This time there was a much more subdued murmur of applause. Good.

Master Rufus is right, Call thought grimly. Even more right than he knows.

“Now. Call, Tamara, Aaron, and Jasper,” said Rufus, turning toward the four of them. “Raise your wristbands. In them you will find a new stone, a tanzanite, representing the greatest of victories achieved in the cause of the Magisterium.”

Call jerked his wrist up and stared. It was true. There was a purple-blue stone glimmering on his wrist. Beside it was another new stone. A black stone, representing his new status as a Makar, a user of chaos magic.

Jasper pumped his fist skyward and whooped. Suddenly, the room was full of people shouting: “The Enemy is dead! The Enemy is dead!”

Only Tamara and Aaron didn’t chant along with them. They looked at Call — Tamara with worry and Aaron with disquiet. They, Jasper, and Alastair were the only ones who knew, Call thought. The Enemy of Death was no more dead than he’d been before. You couldn’t kill a monster when you were that monster.

Rufus lowered his hands, a gesture that seemed to unlock the students from their places. Everyone started running toward Call and his friends, pelting them with claps on the back and questions about the Enemy and the battle. Call whirled around in a sea of bodies, trying to keep his balance. Kimiya was hugging Tamara and crying. Alex was shaking Aaron’s hand. And then Celia was in front of Call, her eyes rimmed with red, reaching for his arm. Relieved, he turned toward her, thinking that at least she would be normal.

Moments before she planted a massive kiss right on his mouth.

Call’s eyes went wide. Hers were closed as she leaned into him. They stood like that for a moment. Call was aware that people were staring at them — Tamara looking shocked, and Aaron, standing near her, started to laugh. Call was pretty sure Aaron was laughing at the fact that Call, having no idea where to put his hands, was waving his arms around like a squid underwater.

Finally, Celia pulled back. “You’re a hero,” she said, her eyes shining. “I always knew it.”

“Um,” Call said. So that had been his first kiss. It had been … soft?

A blush started on her cheeks. “I should go,” she said, and ducked into the crowd.

“Look at Jasper,” Aaron said, coming up next to Call and clapping him on the shoulder. “What a show-off.”

At that moment Jasper sailed by, carried around on Rafe’s shoulders as people cheered and sang “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” He had a huge grin on his face.

Call smiled, too, immediately feeling a lot better. There was no way Jasper was going to say anything anytime soon, not if it meant giving up all of this. Call’s secret was safe.

“Excuse me,” Master Rufus said, pointing to Call. “I need to borrow you for a moment. That is, if you’re not too busy.”

Call swallowed a groan of humiliation. Had Master Rufus seen Celia kiss him? Was he going to say something embarrassing about it? Call desperately hoped not.

Master Rufus led him over to a table in a far corner, a table blocked by a rock outcropping from the view of the rest of the Refectory. At the table, a tall, dark-haired, clean-shaven man was eating a plate of mushrooms like his life depended on it. Alastair.

Call couldn’t remember any other parent being allowed inside the Magisterium, twice no less, but then the circumstances of his father being there were pretty unusual.

“It’s been a long time since I sat in this Refectory,” Alastair said, taking a big swig of some greenish juice that Call had never dared to try. “This is the lichen of my youth.”

“Uh, yeah,” Call said, wondering if the stuff had some kind of addictive properties, given the way his dad was tucking into it. “It’s not so bad after a while.”

“Mmmm,” Alastair said. Then, after swallowing a final forkful, he stood. “Call, I can’t stay, but Master Rufus agreed that the both of you could walk me out.”

“Okay,” Call said. “But do you have to go right away? Right now?”

“I’m afraid I do. There’s still some business with the Assembly. Some more questions to answer. And I have left my affairs in some disorder. But I will see you over the winter holidays and we’ll have lots to talk about then.”

Call sighed, but after all the terrible things his father had said about the Magisterium, he wasn’t surprised he was ready to leave so fast. Call wondered if he’d visited the Hall of Graduates and looked at his wife’s handprint — Call wasn’t sure if he was allowed to think of her as his mother anymore — but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

They walked together in silence out of the Refectory and down the long corridors that led to the front gates of the Magisterium, Alastair’s hand on Call’s shoulder, Master Rufus a few paces behind them.

At the doorway, Alastair turned and put his arms around Call, hugging him tightly. Call froze a little as his dad’s hand smoothed his hair down. He wasn’t a touchy-feely guy, Alastair, but Call could hear his dad swallow as he pulled back from Call and looked down at the band on his wrist. He raised Call’s hand gently.

“Constantine Madden had this same black stone in his wristband,” he said, and Call winced inside. “But he never had this.” His thumb moved to the purple-blue stone. “The tanzanite. This stone indicates ultimate bravery. The only other person I ever knew who bore the tanzanite was Verity Torres.”

“I’m not a hero,” Call said. “But I’m not going to be like Constantine. I promise.”

Alastair let go of Call’s wrist and smiled one of his rare, crooked smiles. “You put yourself in a lot of danger, staying behind in the tomb,” he said. “But I will never forget the look on Assemblyman Graves’s face as long as I live.”

Call couldn’t help smiling. Alastair gave him one last touch on the shoulder and began to make his way toward the long black car waiting for him on the cleared dirt outside the gates.

“Take care of yourself,” Master Rufus called.

Alastair paused and looked back at Rufus, then at Call. “Take care of my son.”

Master Rufus nodded. Then, with a half wave to both of them, Alastair ducked inside the car. It drove away, the tires squeaking on the gravel.

Call turned around to head back to the Refectory, but Master Rufus stopped him with a quick hand. “Call,” he said, “we ought to talk.”

Call turned, full of cold dread. He wondered what Alastair had told him. “Uh, okay. What about?”

“There is something I did not want to say to you in front of the other students.”

Call tensed. That couldn’t be good.

“Call, there is a spy in the Magisterium. It could be someone on the Enemy’s side. Working for Master Joseph now, most likely. Or it could be someone with a distrust of chaos mages.”

“What do you mean?”

“You may remember from your Iron Year lectures about the origins of magic that not all parts of the world are welcoming to Makars. Some mages believe that no one should ever work with chaos magic — and that those who can should be stopped or killed.”

Call vaguely recalled something about that, something about Europe not being Makar-friendly. “Why would you think there’s a spy, though?