The Magic Thief (23 page)

Reaching the device, I scrambled up the stone base it rested on, then climbed onto a piston. The metal sparked under my fingers. One of the minions, coming after me, jumped for my foot, but I reached up to a gear and pulled myself out of his reach. I climbed higher, over tubes, clinging to hoses, until I reached the bulging storage tank.

Out in the workroom, Nevery and Pettivox were shouting at each other, their voices echoing off the stone walls. Thunder crashed again and the clouds opened, releasing a torrent of freezing rain.

Blinking water from my eyes, I climbed higher. The rain hit the device and turned to ice; I hung on with numb fingers. A minion climbed up from below me. Another one shouted and threw a bottle; it shattered just over my head, and I shut my eyes as shards of glass rained down.

Opening my eyes, I pulled my locus magicalicus
from my coat pocket. The jewel glowed in the stormy light.

I didn't know any spells for this. I rested my forehead against the freezing copper skin of the storage tank and gently tapped my locus stone against the tank. It made a tinny chiming sound.

Come out
, I told the magic.
Just come through the stone
.

Inside its prison, the magic strained; I felt it, confined, desperate, dying.

Another bottle shattered beside my head. The minion climbing up from below grabbed my ankle and pulled. I slipped and almost dropped my locus stone, then gripped an icy cogwheel with my other hand and held on. The minion pulled harder; I kicked him, and then I kicked him again. Screaming, the minion fell away, bouncing off the side of the device before crashing to the floor.

I pulled myself back up to the storage tank. With shaking hands, I moved my locus magicalicus over the surface of the tank and held it against
one of the riveted seams. “Come out,” I whispered. “Here's a good place.” Again I tapped my locus stone against the seam. The magic strained against the tank. The riveted seam creaked and bulged, but held.

“Here, magic,” I whispered again. Within the tank, the magic stilled, shifted, and focused itself on my locus magicalicus, on me. It was like looking up at a night sky full of stars and having the stars suddenly look back.

I closed my eyes.
Calm breath, still hands
. I thought my way through my locus stone and into the device, and opened the lock.
Here. Come out.

The room held its breath. I heard no shouting, no thunder or wind, no sizzling bolts of lightning. Just a black and velvety silence that filled my head and stilled my breath.

The riveted seam along the side of the tank bulged, then, like cloth ripping, split. With the crash of thunder and lightning striking at the same time, the magic burst from the device and through my locus stone, roaring through me. It
filled my sight, a wave of flashing, crashing light, sparks, blazing white flames, a thousand stars. I clung to my locus magicalicus, and the magic kept coming, pouring out until it filled the workroom, then exploding upward, blowing the top off the device, smashing through Dusk House, fountaining out into the dark night. In my hand, my locus magicalicus disintegrated into a puff of sparkling dust. I was flung away like a leaf in the wind.

I expected to be dead.

But instead everything went still. Inside my head, the magic said something, its words a deep, rumbling hum inside my skull and down in the heavier bones of my arms and legs. I floated, wrapped in a warm and welcoming blanket of light.

And then everything went dark.

I
woke up. Even with my eyes closed, I knew where I was; I recognized the musty-dusty smell of my attic room. But I was lying in a bed covered with blankets, and the room was warm.

My locus magicalicus was gone. I had a hollow, dark, echoing place inside me
where it had been. But the magic was safe, at least. I felt it in the air, all around me, even warmer than the blankets.

I opened my eyes. Yes, my room. I was in a bed, and a fire burned in the hearth. Bright sunlight shone in through the windows and lay across the floor, shining on my dragon painting. In a chair beside the bed sat Nevery, his head tilted back, asleep.

Carefully, I sat up, my back to the wall beside my bed. That was enough; the room spun around me and I felt like I might fall over.

My movement woke Nevery. He tipped his head down, blinking, and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he looked over at me. His eyes widened. “Well, boy?” he said. His voice sounded rusty.

I nodded. The room wavered, and I closed my eyes. I felt Nevery's hand under my chin. I opened my eyes again. Nevery frowned down at me. “I'm all right,” I said.

He looked me over, then let me go and sat
back down in his chair. “Do you remember what happened?”

Talking was better than nodding. “Yes,” I said. Actually, no. “What happened to Pettivox? And to Underlord Crowe?”

“Hmmm. You should have told me from the start that Crowe is your uncle.”

Yes, I should have. But I didn't want to talk about it.

Nevery waited for a moment, then went on. “Pettivox disappeared after the device was destroyed and is presumed dead. Crowe is in the duchess's prison cells, awaiting her justice.”

Oh. I wondered if she'd send him to the gallows tree. I doubted it. She preferred to exile people. I felt suddenly very tired.

“Benet is well,” Nevery went on. “And Keeston.” He said something more, but my eyes closed and I started falling sideways. Nevery stopped talking and caught me, and gently eased me down.

