“I have something to tell you, Anastasia,” he said.

She looked at him with a mixture of hesitation and hope.

“I really didn’t remember you, and I’m sorry,” he said. “But I realized after Alex came here that Constantine had locked away his memories inside my head. He was worried a baby wouldn’t be able to withstand an adult’s memories. He arranged it so I wouldn’t remember until I was ready.”

“And you were ready?” Anastasia demanded.

“I guess,” Call said. “We were attacked by wolves, and the memories just opened up. I could see myself pacing back and forth in front of Jericho’s tomb.”

Tell her you could see her. Aaron’s tone was firm.

“I could see you, Mom,” Call said. “I know how much you loved me and how much you cared about what happened to me.”

Anastasia’s face began to crumble. Her carefully applied makeup ran as her tears streamed down her cheeks.

Tell her it’s not her fault.

“Nothing that happened to me was your fault,” Call said.

“Oh, Con,” she gasped, and threw herself at him, seizing him up in a tight embrace. Call dug his heels into the soft dirt to keep from being yanked off his feet. He was as tall as Anastasia, but she had the strength of hysteria.

“I need your help now, though,” Call said.

Not so impatient. Kindly.

“Please,” Call added. “It’s about Alex.”

She drew back from him, troubled. “I know he’s very angry,” she said. “He blames you and he shouldn’t. He doesn’t understand that you didn’t remember. I’m sure when you explain it to him —”

Explain it to Alex? Call choked back a laugh.

“I won’t be able to do that,” he said. “The Magisterium has set it up so that Alex and I are going to have to fight. They want me to kill him.”

“Savages!” Anastasia’s face darkened. “To force brother to fight brother.”

She can’t seriously think of us as brothers.

You can’t contradict her, said Aaron. Make her understand the danger. You and Alex could both die.

“You know how strong I am,” Call said, trying to look at her the way Constantine would have. “If Alex and I fight, we’ll kill each other.”

She looked fearful. “He is a Devoured of chaos.”

“I don’t think either of us will survive. That’s why I need your help.”

“We could run away,” she said. “All three of us. Live together, me and my two sons.” She looked at him mistily.

“Not as long as Alex is a Devoured of chaos,” said Call. “Think of it as a disease we have to cure. As long as the chaos is eating him up, he’ll hate me, and then one day he’ll start to hate you.”

“The Devoured cannot be cured,” Anastasia protested.

“They can.” Call tried to project confidence and assuredness as Aaron spoke to him silently. “I’ve set it all up. The Magisterium insists we meet in combat, and I know how to draw the chaos out of him. Once that happens, we’ll be all right — as long as you tell them Alex only ever did the bad things he did because you asked him to.”

“Because I asked him to?” She drew back. “How will that help?”

“It’s what they think anyway,” said Call.

Don’t tell her they think it because you told them so.

Call ignored that. “They need to believe it wasn’t him. Otherwise they’ll track him to the ends of the earth and execute him. But you can take the blame and escape.”

Tell her it isn’t really blame. Tell her she’ll be a hero. So many people will think she did the right thing.

Call took a deep breath. “A lot of people don’t agree with the mage world’s decisions about things,” he said. “The way they kill Makar in Europe. The way they treat the Devoured. The way they blamed Constantine when all he — all I — was trying to do was to end death and suffering.”

Anastasia nodded, her eyes fixed on his. Call felt as if he was giving the most important speech of his life.

“I’m sure that when you stand up and speak, many will sympathize,” said Call. “And you can flee on your air elemental. You can make sure it’s standing by.”

Tell her about the future, Aaron said.

“The Magisterium will pardon Alex,” Call said. “And then we’ll come to you, and we’ll leave the mage world behind. We can spend our lives traveling.” He thought of the similar words Alastair had spoken to him when he’d begged him to leave the Magisterium. “We can be together.”

Anastasia’s cool gray eyes glowed. “Very well,” she said slowly. “You’d better fill me in on exactly how this plan is going to go.”

CALL FELT GUILTY as he walked up the hill. When he saw Tamara at the top, his expression was bleak.

“Did it not work?” she asked him.

“It worked,” he said. “I was just thinking how maybe I understand why people are afraid of chaos mages. Maybe they should be afraid.”

Tamara put his hand on Call’s shoulder. “It’s not fair that because you’re a Makar, you have to deal with all this. It wasn’t fair when it was Aaron, and it’s not fair when it’s you. We’re still kids. Maybe not kids like we were when we came to the Magisterium, but too young to be responsible for the lives of so many other people. I think you’re doing great.”

“If you think so, then I guess it must be true,” Call said.

This is my fault, Aaron said.

No, it’s not, Call thought back. This time it’s not any of our faults.

Tamara took his hand and held it all the way back to the Mission Gate. When they came through, Jasper and Gwenda were waiting for them, looking grave.

“What happened?” Call demanded loudly, cutting through the other voices. Gwenda looked abruptly apologetic and a cold sliver of fear ran through him.

“You better come,” said Jasper. “Now.”

He started moving through the tunnels fast enough that Call had to ask him to slow down twice just to keep up. When they arrived back at their common room, Master Rufus was there, looking very grave.

Beside him was a Devoured of air. He appeared in the form of a grayish mist that moved out from the shape of his body to evaporate in the air. His features became more and less distinct as the cloudlike shape of his body shifted.

Call could see his glasses, the shape of his face, even the translucent outline of gray-and-brown hair. Call knew him. He didn’t want to, but he did.

The Devoured was Alastair, his father.

For a moment, Call’s bad leg almost gave out. He lurched sideways and caught himself on a table. All Call’s thoughts had fled. He didn’t want to believe what he was looking at. He didn’t want to see what was in front of him. He didn’t want to comprehend it.

“Dad,” he said. The word came out broken.

Tamara gasped.

He must really love you, said Aaron, which seemed all wrong to Call at the same time that it was true.

“Dad,” he said again, and the shape flowed toward him, enveloped him in fog and whirling wind. There was nothing comforting in that touch. It was too inhuman, too cold.