“I don’t,” Aaron said. “Call knows I can take care of myself. But neither of us trusts you. I hope you don’t take that personally.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to.” Alma backed up until she was leaning against Rufus’s stone desk. She crossed her arms. “Two Makars,” she said. “The last time there were two Makars alive at the same time, it was Constantine Madden and Verity Torres. They wound up in a battle to the death.”

  “Well, that won’t happen to us,” said Call. Alma was starting to seriously get on his nerves.

  “Two Makars in the same Magisterium, the same apprentice group — do you know how much trouble Rufus gets from the other Masters for that? They feel like he cheated them somehow at the Iron Trials.” She chortled. “Especially picking you, Call. Aaron was an obvious choice, but you’re something very different.”

  “Are we going to learn anything here?” Aaron asked. “Besides teacher gossip, I mean.”

  “You might just learn the most important lesson of your life, Makar,” said Alma sharply. “I’m going to teach you how to see souls.”

  Aaron’s eyes widened.

  “You are each other’s counterweights,” she went on. “And you are both chaos mages. Each of you can work the magic of the void, and that is why you bear black stones in your wristbands — it is what, I would guess, everyone has told you since the moment you were revealed as Makars. But there is another magic you can work as well. The magic of the soul. The human soul is the opposite of chaos, of nothingness. The soul is everything.”

  Her eyes were burning with a fanatic light. Call glanced sideways at Aaron; he seemed fascinated.

  “Most human beings will never truly see the soul,” she went on. “We work like the blind, in darkness. But you can see. Call and Aaron, face each other.”

  Call turned to face Aaron. He realized with some surprise that they were about the same height; he’d always been a bit shorter than his friend. He must have shot up an inch or two.

  “Look at the other person,” said Alma. “Concentrate on what makes them them. Imagine you can see through skin and bone, blood and muscle. You’re not looking for their heart — you’re looking for something more than that.” Her voice had a lulling cadence. Call stared at Aaron’s shirtfront. He wondered what he was supposed to be seeing. There was a dark spot on the shirt where Aaron had spilled tea at the Refectory.

  He flicked a glance up at Aaron’s eyes and found Aaron looking at him. They both grinned, without being able to help it. Call stared harder. What made Aaron Aaron? That he was friendly; that he always had a smile for everyone; that he was popular; that he made bad jokes; that his hair never stuck up like Call’s? Or was it the darker things he knew about Aaron — the Aaron who flew into rages, who knew how to hotwire a car, who had hated it when he turned out to be the Makar because he didn’t want to die like Verity Torres?

  Call felt his vision shift. He was still looking at Aaron, but he was also looking into him. There was a light inside Aaron, a light that was a color Call had never seen before. He couldn’t describe it, the new color. It was shifting and moving, like a glow cast against a wall, the reflected light of a lamp that was being carried.

  Call made a noise and jumped back in surprise. The light and color vanished, and he found that he was just looking at Aaron, who was staring back at him with wide green eyes.

  “That color,” Aaron said.

  “That’s what I saw, too!” Call exclaimed. They grinned at each other recklessly, like two climbers who had just made it to the top of a mountain.

  “Very good,” said Alma, sounding pleased. “You two have just seen each other’s souls.”

  “This seems awkward,” said Call. “I don’t think we should mention it to anyone.”

  Aaron made a face at him.

  Call felt giddy. Not only had he mastered the magic on the first attempt, but seeing Aaron’s soul had made his brief suspicions of Aaron seem ridiculous. Aaron was his friend, his best friend, his counterweight. Aaron would never want to hurt him. Aaron needed him, just like he needed Aaron back.

  The relief was overwhelming.

  “I think that’s enough for today,” Alma said. “You both did very well. Next, I want you to interact with souls. You’re going to learn the soul tap.”

  “I am not doing that,” Call said. “I don’t know what it is, but I won’t like it.”

  Alma sighed as though she thought that Master Rufus must be pretty long-suffering to put up with Call, which was pretty unfair since, before, she’d said other Masters wished they’d picked him.

  “It’s a method of knocking an opponent unconscious without doing them any real harm,” she said. “Are you still against it?”

