Leicester and D'Orsay were staring at Linda as if they'd never really seen her before. And might never underestimate her again.
“So,” Leicester said, attempting to regain his equilibrium. “We have here the brains and body of the rebellion. We are most thankful that you spoke up, Ms. Downey, in time to prevent a serious miscarriage of justice. It appears that two executions are called for, instead of one.”
“Come, Gregory,” D'Orsay said hastily. “Surely not. Such a waste, I mean, an enchanter? Surely she can be rehabilitated.”
“We've got to do something” Seph muttered. “Even if we can't do what we originally planned.”
“Let's split up and take our stations,” Jason whispered. “I'm going up to the gallery.”
Seph concealed himself in the alcove just outside the butler's pantry. He turned and tapped gently on the warded door, hoping Madison might hear him and Leicester and D'Orsay would not.
“Madison!”
No answer. Seph turned back to the hall and peered out from his hiding place next to the fireplace.
Leicester had prevailed, because Seph's parents were being escorted to the front of the room by a crowd of nervous alumni as Leicester stood by with the staff. It appeared to be the same one he'd used the night at the outdoor chapel, when he'd tried to “recruit” Seph. It seemed a decade ago.
“Perhaps, just this once, we'll forgo 'ladies first,'” Leicester said, smiling. “So you can watch the execution of the man who murdered your son.”
They shoved Hastings to his knees. Leicester gripped the staff with both hands, raised it high.
Then Martin Hall said, “Look!” He was focused on something over Leicester's shoulder. Leicester swung around to see the shimmer in the air behind them coalesce rapidly into a terrifying presence.
It stretched from the floor nearly to the ceiling in the great hall. Flames bled off in all directions, writhed against the ceiling and licked the stone floor. Showers of sparks cascaded over the assembly and exploded into the galleries. The image continually shifted shape, but it was too bright to look at for very long, anyway. Although it was midday, the light coming from the windows in the galleries seemed to have been extinguished. The room was illuminated only by the fireplace, and by a Dragon whose glittering wings reached from wall to wall.
The alumni backed away, leaving the prisoners alone at the block. Hastings pushed to his feet and faced the dragon, shoving Linda behind him. He was frowning, as if puzzled, but he didn't look particularly frightened.
Leicester stared fixedly at the image before him, the color bleached from his face by its brilliance. Seph sensed the headmaster's mind questing out, trying to discover and destroy the wizard behind the image, but finding nothing, no trail of magic, no stone, no flesh and blood to focus on.
Jason Haley, the puppeteer, was safely ensconced in the gallery above.
The dragon's voice reverberated through the hall. “Who dares to tamper with the constitution consecrated at Raven's Ghyll last Midsummer's Day?”
The alumni stirred and muttered, backstepping yet again.
“Quite the pet you have there, Hastings,” Leicester said. “Does he have a name?”
Hastings looked from the dragon to Leicester and shook his head. “It isn't mine.”
“It takes very little power to conjure a phantom. Apparently we haven't wrung you dry as yet. We'll see if it disappears when you're dead.” He turned to the alumni. “It's just a construct. It can't hurt us. Proceed.” The alumni shuffled forward unenthusiastically.
Now to give the dragon some bite. Seph disabled the unnoticeable charm and stepped back into the partial concealment of the pantry. He focused on Leicester, drew power in from all his extremities, collecting it in his arms and fingers, then gave it everything he had as the dragon breathed out. Flame slammed into Leicester, ran in hungry rivulets over his skin, charred his elegant clothes, and scorched the floor all around him before being drawn into the head of the staff, leaving Leicester still standing, astonished, but unhurt. Linked as he was with the alumni, he was just too strong.
Seph had made an impression, just the same. As far as the alumni were concerned, Leicester's harmless “construct” had just spewed flame clear across the hall. Pushing and shoving, they fled toward the back of the room.
If wizard fire made no impression, perhaps something else would. An enormous candelabra hung from the ceiling at the front of the room. Seph flamed the cable, focusing white-hot heat on the metal fittings. It finally parted, sending the fixture crashing to the floor. Leicester just managed to sidestep out of the way.
The flames in the sconces along the walls flared up and ran across the ceiling, charring the ceiling beams. Next, Seph collected armloads of air, hardened it, and smashed through the gallery windows. Shards of glass pinged on the stone floor. The roar of the storm was suddenly amplified, and rain poured down on them.
