Page 70 of The Ordeals
I take another sip of toquay and weave my way through the crowd, gleaning snippets of gossip as I walk.
‘… Grant’s right over there …’
‘Heard Knox already passed, the bastard …’
‘… Fion failed, can you believe it?’
‘Professor Grant …’
‘Who else would it be … ?’
I sift through the words I hear, feeling sure Fion failing is fake news, and therefore none of the rumours can be trusted, then find Professor Grant herself watching the dancing. ‘Professor.’ I nod to her and a small smile dances at the corners of her mouth.
‘DeWinter. Nice to see you’re still in the game.’
I shrug and take a sip of toquay. ‘It’s an interesting game. The gargoyles were a nice touch.’
‘Oh yes, the ones outside tonight. Yes.’
I don’t let the flicker of unease mar my expression as I glance at her. Surely she would know there were gargoyles in the last Ordeal, unless …
Professor Grant appears as she usually does, the same expression, hands folded in her lap … but there’s something off. I squint at her, testing the air around her, trying to find what it is that’s making me hesitate … and there it is. Her eyes. Her gaze drifts over the gathering and I notice a slight glint, barely noticeable if I’d already convinced myself that she was the key to this Ordeal. It’s not her at all. It’s someone else, a masquier, pretending to be her.
‘You almost had me, but not quite.’
Grant chuckles and her eyes change colour for a fraction ofa heartbeat, before settling back to the shade the masquier has assumed. ‘What gave it away?’
‘There are no gargoyles outside in this Ordeal, but there were in the last.’
‘The professors always switch it up.’ The masquier bites her lip. ‘Off you trot then. I’ve got more than one hopeful to trick out of their code word this evening.’
I turn and collide with Knox. The dregs of toquay in my glass slosh over his jacket and I gape as he swears theatrically, brushing away the blooming stain. ‘Shit, sorry—’
‘Just give me the code word, DeWinter, and we’ll forget about it.’
‘What?’ I say, taking a step back.
‘The code word?’ he says in impatience. ‘You’re meant to give it to me. Come on, time is ticking.’
I frown at him, not buying it for a second, and discern a distinct ripple around him. ‘You’re a good imitation; I’ll give you that.’
He hesitates then shrugs in defeat. ‘Worth a try.’ The ripples around him intensify, his whole being seeming to shift in and out of focus.
Then before me stands a scholar I vaguely recognise from the class I snuck into, a young woman with black hair, brown skin and the most vivid green eyes I’ve ever seen. I chuckle, inclining my head to her. ‘How many hopefuls has that worked on?’
‘You were my first attempt to be honest,’ she says. ‘There’s a few of us scattered about. I believe you just spoke to another from my class. What gave me away?’
‘The ripples,’ I say, indicating the air around her with my toquay glass. ‘And your terrible acting. Plus, why would it be a fellow hopeful?’
‘You can see my magic?’ she asks, intrigued. ‘Interesting. I knewyou were wielding, I could sense a slight pressure, but I couldn’t tell how exactly … I’m Belle. If you become a scholar, come and find me. I’m in Godolphin.’
She slips away into the crowd and I’m left still chuckling as I take another sip of toquay. So they rope in masquier scholars for this Ordeal. Figures. I look around, narrowing my eyes, and notice a shimmer around several other hopefuls now. And professors. It seems the lies have begun, and time is running out to find the correct person in this hall for me to give my code word to. I crane my neck, searching for Alden in the crowd, but he’s still eluding me. Could he still be stuck in the library?
‘Always an interesting part of this Ordeal,’ a voice says at my side. I turn and find the masquier professor I met the other day, Professor Silver, tall and regal in gold silk, black hair coiled and piled high on her head. She winks at me, pointing to the young woman, Belle, who tried to catch me out. ‘She’s a decoy, but there are several people telling the truth in this room. A useful skill, being able to discern truth … and being able to see the magic wielded, well …’
I raise my eyebrows. There are no ripples around her, no glimmers to suggest this professor isn’t who she appears to be. That’s at least one count in her favour. ‘I’m not sure if you’re lying yet, but youareProfessor Silver. Tell me one true thing, something no one else would know, but would help me in being sure of you.’
‘Clever …’ she says. ‘All right, I’ll play. My truth is that I’m waiting here for five hopefuls to give me their code words, and they all have roots in the words our old gods would claim.’