  “How do we know it doesn’t hurt them?” Aaron asked.

  “It doesn’t appear to,” Alma replied. “But, as with all soul magic, there hasn’t been enough study for anything to be entirely certain. When Joseph and several others and I began our research, we thought that chaos magic held the potential for doing much good in the world. Because there are so few Makaris born into each generation and because chaos magic has always been considered dangerous, we just don’t know enough about it.”

  The greatest Makar of your generation. The words came back to Call, rankling him. He didn’t mind Aaron being better than him, but he didn’t like the idea of someone being better than Aaron.

  Alma went on, warming to her subject. “You have to understand how exciting it all was. We were discovering entirely new things. Oh, chaos mages had seen souls before — a few had even learned how to rip souls from bodies. But no one had attempted to touch a soul. No one had tried to put chaos into an animal. No one had tried to switch a soul from one body to another.”

  “So did Joseph go crazy or what?” Aaron asked. “I mean, how come he didn’t stop Constantine before he killed his brother? Was he just excited by all the magic?”

  Jericho Madden. Call felt his head swim. Although all this was the distant past, it felt closer than ever. Lately, Call felt as though it was about to push him out of his own life, the way Master Joseph had wanted to push his soul out of his body.

  Alma’s eyes clouded. “To tell you the truth, I look back on that day and I don’t know what happened. I’ve turned it over and over in my mind, and I can’t help coming to the conclusion that Jericho died because Joseph wanted him to die.”

  That got Call’s attention. “What?”

  “Constantine was a young man. He had other interests than the study of chaos magic — or rather, he felt as if he had his whole life to study it. And, of course, Rufus was his Master, not Joseph. I think that Joseph wanted Constantine to be committed to the cause.”

  Call was horrified. “Master Joseph arranged for Jericho to die so Constantine would be more committed to the idea of using chaos magic to bring back the dead?”

  Alma nodded. “And so Constantine would hate the Magisterium, which he blamed for Jericho’s death. Of course, I don’t think Joseph knew he was creating a monster. I think he just wanted to ensure loyalty. I think he wanted to be the one who made the discoveries, wanted his name to go down in history.”

  Call thought of Master Joseph in Constantine’s tomb, the curl of his lip and the mad light in his eye. Call wasn’t so sure that Master Joseph hadn’t known, hadn’t wanted a monster.

  “People remember the Enemy of Death,” said Alma. “But they forget the man who made him who he was. Constantine may have been evil, but he was also tragic. He wanted his brother back. Master Joseph, on the other hand, what he wanted was power. Just power. And those are the most dangerous people in the world.”

  HOW DO I look?” Call asked. “Repentant?”

  He was standing in front of Anastasia Tarquin’s door in the hallway that housed the Masters’ chambers. Call, Aaron, and Tamara had decided they ought to clean up a little before descending on the Assemblywoman. She was something of a terrifying presence, with her jewels and her cultured, contemptuous attitude. Call felt she would take their apologies more seriously if they dressed up, so he and Aaron were wearing the jackets from the outfits they’d worn to the awards ceremony and Tamara was in a black sundress.

  Havoc hadn’t come with them. Havoc, Call pointed out, had nothing to apologize for.

  Tamara exhaled hard enough to blow a lock of hair off her forehead. “You look fine,” she said. “For the umpteenth time.” She shivered. “It’s cold in here,” she complained. “Knock on the door already.”

  Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Is everything okay?”

  “I don’t know,” said Tamara. “Ever since I saw my sister, she’s all I can think about.” She swallowed. “And then today’s lessons. I don’t like being separated from you two as if there’s something wrong with me because I’m not a Makar. Plus, Master Rufus was twice as hard on me as he usually is.”

  “Well, we’re doing it again Monday,” said Call. “Alma’s coming to teach us something creepy called the soul tap.”

  “I don’t like her,” Tamara said. “She gives me the creeps.”

  Aaron stepped up to the door. “We’d better get this over with.”

