—
I DOUBT SHE’LL BE CAPABLE, BLACKWOOD had said. As though it were already decided. My frayed nerves felt stretched to the breaking point when we entered the parlor to find the rest of the boys waiting. The hair on my neck prickled as I watched them appreciate my newly glamorous appearance. Cellini raised an eyebrow. Dee nudged Magnus, grinning.
Agrippa guided me over to the sofa to meet the two gentlemen from the Order.
One of them stood and introduced himself as Augustus Palehook, master warder of the city. “Aren’t you a pretty sight, my dear,” he said, bending over my hand. “Such loveliness is a relief to tired old eyes.” His voice was soft but not gentle. He turned to Agrippa. “And Cornelius. Always a pleasure. What a suit,” he said, eyes flickering over Agrippa’s coat. “Mmm, what a cravat. Is this Egyptian blue? You are always clever in your dress.”
“As are you, of course,” Agrippa said, bowing. On the surface, Palehook didn’t appear the intimidating sort. No one would cower before a thin fellow with receding red hair in battle. But the way Agrippa seemed uneasy around him, the way Palehook smiled as if he had garnered a point in some private game, indicated he wasn’t a man to be trifled with.
My head buzzed as Agrippa then turned and presented me to Horace Whitechurch, the Imperator himself. He did not rise, did not reach to kiss my hand. I’m not sure what I’d expected from the head of English magic. Some giant, perhaps, with the power of nature coursing through his veins. Instead I found an elderly man with wet black eyes. I curtsied to him. He didn’t smile.
“Shall we begin?” he said.
Impressing him was of the utmost importance. Palehook grasped my hand. His touch was soft and dry. “Are you ready, my dear?”
“Yes,” I said, though it was a lie.
“Come, then.” He led me to a circle of seven stones arranged on the rug before the hearth. The stones were smooth and black, and each bore a different symbol: a dagger, a circle with a cross on top, a triangle, a curl of flame, an eye, a rectangle, and a five-pointed star. How strange to see these odd items lying on an Oriental rug before a fireplace in a proper London home. Palehook gestured to the circle. “Step inside.”
My heartbeat quickening, I did as he asked.
Agrippa knelt before the two sorcerers. “Masters, I offer Henrietta Howel for evaluation, to receive instruction in our most learned arts and to take up arms against the enemies of the Order and the kingdom.” Whitechurch gestured for him to rise.
They placed a bowl of water to my left and a plain brown rock to my right. Before me, they put one white feather. A candle was lit behind me. Once these preparations were done, they drew together and watched.
“Clear your mind,” Agrippa said. “Make yourself a vessel for the magic.”
My heart beat faster. “What am I supposed to do?”
“You do nothing. In a circle of the seven stones, the elements will recognize a true sorcerer.” This was a baptism, a rite of passage every sorcerer boy went through when he was six months old. They all fell silent, and the ceremony began.
Nothing happened.
A full minute ticked by as they stared at me. Whitechurch coughed. Palehook narrowed his eyes. Even Agrippa began to twitch, oh so subtly.
The boys frowned, whispered to one another. Magnus at least smiled at me. Blackwood, of course, wasn’t watching. He stared into the fireplace.
They would cast me out in another minute. I could picture Agrippa wincing, ringing for a carriage to take me back to Yorkshire.
My hands began to prickle with heat. An image jumped into my mind, unbidden: the water, rising in a ball. Agrippa had told me to leave my mind blank, but I focused on that image, clung to it. An instant later, the room gasped as one. I glimpsed the water out of the corner of my eye. It hovered in the air, a perfect, round orb. I lost my concentration, and it splashed back into the bowl.
Everyone murmured in excitement. This was what they wanted. I looked at the feather and imagined it lifting up, up into the air on a current of wind….
My skirt rustled as a breeze swept through the room. The feather danced on the current. The boys applauded, even whooped with joy. My stomach turned. I knew that I wasn’t doing this the way they’d wanted me to. My hands grew even hotter.
I imagined the rock beside me leaping up and down three times. It did just that. The boys stomped their feet. Agrippa laughed. Whitechurch even raised the corners of his mouth in a thin smile. Only Palehook did not rejoice. He watched me through lidded eyes, as though he was trying to decide on something.
I knew they wanted something from the candle, but the fire under my skin demanded its own way. For the first time since I’d discovered my ability, I could use it without fear. I exploded into flame, a wash of warmth over my whole body. Everyone gasped. It felt glorious, but it was dangerous. Quickly, I tightened my control and the fire disappeared. The carpet was a bit singed, though. Magnus ran over and smothered the dying flames with his coat, laughing.
“You know how to put on a show, Miss Howel,” he said with a wink when I helped him to his feet. The boys cheered for me. I’d done it, somehow.
“I should like to see one more thing,” Palehook said, standing. Everyone fell silent. “Mr. Magnus, I should like to see her with a stave. A simple maneuver, of course. Merely have her split the rock in half.” Palehook reached into his pocket and pulled out a needle.
Before I could ask, Magnus took the needle and pricked his finger, so that a drop of blood welled on the tip. He reached for my face. “What are you doing?” I said, backing away.
“You haven’t a stave of your own yet,” Magnus said, his voice soothing. “It’s all right.” I stilled and let him put his blood on my lips, though I flushed with the strangeness of it. He touched my forehead, tracing a few lines on my skin.
Magnus handed me his stave. It was almost two feet long, with odd images decorating it. It wasn’t as heavy as I’d thought it would be. I twirled it about a few times, entranced. Cradling it to my chest, I inspected the line of stars that someone had carved with great delicacy.
Taking up the plain brown rock, Magnus held it toward me and said, “Swing the stave in one fast arc, as though you’re chopping wood. It should split the rock down the center.”
I’d never swung an ax before, and at first I felt like I was trying to smack him with the stave and not doing an especially good job. I focused. I wouldn’t fail when I was so close. When I next brought the stave up to swing, I pictured the rock shattering in my frustration.
Magnus covered his eyes as the stone exploded into dusty fragments. There were gasps throughout the room, but a smattering of applause as well.
“It worked. Well, in a way,” Magnus said, laughing while he dusted his hands. “You must have a great deal of power.” He gave me a handkerchief to wipe off his blood. “Congratulations, Miss Howel.”
“Congratulations indeed,” Agrippa said, coming forward. His eyes seemed to glow. “I believe you have the makings of a true sorcerer.”
The boys rushed in on me, gripping my hand and shaking my arm as if they’d wrench it free. Magnus caught me about the waist and whirled me in a circle.
“Julian! Put that young lady down,” Agrippa said, laughing.
Blackwood was the only one who didn’t join the merriment. He watched me from the fireplace, his great green eyes narrowed. I turned from him, cool as could be. Let him glare.
The Imperator stood and stepped forward. The room quieted.
“Yes,” he said. His voice was almost a whisper. He turned his watery eyes to Agrippa. “Yes,” he said again with a nod.