‘All right. But please note that in future, I expect you in uniform,’ she said, before turning to the rest of the commoners. ‘Go and get yourselves a summoning leather each, as well as a leather apron. There should be gloves and goggles in the compartment below too.’ She motioned at the back of the room and one of the wyrdlights shot over and hung above a row of cupboards built into the wall.
‘What happened to you?’ Genevieve muttered out of the corner of her mouth as they walked over. ‘We waited for as long as we could, but we had to go before the last carriage left.’
‘We missed the last carriage and had to walk home this morning,’ Fletcher murmured back, rummaging through several rolls of leather until he found one with a pentacle that was not too faded. He didn’t know if Sylva wanted her assault to become common knowledge.
‘Did you get mugged on the way or something?’ Genevieve asked, unconvinced.
‘What makes you say that?’ Fletcher retorted, shrugging a leather apron over his head.
‘Well, leaving aside Othello’s bandaged head, you have a goose egg-sized lump on the side of yours too,’ Genevieve pointed out as they walked back. Fletcher reached up to his temple and winced as he realised she was right. Fortunately, they had arrived back in front of Lovett again, who silenced them with a look.
‘I hear some of you have had your demons for at least seven days. They should be quite tired now, so it would be best to infuse them straight away so that they can rest. Raise your hands those of you who received your demon last week,’ Lovett announced. Genevieve and Rory raised their hands. After a few moments Fletcher raised his too.
‘What’s the hesitation? Fletcher, is it?’ Lovett asked, beckoning Fletcher to step forward.
‘I have had my demon for two and a half weeks,’ Fletcher answered. ‘Is that normal?’
‘No; it must be very tired indeed! Let’s have a look at it,’ she chided. Fletcher woke Ignatius with a mental prod. The imp mewled in annoyance and leaped on to the ground from Fletcher’s hood. He looked around with curiosity and then licked his chops. The demon must be quite hungry, having turned his nose up at the roasted corn the night before.
‘He’s been a bit sleepy, but he usually is anyway,’ Fletcher explained, feeling a pang of guilt as the little demon yawned.
‘A Salamander,’ Lovett breathed. ‘Rare indeed! Major Goodwin will be very interested in this. It is not often that he gets to examine a new species of demon.’
‘Is Ignatius going to be OK?’ Fletcher asked, still worried about the supposed exhaustion.
‘It would appear so,’ Lovett replied. ‘The more powerful a demon is, the longer it can survive without rest in our world, although it will be several months before their tiredness becomes life threatening. I had thought, as a commoner, your demon would be one of the weaker species. Although by all accounts it seems you have been a lucky bunch. Last year most of the commoners were given Mites, but you have a Lutra, a Barkling, a Salamander and a Golem.’
‘A Canid too!’ Sylva exclaimed, unrolling her mat on the floor. Fletcher smiled, glad she had put herself in with the commoners.
Rory shuffled his feet and clenched his fists.
‘I’m sick of being told how unlucky I am to have Malachi,’ he whispered with obvious frustration.
‘Why don’t you begin, Sylva?’ Lovett suggested. ‘It is a relatively simple act, once you know what to do.’ Lovett suggested.
Sylva kneeled on the floor without hesitation and laid her gloved hands on the leather mat. The goggles sat awkwardly over her long ears, but she didn’t seem to mind. Fletcher was sure she couldn’t wait to be under Sariel’s protection once again after last night’s debacle. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Sylva stared at the pentacle until it flickered with soft, violet light.
‘Watch how she pushes the mana through her hands, into the leather and through to the pentacle. She will know when it is time to push the demon through once the pentacle is glowing steadily.’
The pentacle gleamed with blue light, yet nothing happened for almost half a minute. The only sound was Sylva’s laboured breathing as she glared at the shining star. Then, without warning, a Canid’s form grew into the space out of nothingness, expanding from a pinprick of light to a large glowing shape in half a second. The figure shone white, then the colour faded and Sariel stood above the pentacle.
Her four eyes focussed on Sylva, and then the Canid leaped on to her master, sending them both tumbling to the ground. The demon licked her face and howled. Fletcher wondered whether Sariel was aware of what Sylva had gone through yesterday. Maybe she had just missed her owner.