“Where are you going?” asked Jasper, and Call wanted to tell him to shut up, not to make Gwenda say whatever awful thing she was thinking, because Call didn’t need to hear it. But Call didn’t tell Jasper to shut up because he didn’t want Jasper to leave, too. He especially didn’t want Tamara to follow them out.

But Gwenda came back a moment later with a big book called Makars Through History. “Okay,” she said, eyes sparkling. “Were you the Monster of Morvonia?”

“I don’t think so, actually,” Call said. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“I guess it’s good you weren’t every evil mage throughout history,” said Tamara.

“The Hooded Kestrel?” Gwenda asked.

“I was that one,” he answered. “Unfortunately.”

Her eyebrows went up. Tamara bent to see the page Gwenda was reading from. “Yikes,” she said. “It says here that he used to use his chaos to churn up his victims’ insides. Gross. Like a magical egg beater.”

“Do you mind?” said Jasper. “I’m eating lichen.”

“What about Ludmilla of Prague?” said Gwenda.

Call nodded. “I was definitely her.”

“She sent a plague of beetles against the men of Prague when one of them divorced a friend of hers.” Gwenda chuckled.

“No approving of the Evil Overlords,” said Jasper. He turned to Call. “Look,” he said, “we’ve been through a lot together. So much so that I can say that I don’t really care which evil magician you were in your past life.”

“Lives,” Call corrected gloomily.

“Water under the bridge,” said Jasper.

“But you were Constantine Madden,” said Gwenda. “Right?”

“I was, but it’s complicated. It looks like the original evil mage, Maugris, tracked Constantine down after he’d become the Enemy of Death. He jumped into his body, and no one ever noticed the difference, probably because Constantine was already pretty evil. It does explain, though, why he never really tried to raise Jericho from the dead after that, just moved him to a mausoleum — Maugris didn’t care.”

Tamara shuddered. “I can’t imagine having someone else’s memories thrust at me all at once like that. No wonder you were so disoriented.”

Tell me about it, said Aaron.

Call nodded. He very deliberately didn’t say that if his soul had started out in someone named Maugris, then those memories didn’t belong to someone else. They belonged to him, even if he wished they didn’t. “There was one thing, though,” he said. “I — I mean Maugris — was around for a really long time. And he saw some stuff. Like another Devoured of chaos.”

For a moment, they were all quiet, looking at him.

“Seriously?” Gwenda said. “You’re not just messing around? Maugris saw a Devoured of chaos?”

Call nodded.

“Do you know how to stop Alex?” Tamara asked, looking as though she was holding her breath.

“I have a way,” he said. “Maugris managed to purify the chaos out of the Devoured he fought. According to the rules of alchemy, it took four Devoureds of four different elements to do it. But if we can pull the chaos out of Alex’s body, then we can fight him normally.”

I wish I could fight him, Aaron said. I wish I could punch him right in the face.

“So he’d live?” Tamara asked. Call couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or not.

Call nodded. “Maybe if he’d been Devoured longer, then there wouldn’t be as much of him left, but I think he will be strong enough to be dangerous. Remember, he’s still a Makar.”

“So he could do it, too,” said Jasper. “He could push out someone’s soul. He could jump into another body when he was dying, just like Maugris.”

Call started. “But he doesn’t know he could do that.”

“Come on, Call. Think like an Evil Overlord,” said Jasper. “He knows what Constantine Madden did. He knows how he survived the Cold Massacre.”

Tamara nodded. “Jasper is right. We’re going to have to be very careful.”

In Call’s head, the beginning of an idea bloomed.

“At least we have a plan,” said Gwenda, picking up a fizzy drink and taking a big gulp. “I thought we were never going to come up with one. This is pretty exciting, actually.”

Jasper shook his head, as though mourning the reasonable Gwenda of days past.

Call thought that after all the being unconscious and raving that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but it turned out that after eating and talking, he was exhausted. Whatever the visions had been, they weren’t restful. Luckily that night he didn’t remember his dreams.

At the bell, he rose, stretched, scratched Havoc, and went out into the common room. Master Rufus was there, waiting for him.

“Callum,” he said. “I am relieved to see you up and moving. We were all afraid for you, an altogether too common occurrence these days. Since Aaron’s death, you’ve been taking far too many risks. How many times have you overextended your magic? How many times have you done magic that would be dangerous even if you had a counterweight, which you don’t.”

Call looked down at the floor.

“Choose another counterweight and do it soon. No, that person won’t be Aaron, but they will keep you alive.”

Call still didn’t speak.

Master Rufus gave a long sigh. “I can’t tell you to be more careful, not when the Assembly is sending you up against Alex. But if this is about guilt —”

“It’s not,” Call said quickly.

Master Rufus put his hand on Call’s shoulder. “Aaron’s death was never your fault.”

Call nodded uncomfortably.

He’s right, said Aaron.

“None of this is your fault, Call. That would be like blaming yourself for being born.” Master Rufus waited a moment, as though expecting Call to reply, but he didn’t.

“I’ve been thinking,” Master Rufus went on. “About my own situation. About how one has to sometimes face uncomfortable things.”

“Are you going to tell your husband?” Call said. “About being a mage?”

The older man gave a rueful smile. “If we get through this, yes.”

There was a knock on the door. Master Rufus went to answer it, swinging the door wide. On the other side was Alastair.

He looked haggard and drawn, as if he hadn’t slept in a few days. His hair was rumpled. “Call!” he exclaimed, pushing past his old teacher. He reached Call and seized him in a hug.

“Your father has been very worried about you,” said Master Rufus, when Alastair stopped thumping Call on the shoulder blades and stood back to look at him. “He’s been staying in the Magisterium since you first fell ill.”

“I thought I heard your voice,” Call said, remembering his dad’s words tangled up among the flood of other memories and visitors.

Alastair cleared his throat. “Rufus, could Call and I have some time alone?”

“Certainly.” Polite as always, Rufus showed himself out.

Alastair and Call sat down on the sofa while Havoc trotted over to investigate. After nosing at Alastair’s pant leg, he curled up and fell asleep on his shoe.