“These clothes are just a part I need to play for the sorcerers.” Every word seemed to widen the breach. “Nothing’s changed.”
Rook frowned. “Everything’s changed.”
The sorcerers were different from everyone else, irretrievably different. They dined lavishly while, less than a mile away, people starved; they took trips outside the ward to walk for a few hours among the impoverished, only to come straight back again. My path led me away from people like Lilly and Charley and Rook, the kind of people I’d grown up with. The kind of person I’d been. My throat tightened.
“How are your scars? Do they hurt?”
“That’s not something you should trouble yourself with now.” He dropped his eyes from mine.
“Will you at least take care of them and not go mad with the pain?” I said stiffly.
“Of course,” he replied. The silence grew between us.
“Well. I have to go back. They’ll be starting soon.” We paused for a moment, Rook with his bucket, me with my damned fine dress. I turned and rushed away, my long skirt whispering over the ground.
“Wait.” He sounded worried. “My scars do hurt.”
“Oh?” I almost tripped over myself in my haste to turn around.
“They hurt this way before the attack at Brimthorn. So tell Master Agrippa and the rest of them.” He looked off toward the darkening evening sky, with the clouds rolling in. “Tell them something bad might be coming tonight.”
“Are you certain?” Agrippa asked, his glass of claret half raised to his lips. We were seated at dinner, where I toyed with my roast beef.
“Rook isn’t the type to invent things.”
“I hope the old Shadow and Fog does show himself tonight,” Magnus said, spearing a Yorkshire pudding and spooning gravy on top of it. “I’d a new coat made especial for the occasion, and Korozoth should see it while it’s still in fashion.”
“Don’t be too eager,” Blackwood said. “For all we know, it might be R’hlem.”
That silenced everyone. R’hlem the Skinless Man was the most threatening of the Ancients. Beasts like Molochoron and Korozoth were just that, beasts with great talent for mindless destruction. R’hlem showed superior intelligence. Some whispered that he had once been human, twisted by the darkness into a monster. Of course, no one really believed such nonsense.
“Master Agrippa,” I said, “can nothing be done to better protect the unwarded areas? If we cannot shield our own citizens, why should the rest of England have faith in us?”
“Us?” Blackwood said. He kept doing that, dividing me from the rest of the boys with a word or a look. Every time Magnus or the others addressed me as “Howel,” he cleared his throat or made an exasperated noise. I’d thought my getting along with his sister had softened him somewhat. Apparently I was wrong.
“I know you don’t yet consider me one of you, my lord,” I said, struggling to maintain a polite tone, “but I’m only trying to help.”
“I agree with Howel,” Wolff said. “It’s an outrage, and I’m glad someone else is saying it. Clarence agrees with us, don’t you?”
Lambe nodded, his pale hair falling into his eyes. “It’s a shame when families are separated.”
Everyone stopped talking. Uncomfortable looks were passed around the table. I was confused until Wolff explained. “Only sorcerers who favor the Church of England may remain inside warded London. My family follows an older religion, so my parents had to leave for the country.” He pushed his knife and fork aside; evidently his appetite had vanished. “Once I’m commended, I’ll have to live outside the ward as well.”
What a hideous practice. “Surely it’s important to protect everyone,” I said to Agrippa.
Agrippa nodded. “We can discuss this further after you’re commended.”
Blackwood coughed. Really, I was worried about the failure in today’s lesson enough as it was. My breaking point had been reached. “Do you have a cold, my lord?” I said, rounding on him.
“No, Miss Howel.”
“Do you dislike the idea of a lady sorcerer?”
“As I told you yesterday, that would mean my going against the Order.” That was another clear attempt to not answer the question. I didn’t care if I was wearing the bloody gown he had purchased.
“Are you against the Order?” I asked.
His eyes widened in surprise. “I stand with the Order entirely.”
That answer was sincere. “I’m sorry, I’m just upset.”
“It’s all right. Compassion for the poor is admirable.” That tone. I would’ve gladly given the topic up but for that condescending tone. I rapped my fork against the side of my plate, to calm and focus myself.
“Admirable, but not practical?”
“In this case, no. The ward protects Her Majesty, and, of course, the high sorcerer families. If we fall, England falls.” He sounded almost as if he regretted it, but what could he do? “The most exceptional individuals are also the most necessary.”
“Have you ever considered that you were lucky to be born into circumstances that made you such an exceptional individual?” I breathed slowly to keep myself from yelling. “Rook, for instance. He might have done as well as you if he’d been born to a wealthy family, sent to the best schools, educated by the best people. But he’s the orphaned son of a brick maker, and Unclean, so whatever he might have been is unimportant.”
“I don’t think this is very good dinner conversation,” Cellini said, sounding irritated. I got the feeling it would be more comfortable for everyone if I gave up the topic. But we were in this argument now, Blackwood and I.
“Of course Rook matters,” Blackwood said, as if explaining to a child. “I don’t believe it’s fair that some receive everything and others nothing, merely by the luck of being born. But it is the reality.”
“So the reality is that the poor should be sacrificed to protect you?” This was what the Earl of Sorrow-Fell truly believed?
“You’re twisting my words, Miss Howel.” He was right; I was twisting his words, but his manner infuriated me. He’d lived behind the ward all his life. How could he presume to know how other people suffered?
“Have you seen a village destroyed by Familiars? Have you ever met children with their limbs torn off, their bodies covered with scars just like Rook’s? Do you know what it’s like, as part of your school charity, to travel to the site of a battle and nurse the wounded and dying? Have you ever been attacked with nothing to protect you? The first time I glimpsed a sorcerer, in eleven years of war, was when Master Agrippa came to my school hunting for the prophesied one. Eleven years. What were you all doing in that time?” I stared right into Blackwood’s eyes. “What were you doing, my lord? Riding and playing country sports on your estate?”
Agrippa cleared his throat. “That will do, both of you,” he said.
“In fact, I was preoccupied with my studies. I wanted to be useful. Isn’t usefulness your chief interest?” Blackwood’s voice was silken coldness. “I did not see much use in a girls’ school.”
Magnus set his glass down, eyes flashing. “We found our prophesied one at that girls’ school, didn’t we?”
I had to put my hands in my lap; they were beginning to spark. “It’s good to know how little your responsibilities at home matter to you. It explains why Brimthorn has been open to violence for so long!”
“Sorrow-Fell protects your school, Miss Howel. You said yourself, in eleven years you had never seen an attack.”
“Some monsters wear human faces. You kept out the Ancients, but you allowed a cruel, violent man who should never be put in charge of another living soul to run Brimthorn. Where was your protection then?” The whole table stopped eating. Magnus’s eyes widened. Blackwood grew still, but I could see the fury flickering inside him.