Page 35 of Heir of Autumn
I excused myself from Dr. Fang’s table, feeling the need to say something to Mr. Brittle. But my legs were taking me in a different direction.
Maybe it was only my imagination, but something about the Wispwell’s glow seemed different that day. The ghostly wisps floating above it were a touch brighter. Livelier, almost. I knew it was a ridiculous way to describe the phenomena, these unliving flecks of spectral light.
Wasn’t this to be expected, anyway? All this magic being poured into the Wispwell was energizing it, both the waters and the wisps. But more importantly, could anyone else hear that sound?
I gripped the stony edge of the well, peering at the surface. I hadn’t done this very often, never really having any reason to. There was something so calming about it, how tiny ripples danced across the water as more of the wisps emerged from the depths.
There it was again. Something distant, so frustrating and faint that I could barely make it out, much less pinpoint what it was. It reminded me of the songs of the sky-whales from the Oriel of Water, eerie and beautiful. I stared at my reflection as it frowned back at me from the surface.
And then I noticed the face next to mine. Rather, the absence of one.
I drew away from the Wispwell with a yelp. The person beside me tilted their head — their empty, faceless void of a head.
“Oh, Headmaster Shivers,” I stammered, trying to play it cool. “I didn’t see you there.”
I totally saw them there. That was the entire reason I’d jump-scared myself, exactly like a cat who was afraid of his own reflection.
Headmaster Shivers grasped my shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, their standard greeting. I still couldn’t fathom how a body made of mist or smoke could be solid enough to do that, but it did feel comforting this time.
A tinkling sound came from across the plaza. Headmaster Cornelius was holding up an empty glass phial, tapping the side of it with his fingernail like he was calling for attention at a banquet. The chatter in the plaza died down to a quiet murmur. He cleared his throat.
“I wish to commend you all for your hard work and contributions to this massive undertaking. May you bear in mind that you are dedicating your time and energies to a most important cause. The Withering affects everyone, and harnessing the curative properties of the Wispwell is our best shot at fighting this drying plague. Thank you, one and all, for your fine work.”
The plaza erupted into cheers and applause, students and faculty motivating each other in a continuous and honestly heartwarming loop. When Headmaster Shivers clapped, their hands sounded human and fleshy, even through their gloves. I tried not to look so unsettled.
“Now,” Headmaster Cornelius said. “Perhaps Headmaster Belladonna would like to say a few words as well?”
From another side of the plaza, Belladonna Praxis shot him with a look so venomous it should have killed him on the spot. Cornelius Butterworth only smiled warmly back. She gathered herself and raised her chin imperiously.
“Yes. Good work. All of you. Carry on.”
Short but bittersweet, exactly like I expected. Headmaster Shivers turned to me and shrugged. I laughed into my hand. Maybe Shivers didn’t ever speak, but they sure had decent comedic timing.
Moments later I found myself sandwiched between Bruna and Headmaster Shivers, helping to siphon the Wispwell’s water into individual phials. I might not have known the first thing about the art and science of alchemy, but I was still good enough to pour water. Sylvain approached our table, too, followed by a groggy Namirah, who was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
“This, I can actually help with,” Sylvain said.
Bruna nodded. “And your help is most definitely appreciated, too.”
Satchel walked across the table, narrowly dodging the click-clack of glass phials hitting the table for pouring, then being squirreled away for storage. “How come some of these bottles are smaller than the others? What’s the difference?”
Bruna took a break from filling the phials, bending low and leaning her forearms on the table. “Believe it or not, they’re magically crafted to store more water than they appear. That way you can carry more of them at the same time. These are the phials you boys will be bringing into the Verdance.”
I flinched on reflex. Only our friends knew about Sylvain’s true identity as a fae prince, and someone who wasn’t in our circle of friends was at the table with us.
And then I remembered that it was only Headmaster Shivers, who also knew Sylvain’s secret, along with Dr. Fang and the other headmasters. It was strange how I didn’t immediately put that together. Contrary to everything I’d heard about them, Shivers felt like the friendliest of the three headmasters, even despite the total silence.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Namirah said, one hand scratching at her head as she used the other to transfer some of the Wispwater. “Look at that. It’s actually bloody working.”
I watched closely, the contents of the larger bottle fitting neatly into the smaller one, all the way up to the brim.
“Fascinating.” Sylvain pursed his lips and nodded in approval. “You alchemists truly do some fine work.”
“Nope,” Bruna said, smiling. “Not us alchemists this time. It’s the glassmakers who make all that bottle magic, very talented people over at the Black Market. From the glassmaking guild, in fact. They’re called the Ringing Hollow. Talented, but pretty eccentric, too.”
Weirdly, that was what I thought of Headmaster Shivers as well. Their very existence in itself was an incredible magical feat, not to mention all that business about walking on water and drifting like air. And I did say that I found them quite friendly, but they were still a bit weird, too.
Shivers must have noticed me staring, because they suddenly leaned closer and nudged me with their elbow.