The ladder up to my room creaked and I heard Benet's deep voice.

“No, he's asleep,” Nevery said.

And then I was.

 

When I woke up again, the room was dark except for a dying fire in the hearth, and Keeston was the one asleep in the chair beside my bed. And I felt a little better.

I sat up and the room didn't spin. My lost locus magicalicus was still an empty, aching space inside me. But I didn't want to think about it. I was thirsty. In the shadows across the room was a small table with Benet's knitting on it, along with a few teacups and a jug, which might have water in it. I swung my legs out of bed and stood up. A mistake. The room started swirling around, and then I found myself getting a close-up look at the floor.

Keeston sat up with a jerk, and I heard someone climbing up the ladder. The trapdoor opened and Benet bulled his way in, holding a candle.

“I'm all right,” I said. “I just fell over.”

Benet set the candle on the table, then stomped over, picked me up, and put me back into bed, ducking his head to keep it from bumping the sloped ceiling. Then he glared at Keeston. “You were told to watch him.”

Blinking, Keeston gripped his locus magicalicus. “S-sorry,” he said.

Benet swung around to glare at me. “You hungry?”

Yes, I was. Ravenous.

“Stay in bed,” Benet ordered. He pointed at Keeston. “Watch him.” Then he went down the ladder.

I sat up and leaned against the wall.

“You're supposed to stay in bed,” Keeston said, nervous.

“I am in bed,” I said.

“No,” Keeston said. “You should be lying down.”

I shrugged. “I feel better sitting up.” Which
wasn't exactly true, but I'd need to sit up anyway when Benet brought food. I looked Keeston over; he seemed tired and twitchy. “Are you all right?” I asked.

He flinched. He was still clutching his locus magicalicus. Right. I knew what he was afraid of. His master's master was in the duchess's prison; maybe he thought he would be arrested, too. “Don't worry,” I said. “Nevery will tell everyone that you helped us. And he knows you didn't know what Pettivox was up to.”

Keeston stared at me. “But I did know.”

“Not everything,” I said. “You didn't know about that device.”

He relaxed just a little. “No, I didn't.” We sat in silence for a few minutes. The candle flame flickered, sending dark shadows wavering over the walls. Then he asked, in a rush, “Do you think Magister Nevery would let me come and be his apprentice?”

The question dropped into the hole inside me
that my locus stone had left and echoed around. I wasn't a wizard anymore; without a locus magicalicus, I wasn't even an apprentice. I swallowed down a lump of unhappiness. “I don't know,” I managed to say. “Nevery didn't like having me as an apprentice.”

“Yes he does,” Keeston said. “Will you ask him for me?”

“You should ask him yourself,” I said. He might even say yes.

At that moment, Benet climbed into the room, carrying a tray, which he set down on the table after pushing aside the teacups and jug. He'd brought another candle, too, so the room was brighter.

He gave me a biscuit and a cup of tea and I ate them, but they didn't fill up the hole inside.

 

After a few days, I was well enough to look after myself. Late in the morning, I got out of bed and put on my clothes, and, carrying my boots, made
my way downstairs to the kitchen. Benet was there, cutting up apples.

“You're up,” he said.

I nodded. Lady uncurled herself from the hearthstone and padded over to me, purring. I set down my boots and sat beside the fire so she could climb into my lap.

“You going to put those on?” Benet said. I looked up. He was pointing at my boots.

“They're too small for my feet,” I said. The black sweater fit better, too; I must have grown while I was in bed.

“You'll have to have new ones,” Benet said. He set aside his bowl of apple slices and started rolling out pastry.

So Benet thought I would be staying at Heartsease. I wasn't so sure Nevery would agree. Without a locus stone, I couldn't be his apprentice anymore, and he knew I wouldn't be a servant. And I wasn't a thief or a lockpick; I couldn't go back to living on the streets of the Twilight.

“Master Nevery said if you were up today, you should find him at the academicos library.”

But I wouldn't be able to get through the tunnel gates to reach the academicos. Drats.

“He left a keystone for you.” Benet pointed with a floury finger at my coat, which hung from a nail beside the door. The stone was in the pocket, I guessed.

“Thanks,” I said. I pushed Lady off my lap and got to my feet and, after putting on my coat, went down the stairs and outside. The sun shone brightly and the air smelled fresh, though it was still chilly. All the snow had melted. The big tree across the courtyard was empty of birds, but the twigs at the ends of its black branches were tipped with red, swelling buds. Winter was over, at last.

Which was a good thing. I wasn't used to being barefoot. Crossing the courtyard, the cobbles felt cold and wet under my feet.

I walked slowly through the tunnels, using the keystone to get through the gates. The magic leaped from the stone to the locks, fresh and
sparkling. The magical being was feeling better, I figured.

