Page 4 of Hawk & Sparrow

Vesper’s grip on the strap of her satchel tightened. “I don’t attend events like this often. I’m only here for work.”

“Work?” The young man squinted as though he’d never heard such a word before. “Are you with the service staff?”

“I write for The Basalton Globe,” said Vesper, her tone cooled by the presumption. “I’m here tonight to interview the exhibition’s guest of honor and its host. So, if you’ll excuse me…” She made a point of looking past the young man in the hopes that he might take the hint and leave. Instead, he cocked his head, looking even more interested.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance,” he said. “Who are you looking for?”

Vesper gave up and met his gaze again. “I’m trying to find Mr. Maximilian Kite, from the Basalton Coal Foundation. Someone said he was here.”

“Kite?” The young man’s mouth twisted. “That’s unlucky. You lose a bet?”

“You know Mr. Kite?”

“Of course.” The young man nodded. “Everyone here does.”

“Care to comment on him, off the record?”

The young man considered. “Mr. Kite’s a strange one, bit of a recluse. I’ll admit the man’s got style, and some might characterize his confectionary instinct as borderline genius, but…”

“But?”

The young man’s expression turned serious. “I’ve heard he doesn’t do interviews anymore. You’ll have a hard time getting him to agree to one. Of course…” He arched a dark brow. “If you’re not particular, you could interview me instead? I’m quite interesting.”

And humble. “Thank you,” said Vesper. “But I have specific instructions from my editor for this assignment. I’m sure you understand.”

“Suit yourself.” The young man picked up one of the golden candy apples and examined it. Then, without warning, he muttered something under his breath, tossed the gilded fruit into the air, and snapped his fingers. Vesper thought she saw a purple spark, then the apple began to rotate slowly in midair, as though suspended by an invisible string. She drew in a sharp breath.

“I didn’t get your name,” the sorcerer noted. There was a new touch of amusement in his voice.

“Evans.” Vesper stared at the enchanted apple. “It’s … Vesper Evans.”

“Miss Evans.” The sorcerer snapped his fingers again, and the golden apple dropped back into his hand. “It’s truly been a pleasure.” He offered a small bow, then left. Vesper kept her eyes on his retreating form until he’d disappeared into the crowd. Only when she was alone again did she exhale in relief.

Strictly speaking, she didn’t mind sorcerers, but something about that one had thrown her off in a way she couldn’t explain. She thought of the knowing she’d seen in his eyes, the way he’d looked at her like he was enjoying a private joke. She was still considering that look when the gentle clink of a knife against glass pulled her back to the present. A blond woman dressed in a teal silk gown was standing on the stage across the room.

“If I could have everyone’s attention,” she said. “The exhibition will now begin!”

TWO

FRIDAY, 4TH OF NOVEMBER—8:01 P.M.

Vesper joined the crowd pressing forward, carefully maneuvering toward its front.

She hadn’t found Mr. Kite yet, but perhaps closer to the exhibition stage she’d have better luck. A sense of anticipation grew as the chandeliers overhead dimmed. In their place, the flicker of enchanted candle lights bathed the entire atrium in soft lavender. The blond woman who’d spoken before was now joined by Francis Gladwell onstage. She waited until the atrium quieted before speaking again.

“Good evening, everyone! My name is Lara Oelrich, and on behalf of the Basalton Museum of Art’s Heritage Society, I’m pleased to welcome each of you tonight. We are so grateful for your patronage, which not only allows us to host world-class events, but also helps support the museum’s various projects, such as the recent restoration of its botanical garden and maze.” She clapped her hands together. “And now, without further ado, please join me in welcoming tonight’s guest of honor: Mr. Francis Gladwell!”

The crowd broke into polite applause as the inventor raised his hand in greeting. Mrs. Oelrich descended the stage, and then Mr. Gladwell stood alone.

“Thank you all for joining me tonight,” he began. “The work has been tireless, but in just a moment, you all will be the first to see a technological advancement that’s been years in the making, one that’s going to change history.”

Several people around Vesper leaned in, and even her own pulse quickened.

“It begins with a simple truth,” said Mr. Gladwell. “We live in a society where there is infinite power at our very fingertips in the form of arcanic energy. It’s all around us, latent, but its access is restricted to those who can afford a private education in Thaumaric, the ancient language in which incantations are written and spoken. But what if that changed?” The inventor’s green eyes brightened. “What if there was a way for everyone to speak Thaumaric and access arcanic energy the way a sorcerer does without years of expensive schooling? What if I told you that I have invented a machine that will allow just that? Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you … the Gladwell Machine!” He pulled the black cover away with a flourish. Someone gasped, and Vesper peered closer.

The device Mr. Gladwell had unveiled looked like a small wooden box topped with a coil of wire on its left, and two long copper prongs enclosed in a glass dome on its right. A metal switch jutted out from its side, and what looked like a keyboard was affixed to its front. Vesper thought it looked rather plain, but the inventor was grinning ear to ear.

“Now, I know what some of you might be thinking,” he said, “and I’ll be the first to admit, my machine doesn’t win points for its appearance, but its capabilities are extraordinary. The Gladwell Machine is a thinking machine, a translator of sorts. One only needs to provide it with a prompt, and it can produce a written incantation in Thaumaric. Years of expensive education are no longer necessary to access sorcery.”