The Bronze Key

“What does it matter?” Call exploded, to his own surprise. He glared at Jasper, and in a low voice said, “Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter. She’ll always like Aaron better.”

Jasper’s eyes widened. “Whoa,” he said. “Looks like I hit on an awkward truth there.”

Call’s head was swimming. Dimly, through the crowd, he could see Aaron and Tamara coming toward them. They were laughing together, like they always did.

“What I just said” — Call looked at Jasper — “don’t repeat it.”

Jasper leaned back in his chair. “Don’t worry, Callum,” he said with a sneer. “I keep all your secrets.”

CLASSES THAT FIRST day were outside in the blazing sun, sitting on a half circle of boulders. Master Rufus felt that since the Assembly planned to start creeping around the woods, they needed to use the outside of the Magisterium as much as possible until that happened. Call missed the cool of the caves. His shirt was quickly soaked with sweat. Even the part on his head felt like it was getting a sunburn. Aaron’s nose and cheeks had turned red, and Tamara was wearing one of her notebooks like a hat.

“Welcome to your Bronze Year at the Magisterium,” Master Rufus said, pacing back in forth in front of them, his bald head shining. “You may not be the most trouble of all the apprentice groups I’ve ever taught, but you are certainly up there. Let’s try to approach this year a little differently.”

Considering that Master Rufus was referring to a previous apprentice group that had included Captain Fishface himself, that really was saying something.

“We all just got medals!” Tamara said, and received a stern look for interrupting him. She went on anyway. “We’re the opposite of trouble.”

Master Rufus’s eyebrows did something complicated, rising and wiggling all at once. “Nonetheless, let’s try to make sure that none of you get kidnapped or go on rescue missions or adopt more Chaos-ridden animals or leave the school for any reason.”

None of them had anything to say to that.

“This year we will be learning about personal responsibility. You might not think that sounds like a particularly magical lesson, but this is the year that Constantine began his experiments with Master Joseph, trying to discover a path to immortality. It’s the year when you leave behind the basics and begin to focus on what you might specialize in, so we want to make sure that every student — but especially Call and Aaron — consider what the wider implications of those specialties will be. It is a worthy goal to wonder about the limits of chaos magic. It is irresponsible and corrupt to use methods that put lives in danger to discover those limits. Like all schools, we are always interested in learning, in research, in pushing the limits of knowledge. But we must balance that with our duty to protect the world, even from ourselves.

“And,” Master Rufus went on, “I want you to remember that you have walked through the gates of magic early in each of the preceding years. That should teach you not that you’re better than other students but that the gates of magic open when the student is ready — not before. If you do not learn the Bronze Year lessons, you will remain in Bronze Year until you do.”

Call looked over at Aaron and Tamara. They appeared as floored as he felt. He wasn’t sure how any of what Master Rufus was talking about could be learned in school. It was remotely possible, however, that his brain was being slowed by heatstroke.

“One more thing,” Master Rufus said. “About the spy in the Magisterium. Tamara, I don’t know if I’ve spoken to you directly about this, but I am sure that Call or Aaron already told you, so I won’t embarrass us both by pretending otherwise. You have every right to know. However, I insist — insist! — that you do not attempt to catch the spy yourselves. Leave this to us.”

None of them said anything.

Master Rufus’s eyebrows drew together more sharply. “Do you understand?”

Call nodded.

“Sure,” Aaron said.

“Okay,” said Tamara.

It was the most unconvincing display Call had ever seen. He wasn’t sure if Master Rufus had been taken in or had just given up when the mage nodded and said, “Good! Now, I believe our first lesson should be about the element of water and how to balance it with air so that we can breathe underwater when we’re swimming. I know just the lake we can practice in.”

Call jumped up, pleased by the idea of cooling off. It was only as they started moving that he remembered Jen’s body floating in the ocean and wondered if there was a reason that Master Rufus had put this particular lesson at the very top of his list.

Despite Call’s dark thoughts, they spent a pleasant day bobbing around in the shallows of a small lake near the school. Master Rufus gave them amulets filled with air for them to hold and draw from while they were underwater. On the first few tries, Call couldn’t focus and came up sputtering and choking. Aaron didn’t fare better, though Tamara seemed serenely untroubled.

Finally, in frustration, Call grabbed the amulet and dived down toward the bottom of the pond. He’d always liked swimming — in the water, his leg didn’t ache. He kept his eyes open. The lake was silty but fresh; he could see small fish darting around the plants that waved in the faint current. He could see Tamara and Aaron, blurred shapes in the water.

He thought, for some reason, of his father. He had seen in Master Joseph’s memories how Alastair had climbed the side of a massive glacier to reach the scene of the Cold Massacre, where the Enemy of Death had killed dozens of helpless mages. Alastair had been climbing toward his wife and baby son, using water magic to form handholds and footholds in the glacier wall. It must have been exhausting. It must have seemed impossible.

Compared to that, this was nothing.

Call tightened his grasp on the amulet, squeezing it so hard he thought he felt it crack. Air, he thought. Air all around him, there was air in the water, all elements were one, fire and earth, air and water. All are but one thing, not four, not two, and not three, but one.

He opened his mouth and breathed.

It was like breathing damp, swampy air. He choked a little, letting his body drift upward as air filled his lungs. The second breath was easier, and by the third and fourth he was breathing normally. Standing on the bottom of the lake, breathing normally. Jubilantly, he tossed the amulet aside and swam upward, breaking the surface with a yell. “I did it!” he shouted. “I breathed underwater!”