“What? Why?”
“The Mage sent them. Premal said it was a routine search for banned magic, but Mum said there’s no such thing as a routine search, and she’d be damned to Slough before she let the Mage treat her like she was an enemy of the state. And then Premal said it wasn’t a request. And Mum said they could come back with an order from the Coven”—Penny’s shaking in my arms—“and Prem said that we’re at war, and that the Mage is the Mage, and what did Mum have to hide, anyway? And Mum said that wasn’t the point. The point was civil liberties, and freedom, and not having your 20-year-old son showing up at your house like Rolf in The Sound of Music. And I’m sure Premal was humiliated and not acting like himself—or maybe just acting more like his tosser self than usual—because he said he’d be back, and that Mum had better change her mind. And Mum said he could come back as a Nazi and a fascist, but not as her son.” Penny’s voice breaks again, and she covers her face in her arms, elbowing me in the chin.
I pull my head back and hold on to her shoulders. “Hey,” I say, “I’m sure this is just something that got out of hand. We’ll talk to the Mage.”
She jerks away from me. “Simon—no. You can’t talk to him about this.”
“Pen. It’s the Mage. He’s not going to hurt your family. He knows you’re good.”
She shakes her head. “My mum made me promise not to tell you, Simon.”
“No secrets,” I say, suddenly defensive. “We have a pact.”
“I know! That’s why I’m here, but you cannot tell the Mage. My mother’s scared, and my mother doesn’t get scared.”
“Why didn’t she just let them search the house?”
“Why should she?”
“Because,” I say, “if the Mage is doing this, he has a reason. He doesn’t just hassle people. He doesn’t have time for that.”
“But … what if they found something?”
“At your house? They wouldn’t.”
“They might,” she says. “You know my mum. ‘Information wants to be free.’ ‘There’s no such thing as a bad thought.’ Our library is practically as big as Watford’s and better stocked. If you wanted to find something dangerous in there, I’m sure you could.”
“But the Mage doesn’t want to hurt your family.”
“Who does he want to hurt, Simon?”
“People who want to hurt us!” I say. I practically shout it. “People who want to hurt me!”
Penny folds her arms and looks at me. She’s mostly stopped crying. “The Mage isn’t perfect. He’s not always right.”
“No one is. But we have to trust him. He’s doing his best.” As soon as I say it, I feel a pound of guilt settle in my stomach. I should have told the Mage about the ghost. I should have told Penny. I should have told them both before I told Baz. I could be spying for the wrong side.
“I need to think about this,” Penny says. “It’s not my secret to tell—or yours.”
“All right,” I agree.
“All right.” A few more tears well up on her, and she shakes her head again. “I should go. I can’t believe Baz hasn’t come back with the house master yet. They probably think he’s lying—”
“I don’t think he’s snitching on you.”
She huffs. “Of course he is. I don’t care. I have bigger worries.”
“Stay for a bit,” I say. If she stays, I’ll tell her about Baz’s mum.
“No. We can talk about this tomorrow. I just needed to tell you.”
“Your family will be safe,” I say. “You don’t have to worry about it. I promise.”
Penelope looks unconvinced, and I half expect her to point out how worthless my words have been so far. But she just nods and tells me she’ll see me at breakfast.
40
BAZ
I could watch Bunce swing for this.
(I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to get past the residence hall’s gender barriers. Trust Bunce to find a way. She’s incessantly fiendish.) But I don’t even care.