“To say the least.” I wasn’t sure why I should say this to Magnus of all people, but there was something genuine in his interest. “Rook was the one steady part of my childhood.”
“In that case, he’s a lucky young man,” Magnus said. “Anyone who could be so indispensible to you would be fortunate indeed. Forgive me?”
I felt strangely hot. Were young men allowed to give such compliments? “Of course.”
“Anyway, I don’t mean to push in where I’m unwelcome. It’s just that I haven’t been this excited since the Christmas when I was eight years old.”
“Why?” I found myself smiling.
“Because our cook made two plum puddings at my request. I was sick for days, but, oh, it was worth it.”
“No,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I mean, why are you excited now?”
“Because you’re going to be a lady sorcerer. I think the idea of women doing proper magic is brilliant. Those stuffy Order meetings and congregations will liven up considerably with a few petticoats thrown into the mix.” We walked slowly down the hall toward my door.
“Well, it sounds as if you take the concept of female sorcery quite seriously.”
“I never take anything seriously, but I am delighted by the thought of ladies working magic. Women raised me, you know. My mother and my grandmother, God rest her soul. I had a governess, Miss Watkins, whom I simply adored. Ladies are so much cleverer than gentlemen. They enjoy good conversation and great fun, two things without which I cannot live.”
“Life truly is just a game to you, isn’t it?” I said, almost impressed.
“I’m always on the lookout for a worthy opponent.” He laughed as we stopped outside my room. “Look, I believe we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s reintroduce ourselves, eh?” He bowed low before me. “I am Mr. Julian Magnus, your obedient, humble, and ever-loyal servant, Miss…?”
“Henrietta Howel.” I was not going to laugh.
“An honor, Miss Howel. Please, you may address me as Mr. Magnus, or just The Great. That’s the Latin for Magnus.”
“I knew that.”
“You are brilliant. Now I take my leave. Adieu. Bonsoir. Good evening.” He kissed my hand, his lips soft against my skin. Then he was gone.
I would remember how exasperating he could be the minute I finally stopped smiling.
Gwendolyn Agrippa sat before the mirror, crying and running an ivory comb through her fine hair. I reached out to touch her shoulder, but she pulled away, her face twisted in fury.
Tap, tap, tap.
The old magician with the dark skin and the multicolored coat sat at the foot of my bed.
“I knew it,” he said.
This was clearly a dream. Everything in the room lay faded in mist, except for my visitor.
The magician wagged his finger at me. “I knew.”
“Knew what?” I asked.
“Go to Ha’penny Row. Buy a totem for the answer.”
Tap, tap, tap.
“Stop tapping on my bedpost.”
The magician shrugged. “I’m not. Perhaps someone’s at the door.”
—
I WOKE TO SUNLIGHT STREAMING THROUGH the window. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and froze when I heard tapping.
“Hello?” I called, but no one answered. It sounded like something hitting my bedpost. Turning my head, I found a stick of polished wood lying on the pillow next to me, utterly still. I pulled the blankets to my chin. “Hello?” I said again, like a fool. But what else does one say to a mysterious object?
The stave was perhaps two feet long…a stave…
“Are you mine?” I whispered, taking it in hand. I swore I felt the briefest flicker of a pulse, as if it were some living creature. At my touch, the wood stretched and squeezed, like taking a damp cloth by both ends and wringing it. When the wood relaxed, it no longer appeared smooth and polished. An unseen hand had etched the sorcerer sigils for fire, water, earth, and air into the wood. A five-pointed star appeared at the handle. A tendril of carved ivy leaves wound along the stave’s length.
My hands trembled as I traced the images. It was mine. God, it was mine.
I threw the blankets back and leaped to the floor, twirling the stave around and around in my hands.
Lilly entered with a tea tray and gasped.
I bowed it toward her, and a gust of wind erupted through the room, blowing her skirts above her knees. She jumped and a cup fell off the tray and smashed to pieces.
“I’m so sorry!” I threw the stave onto the bed and went to help her.
“Quite all right, miss.” She bent to pick up the pieces, joining me crouched on the floor. When our eyes met, we burst out laughing. I had a magic stave. What was a broken cup compared to that?
—
LILLY FOUND ME AN APPLE-GREEN DAY dress that suited my complexion a bit better than the blue. After she’d made me presentable, I took the stave and went downstairs to the breakfast room. Blackwood, Dee, and Magnus were already there. Blackwood stood by the window, sipping a cup of tea. He wasn’t wearing a jacket; it was shocking, seeing him in only his shirtsleeves. Dee ate his eggs in silence. Magnus was slumped over in another chair, asleep.
Blackwood turned from the window and saw me. “Miss Howel,” he said, rushing to get his coat off a chair. “Forgive me. I forgot we have a woman in the house now. I only just got in from my training.” Fully dressed, he nodded at the others. Dee stood, and Magnus blinked awake. “Did you sleep well?” Blackwood asked.
“Very, thank you,” I said. It took only a second for Dee to spot what I held in my hands.
“She’s got a stave!” he cried. An instant later, he and Magnus were crowded around me. I held it out, feeling rather proud. “Look, the carvings,” Dee said, gleeful.
“She’s a true sorcerer.” Magnus yawned and clapped a hand on my back. Blackwood seated himself and gazed at me over the rim of his cup.
“I’m glad this is so excellent,” I said, taking my seat. “I was worried when I woke to find the stave on my pillow. Who put it there?”
“Master Agrippa left it outside your room last night, but the stave placed itself beside you. It chose,” Blackwood said. “That is yours for the rest of your life.” He watched me with a curious intensity. “I hope it pleases you. It was cut from a magical grove of white birches on Sorrow-Fell grounds.”
“I shall endeavor not to break it,” I said lightly.
“Don’t break it. You will never have another.” Blackwood widened his eyes.
“Yes, I understand. It was only a joke,” I murmured.
“Your bond with that stave comes at a heavy price. Most of your power has been placed into it. If the stave breaks, you will die.”
“I do know that,” I said. I didn’t need to be talked down to. “I may not have been raised a sorcerer, but every English child knows the rule about staves.”
He took up a newspaper. “Pardon. It was arrogant of me to presume to instruct the chosen one.” There was no point speaking with Blackwood.
We focused on breakfast. Sausages, smoked haddock, bacon, and soft-boiled eggs waited in steaming silver dishes; toast stood in racks beside glass bowls of butter and jam, and porridge bubbled in a china tureen. After the rich meal the previous night, I needed something simple. I helped myself to the porridge and some tea.
“Is that all you’re eating?” Dee asked, horrified. “No one eats that.”
“I do. Plain food is good for the morning.” I took a spoonful and found it rather delicious. Magnus sat across from me, buttering a piece of toast.
“Spoken like a proper teacher,” he said. “You must have loved your old school’s diet.”
“Not really. At Brimthorn, the porridge was always burned. So was the coffee.” I didn’t tell them how the portions had been too small, how I’d gone to bed with a cramping stomach more often than not. I doubted anyone else in this room had much experience with hunger. I didn’t want to set myself apart even more.
“You were a teacher, Miss Howel?” Dee said. “What did you teach?”
“History and mathematics, mainly.”
“No French or music?” Magnus said.