Page 62 of The Spell Caster

I recognized Councilor Quince, the hawk-nosed witch who had been with us for the summoning circle. He stood and convened the meeting. “Point of discussion number one,” Quince announced. “A spell caster died, and several guardians were injured in a failed extermination.”

I looked back and caught Costi’s eye. They were just now discussing this? It had happened almost a week ago.

The delegate for the spell casters, a middle-aged witch with gelled black hair, spoke up. “That raid was a disaster. Spell casters are exceedingly rare—we cannot be expected to go into dangerous situations.”

“The spell casters accepted our apology,” the delegate for the guardians said. She was tall and slender in her black uniform, about my mother’s age, with her hair pulled into a tight bun.

“That’s Daire, the security coordinator,” Costi told me quietly.

Calamus glared at him. Costi glared back and recklessly leaned closer to me.

Fate, they’re determined to keep this up.

“We did, but words aren’t enough in this case,” the spell caster delegate said. “I would like to put in a proposal that two guardians be assigned to each caster, in case of an emergency.”

Daire snapped to attention. “Absolutely not. We don’t have those kinds of numbers.”

The spell caster delegate put his nose up. “Something needs to be done. If the guardians would have done their job and assessed the building before the team went in—”

“They did assess the building,” Daire cut in.

“We need to carry shields,” Costi called out, interrupting.

The room went silent, and all eyes swung to our little group in the back. It hit me that Costi hadn’t only come here for me; he was here for this.

Quince gave us an annoyed look. “Is this your guardian, Layla?”

“No,” said Calamus at the same time Costi said, “Yeah.”

“You haven’t been assigned, and she’s not a spell caster.” Calamus crossed his arms.

“It just so happens that I’m available as of this morning, and she’s wearing spell caster robes,” Costi said with a shrug.

“Sit down, Blackthorn. You aren’t a delegate,” Daire said. “How did you even get in here?”

“Are these your guests, Calamus?” Councilor Grey said, scowling.

Calamus shook his head with wide eyes. “No, Father, I—”

Councilor Rhodes stood from her seat near the front. “I invited them,” she said, sounding pleased. I decided I liked her. “It is, of course, still our prerogative to appoint delegates for areas of special concern.”

Grey’s eyes flashed. “You have one allotment remaining, and there are two witches here. You have an agenda, and you’re trying to install mindless partisans.”

“Very well, then. Rosen is my appointed delegate.”

“And what area of special concern is she supposed to be a delegate for?”

“You know what,” Rhodes said ominously. “Point of discussion number two.”

Grey said nothing to that. He turned to Costi. “Blackthorn, you’re not a delegate. Please remove yourself from the chamber.”

“I’m her guardian,” Costi insisted. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.

“That is not your assignment,” Daire said, pointing angrily at him.

“This is a procedural matter. Can we please get back to the matter at hand?” Quince looked ruffled.

“Love to,” said Costi loudly, holding out a hand in invitation. “The matter at hand is that I brought you one of those angel glow sticks. Figure out what blocks it and get me a shield before more of your spell casters die.”

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