They walked together in silence out of the Refectory and down the long corridors that led to the front gates of the Magisterium, Alastair’s hand on Call’s shoulder, Master Rufus a few paces behind them.

At the doorway, Alastair turned and put his arms around Call, hugging him tightly. Call froze a little as his dad’s hand smoothed his hair down. He wasn’t a touchy-feely guy, Alastair, but Call could hear his dad swallow as he pulled back from Call and looked down at the band on his wrist. He raised Call’s hand gently.

“Constantine Madden had this same black stone in his wristband,” he said, and Call winced inside. “But he never had this.” His thumb moved to the purple-blue stone. “The tanzanite. This stone indicates ultimate bravery. The only other person I ever knew who bore the tanzanite was Verity Torres.”

“I’m not a hero,” Call said. “But I’m not going to be like Constantine. I promise.”

Alastair let go of Call’s wrist and smiled one of his rare, crooked smiles. “You put yourself in a lot of danger, staying behind in the tomb,” he said. “But I will never forget the look on Assemblyman Graves’s face as long as I live.”

Call couldn’t help smiling. Alastair gave him one last touch on the shoulder and began to make his way toward the long black car waiting for him on the cleared dirt outside the gates.

“Take care of yourself,” Master Rufus called.

Alastair paused and looked back at Rufus, then at Call. “Take care of my son.”

Master Rufus nodded. Then, with a half wave to both of them, Alastair ducked inside the car. It drove away, the tires squeaking on the gravel.

Call turned around to head back to the Refectory, but Master Rufus stopped him with a quick hand. “Call,” he said, “we ought to talk.”

Call turned, full of cold dread. He wondered what Alastair had told him. “Uh, okay. What about?”

“There is something I did not want to say to you in front of the other students.”

Call tensed. That couldn’t be good.

“Call, there is a spy in the Magisterium. It could be someone on the Enemy’s side. Working for Master Joseph now, most likely. Or it could be someone with a distrust of chaos mages.”

“What do you mean?”

“You may remember from your Iron Year lectures about the origins of magic that not all parts of the world are welcoming to Makars. Some mages believe that no one should ever work with chaos magic — and that those who can should be stopped or killed.”

Call vaguely recalled something about that, something about Europe not being Makar-friendly. “Why would you think there’s a spy, though?

“Automotones.” Rufus spat the name. “The mages here would never have sent a deadly elemental to retrieve you. He was too powerful and too violent. And if we had sent him, we would never have sent him with orders to hurt any of you, even Alastair. Someone here sent him with orders to kill the Makar. We thought that meant Aaron, but now that you’re a Makar, no doubt that same person wants you dead, too.”

A cold shudder went through Call. Whoever had sent the elemental after them hadn’t been worried about Call’s safety. Which meant it couldn’t have been one of Master Joseph’s minions, since Master Joseph had thrown himself in front of Call to keep him alive. Which meant Master Rufus was right.

“Go back to the Refectory,” Master Rufus said. “Your friends are waiting for you. We have time enough to discuss the future when your classes begin. Tomorrow. You’re back just in time to go out with the other Copper Years on their second mission.”

“Second mission?” Call asked, astonished.