Before climbing the stairs to the academicos, I had to rest, leaning against the tunnel wall. I got to the top of the stairs and stopped to catch my breath. Across the courtyard, gray-robed students were standing in groups, talking and playing games, basking in the end-of-winter sunshine. Rowan left a group and came over to me; she was wearing her gray student's robe and carrying her book bag.

She gave me a hug. She was only a little taller than I was, I realized; I really had grown. I rested my head on her shoulder for a moment.

She stepped back and looked me over. “I see you've decided not to wear your shoes, Connwaer.”

“My feet are too big for them,” I said.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she said. “My mother would like you to come and see her.”

All right. But now I had to find Nevery in the library.

We turned to walk across the courtyard to the
academicos. As Rowan and I passed, the students stopped what they were doing and stared. I put my head down and kept walking; Rowan raised her chin and looked proud and sharp, like the first day I'd met her.

We went up the stairs and inside.

Brumbee was standing before his office, speaking with Periwinkle. When he saw us, he left her and came over.

“My dear Conn,” he said, smiling. “So glad to see you're feeling better. We were all quite worried.” He looked down at my feet. “I see you're not wearing any shoes…?”

“My boots are too small,” I said.

“Ah. Well, I'm sure Nevery will see to it. Now, as soon as you're well enough, we expect to see you back in your classes again.”

He did?

“I have class now,” Rowan said. “I'll have somebody row me to Heartsease later to catch you up on what you missed, all right?”

“Thanks,” I said. Rowan smiled, hefted her book bag over her shoulder, and left.

Brumbee beamed. “Good! Now, Nevery is up in the library, if you're looking for him.”

As I climbed the stairs to the library, the academicos students started streaming in from the courtyard for their first class, chattering, filling the gallery with noise.

I opened the door to the library, went inside, and closed it. Nevery was at a table near the window. At the sound of the door closing, he looked up and nodded.

I waited by the door while he gathered up his knob-headed cane and a canvas book bag, buttoned up his robe, put on his hat, and came across to meet me.

We stepped out into the hallway. A few students edged past where we stood, shooting us curious, sideways glances.

Nevery leaned on his cane and frowned down at me. “Well, come along,” he said. He turned and
started down the stairs, step step
tap
, step step
tap
.

I followed, but didn't say anything.

We came to the front entry of the academicos and went out and down the steps to the wide courtyard. All the students had gone in.

Nevery dropped the book bag at his feet and cleared his throat. “You look like you should still be in bed.”

I wrapped my arms around myself. Even though the sun was warm, the breeze from the river was chilly. “I'm all right, Nevery,” I said.

“So you keep saying, boy. But I don't think you are.”

I looked down at my bare toes.

Nevery sighed. “You lost your locus magicalicus.”

I nodded.

“And your boots, apparently.”

“I've grown out of them,” I said.

“Yes, I expect you have,” he said. With his cane, he poked the bag at his feet. “Look in there.”

I went down on my knees and rummaged in the bag. “This?” I held up a book.

“No,” Nevery said. The breeze gusted, and he clapped his hand to his head to keep his hat from blowing away. “The robe.”

Every wizard and apprentice wore a robe; all the students at the academicos had one, too, like Rowan, gray with a patch on the sleeve which indicated their family or house. In the bag, among the books, a wax-stoppered bottle, and a few stray papers, was a robe. I pulled it out, stood, and handed it to Nevery.

He handed it back to me. “It's for you, boy,” he said. “You're a student and an apprentice. You need a robe.”

Oh. I took off my coat and slipped the robe on over my sweater. Its gray wool was moth-eaten and spattered with scorch marks, and the ragged hem brushed the ground. On one sleeve was a patch, embroidered in faded blue thread with the same hourglass with wings symbol that was
etched into the stone before the Heartsease tunnel gate and stamped in gold on the front cover of Nevery's chronicle of locus stones.

Nevery leaned over and touched the patch. “The wingèd hourglass. My family's crest.”

The robe had been his when he was a student.

Carefully, I buttoned the front of the robe and rolled up the sleeves, which hung down over my hands.

“One thing I'm sure as sure about, Conn,” Nevery said, his voice gruff. “You are a wizard, and you will find another locus magicalicus.”

I took a deep breath. Yes. Yes, Nevery was right.

I was a wizard. I would study at the academicos and learn every spell I could, and I would try to convince the magisters that the magic was a living being. And one day, if I didn't find a locus magicalicus in Wellmet, I would go out into the world to search for it.

“Well, my boy,” Nevery said. “Let's go home.”
He set off across the empty courtyard, and after a moment I followed.

I ran to catch up. “Nevery,” I said, “I think I'm going to need a room to work in.”

He strode on. “A workroom, boy?”