The Maelstrom

exercises beyond Southgate.”

Max glanced at Omar’s magechain and blinked at the brilliant aquamarine at its center.

“A full-fledged aeromancer!” he exclaimed. “Look at you!”

Reddening, Omar gazed down at the glittering stone. He downplayed its significance, joking about “battlefield promotions” and the recent spate of advancements, but he nevertheless looked pleased. Very few Fifth Years could claim official Agent or Mystic status, and the honor was far greater than the ever-humble Omar would admit. With a promise to stop by Bob’s if he could, Omar departed and Max entered his room.

To his surprise, David was home. His roommate was occupying one of the armchairs on the lower level, scratching at his severed stump and staring at the fire. He glanced up as Max descended the stairs, muttered something about “muddy boots,” and returned to his thoughts.

“We passed!” Max crowed, padding back down in his stocking feet.

“I heard,” David groused. “I’d imagine everyone in the dormitory heard. So the troops have ‘won’ the right to occupy a muddy trench in harm’s way. An odd thing to celebrate, but I guess people will jump at anything so long as they’re convinced it’s prestigious.”

“Nice to see you, too,” said Max, plopping down in the opposite chair.

Slumping back, David gazed wearily up at the stars beyond the Observatory’s glass.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “That was rude. Truly, I’m sorry … I’m just tired and more than a little frustrated.”

“What’s bugging you?”

“Oh, just that thing,” he sighed, gesturing absently beneath Max’s chair.

Leaning forward, Max spied a pair of large, undulating antennae between his feet.

The ensuing shriek—both its pitch and volume—were unprecedented, as was Max’s Amplified leap to the upper level. Clinging to the railing, Max shouted furiously at his roommate while the pinlegs scuttled out from beneath the toppled chair and meandered about in a state of apparent confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was under my chair?”

“I’m sorry,” yelled David, also in a state of apparent confusion. “I forgot!”

“What’s it even doing in our room?”

“I needed a break from the Archives!”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was under my chair?” Max roared again, his rage and revulsion coming full circle.

Pleading with his friend to come back down, David righted the chair and picked up the pinlegs to demonstrate that there was really nothing to fear as the creature was on a docile setting. This did not have the desired effect, as the pinlegs flailed its many limbs about while clicking its maxillae and issuing a high-pitched chittering. Max groaned and clutched the railing tightly.

But reason—or at least a willingness to conquer rational terror—prevailed and Max crept back down the stairs. By now, David had released the pinlegs, which promptly moved away to settle on the fireplace mantel like some glistening Jurassic horror. Even as Max inched forward, he saw that the chitinous plates along its back were covered in faint, glowing pentacles.

“Why did those appear?” he asked suspiciously.

“Heat illuminates them and the hearth is warm,” replied David, settling back into his seat. “Nothing to worry about. Again, I’m very sorry I didn’t say anything.”

“Neither did Ghollah,” muttered Max, glaring at his ring and easing back down.

“Remember that this is just a prototype,” said David. “There is no demon—or any part of a demon—inside. It hasn’t been paired with a dreadnought.”

“What the heck is a dreadnought?”

“That’s what Varga calls the creatures that the pinlegs summon. He’s had glimpses of them in his visions … says they’re bigger than Old Tom. I’d love to speak with someone who’s seen one in person, but we can’t find any. Nobody who has seen a dreadnought summoned has survived to tell about it.”

“What about that Workshop engineer we kidnapped?” asked Max. “He must know something.”

“Unfortunately, no,” replied David. “The Workshop partitioned the project so that only one or two people have detailed knowledge about all the components. Dr. Bechel only worked on the pinlegs. He knows very little about the dreadnoughts or the process by which the Workshop splits an imp’s spirit in two.…”

Unscrewing a nearby coffee thermos, David sniffed at its contents, sighed, and set it back down.

“Honestly, Max, I’ve never been so frustrated. I feel like I’ve been handed a big jumble of knots to unravel, and every time I manage one, I find that three more have appeared. The Director, Ms. Kraken … everyone’s counting on me to solve this, but I just don’t know. I’ve hit a dead end.”

“Impossible,” said Max, trying to cheer him up. “You’re a genius!”

“Charitable,” said David. “Even if that’s true, I’m not alone. The Workshop has more than its fair share. For example, I have tried everything I can think of to confuse this pinlegs’ settings—block incoming signals, manipulate outgoing signals.…” He trailed off, looking utterly worn and dejected. “Miss Boon is beside herself. Varga too. Dr. Bechel says that they incorporated a slew of poison pills to guard against tampering.”

“What’s a poison pill?”

“A clever defense tactic,” replied David wearily. “Every time we try to crack the pinlegs’ symbolic code, that code becomes twice as complicated to break. We’re now at a point where it could literally take millions of years to run through the current permutations and we’d only be digging ourselves a deeper hole.

I’m ready to scream. We’re all so close to the problem that we’re not even thinking clearly anymore. I came up here to get away from the Archives, sit by the fire, and clear my head. I’m tired of staring at runeglass.”

“How’s Miss Boon doing?” asked Max delicately.

“Better now that it looks like Grendel’s going to make it, but I’m not certain anyone took the attack on you harder than she did. Ms. Richter has absolutely forbidden her to go searching for Cooper. Miss Boon’s been trying to help with the pinlegs, but it’s hard for her to focus. Any sign of Cooper?”

“No,” said Max. “Umbra goes out searching every night, but no luck.”

“Umbra goes out searching,” David repeated with peculiar emphasis.

Max had not yet told David of Umbra’s true identity. He’d only seen his roommate once since the attack in the tent. There had been so much happening that Max hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with his friend in private. And thus he wondered at the wry twinkle in David’s pale, almost colorless eyes.

“What do you know?” asked Max, shifting uneasily in his seat.

“Well,” said David, betraying a ghost of a smile, “I don’t know anything for certain. I can only say that Max McDaniels has been trying very hard to compose some poetry and has been struggling to come up with anything to rhyme with Scathach. He does seem to have the ‘roses are red, violets are blue’ part down pretty well. It’s appeared in every draft.”

Max turned fire red. “I was just using that to get the ideas flowing,” he snapped, before turning about to find that his waste-basket had been moved. “Did you go through my garbage?”

David looked sheepish. “I did,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to, but the pinlegs knocked it over and all these papers spilled out. I was cleaning them up when I glimpsed a few lines. I knew it was wrong to read them, but …” He winced. “Not my proudest moment.”

Digesting this, Max settled slowly back in his chair. “Oh, it’s all right,” he sighed. “I’ve snooped in your stuff plenty of times. I guess the real question is whether you think there’s anything I can use?”

“I’d say you’re building a strong foundation for future success,” replied David diplomatically. “Anyway, tell me about Scathach.”

Max did so, unable to keep the grin off his face. “It’s hard to concentrate when I’m around her,” he confessed. “But it’s even harder to pretend she’s Umbra in front of everyone else.”

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy,” David reflected. “Perhaps love does conquer all—or at least fear of the Atropos and the threat of invasion. I always suspected there was something between you two.”

“Please,” Max scoffed. “I hardly ever talked about her.”

“Exactly,” said David with a knowing grin. “Anyway, I look forward to meeting her. I only got a distant glimpse of her at Rodruban. Is she the reason behind the Trench Rats’ recent success?”

“One of them,” said Max. “But lots of people have made the difference.”