The Copper Gauntlet (22 page)

“Um,” Call said. So that had been his first kiss. It had been … soft?

A blush started on her cheeks. “I should go,” she said, and ducked into the crowd.

“
Look
at Jasper,” Aaron said, coming up next to Call and clapping him on the shoulder. “What a show-off.”

At that moment Jasper sailed by, carried around on Rafe’s shoulders as people cheered and sang “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” He had a huge grin on his face.

Call smiled, too, immediately feeling a lot better. There was no way Jasper was going to say anything anytime soon, not if it meant giving up all of this. Call’s secret was safe.

“Excuse me,” Master Rufus said, pointing to Call. “I need to borrow you for a moment. That is, if you’re not too busy.”

Call swallowed a groan of humiliation. Had Master Rufus seen Celia kiss him? Was he going to say something embarrassing about it? Call desperately hoped not.

Master Rufus led him over to a table in a far corner, a table blocked by a rock outcropping from the view of the rest of the Refectory. At the table, a tall, dark-haired, clean-shaven man was eating a plate of mushrooms like his life depended on it. Alastair.

Call couldn’t remember any other parent being allowed inside the Magisterium, twice no less, but then the circumstances of his father being there were pretty unusual.

“It’s been a long time since I sat in this Refectory,” Alastair said, taking a big swig of some greenish juice that Call had never dared to try. “This is the lichen of my youth.”

“Uh, yeah,” Call said, wondering if the stuff had some kind of addictive properties, given the way his dad was tucking into it. “It’s not so bad after a while.”

“Mmmm,” Alastair said. Then, after swallowing a final forkful, he stood. “Call, I can’t stay, but Master Rufus agreed that the both of you could walk me out.”

“Okay,” Call said. “But do you have to go right away? Right now?”

“I’m afraid I do. There’s still some business with the Assembly. Some more questions to answer. And I have left my affairs in some disorder. But I will see you over the winter holidays and we’ll have lots to talk about then.”

Call sighed, but after all the terrible things his father had said about the Magisterium, he wasn’t surprised he was ready to leave so fast. Call wondered if he’d visited the Hall of Graduates and looked at his wife’s handprint — Call wasn’t sure if he was allowed to think of her as his mother anymore — but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

They walked together in silence out of the Refectory and down the long corridors that led to the front gates of the Magisterium, Alastair’s hand on Call’s shoulder, Master Rufus a few paces behind them.

At the doorway, Alastair turned and put his arms around Call, hugging him tightly. Call froze a little as his dad’s hand smoothed his hair down. He wasn’t a touchy-feely guy, Alastair, but Call could hear his dad swallow as he pulled back from Call and looked down at the band on his wrist. He raised Call’s hand gently.

“Constantine Madden had this same black stone in his wristband,” he said, and Call winced inside. “But he never had this.” His thumb moved to the purple-blue stone. “The tanzanite. This stone indicates ultimate bravery. The only other person I ever knew who bore the tanzanite was Verity Torres.”

“I’m not a hero,” Call said. “But I’m not going to be like Constantine. I promise.”

Alastair let go of Call’s wrist and smiled one of his rare, crooked smiles. “You put yourself in a lot of danger, staying behind in the tomb,” he said. “But I will never forget the look on Assemblyman Graves’s face as long as I live.”

Call couldn’t help smiling. Alastair gave him one last touch on the shoulder and began to make his way toward the long black car waiting for him on the cleared dirt outside the gates.

“Take care of yourself,” Master Rufus called.

Alastair paused and looked back at Rufus, then at Call. “Take care of my son.”

Master Rufus nodded. Then, with a half wave to both of them, Alastair ducked inside the car. It drove away, the tires squeaking on the gravel.

Call turned around to head back to the Refectory, but Master Rufus stopped him with a quick hand. “Call,” he said, “we ought to talk.”

Call turned, full of cold dread. He wondered what Alastair had told him. “Uh, okay. What about?”

“There is something I did not want to say to you in front of the other students.”

Call tensed. That couldn’t be good.

“Call, there is a spy in the Magisterium. It could be someone on the Enemy’s side. Working for Master Joseph now, most likely. Or it could be someone with a distrust of chaos mages.”

“What do you mean?”

“You may remember from your Iron Year lectures about the origins of magic that not all parts of the world are welcoming to Makars. Some mages believe that no one should ever work with chaos magic — and that those who can should be stopped or killed.”

Call vaguely recalled something about that, something about Europe not being Makar-friendly. “Why would you think there’s a spy, though?

“
Automotones
.” Rufus spat the name. “The mages here would never have sent a deadly elemental to retrieve you. He was too powerful and too violent. And if we had sent him, we would never have sent him with orders to hurt any of you, even Alastair. Someone here sent him with orders to kill the Makar. We thought that meant Aaron, but now that you’re a Makar, no doubt that same person wants you dead, too.”

A cold shudder went through Call. Whoever had sent the elemental after them hadn’t been worried about Call’s safety. Which meant it
couldn’t
have been one of Master Joseph’s minions, since Master Joseph had thrown himself in front of Call to keep him alive. Which meant Master Rufus was right.

“Go back to the Refectory,” Master Rufus said. “Your friends are waiting for you. We have time enough to discuss the future when your classes begin. Tomorrow. You’re back just in time to go out with the other Copper Years on their second mission.”

“Second mission?” Call asked, astonished.

Master Rufus nodded. “Yes, finding seven speckled frogs in the surrounding forest.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Call said. “We killed the Enemy of Death. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“Of course it does,” Master Rufus said with a rare, small smile. “It counts as your
first
mission. You won’t have to do any makeup work. Now get going.”

“Tomorrow,” Call echoed. He started back through the passageways of the Magisterium, past glowing crystals and rock formations, his mind a swirl of uneasy thoughts.

“Callum Hunt,” said a voice.

It was a voice he knew well. Call stopped in place, looking up until his gaze lit on a glowing lizard partway up the wall, regarding him with half-lidded eyes. Warren’s long tongue lashed through the air.

“The end is closer than you think,
Makar,
” the elemental said.

Then he darted away, leaving Call to stare after him.

Holly Black
and
Cassandra Clare
first met over ten years ago at Holly’s first-ever book signing. They have since become good friends, bonding over (among other things) their shared love of fantasy — from the sweeping vistas of The Lord of the Rings to the gritty tales of Batman in Gotham City to the classic sword-and-sorcery epics to
Star Wars
. With Magisterium, they decided to team up to write their own story about heroes and villains, good and evil, and being chosen for greatness, whether you like it or not.

Holly is the bestselling author and co-creator of The Spiderwick Chronicles series and won a Newbery Honor for her novel
Doll Bones
. Cassie is the author of bestselling YA series, including The Mortal Instruments and The Infernal Devices. They both live in Western Massachusetts, about ten minutes away from each other. This is the second book in Magisterium, following
The Iron Trial
.

Copyright © 2015 by Holly Black and Cassandra Claire LLC

Illustrations © 2015 by Scott Fischer

All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc.,
Publishers since 1920
. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

First edition, September 2015

Cover art by Alexandre Chaudret, © 2015 Scholastic Inc.

Cover design by Christopher Stengel

Lettering by Jim Tierney, © 2015 Scholastic Inc.

e-ISBN 978-0-545-52230-4

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