  He knocked. The sound seemed to boom and resound in the corridor. Anastasia’s door opened. She stood before them wearing a white silk robe of great magnificence over a gown that was even fancier. Her feet were in white leather slippers. “I was beginning to expect you’d never arrive,” she said, raising one silvery eyebrow.

  “Um,” Call said. “Can we — come in? We want to apologize.”

  Anastasia opened the door wider. “Oh, of course. Come right it.” She smiled as they filed past her. “This should be an interesting conversation.”

  Tamara gave Call a significant look. Call shrugged. Maybe Anastasia was bent on murder — they were going to find out, either way, and that was kind of a relief. The Assemblywoman slammed the heavy door behind her with a satisfying bang and joined them in the living room. She was tall — tall enough that her shadow, cast against the far wall where the safe had stood, was enormous and spidery. The safe itself had been removed; Call wondered where the Masters had put it.

  “Do please sit,” she said. Diamonds sparkled in her ears, glimmering against her hair.

  Call, Tamara, and Aaron settled themselves on her white couch. Anastasia sat opposite them, on an ivory chair. On the coffee table in front of them were five cups and a teapot on a tray inlaid with something that might have been bone.

  “Can I offer you some?” she asked. “I have a lovely lavender and lemongrass tisane that you might enjoy after all the fungus and lichen you’re served up in the Refectory.” She made a face. “I never acquired a taste for underground cuisine myself.”

  They all leaned away. “Under the circumstances,” Tamara said, “I think we’ll pass.”

  “I see,” Anastasia said, with a pinched smile. “Now, does that make sense? You’re the ones who broke into my room and stole my belongings. You broke into the elementals’ prison. Isn’t it more likely that you’re a threat to me than that I’m a threat to you?”

  “We’re students,” Tamara said, looking outraged. “You’re an adult.”

  “You’re Makars,” said Anastasia. “Well, two of you are.” She gestured toward Call and Aaron. “And I was speaking rhetorically. I know you mean me no harm. But equally, I mean you no harm. I’ve only ever looked out for you. I don’t deserve suspicion.”

  Call felt his eyebrows fly up into his hairline. “Really? So why do you have a photograph of Constantine Madden in a weird box under your bed, and why is the password to your safe the name of his brother?”

  “I might as well ask you how you managed to obtain Constantine Madden’s wristband and, having obtained it, what in the world would make you actually wear it?” She gave Call a significant look.

  Call blanched, his hand going to the wristband, shoved up under the sleeve of his jacket. Now that he was paying attention, he saw there was a subtle outline where the fabric pulled over it. “How did you know?”

  Anastasia lifted the teapot and poured herself a cup. The pleasant scent of lemongrass filled the room. “Without it, you wouldn’t have been able to get into my room in the first place. The reason is simple — long ago, I used magic to synchronize our wristbands. I knew him, you see, when he was a boy. I know, to children of your generation, the idea of the high-and-mighty Enemy of Death as a mere boy is shocking, but he was just a child when he came to the Magisterium.

  “I hold myself partially responsible for what happened to him and to Jericho. Reminders of Constantine and Jericho are reminders of my own failure.” She looked down. “I should have seen what was happening, should have stopped Joseph before he pushed the boys too far. In a way, I am responsible for Jericho’s death and for what Constantine became. I won’t allow myself to forget that.”

  She took a sip of her tea. “I owe those boys a debt. And the way I will repay it is by making sure that the next generation of Makaris remain unharmed. I am an old woman and I have lost a great deal, but before I die, I want to know that you’re both safe. Callum and Aaron, you are my hope for a better future.”

  “So that’s why you volunteered to come here and help find the spy?” Tamara asked her.

  She nodded slowly. “And if I knew who it was, believe me, I wouldn’t hesitate to act.”

  “We’re sorry,” Aaron said. “I mean, that’s what we came to say, but we really are. We shouldn’t have gone through your things or broken into your room or any of it. I mean, we can’t apologize for trying to keep Call safe, but we’re sorry for the way we did it.”

  Tamara nodded. Call felt uncomfortable that everyone was sticking out their necks for him.

