more than Rowan’s students and they’re tougher for it. The girl who killed Rolf … Umbra. Her strike was faster than anything I’ve seen since the Arena. We shouldn’t overlook these people, Ms. Richter. There’s real trouble brewing unless we break down the barriers between us.”
“I’ll look into it,” she promised. “Now you must be off. I feel better knowing that you have that ring, but be vigilant, Max. You must be wary of everyone you meet. Both of you.”
“Don’t worry about us,” said Max.
“We’ll be back well before the solstice,” said David, blushing as Ms. Richter embraced them and kissed each boy on the cheek. “Please consider the additional defenses I recommended. Tell Mina or my grandfather to help if the builders or Mystics are overtaxed.”
“Your grandfather doesn’t often do as he’s told,” said Ms. Richter, tapping her chin. “I don’t suppose you know where he is or what he’s doing.”
“I don’t ask and he doesn’t tell,” said David. He laughed. “Secrecy’s a family trait, I guess. Will you look in on Mina and my mother while we’re away? Ms. Kraken can instruct her in transmutation in my absence. She’s been anxious to learn, but I’ve had her focused on other things. Which reminds me …”
Producing a key from his pocket, David went over to a writing desk. Unlocking a small box, he retrieved a polished teardrop of lapis lazuli. Mina could hardly stand still as Max unfastened her magechain so that her teacher could thread the stone upon it.
“For identifying the ring,” said David. “Be a good girl while I’m gone. And stay out of my trove.”
Mina stiffened.
“I know that you’ve been at it, you little thief,” David chided, mussing her hair. “Breaking into my chest, trying on charms of every rank and putting on fashion shows for my mother. For shame, Mina.”
“A thief wouldn’t put them back,” retorted the girl, polishing her newly won stone and peering up at him affectionately. “Be safe, wise David and fierce Max. I will miss you.” Hugging them both farewell, the girl hurried off to her bedroom, stopping only to close Rolf’s eyes and place the coppers back atop the lids.
“What a strange child,” muttered the Director when the door had closed. “I don’t know whether she’s our savior or … something else.” She turned to Max. “You still have the
“Not on me,” replied Max. “But she’s in my room.”
“How fast do you think that ship can sail to Blys?” asked Ms. Richter. “We have only five weeks until Lord Naberius will expect an answer.”
“When David was aboard, I think she averaged sixteen knots,” he said, doing the math in his head. “Two weeks. Maybe a little longer.”
David shook his head. “Don’t fret, Ms. Richter,” he said, stuffing the portfolio into his enchanted pack. “Unless something goes very wrong, we’ll be in Blys by dawn.”
Pleasantly ignoring the Director’s shock and subsequent questions, David bade her farewell and whisked Max from the room. A minute later, the boys were cutting swiftly across Bacon Library.
“And how are we going to be in Blys by dawn?” Max hissed.
But David did not reply as they wove through tables and study carrels packed with students poring over manuscripts or staring into space and mouthing the words to various incantations. There were midterms this week. Exams seemed an absurd notion with Rowan tottering at the edge of war, but Max knew that Old College would have to be nearly overrun before Ms. Richter would cancel classes. Max was about to press David further when he caught the indignant eye of a Highland hare glaring at them from the librarian’s desk. Swallowing his question, he hurried after David and the two boys disappeared down a narrow stairwell beyond the stacks.
“We’re going to take my tunnel,” David explained, standing aside as a phalanx of anxious-looking First Years trudged past. “No seats in Bacon,” he warned them. “Try Archimedes—it’s usually less crowded.”
As the students moaned and reversed course, David slipped by them. Max followed but eyed each warily until he realized his ring had not grown warm.
“The tunnel will get us fairly close to your old farmhouse and Broadbrim Mountain,” David continued. “From there, it’s a two-week journey overland to Piter’s Folly.”
“What the heck is Piter’s Folly?” asked Max.
“It’s all in the dossier,” said David, patting his pack and continuing down the stairs. “Do you need anything from outside our room? Anything from the Red Branch vault?”
Max shook his head. He’d already borrowed a longsword from the Red Branch’s treasury as a less dangerous alternative to the
“Do you have any money on you?” asked David as they approached the dormitory levels.
“A few lunes and coppers.”
“That should be enough,” remarked David, descending yet another flight of stairs until they were below the ground floor.
“Is the tunnel down here?” Max wondered. “We haven’t packed yet.”
“The tunnel’s in our room,” David explained. “We need to recruit someone first, and he’s usually playing cards right about now. What time is it?”
“A little past midnight.”
“Good,” David chuckled. “Things will be in full swing.”
Leaving the staircase, David hurried down a narrow, curving hallway of rough stone. Max had not spent much time in the Manse’s underground levels—he was not even sure how many there were. It was plainly evident that nonhuman creatures lived down here. The corridor had a barnlike smell, an aroma of sawdust, wet grass, and warm fur. Torchlight flickered on many doors of different shapes and sizes—oval doors with brass moldings, square panels with centered rings, and narrow porticos whose blue pillars were marked with elegant runes and inelegant graffiti. David went to the nearest and knocked.
The door cracked open, allowing cigar smoke to trickle out into the hallway. Max heard music within, the tinkling of glasses, and raucous laughter. “The games are full, gentlemen,” said a brusque voice with a French accent. The door promptly shut in the sorcerer’s face. Narrowing his eyes, David knocked again.
“We want the smee.”
The door swung open. As smoke plumed into the hallway, Max looked down and saw a raffish red-capped lutin puffing on a miniature cigar. Flicking ash from his velvet lapel, the elfin creature gazed back into the hazy room and gave a derisive snort.
“You are welcome to him. I will even waive admission.”
Ducking beneath the archway, Max followed David into a small casino in which dozens of patrons were playing games of chance or quaffing drinks at a travertine bar. Lutins were notorious gamblers, but Max saw a host of other creatures in attendance. A pair of satyrs had joined several lutins at a poker table while a jostling throng of domovoi was crowded around the craps table, shouting, stamping, and pleading with every roll of the dice. Max heard the smee’s theatrical baritone well before he saw him.
They found the yamlike creature sitting beneath a potted palm, where he was propped on a striped chaise and sipping rum punch through a long straw. Although he had no visible eyes, the smee was avidly following the action at a roulette wheel via a mirror angled above the table. The ball skittered across a blur of numbers, bouncing along until the wheel finally slowed and it settled into a numbered pocket. Several players cheered. The smee drooped like a soggy croissant and sipped dejectedly at his drink.
“One left, Toby,” called a pretty faun at the table. She was apparently placing the limbless smee’s bets on his behalf. “What you want to do?”
“That’s your gratuity,” he sulked before suddenly perking up. “Unless! Unlessss the lady cares to let it ride on a romantic journey of chance and excitement?”
Rolling her eyes, the faun slipped the chip within her purse and checked her makeup.
“The game is rigged!” roared the smee, knocking over his drink with an angry butt of his dusky head. The glass tottered off the table and shattered. “Scoundrels one and all, you’d cheat a hero of his … of his …” He trailed off, apparently at a loss.
“I believe the word he’s searching for is
