I used to see a counsellor and a speech therapist. “Use your words, Simon.” I got so bloody sick of hearing that. It was so much easier to just take what I wanted instead of asking for it. Or thump whoever was hurting me, even if they thumped me right back.
I barely spoke the first month I was at Watford. It was easy not to; no one else around here shuts up.
Miss Possibelf and a few of the other teachers noticed and started giving me private lessons. Talking-out-loud lessons. Sometimes the Mage would sit in on these, rubbing his beard and staring out the window. “Use your words!”—I imagined myself shouting at him. And then I imagined him telling me that it was a mistake to bring me here.
Anyway, I’m still not good with words, and I’m shit with my wand, so I get by with memorization. And sincerity—that helps, believe it or not. When in doubt, I just do whatever Penny tells me to.
I work my way carefully through the Catacombs, doing my level best with the spells I can make work for me.
I find hidden doorways inside hidden doorways. I find a treasure chest that’s snoring deeply. I find a painting of a girl with blond hair and tears pouring down her cheeks, actually pouring, like a GIF carved into the wall. A younger me would have stayed to figure out her story. A younger me would have turned this into an adventure.
I keep looking for Baz.
Or a clue.
Every night I turn back when I get to the end of my rope.
18
LUCY
Do you know these walls are a thousand years old?
There are spirits moving through them who speak languages no one is left to understand. But it doesn’t matter, I guess. Nobody hears them.
The walls are the same as when I walked them. The Chapel. The Tower. The drawbridge.
The wolves are new. The fish-beasts. Where did Davy find them, I wonder? What spell did he cast to bring them here? And what does he think they’ll prevent?
“Paranoid,” Mit always said. “He thinks everyone’s out to get him.”
“I think a few people might actually be out to get him,” I argued.
“Only because he’s such a spiteful git,” she said.
“He cares too much.”
“About himself? Agreed.”
“About everything,” I said. “He can’t let any of it go.”
“You’ve been listening to him for too long, Lucy.”
“I feel sorry for him.… And if you’d listen to him, you’d realize that he’s making sense. Why can’t pixies and centaurs with mage heritage come to Watford? And why did my brother have to stay home? Just because he isn’t powerful?”
“Your brother’s an idiot,” she said. “All he cares about is Def Leppard.”
“You know how much it hurt my mother when he was rejected. He has a wand, and he doesn’t even know how to use it. My parents almost got a divorce over it.”
“I know.” Mitali softened. “I’m sorry. But the school’s only so big. It can’t take everyone.”
“We could make it bigger, Davy says so. Or we could build a new school. Imagine that—schools all over the country for anyone with magic.”
She frowned. “But the point of Watford is that it’s the best. The best education for the best magicians.”
“Is that the point of Watford? Then Davy’s right. It is elitist.”
Mit sighed.
“Davy says we’re getting weaker,” I said. “As a society. That the wild, dark things will wipe us from the earth and let it reclaim our magic.”
“Does he tell you that they live under your bed?”
“I’m being serious,” I said.
“I know,” she said sadly. “I wish you weren’t. What does Davy expect you to do? What does he expect from any of us?”
I leaned towards her and whispered my answer—“Revolution.”
* * *
I’ve been wandering.
Trying to find my way to you.
The walls are the same. And the Chapel. And the Tower.
The neckties are thinner. The skirts are shorter. But the colours are the same.…
I can’t help but feel proud of Davy now—you’ll think that’s funny coming from me, but I can’t help but feel proud of him.
He managed it. His revolution.
He opened these doors to every child blessed with magic.
19
SIMON
It’s almost Halloween before I finally talk to the Mage.
He calls for me himself. A robin flies into Greek and drops a note onto my desk. The Mage often has a bird or two flapping around him. Robins, mostly. And wrens and sparrows. (Like Snow White.) He’d rather cast A little bird told me than use his mobile.
When class is over, I head towards an outbuilding at the far end of the grounds, up against the outer wall. There are stables back there that have been turned into a garage and barracks.
His Men are outside—Penny says she’d like the Mage’s Men better if there were a few women among them—and they’re gathered around a big green truck I’ve never seen before, something like a military truck with canvas walls. One of them is holding a metal box. They’re taking turns reaching for it and watching their hands pass right through.
“Simon,” the Mage says, stepping out of the garage. He puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me away from the truck. “Here you are.”
“I would have come right away, sir, but I was in class. And the Minotaur said you would have sent a larger bird if it were an emergency.”