The Wizard Heir (12 page)

“Leicester needs to keep me away from newbies
like yourself. They think they can keep track of me better. As far as they
know, I spend most of my time sulking in my room.” He opened the refrigerator
and rummaged inside. “Want something to drink?”

“Soda's good.” Seph accepted a can of
orange.

Jason sat down on the bed and gestured toward a CD
rack next to the sound system. “Pick out something else if you don't like
Irish punk.” There was an eagerness about his hospitality that suggested
Jason had been lonely, too.

“This is fine.” Seph gestured at his
surroundings. “Nice place.”

“For a prison.” Jason leaned forward.
“Now, about your dreams. If I teach you how to block them, there can't be
any change in your behavior. Do you understand? You've got to convince him that
you're still at the end of your rope and beginning to swing. If you start
bopping around campus, chipper and carefree, he'll know something's up.”

“I don't think there's much chance of that.”

“The thing is, you have to follow directions, or
you may end up dead.” Jason slipped his hand into the neck of his shirt
and pulled out an object attached to a chain around his neck. He lifted it over
his head and handed it to Seph.

It was a stone circle, heavier than Seph expected from
the size of it, in a flat black color. It was covered with faint markings
scratched into the surface. There was a sense of depth to it, as if he were
looking through a window. But when he peered through the center, he was looking
into…nothing. When he passed his hand behind it, there was still nothing.

“What is it?” he asked, trying to hand it
back to Jason.

The other boy shook his head. “The general term
is dyrne sefa, meaning heartstone, or secret heart. They are objects
that act as assist devices to the gifted,” he said. “They were made
by sorcerers a long time ago. They're the experts when it comes to materials.
But no one knows how to make them anymore.”

He sailed on, warming to his topic. “This one is
called a portal. It's a piece from my mother's collection. It's very old magic.
Not well known today. I don't even know all the things it can do. And I can
guarantee you there's nothing in the alumni library about it. Dr. Leicester
thinks of himself as a scholar, but he dabbles in things he doesn't
understand.” Jason snorted in disgust.

“Really?” Seph touched the talisman with his
forefinger as if it might bite.

“Portals are used for illusion and spiritual
travel. I use it to cast the unnoticeable charm. Dreams are just a kind of
brain chemistry. You're going to use this to step away from your body so you
can escape Leicester's enchantments. I'll go over the charm with you until you
get it right. Put the portal on the table while you practice. We don't want any
screwups.”

Seph hastily set the piece down on the table,
resisting the urge to wipe his hands on his jeans.

In terrenus sanctum. The charm was a kind of bastard Latin. It wasn't too
difficult. He had always had a facility with languages, anyway. It didn't take
him long to master the incantation. He had to say it five times correctly
before Jason was satisfied.

“What does it mean?” Seph asked.

“Into the sanctuary,” Jason replied.
“The way I understand it, you're retreating into your Weirstone. Where
Leicester can't intrude. The talisman allows you to go and return. Before you
go, you need to decide when you want to return. If you don't, well, you never
come back. Okay, put it on under your shirt,” he said, gesturing toward
the dyrne sefa.

Seph scooped the portal from the table and dropped the
chain over his head. He shoved the stone into the neckline of his sweatshirt so
it rested against his chest. He expected it to be cold, but it felt warm and
heavy against his skin.

Jason pointed to the bed. “Now lie down here and
tell me how long you want to sleep.”

“Do we have to do this now?” Seph assumed
the position anyway.

“No worries,” Jason whispered. “Trust
me.”

“An hour, then.”

“An hour.” Jason ran his finger over the
runes on the dyrne sefa. “These can be read as numbers, if you know
how to read them. For example, this is a one. You can choose one, two, three
hours and so on. I can do it in the dark, but I don't recommend you try.”
He grinned. "Wizardry is a kind of anti-tech thing. Meaning it's not that
exact. But time passes quickly.

“Now say the charm. You don't have to say it out
loud.”

All right, Seph thought. Choose an hour and say the
charm. He touched the stone circle as Jason had done, found the symbol for one
hour, spoke the charm carefully, moving his lips but not speaking aloud.

Seph felt as though he had plunged into an icy pool.
The shock of it drove the breath and blood from his body. Then the cold was
gone and he was light, very light, a vapor, an idea in the void, a glimmer in
the darkness. Free. He was conscious of a boundary, an enclosure, no more than
a thickness of the air.

He was aware of a spreading warmth, a tingling in his
extremities, inrushing sensation. He opened his eyes to find Jason sprawled in
the chair, headphones on, fingers steepled together, studying him.

