She pulled the wand out from under her mattress and tossed it at him. “So let’s talk about him.”
“I am going back to the Domain in a few days. While I am there, I will arrange a visit to the Inquisitory to see how he is getting along.”
“Why don’t you order him released?”
She had asked the question to needle him. He had no such powers, not even if he were of age. “My influence over the Inquisitor is severely limited.”
“What can you do then?”
“I need to first see whether he is still in rescuable shape—he may or may not be, depending on what the Inquisitor has done to him.”
“What do you define as not being in rescuable shape?”
“If his mind has been completely destroyed, I will not run the risk of physically removing him from the Inquisitory. You will have to accept that you have lost him.”
“And if he is still all right?”
“Then I will need to plan—my goal has been to stay out of the Inquisitory, not to get in.”
“You can find out what you need easily enough, can’t you?”
“I can. But I would rather not be known to ask about it.”
“You don’t have anyone you can trust?”
He hesitated. “Not about you or any plans involving you—everyone has something to gain by betraying us.”
“I imagine a deceitful person such as you would see deceit everywhere,” she said, her voice sweet. “I can also imagine why no one would voluntarily risk anything for you.”
Her words pierced deep, like arrows from an English longbow.
Part of him wanted to shout that he longed for nothing more than trust and solidarity. But he could not deny the truth of her words. He was a creature of lies, his entire life defined by what others did not and could not know of him.
But things were supposed to be different with her—with Fairfax. They were to be comrades, their bond forged by shared dangers and a shared destiny. And now of all the people who despised him, she despised him the most.
“You see the difficulties involved in removing your guardian from the Inquisitory then,” he answered, hating how stiff he sounded. “That is, if he is found to be still sentient.”
“I will decide whether he still has enough mental capacity left to warrant a rescue.”
“And how will you do that?”
“I will accompany you to the Inquisitory. You must have ready means to transport me back to the Domain—otherwise where would you stow Fairfax during school holidays?”
“You do understand you could be walking into a trap, to enter the Inquisitory so baldly?”
“I will take that risk,” she said calmly.
He realized with a flash of insight that he was dealing with no ordinary girl. Of course, with her potential, she had never been ordinary. But the ability to manipulate the elements was an athletic gift—almost. Great elemental power did not always coincide with great presence of mind.
But this girl had that force of personality, that steeliness. At a time when a less hardy girl—or boy, for that matter—would have been wrecked by the calamity, or incoherently angry, she had decided to push back against him, and to take charge of as much of the situation as possible.
She would have made a formidable ally—and an equally formidable foe.
“All right,” he said. “We will go together.”
“Good,” she said. “Now what did you want to tell me about my training?”
“That we must begin soon—tomorrow morning, to be exact—and that you should expect it to be arduous.”
“Why so soon and why so arduous?”
“Because we do not have time. An elemental mage has control of as many elements in adulthood as she has at the end of adolescence. Are you still growing?”
“How can I know for certain?”
“Precisely. We have no time. Since today has been a difficult day, I will expect you at six o’clock in the morning. Day after tomorrow it moves to half past five. And then, five for the rest of the Half.”
She said nothing.
“It will be to your advantage to get up early. You do not want to use the lavatory when everyone else is there.”
Her lips thinned; she again said nothing. But the fire in her hand merged into a solid ball, and then a ball full of barbs. No doubt she wished to shove it down his throat.
“As for bathing, you might want to stay away from the communal baths. I will tell Benton you want hot water in your room.”
“How kind of you,” she murmured.
“My munificence knows no bounds. I also brought you something to eat.” He dropped a paper-wrapped package on her desk. She had not eaten much either at tea or at supper, and he did not imagine it would have been very different at the inn. “Good-night cake—eat it and you will have no trouble sleeping.”
The cake was for his insomnia. It would be a long night for him.
“Right,” she said. “So that I won’t have trouble waking up for the training.”
Abruptly she jerked, her shoulders bracing forward as if she had been punched in the stomach. Her fingers clawed into fists. The fireball turned the blue of pure flame.