Spellmaker

Once they entered the library, Mr. Ogden nudged Bacchus with his elbow and tilted his head toward a heavy smattering of bookshelves. Bacchus followed him there, the light dimming as the expansive shelves blocked the glow from the high windows. Mr. Ogden paused near the back and walked to the middle of one shelf.

Then he closed his eyes.

Nothing extraordinary happened, but Bacchus knew spells were being cast. He had never considered rational aspecting—he had enough issues getting people to trust him without the threat that he could rip all their secrets from their brains—but its usefulness was becoming more and more apparent.

He wondered what this would look like—feel like?—to Elsie if she were in his place. Listening to Miss Prescott explain runes during Elsie’s lessons somewhat fascinated him, but he preferred the more colorful descriptions Elsie shared with him in quiet moments afterward. Knots and glitter and mushrooms. He hadn’t asked her what rational spells felt like.

Chest tightening, Bacchus feigned an interest in the book spines in front of them. The embossed lettering might as well have been in another language. Dear God, please help us find her before it’s too late. Please.

If she died . . . Bacchus didn’t know what he’d do. Lock himself away in Barbados and never cross the ocean again. Too many reminders . . .

Several minutes passed before Mr. Ogden opened his eyes. “I think I found someone useful. Come.”

He left like he owned the place, though it was apparent he’d never stepped foot in it, since he tried to walk through a wall more than once. Making his way to the “someone useful,” no doubt. Paying more attention to thoughts than to reality. Questions flitted about Bacchus’s uneasy mind, but he didn’t voice them.

They stayed on the main floor. Passed through a study hall before entering another chamber crammed with books. Mr. Ogden paused once, then took a sharp left.

A young man, probably a little younger than Bacchus, sat at a small round table in the corner, the enchanted disk on the table giving off enough light to illuminate the old book clutched in his hands. He didn’t look up when they approached.

Judging by his appearance, age, and the book he was reading, Bacchus guessed him to be an advanced physical aspector.

“My good sir,” Mr. Ogden said with authority, but quietly enough to keep his voice from carrying, “I have questions for you.”

The man looked up, forehead crinkled with irritation at being interrupted. Before he spoke, however, his entire expression changed, and he slammed the book shut and tried to stand, knocking the enchanted light off his table. “Master Bennett! What brings you here?”

Bacchus scooped up the light and replaced it as Mr. Ogden said, “No need for exclamations, young man. Sit.”

He did, admiration in his eyes.

Master Bennett? Bacchus eyed his companion. Had he planted a false memory in the man, making him think he was speaking to a venerable master aspector?

He’s even more powerful than I thought. Which put Bacchus on edge. Had he ever been enchanted in such a way? Rational aspectors were very closely monitored because of the nature of their spells. But Mr. Ogden was not a member of any atheneum—there was no oversight for his use of the magic. And while it was possible to purchase a rational master spell protecting the mind, not unlike what Ruth Hill’s assailant had worn when attacking Mr. Ogden, Bacchus certainly would not delay Elsie’s rescue in order to acquire one. Which left him with little choice but to push his misgivings aside and go with the plan.

“Tell me.” Mr. Ogden waved his hand. “I need to speak with the assembly about an ambulation spell, but it’s very private, involving the queen and all. I don’t want everyone knowing until I learn a few things for certain.”

Then, in Bacchus’s mind,

Bacchus nodded, never taking his eyes off the advanced aspector, whom he noted was as English and male as they came. Mr. Ogden had chosen this man because he was favored enough to know things, while also unimportant enough not to break the trust of someone he thought more senior.

It was only then that Bacchus truly understood how dangerous this all was. Elsie might not be the only one sleeping in a jail cell.

“Oh.” The man looked uncomfortable for a moment. Mr. Ogden subtly waved his hands again.

“You can trust me, lad,” he pressed.

After a few seconds, the aspector nodded. “Well, you know only Master Phillips and Master Ulf know the master ambulation spell.”

Bacchus cut in, “Tell me about Master Ulf.” He was one of three men in the assembly that Bacchus knew very little about.

“Master Johan Ulf.” His gaze slid back to Mr. Ogden, as though entranced by his presence. “German scholar, the one with red sideburns. He lives just down the street in the gated neighborhood.” The aspector shifted in his chair. “Doesn’t like me much.”