The Magic Thief (16 page)

I
n the morning, I woke up as usual in my attic room, snuggled in blankets. The room was freezing. The air went into my lungs like shards of ice and came out again as puffs of white steam. My nose was cold. A layer of ice crystals covered the blankets. If I'd spent a
night this cold on the streets of the Twilight, I would have woken up huddled and frozen in a doorway. Or not woken up at all. It was good to be home.

Outside, the wind shrieked around the corner of the house, and the sky, what I could see of it through my windows, was gray.

And my locus magicalicus was lost in the blankets somewhere. I rooted around until I found it. Then, hugging the blankets around me, I sat up, leaned against the wall, and held the stone up to the light. It glowed from within, a shifting, dappled warmth like sunlight shining down through the leaves of tall trees.

No other wizard had ever had a locus magicalicus like this. Most jewel locus stones were smaller, Nevery had told me. Large jewels were dangerous; hadn't he said that, too? Sure as sure, my locus stone was the most valuable jewel in the city, maybe in all the Peninsular Duchies. Why had it come to me? It didn't make sense.

Maybe Nevery would know.

Oh, well. Time to get up. Untangling myself from the blankets, I felt a little stiff and sore from the past few days, and the back of my head hurt a little from where the duchess's guards had bashed me. But nothing too bad, considering.

To my surprise, my coat and black sweater were folded neatly on the floor, my boots and socks lined up beside them. The last time I'd seen them, I'd been sneaking into the Dawn Palace. Shivering, I put them on, put my locus magicalicus into my coat pocket, and went downstairs to the kitchen.

Benet wasn't up yet. I raked up the banked fires in the stove and the fireplace, added wood, then grabbed the bucket and went out to fetch water. I paused on the threshold to wrap my scarf around my face and to pull the sleeves of my coat over my hands.

As I stepped out the door, the wind raced 'round the corner of the house and struck with icy daggers down into my bones, almost knocking me
off my feet. Tiny flecks of snow, whipped by the wind, scudded across the courtyard. In the tree, the birds balanced on the branches with their backs to the wind, looking ruffled and annoyed.

Catching my breath, I set off toward the well. The birds caught sight of me. With a sudden cackling and cawing, they leaped from the branches, spattering the ground with their droppings, shedding feathers, which spun away in the wind. In a clackety-rackety black cloud, they raced across the courtyard to where I stood holding the bucket and swirled around me, chattering loudly, brushing me with the soft tips of their wings. I dropped the bucket. They whirled up like a fluttering funnel of black rags, and then flew back to the tree, where they settled onto the branches.

I stood staring at them and they stared back, cackling quietly, fluffing their feathers.

I'd never heard of birds acting like that. Strange. With an eye on their tree, I picked up the bucket, went to the well and fetched water, then
went back to the house and climbed the stairs to the kitchen. Benet was there, sitting at the table with his hair standing up in spikes all over his head.

“G'morning,” I said, and carried the bucket to the stove, where I filled the kettle.

Benet glared at me, which made me happy. I took off my coat and started to get the tea ready.

“Can I see it?” Benet asked.

My locus magicalicus, he meant. I went over to my coat, fetched out the jewel, and put it on the table, then went back to the stove to pour hot water into the teapot.

When I brought Benet his cup of tea, he was studying the stone, but not touching it. “It dangerous?” he asked.

I fetched a chair and sat down next to him. I picked up the stone. It felt cool and just a little prickly; if it were a cat, it would have its back arched and its fur on end, but it wouldn't hiss or scratch. “I don't think so,” I said. When I'd tried to steal Nevery's locus magicalicus, it had attacked me, and
I figured that if anybody tried to steal mine it would probably kill them. But it wouldn't hurt Benet.

“Hmph,” Benet grunted. He rubbed his hands through his hair and then took a drink of tea. “Wood,” he said.

Right. I got up, put my locus stone in my pocket, and fetched more wood for the stove and the fireplace. When I'd finished that, Benet had woken up enough to make biscuits, and when those were done I ate three of them with jam and cheese.

Then I took tea and biscuits up to Nevery.

I peeked into the study and he was there, a fat book open on the table before him.

“Breakfast, Nevery,” I said, setting the tray on the table.

He glanced up. Frowned. “Have you washed?”

I grinned at him. “No.”

He pointed at the door.

After washing and dressing in my attic room, I picked up the empty water bucket and went downstairs to the kitchen.

Keeston was there. He was sitting at the table watching Benet fry bacon and potatoes on the stove. He'd put his feet up on one of the other chairs and had a book propped on his knees, and he had butter on his fingers from the biscuit he was eating.

I went in and put the empty bucket by the door.

“Shouldn't you fetch more water?” Keeston asked.

I looked at Benet.

“Kettle's full,” Benet said.

I sat down on the floor beside the fireplace, and Lady climbed into my lap, purring.

“So you decided to come back,” Keeston said. He closed his book and set it on the table amid a scattering of biscuit crumbs.

“I always wanted to,” I said.

“I hear you've been going to the Twilight,” Keeston said.

Now where had he heard that? From Pettivox?
Drats. Sure as sure, Keeston was spying for his master. Which meant everything he heard was going straight to the Underlord.

So I didn't say anything to Keeston, just shrugged.

Benet clattered a pan on the stove. When I looked up, he glared at me, then jerked his chin at Keeston.

He wanted me to tell about my locus magicalicus. I wanted to show it off to Keeston, make his eyes bulge out with surprise and envy. But it might be better, I reckoned, if he didn't know about it. Because then Crowe wouldn't know about it.

“I went to the Twilight,” I said, “because I was looking for my locus stone.”

“And did you find it?” Keeston asked. “Bring me a plate of that bacon you're cooking,” he said to Benet.

I nodded.

