Rebel Magisters (3 page)

“Exactly. What we want to do will take almost as much money as running a small country, but we can’t collect taxes to pay for it. We’re all poor—part of the reason we’re rebelling—so we can’t fund ourselves. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.”

I was afraid I knew what he would ask of me, but I pretended I didn’t and said, “You think an article in the newspaper might help?”

“Not to the extent we need. I thought you might talk to your employer. The Masked Bandits might be the only ones who could raise that kind of capital, and they’ve already been helping fund our activities.”

I stopped abruptly and faced him. “Absolutely not.” I surprised even myself with how vehement my protest was. “Do you realize the amount of money you’re asking for? Robbing a train a day wouldn’t be enough, and that would be far too dangerous. They’d surely be caught. As a matter of fact, the Bandits are taking some time off because one of them did get caught. They need to throw off suspicion. I can’t possibly ask Lord Henry to take that kind of risk.”

“I think he should get the chance to say no for himself, don’t you?”

I had protested when Henry didn’t want me running errands for him because he wanted to keep me safe. Was my refusal to even ask him if he was willing or interested the same thing? “I’ll talk to him,” I said, grudgingly. “He may have other ideas. I know he’s as committed to revolution as you are, and he’d be pleased that you’re finally being practical about it instead of just making a lot of noise.”

“That’s all I want, for you to ask. Even if he has nothing to offer but advice, we’d be grateful. It would be that much more we owe him.”

“It is interesting how much more you like the magisters when they have something to offer you,” I remarked dryly.

“Well, maybe if more of them were as generous as your Lord Henry, we wouldn’t be plotting revolution. And maybe there are a few who aren’t bad sorts.”

“Didn’t you once say something about how magic corrupts people?”

“Maybe not everyone, but look at the evidence all around us.” His gesture encompassed the mansions nearby and the magical roadsters humming down the park paths with little regard for pedestrians.

I bit my lip to keep myself from saying anything as we resumed strolling. He still didn’t know about my magical heritage, and I wondered what he would think about it. He was willing to ask Henry for help, but I doubted he’d ever see Henry as a friend. If he cared at all for me now, I wasn’t sure that esteem would continue if he knew my secret.

“I’m sure you’ll manage to find me to learn what Lord Henry has to say,” I said, my voice sounding stiff and a little frosty.

“And you know where to go so I can find you. Failing that, you know the usual places to leave word.”

“Do you want the article, as well? I know most of your followers are poor, but pennies can add up.”

“Write something and we’ll see.” He turned to face me, looking earnestly at me in the way that used to set my heart aflutter—which had been carefully calculated to achieve that effect, I reminded myself. There was still a tiny involuntary reaction, because few girls are entirely immune to being looked at that way, but it wasn’t the same. “I do appreciate this, Verity.”

“Yes, I’m very useful.”

He groaned. “I know how it sounds. But you really were heaven-sent. More than that, though, you’re a truly amazing girl who can make the most of your opportunities. I feel lucky to know you.”

I knew he meant well, but he was incapable of expressing affection for me without mentioning my use to the cause. There wasn’t much point in pushing to get more from him, not if I wanted him to be honest. “And I am glad I met you because you opened my eyes,” I admitted. I deliberately removed my hand from his arm. “I must be going. We’ll talk again.”

It was probably just my imagination, but it seemed to have grown chillier since I entered the park. Had an autumn wind blown through, or was it merely my nerves giving me chills? I pulled the collar of my coat closer around my neck and hurried my pace.

As much as I wanted to leave Henry out of it, I felt honor-bound to at least pass on what Alec had said. It would be wrong to withhold the information. But would Henry be sensible? He wouldn’t have done things like rob trains and government offices in the first place if he hadn’t been somewhat predisposed to taking risks.

*

I already had an appointment with Henry that evening. We met regularly after the younger children had gone to bed, supposedly to discuss the children’s academic progress. The truth was, ever since he’d learned about my magical heritage, he’d been teaching me magic.

I wasn’t sure what good it would do. My powers must have come from an illicit liaison between my mother and a magister, since no one else in my family had magic. My very existence as a half-breed was illegal, and I wasn’t sure what would happen if anyone found out about me, but it likely wasn’t good. I didn’t dare use magic in public because another magister could detect when magic was being used nearby. Henry was the only person who knew, and he believed that anyone who had a gift needed to develop it. Given the nature of our activities, he thought I should know how to fully use my powers.

After dinner, I helped Olive get ready for bed and read her a story. As I left her room, I ran into Henry in the hallway. In a whisper designed to be heard by any eavesdroppers, he said, “May I have a word with you, Miss Newton? I would like to discuss Rollo’s latest report from school.”

“Of course,” I replied, matching his tone. He escorted me into his study and closed the door. I had to move a pile of books in order to sit. Henry’s study was a carefully cultivated image of chaos, with enough bugs pinned to cards on the wall and spiders in jars to keep the housemaids out of the room if they dared disobey orders to stay out. This was the nerve center of the Masked Bandits and the place where Henry hid his most incriminating secrets. It was also the one place at home where he dared drop his guard and his pretense of being an absentminded amateur scientist.

As soon as he’d closed the door, he set about activating the wards he’d built into the room, which blocked anyone outside the study from being able to detect magic being used within or hearing anything we said. Then, without warning, the lights in the room went out.

I knew what that meant. I held my hand out in front of me and tried to sense the ether swirling around me. It took some concentration, but I managed to pull energy from the ether into the palm of my hand to create a light. More concentration magnified it to illuminate the room. Once I’d created the light, it took little attention to maintain it, though Henry put me to the test by picking up a butterfly net and waving it around. My light flickered as I giggled and went out entirely when he threw the net at me.

