But sometimes Jasper cut his gaze over and Call wondered if the secret would get too tempting. If Call annoyed him — and Call was absolutely sure that he would eventually annoy Jasper, just as he was sure that Jasper was likely to annoy him — could Jasper continue to keep his mouth shut? If he was trying to impress another student, could he really resist temptation?
Call swallowed down the cold lump in his throat. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”
“Tell anyone what?” Jasper asked with a half smile.
There was no way Call was going to say it out loud. “The thing!”
Jasper raised an eyebrow. “So long as it continues to benefit me.”
“We need to agree,” Tamara said firmly. “No one says anything about Call. We don’t know who we can trust around here.”
Jasper didn’t answer her, and there was no way to make him, no way to extort a promise, and even if they were able to make him promise, no reason to believe he would keep his word.
Call was practically in a panic when they arrived in the Refectory. They were late, so it was already full. Smells of grilled onions and barbecue sauce filled the air, although kids were carrying plates piled high with grayish puddings, lichen, and mushrooms. Call’s mouth began to water despite his having just eaten.
After the first few apprentices spotted them, words were murmured and everyone’s heads went up. The whole Refectory fell silent. Call, Tamara, Aaron, and Jasper stood awkwardly in the doorway, feeling the weight of hundreds of eyes on them. People they knew, people they didn’t. Everyone was staring.
Then the room exploded into applause. Students Call didn’t recognize at all were whistling and clapping and standing up on their chairs, chanting and yelling that the war was over.
Master Rufus climbed atop the Masters’ table, looming over them all. He clapped his hands together and an instant silence fell — students were still moving their mouths, still applauding, but nothing was audible but Master Rufus.
“Today we welcome back to the Magisterium four students who have achieved an almost unprecedented victory in the history of the Assembly,” he said. “Jasper deWinter; Tamara Rajavi; our Makar, Aaron Stewart; and our newest chaos magician, Callum Hunt. Please welcome them back.”
The silence spell dissipated just long enough for a deafening roar of applause to sweep through the room.
“The Enemy of Death, he who sought to make himself and his minions immortal, he who would have defeated death itself, has now met death. We have not one but two Makars in this generation of mages. Every student here has contributed in some small way to this. We are truly lucky.”
People whistled and clapped. Across the room, Alex Strike winked at Call from under the fall of his messy brown hair.
“Now, we should remember that while the war is over, we have not yet achieved peace. The Enemy might be gone, but his minions remain. There are battles yet to be fought, and as mages of the Magisterium, it will be your job to fight them.”
This time there was a much more subdued murmur of applause. Good.
Master Rufus is right, Call thought grimly. Even more right than he knows.
“Now. Call, Tamara, Aaron, and Jasper,” said Rufus, turning toward the four of them. “Raise your wristbands. In them you will find a new stone, a tanzanite, representing the greatest of victories achieved in the cause of the Magisterium.”
Call jerked his wrist up and stared. It was true. There was a purple-blue stone glimmering on his wrist. Beside it was another new stone. A black stone, representing his new status as a Makar, a user of chaos magic.
Jasper pumped his fist skyward and whooped. Suddenly, the room was full of people shouting: “The Enemy is dead! The Enemy is dead!”