I heard Serafino blow out a low breath, and a cool burst of air caressed my face, washing over me like water. The magic they worked felt harmonious and sounded like the whispering waves of the ocean. From Ekwueme’s direction, I could feel warmth creep toward me and latch onto my feet. It began to spread through my legs, past my belly, and burned my heart. I squinted as my eyes began to water from the pain, but froze in my position, determined not to throw the spell off balance.
When I felt something like silk fall over my face and arms, I knew it was Bazyli completing the Veil. It dawned on me that my father must’ve been the Philosopher who did this part of the spell.
I bit my tongue and held back a shriek when the burning sensation left my chest area and blazed in my throat. My arms shook, and I arched my back. I held on, at least until I felt the Veil finally enclose me like a cocoon. They stood around me, silent, and watching.
“Are we done?” I asked in a raspy voice. Tears streaked my cheeks.
“We are done, Isabella.” Ekwueme broke the Transformation Circle and offered me his hand.
I held on with an unsteady arm and sweaty palm, rising to my feet with caution. This Veiling was painful to endure as an adult. Had they really done this to me as a child? And my father let them? That gnawing doubt came back to me just then, posing the question of whether I was something to be manipulated and used as a weapon against others in the Tower. But I didn’t want to be anyone’s weapon. I would rather stop this war before it started.
“I...I want you to call a High Council.” My tongue felt dry and swollen in my mouth, but I kept my gaze on Serafino.
“It would do no good,” he shook his head. “And it’s unfortunate that the Head of the Order has grounded you here.”
“Just give me the names of other Masters who would side with us or at least be open to a High Council.”
Bazyli dissolved his Circle of Protection with a single gesture. “I see what you’re getting at. This whole time we’ve been in a defensive position, whether it was your father hiding and running, or us Veiling you. Maybe it is time to step forward and show the others what we believe and why. I would be in favor of a High Council.”
I nodded. “If they want to go by the books and by the law, then so be it. It’s time we started using those same things to our advantage, don’t you think?”
Ekwueme spoke. “There are too many uncertain variables in convening a High Council when I cannot project for the Gray Tower.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of hiding, and I am not going to be anyone’s pawn. What do you think I am, that little girl who’s not going say a damned word because you old men all know best?”
They let me train at the Gray Tower, and they hid and protected me until I came into my power, but I doubted they expected only a hug and a Thank You card. Everything they did prepared me to be a warrior. This was why my father told me, back in France, that I needed to continue training. I never thought I could feel both admiration and repugnance at the same time. My father had to choose between his daughter and loyalty to the Tower, he chose his daughter, knowing he would have to fight the Tower because of it. I didn’t agree with Ekwueme about the Broken Tower being an external threat--the Broken Tower would occur if we kept tearing at each other and picking sides over the issue of the Drifter.
But I didn’t want a war. I had seen its ugly side. Anything the Order of Wizards had built would be in ruins, and innocent people would get killed. I couldn’t imagine having to fight against someone like Bianca or Cliff because they decided to go one way and me another. Though I was still angry with Neal, I didn’t want to see him putting another gun to his head, thinking he was dying for a noble cause.
“Then what would you have us do, Isabella?” Serafino asked. “Your father made us promise not to deviate from his plan.”
“Well, if my father were in this room with us right now, he’d be open to listening to an alternative. Ekwueme, he brought you the Broken Tower prophecy because he believed it would come to pass unless you did something to make it turn out differently--isn’t that the point of having me here? You all saved me, hoping that I could change this.”
Ekwueme nodded, and I saw that I had the other men’s attention as well. They were finally starting to open their eyes and ears to me. “Explain further,” Ekwueme prompted me.
“Okay...all the Masters who are on the outside are coming in tomorrow evening for the installment ceremony, right? I’m willing to bet--”
Ekwueme finished my thought. “That the Masters who’ve been outside the Tower, especially for many years, would be more accepting of a High Council and re-examining the Tower’s law on Drifters. We have not seen a Drifter in a hundred years, and the world is a different place now, since the Middle Ages.”
I nodded. “This could work, especially if we emphasize an outside threat and the only one who could save them is the Drifter. My father sent me on a task that allowed me to find a special talisman which could locate the Black Wolves’ headquarters. I’ve entrusted it to Order members working with the British government. If we work with them to bring down Octavian, then Hitler won’t have his occult army backing him, and the rest of what he’s gained will crumble. The Drifter can help save the world, instead of destroying it, like they’ve claimed.”
They all fell silent. Serafino finally said, “Leto Priya or one of the other mentalists would strip the truth from you. They’ll see through it.”
“Just let me work on that part, but what do you think?” I started to sweat, and I crossed my fingers in the hope that they’d agree.
Ekwueme bowed his head. “If the High Council is agreed upon, then you have a week to establish and complete it. If you can’t get the results you’re looking for, then we must get you out of here.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Now please, tell me we can do something about my father. The trackers have caught up with him in Cairo, and he needs help.”
Ekwueme spoke in a low voice. “I received a coded letter from him just a few hours ago through one of the ambassadors.”
I perked up. “Good, what did he say? What does he want us to do next?”