The room’s lights came back on, and he said, “Better. But you need to be able to form the light instantly and maintain it when distracted.”

“Even when someone’s throwing something at me?”

“
Especially
when someone’s throwing something at you. And it’s not just about the light. Learning to control the light is learning to control power, and that applies to any magic you perform. Now, let’s work on physical manipulation.” He dumped a dish of paper clips on the floor and handed me the dish. This was a little easier for me, as it was a use of magic I’d taught myself when I’d discovered my powers. After the third paper clip, however, the task became more difficult, as I found myself battling with Henry. He moved them so that I had to redirect the ether, and we had a tug of war with each other over the last clip. It was fortunate that the wards muted sound in the room because I couldn’t hold back a cry of victory when I wrested the clip away from him and landed it in the dish.

“Excellent! This may prove to be your area of expertise,” he said, sitting in his desk chair and removing the spectacles I knew he didn’t need. I thought for a moment that this meant he was ready to let me rest, but instead he held up the butterfly net and said, “Make it look like a fan.”

I tried not to groan out loud. Illusions were the most difficult thing for me, and I’d never seen another magister other than Henry perform one. But Henry said they’d once been a staple of magic, before magisters grew lazy and complacent with their position in society, and he wanted me to have every advantage. I stared at the butterfly net for a long time, picturing the fan I would make it look like. Next came the hard part, shaping the ether around the net to give it the illusion of a fan. It flickered back and forth between the reality and the illusion for a moment before finally settling on the illusion.

“Good,” Henry said. “Now, have you read any good books lately?”

“Books?” I asked, baffled by the abrupt change in topic.

Henry laughed and pointed at the net, which still looked like a fan. “Good work, Verity! You managed to maintain the illusion while you were distracted. Now let’s see how long it will last. Tea?”

Breathing a little heavily from my exertions, I wiped beads of sweat off my brow and said, “Please.”

“Then boil the water.”

I should have known better than to expect him to give me a break so soon. This was a tricky use of magic because it required finding just the right amount of heat. I’d already broken three teapots when I got it wrong. I activated the ether around and within the teapot, fighting to keep the excitement slow and under control. When steam came out of the spout, Henry measured tea into the pot, and I slumped back in my chair. The fan was flickering, but it was still visible. I allowed myself a small smile of triumph.

“Much better,” he said. “Perhaps I won’t have to order another box of teapots.”

When it appeared that I really was getting a break this time, I thought it might be an opportune time to bring up what Alec had asked me. “Some of the Mechanics are back in town. I ran into Alec in the park today.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Even after that narrow escape?”

“They believe that was more about the machines.” I tried to think of how best to phrase the next part. While I wanted to be honest with him, I preferred to steer him in the most reasonable direction. “They’ve taken what you said about playing at revolution to heart and are trying to plan rather than just making noise. They believe their machines really are the edge they need to defeat the magisters, but they need to make more machines, and for that they need funding. They asked me if you had any ideas.” I didn’t feel it too dishonest to avoid mentioning them wanting money from the Bandits. If Henry thought of that, it was up to him.

“Mass production of machines like that? Do they know how much that would cost?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I suppose they could start with some existing machines and fit them for new power supplies, so they wouldn’t have to start with smelting iron, but still, the materials, the facilities, and the manpower—well, they’re essentially creating a new industry. They wanted my input on this? Why? Because I’m the only rich person they know?”

Now I had no choice but to tell him. “Because you lead the Masked Bandits and have already been funding the cause, to some extent.” Before he could say anything, I hurried to add, “I told him that robbing trains wouldn’t raise that kind of money without you taking huge risks, and you’re lying low to avoid suspicion for now. He understood, but he wanted to see if you had other ideas.”

He stirred the teapot, poured through a strainer into two cups, added sugar, and handed one to me before taking a sip from his own cup. “You’re right, even my biggest heist ever wouldn’t have been enough to raise that kind of money. What they need are investors, but that’s difficult when their activities are counter to the interests of most of those who have money.”

Although he’d agreed with me, I felt deflated by his pessimism. “So there’s no hope?”

“I didn’t say that.” He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “There have to be some people with money who are committed to—or at least interested in—the idea of revolution. It’s not just my friends and me.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Given the rate of taxation in the colonies, a lot of property owners might think a break with the Empire would be good for them, whether or not they also want to overthrow the class system. And there are some wealthy and influential nonmagisters who are held back by their nonmagical status. But I don’t know if they’d be open to allying with the Rebel Mechanics.”

“I think they’ll have to,” I said after mulling it over for a moment. “The only way a revolution could succeed is if there’s one revolution, not a magister revolution and a Mechanics revolution. Defeating the Empire is so big a task, it will take all of us working together.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked me square in the eyes. Without his glasses blurring them, they were an intriguing mix of shades of blue, and the sight brought me back to the moment we’d first met, when he’d robbed the train I was on. I’d later recognized him by his eyes. “We need to rally the people we know are interested and get them to recruit others. It may take time to gradually grow our organization, and in the meantime, we can ask for funds even before we ask people to make public declarations.” He shook his head, smiling slightly. “I wonder if there’s a way to sound people out without risking my neck. Who might have rebel leanings, and how could we tell?”

I took a sip of my tea, letting the sweetness restore some of the energy I’d spent using magic. “The military may be a fertile ground for recruiting. Consider the general—what does he think about being considered a lesser race by people who put so much responsibility on him?”

“I never thought of that.”

“That’s because you were brought up as a magister. You don’t know what it’s like for the rest of us.”

He smiled ruefully. “I suppose I’ve been too busy thinking about how limited my options were to consider that there were those who had even fewer choices in life, regardless of their abilities.”

“That’s why we’re doing this, isn’t it? So everyone can make the most of themselves without artificial limits.”