gold accents, too.

  He began making his way toward them, not to greet them just yet, but to be ready if they jumped into a dance. All he had to do was make sure he got into the line that would meet Monica’s. He would have her enthralled before she could step away.

  He caught Alex’s eye and Alex nodded. He would check on Persy. Kyle watched his progress across the room and Alex paused briefly by the punch bowl. Yes, there was Persy, who seemed to have received the sign as he then approached the dean and struck up a conversation.

  Kyle looked for the group with Monica and Michael again. Was that Jess? Someone in a green dress was talking to someone who might have been Nichols, but without seeing her eyes, Kyle couldn’t be sure. They bowed to each other and moved toward the dance floor, but following them was impossible. Just then Kyle saw the girls were dragging Michael into the dance that was just forming up, too. Kyle felt a little sorry for him. He probably would rath
er be sitting at Frost’s bedside right now than attending a party, but it appeared his self-appointed guardians were going to force him to have some fun.

  Judging by the music, this would be one of the faster dances. Kyle couldn’t remember the name now, but it was one where people would turn from one partner to the other and clasp hands. Which was good, but he was nervous about screwing up the fast-paced dance. Too late to worry about that. He had to jump in now. Persy was already talking to Bell, and the lines were forming quickly. He hurried to take a place just a few people down and across from Marigold. Michael stood next to her, and Monica just on his other side.

  The practice lessons must have sunk in, because Kyle found himself going along thinking much more about Monica than about what his feet were doing. Two more exchanges and he would pass between her and Michael, taking their hands as he swung through. He prepared himself to act right away. Who knew if there would be a shock like when he’d touched Caitlyn Speyer? He couldn’t hesitate. He and Alex had already discussed what words to use, what were most likely to work...

  The drumbeats seemed to slow, the candle flames to flicker visibly as he came closer and closer to her, turning Marigold and then bowing to her as the steps carried them on, catching a glimpse of Persy’s apple cheeks at the edge of the spectators.

  He took hold of Michael and Monica’s hands at the same moment and felt a surge like electricity tingle through his arms—not painful, but he was glad he’d been ready for it.

  “Siren, reveal yourself!”

  Monica’s face registered shock and puzzlement and she tried to pull her hand free. What was he supposed to say if she resisted? Oh, right.

  “On your knees.”

  Her eyes went wide, but then so did Kyle’s as Michael Candlin fell to his knees, clutching onto Kyle’s wrist with his other hand.

  The flow of the dancers was disrupted, and the music ground to a halt as Kyle stared into Michael’s eyes, trying to remember what he was supposed to say now.

  “Wadsworth, what is the meaning of this?” Bell loomed somewhere behind them, but it was like everyone in the room crowding around them had turned to just a blur, and all Kyle could see was the black-haired boy, biting his lip and fighting back tears.

  “I...I’ve caught the siren,” Kyle said. “Isn’t that right?”

  Michael nodded. “Yes.”

  Kyle could hear Alex’s voice. “Are you the one who attacked me?”

  Michael didn’t answer. Kyle asked. “Are you the one who attacked Alex in the library?”

  “Yes.” Michael’s teeth were gritted, as if he were fighting answering, but couldn’t help himself. “Yes, I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he wanted Timothy.” Michael’s cheeks were as scarlet as if revealing such intimate secrets were embarrassing. Kyle supposed it was. Apparently, even sirens could be mortified—and jealous. “I didn’t mean to hurt him! I mean, I did, at the time I wanted to kill him, but I hadn’t intended to...”

  Kyle still didn’t understand, though. “But then what happened to Frost? If it wasn’t you?”

  Kyle was the one feeling mortified now as Candlin burst into tears and sobbed against the back of his hand. “It was me! I didn’t mean to do that, either! He was...he was always willing...” He choked on his tears for a moment before he could go on. “I just...took too much. I’d waited, the whole break, to see him again...but I waited too long. I couldn’t...I c-couldn’t...”

  He dissolved in tears again, squeezing his eyes shut, and Kyle found himself able to look around. Master Brandish and Dean Bell were both standing to one side of him, Alex to the other, his mask in his hand. His heart did a little flip when he saw Jess was there, too, in the ring of people surrounding them. Jess, and Marigold, and Nichols, and Monica, who looked horrified. Kyle was relieved it hadn’t been her. “Um, you heard all that, I assume?” Kyle said to the dean.

  Bell nodded. Then got down on one knee, turning Michael to face him with his fingers on his chin. “Are you willing to help us restore Frost? I make no promise of leniency if you do.”

  Michael nodded. “I would. I will.”

  “Wadsworth, we’ll need your help, too, since I do not believe Candlin here can be trusted. His intentions are trustworthy, but his appetites are not.” Bell turned to look up at Brandish. “You know better than I what other assistance we will need.”

  Master Brandish’s hand tightened on her sword. She spoke quietly, leaning toward Bell, but Kyle could hear the words perfectly where he was. “You’re talking about a resartum of soul and body...”

  “When his heart’s broken. I know.” Bell sounded grim. “Let’s discuss this further in my office.”

