Call hated to admit it, but he’d been relieved. The more they talked about the Alkahest and the Enemy and his possible plans, the more Call felt like he was going to get caught.

“I need to be able to protect people,” Aaron said. “And I can’t do that if I don’t even understand the threat.”

Call sighed. “Can’t we look up stuff after we unpack?”

“You don’t have to come,” Aaron said. “I’m not going to be in any danger on my way to the library.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tamara said. “Of course we’re coming. Call has just got to put on his uniform.”

“Yeah,” he said with obviously forced enthusiasm, heading for his room and throwing his duffel on the bed.

He had a little trouble getting his feet into the big boots they all wore around the Magisterium to protect them from rocks and water — and on occasion, lava — but he figured he’d get used to them again. When he headed back to the common room, Aaron and Tamara were perched on the back of the sofa, sharing a bag of Ruffles. Tamara held it out to him.

Call grabbed the bag, shoving a fistful of chips into his face, and started toward the door. They followed, and Havoc ran after them, barking. By the time they spilled out into the hallway, Havoc was in the lead. “Library!” Call told him. “Library, Havoc!”

On the way, Call vowed to be helpful. After all, what made Evil Overlords bad was how they acted, not their secret thoughts. There was no such thing as a helpful Evil Overlord.

It was a huge relief to be able to walk around the corridors of the Magisterium openly with Havoc, instead of hiding him in the bedroom. The other students cast them glances that were a mixture of respect, fear, and admiration when they saw the Chaos-ridden wolf loping ahead of them.

Of course they were impressed by Aaron, too, the black gem stark in his wristband. But Havoc belonged to Call.

Not that that was what anyone thought. Aaron’s wolf, he heard the students whisper to one another as they passed. Look at the size of that thing. He must be pretty powerful to control it.

“You forgot your wristband,” Aaron said with a sideways grin, dropping Call’s new copper wristband into his hand. “Again. Don’t make me always have to remind you.”

Call rolled his eyes, sliding the wristband on. It felt good on his wrist. Familiar.

They reached the library, which was shaped like the inside of a conch shell: a spiral room that narrowed as it went down until it reached a flat lower level where long tables had been set up. Since classes hadn’t started yet, the place was empty.

“Where do we start?” Call wondered aloud, looking around the vast expanse of books that stretched down and away.

“Well, I’m no library expert, but A for Alkahest seems like a safe bet,” said Tamara, skipping ahead. She was obviously thrilled to be back.

As it turned out, the library was divided into sections and subsections. They eventually turned up a book entitled Alkahests and Other Indices of Magick on a top shelf that required Aaron to stand on a chair to reach it.

They brought the book over to one of the long tables, and Aaron carefully cracked it open. The spine shed dust.

Call tried to read over Aaron’s shoulder, catching every few words. An alkahest, the book said, was a universal solvent, a substance that dissolved all things, from gold to diamonds to chaos magic. As Call frowned, not sure what that had to do with what they’d overheard, Aaron flipped the page and they saw a drawing of the Alkahest, which wasn’t a substance at all, but an enormous glove — a gauntlet, really — made from copper.

Forged from a combination of all the elemental forces, the gauntlet was a weapon created for one purpose — to push the ability to control chaos out of a Makar. Instead of controlling the void, the Makar would be destroyed by it. The gauntlet could be wielded by any mage, but it required the living heart of a chaos creature to give it power.

Call sucked in a long breath. He’d seen the exact same gauntlet in the drawing in his father’s creepy basement ritual room. The Alkahest had been the reason Alastair had wanted to cut out Havoc’s heart.

Alastair must have tried to steal the gauntlet from the Collegium.

Call’s head swam. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself upright. Aaron flipped the page.

There was a black-and-white photograph of the gauntlet in a glass case, probably in its resting place in the Collegium. A brief history was recorded in a sidebar beside the picture. It had been created by a group of researchers who’d called themselves the Order of Disorder. Master Joseph and Constantine Madden had once been part of their number, hoping to plumb the depths of chaos magic and to find a way to allow more mages to access the void. When Constantine Madden broke away and became the Enemy of Death, the Order had hoped their Alkahest could stop him.

Apparently, the Alkahest had fallen into the Enemy’s hands near the end of the war, allowing the Enemy’s minions to kill Verity Torres on the battlefield while Constantine Madden led more of his forces to the mountain in La Rinconada for the Cold Massacre.

The book said that the Order of Disorder still existed, researching Chaos-ridden animals, though no one was sure who their leaders were now.

“The mages will figure out who tried to take it,” Tamara said. “And it’s in a safer place now.”

“If one of Constantine Madden’s people get ahold of it, the next time I see the gauntlet, it’ll be pointed at me.” Aaron exhaled a long, worried breath. “Let’s see if this book says anything about destroying the Alkahest.”

Call wanted to say something, to reassure Aaron that it wasn’t the minions of the Enemy who were after the gauntlet; it was just Call’s dad.

But before he could decide to do it, Master Rufus made his way down the nautilus stairs of the library. All three of his apprentices turned to look guiltily in his direction, even though there was nothing for them to look guilty about. They were in a library, researching. Rufus ought to have been thrilled.

He didn’t look thrilled. He looked worried. Peering over Tamara’s shoulder, he frowned and said, “Aaron, the Alkahest is locked up. The Assembly had it moved to a vault designed by metal mages during the last war. It’s underground, beneath a place you’ve been before, and completely secure.”

“I just wanted to know more about it,” Aaron said.

“I see.” Master Rufus folded his arms over his chest. “Well, I am not here to interrupt your studies. I am here to speak with Callum.”

“Me?” Call asked.

“You.” Master Rufus took a few steps away from the others and Call followed him reluctantly.

“Havoc, stay,” Call muttered. He wasn’t sure what the mage was going to tell him, but he could tell it wasn’t going to be good.

“Your father is here to see you,” the Master announced.

“What?” Call shouldn’t have been stunned, but he was. “I thought parents weren’t allowed to come to the Magisterium.”

“They’re not.” Master Rufus peered down at Call, as though he was trying to discern the answer to some question. “But the Magisterium is not in the habit of kidnapping students, either. I assumed you arrived here in the standard manner; Alastair informed us that he didn’t speak with you before you left your home. He said you ran away.”