“I want to,” said Call. “I don’t want to go back with him. I don’t have to, do I?”
“No,” said Master Rufus, but the way he said the word, the answer didn’t seem quite as definite. “But as I said, it’s not our intention to steal children away from their parents. I thought he’d gotten more used to the idea of you being my apprentice.”
“Not really,” Call said.
“I’ll go with you, if you like,” said Master Rufus. “When you talk to him.”
“I don’t want to talk to him,” Call blurted out. Part of him wanted desperately to see his father — wanted to make sure he was okay after the horror of seeing him slam against a wall. But he knew he couldn’t. It would be impossible for them to have a conversation that didn’t involve the words Constantine or murder me or Alkahest. There were just too many secrets that people might overhear.
“I want you to tell him to leave,” Call told his teacher.
Master Rufus looked for a long time at Call. Then he sighed. “All right,” he said. “I’ll do as you ask.”
“You don’t look like you want to,” Call said.
“Alastair was my student once,” said Rufus. “I hold him in regard still. I had hoped that your attendance here would begin to soften his hatred for mages and the Magisterium.”
Call couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Not without telling Master Rufus things he couldn’t possibly tell him. He just shook his head. “Please make him go away,” he whispered.
Master Rufus nodded and turned to leave the library. Call glanced back over at Aaron and Tamara. They were both leaning on the table, their faces tinted green by the lamps. They were staring at him worriedly. He thought about going back over to them, but he didn’t feel like facing their questions. Instead, he turned and raced out of the library as fast as his leg would let him.
CALL WANDERED THROUGH the halls of the Magisterium, heading down toward the cool lakes and rivers that ran through the caves. Eventually, he stopped by the side of one, took off his boots, and stuck his feet into the silty water.
He wondered again about whether he was a good person. He’d always figured he was okay, like most people. Not terrible, but not great, either. Normal.
Definitely not a murderer.
But Constantine Madden was a murderer. He was an evil madman who’d created monsters and tried to cheat death. And Call was Constantine. So didn’t that mean he was responsible for everything Constantine had ever done, even if he didn’t remember it?
And now Call was letting Aaron worry and plan to face a threat that didn’t even exist, because he was selfish.
Call kicked the water, sending droplets flying against the wall and scattering the pale, eyeless fish that had gathered around his toes.
Just then, a lizard dropped down from the ceiling onto the stone beside Call.
“Augh!” Call yelled, jumping to his feet. “What are you doing here?”
“Live here,” said Warren, tongue flicking out to lick an eyeball. “Watch you.”
Because that wasn’t creepy at all.
Call sighed. The last time he’d seen the lizard, Warren had led Call, Tamara, and Aaron into the room of one of the Devoured, a mage who’d used so much fire magic that he’d become a fire elemental. The warning of the Devoured rang in Call’s ears: One of you will fail. One of you will die. And one of you is already dead.
Now Call knew which one of those he was. Callum Hunt was already dead.
“Go away,” he warned the lizard. “Go away or I’ll drown you in the river.”
Warren gave him a goggle-eyed look before scuttling halfway up the wall. “Not the only thing that’s watching,” he said before disappearing into the darkness.