“It didn't work,” Seph said.

Jason laughed and pulled off the headphones.
“You've been out for an hour. Check your watch.”

Seph did. It was after nine o'clock. He blinked,
opened his mouth, closed it again.

Jason looked gratified at Seph's reaction. “Not
exactly like sleeping, but close enough. You get some rest. Your mind is safe
from Leicester.”

“And you can do this for eight hours?”

“Or ten,” Jason said. “Here, I'll show
you.” He pointed out the relevant symbols on the portal. “Only, best
if no one finds you've checked out, since you'll look like you're dead. So
you'll want to lock up before you use the charm, and don't plan on sleeping too
long.”

Jason was right, Seph thought. Sleeping without
dreaming. It was a miracle. Only, he wouldn't be sure until he tried it
overnight. His hand found the stone, traced the shape of it under his
sweatshirt. “Do you have any more of these?” he asked, feeling
hopeful for the first time in a long while.

“Keep that one. I have something else I can use.
Just don't lose it. Like I said, they don't make them anymore.” He
frowned, biting his lower lip. “We'll need to build a glamour so
Leicester's convinced you're still dreaming.”

Seph straightened. “I thought you didn't know
much about wizardry.”

“My mother specialized in illusions, glamours,
spirituality, traveling around outside the body using talismans,” Jason
replied. “I grew up on this stuff. Unfortunately, she never taught me.
much about how to kill people.” Seph looked up, startled, but Jason was
staring down at his hands, and Seph couldn't see his expression.

“What else can you teach me?” Seph asked.

Jason shrugged. “Like I told you, I don't know a
lot. I'll be glad to teach you what I know. But you can't go showing off all
around the campus. Remember what I said: as far as Leicester and everyone else
is concerned, you need to stay scared and stay stupid.”

“No problem,” Seph replied.

Through
the Portal

Jason spent an hour or more in Seph's room, prowling
around, weaving his “glamour,” as he called it. First he blocked the
cameras, then constructed a complicated multilayered charm, parts of it
triggered by the assault of the dream spell. When he was finished, Seph's room
was a fortress against prying eyes, and his dreams were his own.

Seph used the portal when he went to bed. He would lie
down, choose the duration of his absence, and spin out the charm in his head.
Sometimes he woke up when the charm wore off, and lay quietly in the dark.
Sometimes he kept right on sleeping. Jason warned him not to use the charm
twice in one night. “You know how sometimes you go to hit the snooze alarm
and hit the wrong button? If you blow this one, you'll never wake up.”

Whether it was the magic in the stone or the charm
Jason taught him, or both, it worked. The portal was the talisman that kept the
dreams at bay and kept Gregory Leicester out of his head for as long as the
charm was in force. Sometimes the dreams came on toward morning, after his
return. Sometimes they caught him during the day. But the fact that he could
sleep peacefully for six or eight hours, could keep the nightmares away when he
chose, that made all the difference. Before the encounter in the library, Seph
had felt himself dissolving, as if he would eventually cease to exist. Now he
slowly reassembled himself, and his head was clearer than it had been since
Thanksgiving.

Jason had a second stone pendant, hexagonal in shape,
and good for some of the same purposes. He used the unnoticeable charm to roam
all over campus, lurking, as he called it, while his glamours convinced the
school administrators he was holed up in his room. He spent much of his time in
the library, studying the attack charms and sorceries Leicester had collected
for the alumni.

Seph never knew when Jason would be waiting outside
his door in the morning, or touch him on the shoulder as he crossed the campus.
“Unnoticeable is better than invisible,” Jason pointed out. “It
acts on the observer and not the observed. Ergo, unnoticeable doesn't leave
footprints.”

And so, the unnoticeable charm was the second charm
Jason taught him, so they could sneak back to his basement room. Jason
cautioned Seph to speak the charm out of sight of the ubiquitous cameras. Seph
was already known to have a habit of walking in the woods. He would walk a
distance into the forest, in a different direction every time, speak the charm,
and then walk back to the Alumni House.

They generally met in Jason's room where he kept notes
and papers on his research as well as books of charms. Jason seemed almost as
hungry for companionship as Seph, since he didn't go to classes and didn't
interact with either the alumni or the Anaweir. He lived life in the
shadows—studying wizardry as best he could out of books, and spying on
Leicester and his coconspirators.

Seph had no interest in going to war against anyone.
He knew that once the distractions of the holidays were over, Leicester would
turn his full attention back to Seph. Although he felt stronger after only a
week of uninterrupted sleep, he worried about his ability to hide it from the
headmaster.

