Call thought of Master Joseph in Constantine’s tomb, the curl of his lip and the mad light in his eye. Call wasn’t so sure that Master Joseph hadn’t known, hadn’t wanted a monster.

“People remember the Enemy of Death,” said Alma. “But they forget the man who made him who he was. Constantine may have been evil, but he was also tragic. He wanted his brother back. Master Joseph, on the other hand, what he wanted was power. Just power. And those are the most dangerous people in the world.”

HOW DO I look?” Call asked. “Repentant?”

He was standing in front of Anastasia Tarquin’s door in the hallway that housed the Masters’ chambers. Call, Aaron, and Tamara had decided they ought to clean up a little before descending on the Assemblywoman. She was something of a terrifying presence, with her jewels and her cultured, contemptuous attitude. Call felt she would take their apologies more seriously if they dressed up, so he and Aaron were wearing the jackets from the outfits they’d worn to the awards ceremony and Tamara was in a black sundress.

Havoc hadn’t come with them. Havoc, Call pointed out, had nothing to apologize for.

Tamara exhaled hard enough to blow a lock of hair off her forehead. “You look fine,” she said. “For the umpteenth time.” She shivered. “It’s cold in here,” she complained. “Knock on the door already.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” said Tamara. “Ever since I saw my sister, she’s all I can think about.” She swallowed. “And then today’s lessons. I don’t like being separated from you two as if there’s something wrong with me because I’m not a Makar. Plus, Master Rufus was twice as hard on me as he usually is.”

“Well, we’re doing it again Monday,” said Call. “Alma’s coming to teach us something creepy called the soul tap.”

“I don’t like her,” Tamara said. “She gives me the creeps.”

Aaron stepped up to the door. “We’d better get this over with.”

He knocked. The sound seemed to boom and resound in the corridor. Anastasia’s door opened. She stood before them wearing a white silk robe of great magnificence over a gown that was even fancier. Her feet were in white leather slippers. “I was beginning to expect you’d never arrive,” she said, raising one silvery eyebrow.

“Um,” Call said. “Can we — come in? We want to apologize.”

Anastasia opened the door wider. “Oh, of course. Come right it.” She smiled as they filed past her. “This should be an interesting conversation.”

Tamara gave Call a significant look. Call shrugged. Maybe Anastasia was bent on murder — they were going to find out, either way, and that was kind of a relief. The Assemblywoman slammed the heavy door behind her with a satisfying bang and joined them in the living room. She was tall — tall enough that her shadow, cast against the far wall where the safe had stood, was enormous and spidery. The safe itself had been removed; Call wondered where the Masters had put it.

“Do please sit,” she said. Diamonds sparkled in her ears, glimmering against her hair.

Call, Tamara, and Aaron settled themselves on her white couch. Anastasia sat opposite them, on an ivory chair. On the coffee table in front of them were five cups and a teapot on a tray inlaid with something that might have been bone.

“Can I offer you some?” she asked. “I have a lovely lavender and lemongrass tisane that you might enjoy after all the fungus and lichen you’re served up in the Refectory.” She made a face. “I never acquired a taste for underground cuisine myself.”

They all leaned away. “Under the circumstances,” Tamara said, “I think we’ll pass.”

“I see,” Anastasia said, with a pinched smile. “Now, does that make sense? You’re the ones who broke into my room and stole my belongings. You broke into the elementals’ prison. Isn’t it more likely that you’re a threat to me than that I’m a threat to you?”

“We’re students,” Tamara said, looking outraged. “You’re an adult.”

“You’re Makars,” said Anastasia. “Well, two of you are.” She gestured toward Call and Aaron. “And I was speaking rhetorically. I know you mean me no harm. But equally, I mean you no harm. I’ve only ever looked out for you. I don’t deserve suspicion.”

Call felt his eyebrows fly up into his hairline. “Really? So why do you have a photograph of Constantine Madden in a weird box under your bed, and why is the password to your safe the name of his brother?”

“I might as well ask you how you managed to obtain Constantine Madden’s wristband and, having obtained it, what in the world would make you actually wear it?” She gave Call a significant look.

Call blanched, his hand going to the wristband, shoved up under the sleeve of his jacket. Now that he was paying attention, he saw there was a subtle outline where the fabric pulled over it. “How did you know?”

Anastasia lifted the teapot and poured herself a cup. The pleasant scent of lemongrass filled the room. “Without it, you wouldn’t have been able to get into my room in the first place. The reason is simple — long ago, I used magic to synchronize our wristbands. I knew him, you see, when he was a boy. I know, to children of your generation, the idea of the high-and-mighty Enemy of Death as a mere boy is shocking, but he was just a child when he came to the Magisterium.

“I hold myself partially responsible for what happened to him and to Jericho. Reminders of Constantine and Jericho are reminders of my own failure.” She looked down. “I should have seen what was happening, should have stopped Joseph before he pushed the boys too far. In a way, I am responsible for Jericho’s death and for what Constantine became. I won’t allow myself to forget that.”

She took a sip of her tea. “I owe those boys a debt. And the way I will repay it is by making sure that the next generation of Makaris remain unharmed. I am an old woman and I have lost a great deal, but before I die, I want to know that you’re both safe. Callum and Aaron, you are my hope for a better future.”

“So that’s why you volunteered to come here and help find the spy?” Tamara asked her.

She nodded slowly. “And if I knew who it was, believe me, I wouldn’t hesitate to act.”