“Does he think we can’t see him?” Celia asked curiously one day, after Havoc had leaped down the side of a hill and crashed into a huge leaf pile. Just his tail was visible, sticking out of the end of the pile.

“I can only see his tail,” Call said. “He’s doing pretty well, really.”

Celia giggled. Call had gone from thinking it was weird that Celia laughed at everything he said to thinking it was kind of awesome. She was wearing a red fuzzy sweater and looked pink-cheeked and pretty.

“So how did your dad react when you brought Havoc home?” she asked, gathering up a handful of leaves from the ground: yellow, gold, and russet.

Call chose his words carefully. “Not well,” he said. “I mean, we live in a small town. It would be kind of hard to keep any pet a secret, and even though no one knows what Chaos-ridden is, they do know what a big wolf is.”

“Yeah.” Celia’s eyes rounded with sympathy. “He must have been worried someone would hurt Havoc.”

Celia was so nice, Call thought. It never even occurred to her that Alastair might want to hurt Havoc himself. Which was impressive considering that the only time she’d seen Alastair, at the Iron Trial, he’d been wild-eyed and waving a knife around. Reflexively, Call touched Miri’s hilt where it stuck up above the inside pocket of his jacket.

“That was your mom’s knife, right?” Celia asked shyly.

“Yeah,” Call said. “She made it when she was a mage at school here.” He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. He tried not to think about his mother too much, about whether she would have been kinder to Havoc, whether she would have loved him no matter what fingerprints were on his soul.

“I know she died at the Cold Massacre,” Celia said. “I’m so sorry.”

Call cleared his throat. “It’s all right. It was a long time ago. I never really knew her.”

“I never knew my aunt, either,” she said. “I was a baby when she was killed at the Cold Massacre. But if I ever got a chance to take revenge, I’d —”

She broke off, looking embarrassed. Havoc had freed himself from the leaves and was trotting up the hill, twigs caught in his fur.

“You’d what?” Call said.

“I’d kill the Enemy of Death myself,” she told him with finality. “I hate him so much.”

Call felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Celia was looking down at the leaves in her hands, letting them scatter over the ground like confetti. He could tell that her lips were trembling, that she was a second away from crying. Someone else, a better friend, would have stepped forward to put an arm around her, maybe pat her shoulder. But Call stood paralyzed. How could he offer to comfort Celia over something he’d done himself?

If she found out the truth, she’d hate him.

That night, Call had a dream. In it, he was skateboarding around his old town with Havoc, who had his own green-and-gold skateboard with spiky wheels. They were both wearing sunglasses, and whenever they passed someone on the street, that person broke into spontaneous applause and threw handfuls of candy to them, as though they were in a Halloween parade.

“Hello, Call,” Master Joseph said, appearing suddenly in the middle of the street. Call tried to skate past him when everything went white, as though they were standing on a blank sheet of paper. Havoc was gone.

Master Joseph smiled at Call. He wore long Assembly robes and clasped his hands behind his back.

Call began to back away. “Get out of my dream,” he said, looking around wildly for something, anything he could use as a weapon. “Get out of my head!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Master Joseph said. There was a dark stain across the front of his robes. It looked like dirty water. Call remembered him cradling the dead body of his son, Drew, how water had gotten all over Master Joseph and how he had cried with ugly sobs.

After, he’d gotten to his feet and called Call “Master.” He’d said it was all right that Drew was dead, because Call was Constantine Madden, and if Constantine Madden wanted Drew dead, then he must have a good reason.

“This isn’t real,” Call insisted, pointing to his leg, which wasn’t scarred or thin and didn’t hurt at all. “Which means you’re not real.”

“Oh, but I am,” said Master Joseph. He snapped his fingers and snow began to fall, dusting Call’s hair and catching in his lashes. “As real as this. As real as the terrible choice Alastair Hunt must make.”

“What? What choice?” Call asked, drawn into the argument despite himself.

Master Joseph went on as if Call hadn’t spoken. “Why do you remain at the Magisterium, where they will only despise you? You could be with the man who has raised you and with me, your loyal friend. You could be safe. We could begin to rebuild your empire. If you agreed, I could take you tonight.”

“No,” Call said. “I’ll never go with you.”

“Oh, you will,” Master Joseph told him. “Maybe not yet, but you will. I know you, you see, much better than you know yourself.”

Call woke up with the cold sting of snow still on his face and shuddered. He put his hand to his cheek. It came away wet. He tried to tell himself it was just a dream, but dreams didn’t melt on your skin.

The next class, Call raised his hand before Master Rufus could start a lecture. Master Rufus’s eyebrows rose. Tamara looked surprised, although Aaron was too busy searching for something in his satchel to pay any attention.

“You don’t need to do that,” Master Rufus said. “There are only three of you here.”

“It’s a habit,” Call said, wiggling his fingers a little, a trick anyone who needed to be called on to get a bathroom pass knew well.

Master Rufus sighed. “All right then, Call. What is it that you need?”

He dropped his hand. “I want to know how to prevent people from finding us.”

Master Rufus rubbed a hand over his face, as though a bit flummoxed by this request. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean — or why you need to know that. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Tamara looked approvingly at Call. “That’s smart. If we knew how to hide better, then Aaron would be safer.”

Call might not have been smart enough to think of that, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

Aaron finally looked up at the mention of his name, blinking a few times as though trying to figure out what they’d been talking about.

“The element of air is what allows us to communicate over great distances,” Master Rufus said. “So it is the element of earth that blocks those communications. You can enchant a stone to protect the person who wears it or carries it. Now tell me why we chose to build the school where we did.”

“So being under all this rock would make it easy to protect the school from being found?” Aaron asked. “But what about that tornado phone thing you let Call use?”

And what about my dream? Call thought but did not say.

Master Rufus nodded. “Yes, the earth around the Magisterium is enchanted. There are areas of access so we can have some contact with the outside world. Perhaps we should make our Makar a stone specifically enchanted against scrying. Gather around and I will show you how. But Call and Tamara, if I find that you’re using this to sneak around or to hide something, you will be in a world of trouble. I will lock you up underground like one of those elementals we discussed.”