Page 52 of Slouch Witch
‘The less powerful spells include details on subjects such as how to gain the attention of a room,’ Maidmont interjected. ‘They can imbue the caster with confidence. There are also a few spells for dealing with bullish familiars who are unwilling to do as they’re ordered.’
I imagined how Brutus would react if I tried to put a spell like that on him. There would be feline carnage and my corpse would be left undetected in my flat for months.
The Ipsissimus drew back his shoulders and stared at Maidmont. ‘Have you read it?’ he enquired icily.
‘Oh no,’ the librarian denied, suddenly alarmed. ‘I wouldn’t. I’m simply well versed in the catalogue. Besides, my skills aren’t high enough for the spells to have any effect.’
Winter sighed. ‘And therein lies the rub.’ I looked at him questioningly. ‘Only high Level witches can absorb the magic and cast the spells from the more complicated Cypher pages,’ he explained. ‘If a less able witch tries them, they’re liable to destroy themselves in the process.’
‘And,’ the Ipsissimus added, ‘just in case you think that we give anyone access to the Manuscripts and the opportunity to abuse their power, all Order witches are only allowed to view the Manuscripts for short periods of time. It would take days to fully understand and utilise the higher Level magic.’
‘Which is why,’ I pointed out, ‘they were probably stolen in the first place. So the thief could study them at leisure and implement the spells without fear of being stopped before they finished.’
Everyone fell silent as we absorbed this. Frankly, it was all becoming a little too worrisome for me. ‘Ipsissimus,’ I began, ‘do you happen to have any ossombe root?’
Winter stiffened. The Ipsissimus frowned. ‘It’s not an ingredient I’m familiar with,’ he admitted. ‘Why? Will it stop our would-be megalomaniac?’
‘No,’ I said cheerfully. ‘But it’ll enable me to get as far away from here as possible.’
If anything, he was now even more confused.
‘That’s enough, Ms Wilde,’ Winter barked.
So we were back to Ms Wilde again? Before I could say anything, the Ipsissimus regained control. ‘I hope, Adeptus Winter,’ he said, ‘that you have a plan for tracking down this witch, whoever he or she may be.’
‘Assuming there’s only one,’ Winter growled. ‘I have a few ideas.’
‘You have carte blanche but time is of the essence. It’s imperative that you find them before they can absorb all of the magic they are after. If that happens, we will be helpless.’
I met Winter’s eyes. It was obvious where to begin; we both knew that Diall was mixed up in this somehow. We could probably have him under lock and key in the next hour – if eager Mr Smythe hadn’t already brought him in. It was possible – just – that this entire catastrophe could be solved by teatime.
There was a knock on the door. ‘I said I wasn’t to be disturbed!’ the Ipsissimus roared. I jumped. Had he partaken of a little of Volume 9’s magic himself?
A woman put her head round the door. ‘I apologise, Ipsissimus,’ she said. She didn’t look in the slightest bit sorry. I already liked her. ‘But there’s a witch here to see Adeptus Exemptus Winter. A Practicus Smythe. He says it’s an emergency and he won’t take no for an answer.’
Winter’s face shuttered. The Ipsissimus frowned and gestured to the woman to let him in. A moment later, a bespectacled witch shuffled in. He was wearing a red robe and looked as skinny and pale as most Order witches. There was also a distinct aura of panic about him. I examined him more closely. There were a few odd stains around the cuffs of his robe. It was difficult to tell for sure given the robe’s colour but I had a horrible feeling I knew what they were.
Smythe bowed several times then shuffled his feet and twitched. ‘I’m so sorry, I wouldn’t have bothered you if it weren’t important. I was told to bring in Adeptus Diall for questioning.’ He was doing everything he could to distance himself from responsibility. It was a tactic I knew well.
‘And?’
He licked his lips. ‘Maybe I should talk to Adeptus Winter on his own?’
‘Is that a question?’ the Ipsissimus snapped. ‘Because the answer is no. Tell us what the problem is.’
Smythe took a shaky breath. ‘Well, I went to Adeptus Exemptus Diall’s home as instructed. Not just me, there were three of us from the Arcane office.’
Dread snaked its way down my spine.
‘And?’
Smythe seemed to shrink into himself. ‘He’s dead. Diall, I mean. It looks like he’s been stabbed.’
***
During most of the journey to Diall’s home, Winter was silent. His face was a grim mask and the stiff way he held himself showed his tension. Truthfully, I felt same way. Maybe Diall had died whilst trying to master the more dangerous Cypher spells but I somehow doubted the Manuscripts rose up and shoved a knife into his heart.
‘How are you doing?’ Winter asked, as we pulled into a wide, leafy driveway leading up to Diall’s house.