Students trickled back during the last weekend of
winter break. At the end of fall term, Seph had felt himself sliding into the
abyss. Now he was eager to see Trevor, wondering if his friend had contacted
Sloane's and what the response had been. Though he checked his room several
times, Trevor still hadn't arrived by late Sunday night.

A message had gone out over the intranet that there
would be a student assembly in the auditorium of the art and music building
early in the morning on the first day of the term. So Monday morning, Seph
knocked at Trevor's door just before eight o'clock to see if he wanted to walk
over to the assembly together. Still no answer. Probably already gone, afraid
he'll be late, Seph thought as he slogged through the snow to the art building.

The auditorium was nearly full when Seph arrived, so
he sat in the back. The hall reverberated with voices grumbling about being
back at school, exchanging stories about the winter holidays. Seph nodded to
Troy and Harrison, who were sitting toward the middle. Even Jason slipped into
the room at the last minute, taking a seat close to the door.

Gregory Leicester mounted the stage at the front and
called for quiet. He looked out over the students, as if mapping the faces in
the crowd. Seph thought the headmaster had picked him out before he started
speaking. He wondered if he'd noticed Jason in the back.

“This morning I must welcome you back to the
Havens on a sad note. I regret to inform you that we've lost one of our
students in a tragic episode over winter break.”

Seph knew who it was before the words were spoken. He
wanted to run from the room before he heard, but it was as if he were bolted to
his chair.

“Trevor Hill took his own life while he was home
for the holidays.” Leicester paused. “Trevor was a boy with a great
future ahead of him. He was a junior, an honor student, and a Havens success
story. He was especially known for his generosity of spirit, for his
willingness to help others without regard for his own safety.” Leicester's
gaze settled on Seph.

“We cannot know what was in his mind at the time
of his death. But his passing represents a great loss to the school and to all
of his many friends. Let's all observe a moment of silence in memory of Trevor
Hill.”

A hush fell over the auditorium. Some of the students
closed their eyes; others stared at each other, stunned. Seph slumped in his
seat, eyes wide open, watching the man in the front of the room.

After a moment, Leicester spoke again. “We sent a
floral arrangement on behalf of the faculty and students. We also have contact
information for those who would like to send a card or letter to the family.
Thank you for coming.” And then Leicester was gone out the side door.

Seph sat without moving as the rest of the students
shuffled out. A series of disconnected scenes ran through his head like an
endlessly repeating video. He half hoped he would wake up to find that it was
all a dream.

He recalled the last time he saw Trevor in his room,
before he left for the holidays: Trevor offering to contact Sloane's from his
parents' house, and Seph agreeing. Then Jason telling him that all the student
rooms were wired by the administration. Finally, the night at the amphitheater,
pulling the gold chain and pendant from the remains of the fire. Now Seph knew
where he had seen it before.

He pushed himself up out of his seat and forced his
way through the small knots of students who still lingered in the back of the
auditorium, buzzing with scandal and voyeuristic grief. He went outside and
headed for the administration building at a trot, his boots crunching in the
snow, his breath pluming in the clear air.

He was just passing the Alumni House when someone
reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him into a doorway.

“Where do you think you're going?” It was
Jason, of course—unnoticeable Jason.

“Leave me alone.” Seph tried to rip his arm
free.

“Where are you going?”

“To see Leicester.” Seph struck out at the
air, but it seemed that Jason had more than his share of arms and legs. It was
like fighting an invisible octopus.

“No, you're not, and you'd better chill out or
I'll spell you.”

Seph stopped struggling.

“Now come downstairs where we can talk.”
Jason kept a tight grip on Seph's arm, maneuvering him into the stairwell.

Once in his room, Jason rematerialized. “Sit
down,” he commanded. Seph subsided into a chair, gauging the distance to
the door, trying to figure out how he could get past Jason.

“Now tell me,” Jason said, planting himself
in the way.

“Leicester killed Trevor Hill because he was
going to try to reach my guardian. It's all my fault.” Seph trembled with
rage and remorse.

Jason tilted his head to one side. “Why would
your headmaster kill someone for contacting your guardian?”

“You of all people should know why.” Jason
leaned forward and put both hands on Seph's shoulders, his blue eyes blazing.
“You go into Leicester's office with a bunch of accusations, and the first
thing he's going to think is, 'What's happened to Clueless? Who's he been
talking to? Couldn't be Jason Haley, could it?'”

Seph tried to look away, but Jason kept his grip on
him. “And let's say you confront Leicester, and you find out your theory
is true? What exactly are you going to do about it?” Seph said nothing.
“Don't you see? Every piece of information you give him is a weapon. And
there's nothing you can do to him. Nothing.” Jason released Seph and
stepped back.

