SIMON
I land on the Great Lawn at sunset and walk across the drawbridge. I see the Mage’s Jeep, and Dr. Wellbelove’s Volvo, and I wonder if they’re here—or if they’re off somewhere fighting. Actually fighting. Blades out, wands drawn. I don’t even know where to look for the war if it isn’t at Watford.
I’m headed for the Mage’s office when I see the light at the top of the Chapel.
It’s in a tower I’ve never seen lit before. I’ve never even noticed the stained glass there—it looks like a crown, or a cluster of stars.
As I’m looking, the windows blaze with light.
AGATHA
The Mage lurches up onto his hands and knees and starts casting spells. “Please, please, please! Let me, let me, let me!”
“Hell hath no fury!” the woman shouts. Fire pours from her staff and hits him in the chest. I’ve never seen anything like that, not even from Simon. The light from the fire finally illuminates her face—it’s Ebb. The goatherd.
“Run, Agatha!” she says.
But the Mage has fallen on top of me. “I can’t!” I sob.
The Mage raises his wand to cast at her, and I hit his hand as hard as I can. His wand goes flying, and he rolls away from me to get it.
“Run for your life!” Ebb shouts, and I do. I scrabble to my feet and run from the room like there’s a jet stream at my back.
I run through the smoke and darkness out into the light and snow, and then I keep running.
81
EBB
He would have killed that girl.
I don’t suppose I had a choice but to come back.
THE MAGE
There’s no time.
The Humdrum is devouring us.
And today’s the day—today is a day that my magic might work. Holidays are auspicious, the solstice lingers.
Today is the day.
This is the hour.
If only Simon were here.…
I thought we’d done it—at great cost, yes—but I thought we’d done it, Lucy. We’d brought the Greatest Mage.
He is the greatest mage.
I hid him among the Normals, so that no one would know. So that no one would ask. I hid him until he was ready. Until he called me to him, just like every prophecy said he would!
I didn’t know that he was broken.
I couldn’t see that he was a cracked vessel.
Maybe it was too much power for a babe to hold—maybe that was my mistake.
If he were here, I could fix it. I have different spells now. (I’d been looking too far in the past; I should have realized that new power must come from new psalms.) I have a chance now, I could relieve him.
But Simon isn’t here. And I can’t wait for him. The Humdrum won’t wait. The Pitches are on their way—
This woman will have to do. She’s the brightest star in the Realm, next to Simon.
Our Simon.
I can take her power.
I just have to kill her first.
EBB
I don’t suppose I ever had the choices I thought I did.
THE MAGE
She’s all brute force and ’90s clichés.
I’ve seen her weave spells like a master on the goats and the grounds. But in battle, Ebb’s a cannon at a sword fight. No wonder Simon follows her around like a lost kid.
I’d thought about making her redundant over the years—what does Watford need with goats?—but she’s powerful, and she protects the school when I’m away.
I wouldn’t sacrifice her today if the fate of our world didn’t hang in the balance.
EBB
I’m out of practice.
I was never in practice, with spells like this. I know ten spells to turn water into whisky, and I can bring the goats in with a turn of phrase. But I never saw the point of all this.
Even when Nico and me would get in a dust-up, I’d usually settle him with Don’t worry, be happy or Hush little baby.
My only chance now is to overpower Davy.
I throw, “Head over heels!” and “Hit the floor!”—spells I learned in pub brawls. The Mage does something I’ve never seen before—obeying the spells instead of letting them hit him.
He looks like a madman. His shirt is torn open, and he’s covered in muck. Who knows what dark magic he’s about—he still hasn’t said what he wants from me. We’re circling each other like two wolves.
“You’re no match for me, Ebb,” he says, then shouts, “Resistance is futile!”
I absorb the spell. I can do that sometimes, let a spell burn out in my magic. “Bend over backwards!” I shout back desperately, when I’m able.
The Mage swings back into the ground like he’s made of rubber—then picks himself up, sighing.
THE MAGE
She caught me by surprise with that one, and my head is ringing. “I’m sorry, Ebb. But I don’t have time for this. I need your power—the World of Mages needs your power.”
“I’m not a fighter,” she says.
“I know. But I am.” I step closer. “Make this sacrifice for your people.”
“What do you want from me, Davy?” She’s scared. I’m sorry for that. A hank of blond hair covers one of her eyes.
“Your power. I need your power.”
“I’ll give it to you. I don’t want it.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” I say. “I have to take it.”
She steels her jaw, holding her shepherd’s staff between us. “Helter skelter!” she screams—and the room goes mad.