Keeston blinked, then recovered his sneer. “A
common pebble, I suppose.” He fingered his own locus magicalicus, the shard of shiny black rock he'd hung from a gold chain around his neck, just as his master did. “Something you found on the roadside.”

I shrugged, not yes, not no.

Benet slammed the pan on the stovetop, then dished out three plates of potatoes and bacon, handed one to me where I sat by the fire, thumped one down before Keeston, and sat down with the third at the table.

Keeston picked up a fork from the plate and took a bite. Then he spit it out with a curse. “Ow! It's hot!” He shot Benet an accusing look.

Benet ignored him.

Setting down his fork, Keeston looked over at where I sat before the fire. “Well, I suppose it's a good thing you found your little locus pebble. It may not be very powerful, but at least you'll be of some use to your master.”

I nodded and fished a bit of bacon from my
plate. After blowing on it to cool it, I offered it to Lady. She sniffed at it, then uncurled herself from my lap and padded away, so I ate it.

When I looked up, I realized that Nevery was standing in the doorway. “Well, boy,” he said mildly. “Eating all the bacon, are you?”

“Most of it,” Benet growled.

At the table, Keeston sat up straight and alert. “Are you ready to begin working, Magister Nevery?”

Nevery looked thoughtfully at him. Under his gaze, Keeston drooped. “I have business at Magisters Hall,” Nevery said after a moment. “You will stay here and continue collating and numbering my notes.” He switched his attention to me. I was eating fast, because I knew Nevery was not going to wait around, and I liked bacon almost as much as I liked biscuits. “And you, boy,” he said. “When you've finished eating all the bacon on the island, fetch your books. We're going to the academicos.”

N
every and I left the house. “You didn't tell Keeston about your locus magicalicus,” he said. He held onto his hat with one hand and steadied himself with his cane as we slipped and slid across the snowy courtyard,
buffeted by an icy wind.

I shook my head and pulled my scarf down to answer him. “I didn't think it was a good idea.”

“Because you still suspect Pettivox.”

I nodded.

“Well, boy, you do cling tightly to an idea once it enters your head.”

So did he.

We went down the tunnel stairs, out of the wind. Nevery paced on, me beside him, until we reached the Heartsease gate. In the faint light from the mouth of the tunnel behind us, I could see the carving in the stone beneath our feet: the wingèd hourglass.

Nevery shot me one of his keen-gleam looks. “You've seen me open the gates before, boy. Do you remember the opening spells?”

I nodded.

“Then open it.” Nevery pointed with his cane at the gate.

I dug the locus magicalicus out of my pocket.
In the dimness of the tunnel, it glowed, shreds of greenish light leaking out from between my fingers. I raised it and called out the opening word:
“Sessamay!”

A beam of white-bright light exploded from my locus stone and, trailing green sparks, crashed into the lock. The gate burst open, leaping back on its hinges, rebounding with a clang from the tunnel wall, and slamming shut. Bluish sparks ran twinkling up and down the bars and the lock spat out a few glowing embers.

The tunnel fell silent as the echoes faded away. Nevery shook his head. “Hmph,” he said. “Try again.”

I took a deep breath, told the magic to behave itself, and spoke the opening spell. As before, the bright lights, the crashing, the sparks, but this time, Nevery stuck his knob-headed cane through the opening before the gate could slam shut again.

We blasted through all the gates along the
tunnel to the academicos. At the stairs, Nevery leaned on his cane and looked down at me. “Now, boy. Go to school. I have a meeting to attend at Magisters Hall.”

Right. He swept away, the
tap tap
of his cane on the stone floor echoing down the tunnel. I went up the stairs to the academicos.

Rowan was waiting for me at the top, wrapped in a warm black coat with her gray student's robe peeking out from underneath it. Her head was swathed in a gray-and-green-striped woolen scarf, and the tip of her nose was red.

“G'morning, Ro,” I said.

She nodded and fell into step beside me. The freezing wind blew fiercely across the academicos courtyard; beyond the island, chunks of ice bobbed by on the surface of the rushing black water of the river. We put our heads down and pushed on; my hands and face felt frozen solid by the time we reached the entryway of the academicos and went in.

The gallery was crowded with gray-robed students, gathered here instead of out in the freezing courtyard, waiting for the first class of the morning to begin. A few of them glanced our way, then returned to their chattering conversations.

Rowan was unwrapping her scarf. “Do you have it with you?” she asked quietly.

My locus magicalicus, she meant. I nodded.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Leave it to Rowan to get right to the point. “Not tell anyone,” I said.

She nodded and unbuttoned her coat.

“Is she very angry?” I asked. “Your mother?”

Rowan looked away. “I don't know. Sometimes it's hard to tell.”

Around us, the groups of students started to break up and leave the gallery; the first class was about to begin. A student bumped into Rowan and apologized. We couldn't talk here.

Rowan shrugged and we walked together to
the apprentices' classroom, where Periwinkle taught us a spell for lighting candles. I figured I'd be able to use it if I ever needed to turn a candle into a smoldering puddle of wax.

 

When we came out of the classroom, a worried Brumbee was waiting. The duchess, he said, had sent for me.

“I've contacted Nevery, but he is busy at Magisters Hall and asked me to pass on to you a few words of advice. The first one I'm not sure I understand. He says to tell you that the duchess is like a puzzle lock.”

Tricky
, Nevery meant.
Be careful, and don't trust her
. I slipped my hand into my coat pocket, just to check on my locus magicalicus, though I knew it was there.

“His second, ah, request is that you don't do any magic. And next, don't tell her anything.”

“I don't know anything, Brumbee.”

“Ah, well, perhaps Nevery thinks you do.” He wrung his hands. “And last, he said to come home to Heartsease when she's finished with you.”

It sounded like he thought the duchess was going to eat me for dinner.