  She nodded, then with a word cleared a path to the door. Bell barked more orders and Kyle saw Master Zoltan urging the musicians to resume playing.

  Kyle pulled Michael to his feet and followed, not letting go of his hand. He kept his eyes fixed on Brandish’s back, not completely sure what they were supposed to be doing next, only that they needed him to keep Michael in line. Perhaps once they got there, he could give the amulet to Bell and leave them to do whatever it was they needed to. There were people walking with them. Jess and Alex. Marjory. Dean Bell.

  To Kyle it felt like a dream, this strange parade across the campus to Peyntree Hall.

  When they arrived, Kyle was not surprised to see Ms. Finch and Master Lester standing on the stairs waiting for them, nor to find that inside Bell’s spacious office, Frost was laid out on the couch, unconscious and looking paler than ever. There was a whole sitting area, large enough for Dean Bell to receive a dozen guests, and beyond that the imposing desk, and more room behind that, of which Kyle got only a vague sense.

  Master Brandish unbuckled her sword and then knelt by Frost, stroking his forehead. “So you were draining him all along,“ she said to Michael. “Were you giving him back knowledge, or was your exchange one-sided?”

  Michael didn’t need to be compelled to answer. “He didn’t need my help! He’s brilliant on his own. He loves me...”

  Brandish turned and fixed him with a glare. “You were attracted to him because of how powerful he is. You figured you could feed from him often without anyone noticing.”

  “At first! I didn’t think we were going to fall in love. I thought we’d just...you know.” Michael’s shoulders slumped. “Once I fell in love with him, I didn’t want anyone else, either. I only stalked the library because I had to. He wasn’t enough.”

  “Callendra, let me have a look.” Ms. Finch took Master Brandish’s place and put her hand on Frost’s forehead.

  Dean Bell looked Kyle up and down. “How are you doing it?”

  “Oh, um, this. It’s actually meant to work on Sphinxes.” Kyle pulled the amulet out from under his shirt. “I read about it first in a book of Bessarion’s. Well, a translation into English, that is. Which Bessarion supposedly had passed down from Xenophon’s era...”

  “Yes, yes.” Bell waved him to silence with an annoyed look on his face. “Sphinxes. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Brandish put a hand on Bell’s shoulder but he shrugged it off before she could speak. “Callendra,” he said, “please tell me this resartum is doable.”

  Brandish spoke quietly. “We won’t need the siren, but we will need both partners to be virgins, ideally a madonna or a brigid, and a lightning rod.”

  “I’m a brigid,” Kyle heard Jess say from behind him in a timid voice. He turned and there she was, her mask gone but still in her green gown, as Nichols’s hands tightened possessively around her waist.

  He stared. “Jess, what...?”

  “And Kyle’s a lightning rod,” Alex added, his hand on his chin.

  “I am? What...?”

  Several people were all talking at once then, and near as Kyle could tell they were arguing over whether he and Jess could, should, or would do what was necessary to save Frost. “Hang on, hang on!” Kyle found himself shouting. “Nobody is doing anything u
ntil I get an explanation that I can understand!”

  “Sit.” Bell rubbed his eyes with the fingers of one hand. “Everyone sit. I certainly hope Frost will last long enough for us to bring Mr. Wadsworth up to speed. Wadsworth, I believe you may let go of Candlin’s hand. Now, he will obey you.”

  Kyle sat in a chair next to the couch where Frost was lying and let go of Michael’s hand. Michael sat at his feet, which Kyle thought was weird, but he had enough other things to worry about that he didn’t say anything. Master Brandish took the chair by Frost’s head and glared at Michael.

  Kyle looked back at Jess, who had settled between Nichols and Marjory on the opposite sofa, her hand held tight between both of Nichols’s in his lap. She looked around at the people there and shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Kyle—this wasn’t how I wanted to tell you. But...it’s happened. My dream. He’s the one.”

  “Oh.” Kyle felt the floor shift under him, as if the entire building were being jolted sideways by an earthquake. No one else seemed to notice, though, so it must have been just him. “Wow. That’s really...huh.”

  “Kyle had a feeling you were going to find your true love at the Masque,” Alex said helpfully to Jess. “Fate’s a funny old thing, isn’t it?”

  Master Brandish spoke. “Whether Wadsworth and Torralva are romantically involved or not doesn’t really matter to me, except as it pertains to whether either or both of them would participate in the resartum.”

  “A sex magic ritual,” Bell clarified, examining Kyle critically. “One that will require intercourse. ‘Brigid’ is a term used in Healing Arts for a female practitioner who has the gift of healing touch. I understand, Miss Torralva, that you have done this before?”

  “She has,” Nichols spoke up. “She healed me on Halloween. From a serious head injury.”

  “This is Timothy Frost’s heart we’re talking about, though,” Ms. Finch spoke up. “His soul, his mind...”

  “We’re aware of that, Madeleine,” Brandish said. “I’d normally say the chances of us finding a brigid who was still a virgin were one in ten thousand, yet we have one here in the room. Miss Torralva, the question is whether you are willing. I understand you are going to declare your major in Healing Arts, in which case you needn’t preserve your virgin state any longer...?”