Steelhands - Jaida Jones [142]
“When magic gets into someone without a Talent, it can cause a slight fever,” Roy said at last, right when I was about to reach across the table and drag the words out of his mouth. “Their bodies aren’t used to the sudden change—the water gets into the blood, you see, where it’s treated almost like an infection until the body becomes accustomed to it. Hence the reaction. I didn’t think anything of it before, since, as you said, it is winter, and fevers always spread like wildfire through the ’Versity dorms the moment the weather changes. But you say Balfour fell ill, too, and that this woman’s been providing the care for all those first-year students when her specialties clearly lie elsewhere. You know how I hate to leap at shadows; it wastes good energy. But I would be remiss to decide I could ignore this uneasy feeling entirely in favor of my own personal comfort.”
“Shit,” I said, rubbing my hands over my face. I hadn’t shaved long past the point where I’d meant to; waking up early to see Balfour before work had taken up most of my free time, and I was closer to growing a beard than I had been in about fifteen years. Pretty soon I was gonna have a nice winter goatee to match Roy’s if I wasn’t careful. “One of those kids went missing, you know.”
“I can only hope he proves easier to locate than Margrave Ginette,” Royston said, looking grim. “I wonder …”
“You wonder what?” I prompted.
Roy was so lost in thought he wasn’t even complaining that I was pacing back and forth, or that my stomping around was distracting him. “Hal heard a similar sort of rumor,” Roy explained. “About a missing student. I wonder if it’s the same one, or if they’re being spirited away right and left. How embarrassing for the dean if that’s the case.”
“Ain’t funny,” I said.
“No, of course not,” Roy agreed. “It’s very grave indeed. It leads me to believe something I don’t want to contemplate—and yet all the clues do point directly toward it, making the conclusion inevitable.”
“And that is?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t confirm my suspicions.
“That Margrave Germaine is conducting experiments in magic on children,” Roy replied simply. He pressed his forefingers to his temples, closing his eyes for a moment, then relaxed. “And if her specialty is in dragonmaking …”
“This is a fucking mess,” I said.
“Very well put,” Roy said.
We were quiet after that, giving our thoughts the gravity they deserved. It wasn’t as though we could go to the Provost about everything—him being th’Esar’s bastard son made it clear where his loyalties were—and I felt like I was going to be arrested myself just for having these thoughts. They were treason, sure enough—and I’d feel like the madman, not Balfour, if it turned out I was believing His Highness capable of something so fucking drastic.
“I gotta meet with the boys,” I said finally. “We’ll stand together, same as always, but if it’s about dragons, then it’s not your fight. You get your large nose out of this and stop asking around before you’re exiled again, or worse.”
“How cheerful you sound,” Roy replied, but his voice was without any humor; it was a sorry day indeed when he got no pleasure from teasing me. “The Esar has been desperate to regain full control over the city. And with so many of the magicians dead after the war, now is the perfect time to strike. It wouldn’t be so difficult to rearrange the balance of power completely, so that there is no balance—perhaps even no Basquiat. It all lines up perfectly, doesn’t it? With everything we know?”
“We don’t actually know anything,” I told him. “And I’d suggest keeping thoughts like those to yourself before the wrong person overhears ’em.”
“I do know how to be discreet,” Roy said.
“I’m talking about Hal, too,” I said—not a pleasant topic to get into with a friend,