Ekwueme lowered his head. “Isabella...Carson has projected his own death. He has little time left.”
“What? No...you can’t let that happen.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
My stomach tightened, and I could hardly breathe. I looked at the other men to see if they’d say anything, but their expressions indicated that they had already accepted my father’s words. I felt like I was experiencing the deaths of my fallen friends all over again, except it was worse, because this was my father. Well, I didn’t care what my dad had said would occur--he couldn’t leave me, not like this. Though I felt like a hypocrite for thinking it, a small part of myself said that if the trackers killed my father, if they took him away from me...then I would rain hell upon them, and destroy them all.
42
I woke up with a headache, but managed to shower quickly and head over to breakfast. I stood in line and poured myself a cup of coffee, the queasiness in my stomach warned me to hold off on eating anything heavy. I scanned the large eating area and looked for an empty spot. Most of the tables were filled with Practitioners and Apprentices, eating and chatting, and I spotted a few Elites and Masters as well. The U.S. ambassador, Paul Casey, caught my eye and waved me over. He sat at a round table with three other men who wore suits. I really didn’t want to sit with them, so I came over and stood, making it seem as if I were in a hurry to do something else.
“Isabella,” Paul smiled. “I wanted to introduce you to a few of the other ambassadors.”
I forced a smile. “Good morning.”
The man closest to me, with dark hair and olive skin, shook my hand. “Achilles Gravari, from Greece.”
“A pleasure,” I said.
Paul spoke up for the other two. “My buddy here with the glasses is Svendsen from Denmark, and Rousseau is the French ambassador.”
Svendsen peered at me through his glasses and gestured for me to take a seat, but I declined. “I’m sorry, I was in a bit of a rush, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want me in the middle of your conversation anyway.”
“On the contrary,” Rousseau said through his thick mustache. “I’ve been telling the other men about the work you’ve done with the Special Operations Executive. On behalf of my country, I thank you.”
I decided to sit, after all. “Thank you for the compliment, but there were many other women who aren’t here to tell their stories.”
“Humble and heroic. What did I tell you?” Paul nodded in Achilles’ direction.
“Is this some kind of job interview?” I threw Paul a suspicious glance.
“Careful,” Svendsen said, “or we just might turn it into one and steal you away.”
“I’ve worked for the U.S. ambassador to London. I don’t think I can abide another clerk job.” I drank more coffee.
“Then how about adviser?” Rousseau extinguished his cigar and brushed his mustache with his fingers.
I lowered my voice. “And what would you want me to advise you on?”
Paul leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Give ‘em your honest opinion.”
Achilles cleared his throat. “Some of us feel the Gray Tower...isn’t necessarily using its full strength to aid the Allies in this war. True, some wizards have beaten back the Black Wolves, but several of our requests for specific aid in our territories have been denied.”
Rousseau toyed with his extinguished cigar. “Intelligence reports have indicated that Hitler and the Black Wolves have been gaining the advantage. Another ambassador said he was approached on the outside, last month, by an agent of the enemy, assuring peace and safety if his country abandoned the Allies.”
This could be useful information. In a level voice I asked, “Why did you choose to tell me this?”
Paul said, “Kenneth Aspen was a friend of mine, and that’s how I recognized you yesterday. Seeing Hotaru Kimura rot in prison for those murders is something I personally want to see happen--and, it’s clear you won’t let the Tower get away with whatever it wants, or let it feed you deceptive crap. Some of our countries are unhappy with the Tower, and some of us are worried. I want you to honestly tell us, are we going to need to jump off the Titanic? Or can we still stay with it?”
Once again, this war had people questioning their alliances...questioning themselves. So, the Tower had dwindled somewhat. I recalled Dr. Lan’s statement about there being fewer alchemists admitted to the Tower this year. Whether it was a lack of recruits or wizards being hunted down and eaten by Cruenti and Black Wolves, the Masters had to pick and choose where they would utilize their resources throughout the world, much to the chagrin of several countries. Hitler’s alliance with Octavian’s coven was a powerful one, no doubt. I had seen wizards turn traitor and side with them because they feared being on the losing side. If I could convene the High Council, convince them that the Drifter was not their enemy and was the key to bringing down Octavian and the Black Wolves, then they could lift the automatic death sentence hanging over my head. Only then, would I unmask myself--on my own terms.
“Stay vigilant,” I told Paul. “I think I’ll have your answer by tonight. Are you attending the installment ceremony? They’re promoting some wizards to higher rank.” Paul and the other men answered in the affirmative. “Good, then I’ll see you this evening.”
I grabbed my coffee and rose from my seat. I gave Paul a quick squeeze on the shoulder as a gesture of thanks. When I turned and saw Cliff and Sadik seated at a corner table with a box in front of them, I remembered about the rose pills and headed over.
“Hey,” Cliff said, pushing his bowl of oatmeal aside. “I packed up the rose pills for you. They work fine.”
“Thanks. Good morning, Sadik.” The young man acknowledged me with a nod and then gazed down at his breakfast. I grabbed the box and finished my coffee.
“Can I ask you a question, Isabella?”
“Sure.”
