Badgering may be sooner than I expected.Sondre hoped his new wife would let him stay with her. Most badgers lived rough, like the animals they resembled, but the thought of that made Sondre want to run.
Bracing for a sudden shift in height and a coat of fur wasn’t high on Sondre’s list of plans for the day—or ever—but if Prospero had told Walt what she knew, Sondre would have to face consequences. There was little chance of avoiding his fate.
He stepped out of the infirmary and looked down at the chief witch. “Walt.”
“House Grendel needs a new head of house,” Walt said without preamble. “You’re next in line.”
“Me?” Sondre blinked, half thinking that he was imagining things or misunderstanding. He’d thought about that, but he was guilty of conspiracy. Surely, they’d skip over him.
“No, the unconscious witches inside the room. Yes,you.Is there a problem with that?” Walt tugged on his rather inflated beard, a habit that served as a good metric for how his day was going. Based on the size of the cloud under his chin, Walt had been having a day that rivaled Sondre’s right now.
“Err, youdorealize that I have stood with the New Economists for years,” Sondre said, feeling like he ought to confess to the obvious at the least. He stood staring at the older Scotsman and hoping his “are you mad, man?”expression was better hidden than it felt. Carefully, Sondre added, “And I am the current headmaster and—”
“You like running the school, now?” Walt scoffed.
“I don’t know, but—”
“So someone else can do this. We can’t have a house-head spot vacant, and Aggie’s screwed up too much to survive this retrieval.” Walt sighed, gaze flitting away. “We can’t go around Crenshaw withguns,of all things.” He sighed and muttered, “Guns in citizens’ hands here in Crenshaw? What’s the world coming to if we allow that?”
Sondre looked back at the infirmary door. Whatever all they’d disagreed on, he’d have never shot Lord Scylla. Fought with her? Brawled with her? They’d done plenty of that over the last few decades. The woman had a dirty fighting style that had landed him in the infirmary a few times.
“You can’t up and shoot a person because you disagree with them,” Sondre said.
“Exactly.” Walt eyed him. “You still have the stones for the house of justice?”
“Mystonesare just fine, Walt. Feel free to ask the missus,” Sondre said dryly.
Walt guffawed. “Might just do that next time I see her.”
“I want consent to let the boy move between worlds,” Sondre announced.Now’s as good a time as any.“He can’t be the only teenager in Crenshaw. He has no peers at all.”
“Should’ve thought of that before you brought him here,” Walt pointed out. “Is the woman aware that he likely has latent magic?”
“Maggie. She has a name, Walt. I think she hopes it, but… no.” Sondre squirmed at the thought of that conversation.
“You know the only reason I didn’t punish you for bringing the boy here is because I knew that she’d be able to tame you,” Walt said. “I was sick of you working with those dumbasses. You’re smarter than that. They exploited your restlessness.”
Sondre paused. “So you did what?”
“Decided to keep the chit here for you and as a friend to that hellacious Brandeau woman.” Walt looked at him like he was spoiling for a fight.
“She could be siphoned.” Sondre was asking as much as stating it.
“Brandeau? N—”
“Walt,” Sondre cut him off. “Maggie.”
“Could? Yes.”
“Then why not let herandCraig go back?” Sondre stared at him with a new level of awareness, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to have.
“Well, then, how would I control you? Threaten Brandeau?” Walt shook his head and then raised one finger to point at Sondre. “Politics means leverage. I had none on you. Now? I do.”
“Your word that Craig can go back,” Sondre demanded. “I’ll lie to her and say we can all be siphoned if that’s what it takes to keep them safe.”
“Fine. The boy can go. She stays. That’s the deal. And you will go with Prospero to hunt the escapees when the time comes,” Walt ordered, pulling Sondre back into thenowcrisis. “Together you’re a formidable team.”
Walt flinched a little as he mentioned hunting, but it was the right word for what was inevitable now. Scylla was Prospero’s friend; Crenshaw was her home. The New Economists who fled had endangered everything dear to Prospero.Except Brandeau.If that one was under threat, too? Someone would be tasked with sedating the Victorian witch.And I can’t blame her. Not right now. Not at all if I’m honest.