The Dragon spoke again. “Leicester's wizard slaves! It is time to reclaim what has been stolen from you. You are more powerful than any wizard, if you work together, as you have been taught. You believe you are owned by another, but you belong to me, before all else!”
Seph wasn't so sure that was true, but it was enough to enrage Leicester. He screamed at the cowering alumni. “This is wizardry, you idiots! It's a wizard behind all of this! I'll show you.” Spinning, he thrust forward the staff. Flame gouted from the crystalline tip and slammed into Hastings, throwing him backward onto the stone floor, where he lay still, his clothes smoldering.
There was a dead silence, save the shriek of the wind and clatter of the rain.
Linda knelt next to Hastings and cradled his head in her lap.
Leicester turned to look at the dragon. It hung over them mournfully for a long moment, wingtips drooping a little, then reared up, drawing its lips back to reveal stalactite-size teeth.
Flame gushed forth, enveloping Leicester. The hot breath of the dragon extended to the far end of the hall, blackening the walnut paneling around the doorway and setting the papers on the conference table aflame. Smoke and confusion filled the chamber. People were screaming, shouting orders, demanding to be released.
But when the flames died away, Leicester was still on his feet, though noticeably singed and unsettled.
“Cut us loose before we're incinerated where we sit!” Wylie demanded from the sidelines. “This is obviously not Hastings's work unless the man can conjure from the grave.”
Now Leicester focused his attention on the dragon, extending the staff, sending bolt after bolt of wizard fire into the beast. The dragon remained unharmed, but the wall of the conference room began to disintegrate under the assault. Seph ducked back into the butler's pantry to avoid falling masonry. The huge stone fireplace was reduced to heaps of rubble and he could see into the corridors beyond the conference room.
Seph looked for other targets. Claude D'Orsay had taken cover when the fireworks started. Sedgwick and Whitehead were nowhere to be seen.
Seph slammed his fist against the wall in frustration and pain. His father lay dead on the conference room floor. He and Jason were taking the winery apart, but it would do no good if they couldn't take down Leicester. Sooner or later, the headmaster would figure out what was going on and nail them. The only thing he could think of was to go after the alumni, try and pick them off one by one, diminishing Leicester's power.
But he knew that at least some, if not all, of the alumni were unwilling participants in Leicester's schemes. He thought of nervous Peter Conroy with his inhaler and Martin Hall, the principled viniculturist. Wayne Eggars, the physician, and little Ashton Rice, the music teacher. He forced himself to make a list in his mind, putting them in priority order. Barber would be first, of course, but he was out in the garden. Then Bruce Hays, who'd seemed to enjoy torturing Ellen and the others.
All the while, he maintained a constant assault on Gregory Leicester, keeping him and the others occupied, directing his fire to make it appear it was coming from Jason's dragon. Cautiously, he leaned out from his hiding place, looking for Bruce Hays, and was met with a blast of wizard fire that he only just turned by throwing up a shield and ducking back into hiding.
“Ah,” said Leicester, sounding relieved. “I think we've discovered the guilty party.”
Seph retreated into the butler's pantry, desperately trying to conceive of a plan. And backed into somebody who grabbed him around the waist.
“Witch Boy! Sounds like all hell's broken loose. Why didn't you come get me?”
It was Madison.
Seph didn't waste words. “Doors were blocked. And now I've been spotted.”
Leicester continued his assault on his hiding place. Seph shoved Madison up against the wall and covered her body with his as masonry pelted him on the head and shoulders. A large chunk smashed into his right elbow with stunning force, and his arm went numb. “Look, you'd better get out of here. You might be resistant to wizardry, but if a wall falls on you, you're dead.”
She shook her head. Bits of debris were caught in her hair, and her face was powdered with plaster dust. “No. We have to work the plan.”
“Right. Like that's possible.”
Seph moved cautiously forward with Madison just behind him. Just as he reached the entrance into the hall, Leicester called out to him.
“Joseph! Stop this foolishness and come out. Your mother wishes to speak with you.”
Throwing up a shield, Seph stepped into the doorway and looked out into the conference room.
Leicester stood amid the ruins, one arm around Linda Downey, the other gripping her by the throat. “Surrender and I'll let her live.”
Seph hesitated, glancing back at Madison. “You'll set her free?”
Leicester smiled, showing his teeth. “Of course. I have no quarrel with enchanters.”
Linda screamed, “Seph! Don't you dare!” before Leicester silenced her.
“What about her?” Seph pointed over his shoulder at Madison, who was shaking her head. “You'll leave my friend alone, too?”