“I...heard about your father. Was he really a--”
“So they say,” I said with an edge of bitterness. I almost wanted to launch into a tirade about the Gray Tower and how it treated my father--how it would treat me--but held back my invective.
Sadik jumped in his seat, sending his plate of scrambled eggs tumbling onto the floor. His face turned red, and he gestured for us to remain seated when we moved to help. When I remembered how he was able to easily penetrate my mind, I quickly constructed a mental block.
I faced Cliff again. “Are you available for a research assignment? I’ll let Master Bazyli know that you’re doing it for me.”
“Yeah. What is it?”
“I need you to go to the library and find out everything you can about the High Councils from the Middle Ages. Drop your notes off with Paul Casey. Do you know who he is?”
“Yep. I’ll get started on it.”
Sadik finished cleaning up the last of his mess. With an apologetic face, he pointed toward the clock on the wall.
“We’ve got to go,” Cliff said, stuffing his mouth with his last spoonful of oatmeal. “Drago will kill us if we’re late.”
“I’m glad I don’t have to go to the training grounds anymore.” I smiled at them and stood as well. I had to drop off the rose pills with the Master Physician. While I didn’t have to go sparring today, I did have an appointment to train with Cathana Erin, the Master Alchemist.
“Iron...Silver...Gold. “ I grimaced and licked my lips. “And Cadmium.” I pulled the blindfold off and glanced at Master Erin with a bored expression. She had opened four wooden boxes in front of me, revealing chunks of each metal.
She sat across from me, patient, yet unreadable. “I understand you may find this tedious,” she said. “However, you need to go beyond merely detecting and tasting metals. You must actually feel them. Once you can do that, then you can command them and rearrange them.”
I rubbed my right temple, cursing at my headache for making a comeback. A piece of silver broke off and lifted into the air. The piece began to disassemble itself until all I could see with the naked eye were tiny shavings reflecting the light like sparkles. Without a word, Cathana commanded the shavings to fly toward me and up my nose. The metal’s healing properties caused my throbbing headache to subside.
With a satisfied grin, she stood and began pacing. “Now that I have your interest, let me tell you that this isn’t easy. This takes much practice, and if you don’t exercise this ability each morning, it will drain more energy from you when you use it.”
I nodded in understanding, though, deep inside, I questioned the use of it all. My talents as an alchemist were borrowed, a superbly constructed facade. I felt like a fraud, wasting Cathana’s time when she could be training a real alchemist who needed this. Technically, she wasn’t even supposed to train me, since I was an Apprentice and not an Elite. However, when I saw Cathana back in London, when she had captured Praskovya, the Master Alchemist had offered to train me directly, and said that she had known my father when he was at the Gray Tower.
“Master Erin, Elite Alchemists use gestures. How do you go from using a ritual knife to using your hands?” Now that, I would’ve liked to know.
“You must first feel and command, and then you won’t have need of a ritual knife to conduct your magical energy. You’ll be able to act upon any metal, including those in the human body.”
“Really?”
“Seventy-five percent of the iron in your body is in your blood. And if you can manipulate iron, increase its temperature, or make it go where you want--imagine the possibilities in a battle.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’re pretty lethal.”
“I fight because I must.”
I shut the box with the Cadmium; the toxic metal was starting to nauseate me. “Father Gabriel told me something similar before. Are you Catholic?”
She nodded. “He says he prays for you ever
y day.”
“That’s nice to hear, though I’m a little shocked. Sometimes we’re at odds.”
“I think we all need a little faith, don’t you?”
“I won’t argue with that.”
She walked over to a tall cabinet with glass doors, which stood in the far left corner of the training room. She opened one of the doors of the cabinet and retrieved two small wooden boxes. When she brought them over to the table, she gestured for me to close my eyes.
When I heard the first box open, I drew in a slow breath and inhaled the scent. “Silver...again.”
“Now, this one, Isabella.” She opened the second small box.
I snorted. “Plain old silver, Master Erin.”
“Open your eyes.”
My eyelids fluttered open, and I saw that both of the little boxes displayed sleek silver triangles, about an inch in height. They could easily be looped onto a chain. Cathana grabbed them with one hand each and held them apart. A low hum resonated between the two silver triangles, and an invisible force drew them together until they met. As soon as the two triangles united, I could taste a shielding enchantment mingled within the essence of the silver. Whoever possessed the two united pieces could construct a very strong magical shield and deflect attacks.
“That’s amazing,” I said. “I couldn’t sense any enchantment until the two pieces met.”
She nodded. “I confiscated these from a Cruenti warlock I defeated while on assignment for the Tower. After I run a few more tests, I’ll deconstruct them and deliver samples to Joshua Morton at MI6.”
When I saw her anxious expression, I voiced her unspoken thoughts. “Octavian probably created these. Not even you have seen an enchantment like this. If he’s powerful and innovative enough to do this, then he’s going to be one hell of an enemy to bring down.”
“Exactly.”
We both turned toward the doorway when we saw Hotaru enter. I immediately went cold and glared at him. He seemed to ignore me and spoke directly to Cathana.
“I apologize for interrupting, but Master Priya wishes to speak with you.”
The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3 Page 53