He felt the drag on his muscles and then a lightness as his body rose into the air. As Aaron had instructed, he didn’t try to lift himself more than a few inches. With just enough space to clear the steps, he drifted downward. Though he wanted to tell Aaron he wasn’t going to fall, it was kind of nice knowing that if he did, someone was poised to catch him.

Alastair’s steady footsteps were also reassuring. Carefully, they made their way down, Alastair and Aaron walking, Call hovering just above the stairs. A few steps from the bottom, he let himself drift gently down. He hit the stairs and stumbled.

It was Alastair who reached out to grab his shoulder. “Steady on,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Call said gruffly, and limped quickly down the last few steps. His muscles ached a little, but nothing like the pain he would have been in if he’d walked. Aaron was already on the ground and gave him a big grin.

“Check it out,” he said. “The Collegium.”

“Whoa.” Call had never seen anything like it. The spaces of the Magisterium were often magnificent, and some were enormous, but they were always clearly underground caverns carved from natural rock. This was different.

A huge hall opened in front of them. The walls, the floor, and the columns that held up the roof were all gold-flecked white marble. A tapestry map of the Collegium decorated one wall. There was a huge dais that ran along one side of the room, and multicolored banners hung behind it. Sayings from the works of Paracelsus and other famous alchemists were printed across them in gold. All is interrelated, said one. Fire and earth, air and water. All are but one thing, not four, not two, and not three, but one. Where they are not together is only an incomplete piece.

A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling. Fat crystals dangled from it like teardrops, scattering light in all directions over the large crowd of people — members of the Assembly in golden robes, Masters of the Magisterium in black, and everyone else in elegant suits and dresses.

“Fancy,” said Alastair, grimly. “Too fancy.”

“Yeah,” said Call. “The Magisterium is a real dump. I had no idea.”

“There aren’t any windows,” Aaron said, looking around. “Why aren’t there windows?”

“Probably because we’re underwater,” Call answered. “Wouldn’t the pressure break the glass?”

Before they could continue their speculation, Master North, head of the Magisterium, came toward them out of the crowd. “Alastair. Aaron. Call. You’re late.”

“Underwater traffic,” said Call.

Aaron elbowed him.

Master North gave him a stern look. “Anyway, you’re here. The others are waiting with the Assembly.”

“Master North,” said Alastair with a curt nod. “My apologies for our lateness, but we are the honorees. You could hardly start without us, could you?”

Master North gave a thin smile. Both he and Alastair appeared as though they might become quickly exhausted by the strain of being civil. “Come with me.”

Aaron and Call shared a look before following the adults through the room. As the crowd grew more tightly packed, people started to press in at them, staring at Aaron — and at Call, too. One middle-aged man with a paunch caught Call’s arm.

“Thank you,” the man whispered before letting him go. “Thank you for killing Constantine.”

I didn’t. Call stumbled on as hands reached out of the crowd. He shook some, avoided others, gave one a high five and then felt stupid.

“Is this what it’s like for you all the time?” he asked Aaron.

“Not before last summer,” Aaron said. “Anyway, I thought you wanted to be a hero.”

I guess it’s better than being a villain, Call thought, but let the words die on his tongue.

Finally they came to where the Assembly was waiting, separated from the rest of the room by floating silver ropes. Anastasia Tarquin, one of the most powerful members of the Assembly, was talking to Tamara’s mother. Tarquin was an extremely tall, older woman with masses of upswept, bright silver hair, and Tamara’s mother had to crane her neck to look at her.

Tamara was standing with Celia and Jasper, all three of them laughing about something. It was the first time Call had seen Tamara since the start of summer. She was wearing a bright yellow dress that made her brown skin glow. Her hair fell in heavy, dark waves around her face and down her back. Celia had done something weird and elegant and complicated with her blond hair. She was in a seafoam-green gauzy thing that seemed to waft around her.

Both the girls turned toward Call and Aaron. Tamara’s face lit up and Celia smiled. Call felt a little bit like someone had kicked him in the chest. Weirdly, it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

Tamara ran over to Aaron, giving him a quick hug. Celia hung back as though struck with sudden shyness. It was Jasper who came up to Call, clapping him on the shoulder, which was a relief, as nothing about Jasper made Call feel as if his world was tilting. Jasper just looked like his usual smug self, his dark hair sticking up with hair gel.

“So, how’s the ole E-o-D, himself?” Jasper whispered, making Call flinch. “You’re the star of the show.”

Call hated that Jasper knew the truth about him. Even if he was fairly sure Jasper would never reveal his secret, it didn’t stop Jasper from making comments and needling him every chance he got.

“Come,” Master Rufus said. “Time is wasting. We have a ceremony to attend, whether we want to or not.”

With that, Call, Aaron, Tamara, Jasper, Master Rufus, Master Milagros, and Alastair were herded up onto a raised dais. Celia waved good-bye as they went.

Call knew they were in trouble when he saw there were chairs up on the dais. Chairs meant a long ceremony. He wasn’t wrong. The ceremony went by in a blur, but it was an extended and boring blur. Various Assembly members made speeches about how integral they personally had been to the mission. “They couldn’t have done it without me,” said a blond Assembly member Call had never seen before. Master Rufus and Master Milagros were praised for having such fine apprentices. The Rajavis were praised for having raised such a brave daughter. Alastair was praised for his diligence in leading their expedition. The kids themselves were credited with being the greatest heroes of their time.

They were applauded and kissed on their cheeks and patted on their backs. Alastair was given a heavy medal that swung on his neck. He began to look a little wild-eyed after they stood up for the sixth round of applause.

No one mentioned severed heads or the whole misunderstanding where they had thought Alastair was in league with the Enemy or how no one at the Magisterium had even known that the kids were going on the mission. Everyone acted like this had been the plan all along.

They were all given their Bronze Year wristbands and stones of glimmering red beryl to show the worth of their accomplishment. Call wondered what the red stone meant exactly — every stone color had a meaning: yellow for healing, orange for bravery, and so on.

Call stepped up to have Master Rufus place the stone in his wristband. The red beryl went in with a click, like a lock being shut. “Callum Hunt, Makar!” someone in the room shouted. Someone else stood up and cried out Aaron’s name. Call let the shouts wash over him like a bewildering tide. “Call and Aaron! Makaris, Makaris, Makaris!”