“You don't understand. Trevor tried to help me, and
now he's dead.” Images came back to him: Maia's flesh disintegrating under
his touch. Trevor's scorched amulet amid the ashes at the amphitheater.

Jason dropped into a chair and closed his eyes.
“If you're asking me if I think Leicester would do it, I'd say yes, in a
heartbeat. And for less of a reason, too. He'd do it because Trevor was your
friend and supported you while Leicester was trying to make you crazy.”
Jason shook himself, as if trying to dislodge a memory. “Haven't you
wondered why I don't hang out with the other students? Don't you think I'm
tired of being alone all the time?”

He released a breath, a long, wounded sound.
“It's because Leicester can get to you through them. I talked Sam and
Peter into going up against him. Now Sam is dead, and Peter …” His voice
trailed off.

“You're scared of him.”

“You're damn right I am, and you should be, too.
The Anaweir are so damned fragile.” He gripped the arms of the chair as if
holding himself in his seat.

“Last spring I complained to my father about this
place. I bitched so much he decided to investigate. He called Dr. Leicester,
asking questions, even came out for a visit, but didn't learn much. Everyone
here was happy except me, blah, blah, blah. Still, Dad promised he would talk
to a couple of psychotherapists, figure out if what was going on here was
legitimate. Within a month, and before he could get very far with it, he died
of a heart attack.”

“You think Leicester had something to do with
it?”

Jason waved his hand impatiently. “Leicester has
never taken any pains to deceive me about what he is, because I already knew
too much when I got here. On the day my father died, Leicester called me into
his office, and told me when and how and where it would happen. Then he made me
sit there until the call came.”

“My God.” Seph swallowed down the sick that
rose in his throat.

“He thought he'd found the way to break me. And
it almost did, because I knew it was my fault.” Jason closed his eyes
again, and Seph could see tears collecting at the corners. “If I hadn't
been such a jerk when my dad remarried, I wouldn't have ended up here. If I
hadn't complained about it to my father, he'd be alive today.”

“How can you think it was your fault?” Seph
whispered. “Leicester is a monster.”

“If I don't get to blame myself, then you don't,
either. But I think you can see that if anyone has a reason to go after
Leicester, it's me.”

“I didn't know,” Seph said quietly.
“How can you stand it?”

“I can stand it because I know I'll find a way to
get Leicester and D'Orsay in the end. I'll do it or die trying. I've stayed
here because I need to learn enough to do it. And then I'll join up with
someone powerful enough and organized enough to help me. Right now, that looks
like the Dragon, if I can find him.”

He looked up at Seph. "Leicester enjoys
inflicting pain on people. I've been a source of entertainment for him. He
thinks he'll have me in the end. He can take his time. I'm an orphan like you.
Nobody cares what happens to me.

“Just stay away from him. At least, you can tell
yourself you're not sure about Trevor, because you aren't. If you can't do
anything about it, it's better not to know.”

Jason unfolded from his chair and began pacing, a cat
in the small cage of the room. He could never stay still for long. “If
Trevor was killed because he was going to talk to your guardian, then Leicester
didn't want that to happen. I bet the whole story about them committing you is
bogus, and Leicester is worried about what might happen if you contact
Sloane's. So maybe Sloane's is your key to getting out.”

With the death of Trevor Hill, the old guilt returned.
Trevor had found a way to survive at the Havens until Seph had come along. Even
though he was Anaweir, he'd risked everything for Seph. Now Seph's nightmares
were mostly about Trevor.

Along with the guilt came a hatred for Leicester that
smoked and smoldered under his breastbone like a deep mine fire. He began
wearing Trevor's pendant, along with the portal stone and Maia's cross. Images
of revenge alternated with dreams of escape.

Seph took his lead from Jason and kept his distance
from the other students. Sometimes he ate lunch with Troy, Harrison, James, and
some of the others, but he never accepted their invitations to play
racquetball, or tennis, or to go up to the movies in the auditorium. He spent
his free time in his room, reading, or roaming the campus by himself.

Seph did his best to project the image of one whose
hold on reality is tenuous. He let his appearance go. His hair grew long and
curly for lack of cutting, and he rarely combed it. He still hallucinated
during the day, checking in and out without warning. Sometimes whole chunks of
time went missing.

He mumbled to himself in the hallways, flinched away
from phantoms, and sat through classes as if in a trance. Some of the other
students seemed to regard him as they might a fly caught in a dangerous web.
Get too close and you might become entangled yourself. So they left him
strictly alone.