That seemed to be that, unless he could make himself invisible. If he could, she was out of luck.
She loitered a moment by his overflowing bookcase—nothing there on magic, just tech—and then returned to the stone table in the center of the room to take one more look around. Actually ... the tablewasn’tdead center, despite being attached to the floor. It seemed equidistant from two walls, but it stood noticeably farther from the door than from the wall opposite.
Odd architectural choice. Of course, an odd architect designed this basement.
Still ...
She toed at the wall closest to the table, hoping her foot would go straight through. But if it was an illusion, it wasn’t the sort one could walk through.
She tried bluffing. “Hartgrave! I know you’re back there. Come out, game over.”
Nothing happened. She could picture him standing a yard away, smirking at her because he could do magic and she couldn’t.
Or couldn’t she?
After twenty-six years that had nothing in common with fantasy novels, her life was finally heading the proper direction. She’d wanted to find a wizard, and she had, never mind what he called himself. And what always happened after the wizard appeared? The hero learned he or she was extraordinary in some way.
As this particular wizard seemed disinclined to tell her anything, she would just have to discover it herself.
She raised her arms, trying to imitate Hartgrave’s spellcasting stance. Clenching her jaw, she concentrated with all her might on making the wall do her will.
After two minutes of willing and clenching, she had to admit she was getting nowhere. Also, her jaw ached. But as long as she was being ridiculous, she might as well go all out. Maybe she could make him laugh and give himself away.
“I can do this all day. For my next trick ...” She pressed her palms against the wall like an exorcist drawing out demons. “Three, two, one—open sesame!”
She didn’t expect it would actually work. She fell back a step as Hartgrave flickered into view, the false wall melting away to nothing.
“Please tell me I just did magic,” she said, heart racing.
He crossed his arms. “Of course not. Don’t be absurd.”
“Can I be absurdly disappointed?” she muttered, but really—she should have guessed. He hadn’t looked at all surprised when the spell dropped, just annoyed. Like he’d undone it himself just to make her stop.
“How is your head?” His tone was hardly solicitous, but she guessed from his unblinking assessment of her that he wanted very much to know.
“It’s okay, apparently.”
He looked away. Maybe he would have said something, given the chance, but she pressed on while she had the advantage. “It’s not fair to make me wait until next month. You know it’s not.”
“Life isn’t fair, Daggett.”
“True—for instance, I’m not going away.” She turned on her heel and walked toward the chair, calling over her shoulder, “But I will sit quietly.”
Her followed her to that side of the room and slouched against the wall. “I don’t believe I’m going to perform any magic today. Not in the mood, for some reason.”
“Oh, come on …”
“But feel free to watch. I’m sure it will be a scintillating morning.”
She rubbed her temples. The man caused headaches even when he wasn’t knocking her to the floor. “All right, I admit I came uninvited—”
“In the sense that invading armies are uninvited,” he said, outrage in every syllable.
“—but you can’t pretend you hold all the cards here, considering what I know.”
“I’ve found a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.” His voice was hard-edged. He hadn’t started hexing her, though. “At what point were you planning to honor your promise to sit here ‘quietly’?”
She took a deep breath and let it out, suppressing the urge to call him a wizard just to annoy him. “Listen, you can’t expect me to sit docilely in my office while you throw spells around in here. I have questions, an entirelifetimeof questions—”