  Anastasia smiled, the way all adults smiled when Aaron turned on his charm. But before she could respond, there was a knock on the door. Call, Aaron, and Tamara looked at one another in alarm.

  “There’s no need to worry.” Anastasia rose to her feet. “That’s our fourth guest. Someone I invited to join us.”

  Master Rufus? Call wondered. Someone else from the Assembly? But when Anastasia opened the door, it was Alma Amdurer who stood on the threshold. She was wrapped in a dark red poncho, and she slipped into the room, letting Anastasia shut the door behind her.

  “Hello, children,” Alma said with a smile. “Has Anastasia explained everything to you?”

  “I haven’t,” said Anastasia, moving to stand beside Alma. With her all in white, and Alma in dark crimson, they reminded Call of the Red Queen and White Queen from Alice in Wonderland. “I thought you’d better do that.”

  Alma fixed her dark eyes on them. “You know, of course, of the Assembly’s plans to round up Chaos-ridden animals and dispose of them?” she said, without preamble.

  Call blinked, wondering what this had to do with Anastasia — or any of them.

  “It’s horrible,” he said.

  Alma smiled. “Good. Most people don’t think so. But the Order of Disorder agrees, and we’re willing to do whatever we need to do to keep those animals safe.”

  “Well, we’d like to help,” Aaron volunteered. “But what can we do?”

  “We know when the animals rounded up in the woods here are being transported,” said Alma. “We need the help of a Makar to assist us in moving them from the transportation vehicles to a safe place.”

  Tamara held up a hand, stopping Aaron and Call before they could volunteer. Her eyes were flinty. “No way. It’s too dangerous.”

  Alma looked hard at the three friends. “If you care about Havoc, then you should help me. These are his brothers and sisters in chaos. Perhaps even literally.”

  “If we’re going to help you — and yes, I come, too, even if I’m not a Makar — then you need to do something for us,” Tamara said.

  “Well, that would only be fair,” said Anastasia, with a small smile.

  “Anastasia has told us of your difficulties,” said Alma. “And of course, we hear things. The Order is not entirely disconnected from the world of the mages. We would be willing to help you find the spy.”

  Aaron sat up straight. “What makes you think you can find the spy?”

  “Because,” said Alma, “we have a witness we can interrogate.”

  “But there haven’t been any witnesses!” Call protested. “The Assembly hasn’t found any —”

  “There’s Jennifer Matsui,” said Alma calmly.

  There was a silence. “She’s dead,” Tamara said finally, looking at Alma as if she’d lost her mind. “Jen is dead.”

  “The Order has been studying chaos magic for years,” Alma said. “The kind of magic practiced by the Enemy of Death. The magic of life and death. Master Lemuel has learned a way to speak to the dead. We can talk to Jennifer Matsui and find out who attacked her, if you help us with the Chaos-ridden animals.”

  Call looked from Tamara’s stunned face to Aaron’s hopeful one. Aaron probably wanted to find the spy more than any of them, Call thought. More even than Call did himself.

  “Okay,” Call said. “What exactly do you need us to do?”

  That night, Call and Tamara went outside the caves to walk Havoc. Aaron had been willing to come, but it was obvious he didn’t really want to — he was sitting on the couch, bundled up in a blanket, reading comics that Alastair sent Call from home. When some people were upset, they ran around and yelled a lot, but Aaron curled into himself in a way that Call found more worrying.

  “This isn’t your fault, you know,” Tamara said to Call as Havoc nosed a patch of weeds. The wolf knew that as soon as he chose a tree or whatever and did his business, they were going to take him back inside, so he was lingering as much as possible.

  “I know that.” Call sighed. “I didn’t ask to be born — or reborn, or whatever.”

  She snorted. The night was clear, the stars bright, and the air less chilly than it should have been that time of year. Tamara wasn’t even wearing a jacket over her uniform. “That’s not what I meant.”

  With a deep breath, he went on. “I just feel like something happened way back when, with Constantine and Master Joseph and even Master Rufus and Alastair. They discovered stuff, back at the Magisterium. Important stuff. I mean, the Order of Disorder knows how to talk to the dead? That’s huge. And yet no one else seems to know that.”