I gaped. ‘Half of what the Order believes in is rooted in superstition.’
Winter looked at me. ‘So?’
‘I had you pegged as a full convert, worshipping at the knees of the Ipsissimus.’
‘Oh, but I am,’ he murmured, mockingly. ‘But I don’t blindly believe in nonsense.’
He could have fooled me. We started walking again. Winter was more of an enigma than I’d realised. We drew level with the group of witches, whose chatter immediately subsided in case I was in any doubt about what – or rather who – they were talking about. In their midst, Tarquin gazed at me and quirked an eyebrow. I blew him a kiss and kept on walking. As soon as we were past, the whispering started again.
‘You know the way to stop all that?’ Winter asked. His fingers brushed against the skin on the back of my hand and I felt a strange electric shock shiver through me.
I moved my hand. The whole lot of them could gossip and tattle all they liked. I didn’t care. Much. ‘How?’
He grinned. ‘Succeed.’
Chapter Seven
The library was much the same as I remembered. The old rule about technology was still very much in place, with a total ban on anything that might hint at twenty-first-century know-how. Every so often some bright spark came up with a method to scan the old books onto a computer and, without fail, every time they tried the ink on the original pages vanished forever.
It is one of the reasons witch haters give for their ardent anti-magic protests: that the Order are antiquated and have no place in today’s society. Sometimes I wonder if they have a point.
Nothing in the library building ever seemed to change. Even the smell was the same – that memorable aroma of ink and vellum and leather. Sure, some of the more dangerous books were bound in human skin and the like and rumour had it that some of the Cypher pages were written in blood. Most of what was here, however, was paper. The only thing the librarians seemed to fear more than mobile phones was fire.
Winter directed me to a study carrel that reeked of stale marijuana. I was happy to wait while he ventured out to get me the books I was apparently required to read in order to be deemed good enough to work alongside him. I kicked off my shoes and leant back in the chair. Catnaps are good for the soul. Unfortunately, as seemed to be my lot these days, my opportunity for twenty winks was interrupted by yelling. A lot of yelling.
A few minutes later, Winter burst back in. ‘Training is over,’ he said.
I jumped up and clapped my hands. ‘Excellent! You mean I’m free? I can go home?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. It means we have an assignment.’ Compared to his usual demeanour, he seemed positively aglow.
‘Oh goody.’
Winter noted my lack of enthusiasm. ‘We can go back to the gym if you prefer.’ He flung a pile of books at me. ‘And you still need to read those.’
‘Gee, thanks.’ I left the books where they were. ‘What’s the assignment?’
‘The sceptre belonging to the Ipsissimus was on display up on the third floor,’ he told me. ‘It’s been stolen.’
‘Someone stole a big stick?’ Who cared?
‘A big gold stick encrusted with rubies and diamonds,’ Winter said.
Oh. Okay then. ‘Lead the way.’
Winter turned to leave. ‘Bring the books, Ivy.’
‘They’re heavy. I’ll fetch them later.’
‘Be sure that you do.’
I was tempted to stick out my tongue at him. ‘Do you ever get out?’
‘Out?’
I waved my hands around. ‘You know. To a pub? Or a party? Maybe even just to the cinema?’
He gave me a look as if to ask why on earth he would ever want to. Then he marched off, leaving me to follow in his wake.
There was still a lot of yelling going on. Perhaps the sceptre was sentient and the librarians thought that shouting and screaming would encourage it to return to its rightful place. One particular red robe went past us, his arms flapping and his robe billowing out so that I wondered whether he was about to take off and fly around the room. No witch had ever managed to fly before – not that many of us over the centuries hadn’t tried – but this guy was making a good stab at it.
I caught up to Winter and nudged him. ‘What’s the big deal? I get that the sceptre thingy is probably worth a lot of money but this amount of panic is ridiculous.’
He glanced at me. ‘You really didn’t pay any attention when you were here as a Neophyte, did you? Objects belonging to the Order, especially valuable important objects, do not just go missing.’
Oh please. ‘Why ever not? You can’t tell me that no one’s ever attempted to boost anything.’ I waved an arm. ‘Anyone could waltz in and take what they wanted. Non-witches who are criminally inclined aren’t so intimidated by the Order that they wouldn’t try to nick something. And if you’re trying to suggest that Order members are too noble or worthy to stoop to stealing, then you’re a na?ve fool.’
His jaw clenched. ‘You are treading in dangerous waters, Ms Wilde.’
Apparently so. He’d just started calling me Ivy and now we were back to the Ms business. ‘If the shoe fits, Adeptus Exemptus Winter…’
His glare intensified. ‘Most people know better than to insult me.’
I stopped walking and looked around, a confused expression on my face.
‘What is it?’ he ground out.
‘I was just checking,’ I told him airily.
‘Checking what?’
‘To see whether I was in a school playground rather than a library. I didn’t insult you. I said that if you think the Order witches are too good to steal then you’d be a fool. I didn’t say you were a fool. There’s a vast difference. Besides, I’m only trying to understand.’
Winter muttered something then took a deep breath. ‘You seem intent on testing my patience to its limits. One minute you are almost tolerable, the next I want to throttle you.’
‘Most people feel that way about me,’ I said cheerfully. ‘But cough up the answer. I still don’t get the panic.’
‘Nobody believes that Order members are above reproach. After all, some of them are even prepared to cheat and assault their fellows.’ Touché. ‘And,’ he continued, ‘we are well aware that certain elements of society may wish to steal some of our more valuable items. That is why there are heavy protective wards in place to prevent thefts.’
I shrugged. ‘No ward is infallible.’ Some took more time and effort to break than others but where there was a will there was usually a way. Or so I’d heard.
He pushed back his hair. ‘This library is vital to the Order. Many of the objects and books contained within its walls are highly volatile. I can assure you, Ms Wilde, that the wards surrounding this building are as strong as you’ll find anywhere.’
‘So what you’re saying is that to steal the sceptre, you’d have to be a very powerful witch.’