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Earl cleared his throat to speak, then glanced around before saying tentatively, “I’ve heard …” He trailed off, realized we weren’t going to interrupt or disregard him the way his previous boss had, and started again. “I’ve heard rumors of people disappearing. Elves, I mean. Those who speak out against Sylvester. I don’t know anyone personally who’s gone missing, but people talk.”
“Has Sylvester got some kind of elf Siberia going on?” I asked.
Earl glanced around nervously, then winced as he said, “Actually, they’re blaming the wizards for the disappearances, and your people arresting those guys last night just played into that rumor.”
“It wasn’t our people,” Sam grumbled. “Those Council goons pulled rank.”
“They played us,” I said. “I wonder if that’s what it was really all about, staging an attack they knew we’d anticipate to goad us into arresting their people, and then there’s proof that the disappearances are our fault.”
Merlin sat lost in thought for a moment, then nodded as though he’d come to a decision. “Sam, I’d like you to put together a team to investigate any disappearances that might be related to the company. Earl, please use your underground connections to learn as much as possible. Mr. Gwaltney, provide the names of missing elf employees to Sam, and check in with our remaining elven employees. Please keep me informed of your progress.”
I cleared my throat. “Is there something you need me to do?”
He gave me a fond smile. “I think you deserve a break after all you’ve done recently. Please focus on your magical training.” In other words, I was a lot less valuable to the company when I couldn’t spot disguised elves or hidden activities.
“Maybe I’ll see if I can come up with a way to get out the message that we aren’t out to get the elves—of course, without admitting to destroying the Knot or outright saying that Sylvester’s the really evil one. Unless, that is, we get some concrete proof.”
“Yes, that would be good,” Merlin agreed.
That would probably mean having Perdita tell her friends the rumors were false. I wondered if maybe we should throw a big “elf day” party, but then I remembered that our track record for marketing events was iffy. Our enemies tended to use them against us.
Since Owen didn’t have an assignment either, I hoped we could try to have a normal, romantic date, after all. For once, we weren’t the ones in charge of saving the world.
*
When it was time for my afternoon magic lesson, I bounced into the schoolroom, as myself this time. “What do you have for me today, teacher?”
“Well, you’ve mastered illusion, shielding, physical manipulation, and you’re getting the hang of food and beverages,” Rod said.
“Maybe we should do some introductory communication,” Owen said. “We don’t want to blow out anyone’s synapses the next time she’s in danger, and that’s one thing she can do without revealing that she can do magic.” I caught his eye, and he blushed slightly. I suspected he was thinking the same thing I was, that psychic communication between us could be a lot of fun.
Rod glanced back and forth between us. “Something happened?”
“Granny said it was too loud when I called for help last night,” I explained.
“Okay, then, magical communication, it is,” Rod said. On the room’s whiteboard, he outlined the steps, which weren’t too different from what I’d done instinctively, though I could see where I’d gone wrong. Then he had me send him a message.
He squinted in concentration, then shook his head. “I could tell you were there, but I couldn’t decipher it. Maybe you were trying too hard not to be as loud as you were last night. Just relax and let it flow.”
I tried again, mentally raising my voice this time, but he shook his head. “No, you’re still whispering.”
Owen got up from where he was observing and came over to us. “Try me,” he instructed. “As close as we are, that should be easier. I practically get your signals anyway, without you trying.”
I was tempted to send a risqué message, then decided instead to suggest we go on a picnic that Saturday if the weather was nice. I waited for his shy smile in response, but he just said, “Okay, you can send now.”
“I was!” I insisted aloud. “What am I doing wrong?”
“You may not be doing anything wrong,” he said soothingly. “This just may not be where your talents lie. Or you may have exhausted that part of yourself last night. It can be like exercise—if you did something strenuous yesterday, you can’t expect to be at your best today.”
“Let’s go back to something easy you know you can do,” Rod suggested. “To start with, try erasing the board.”
I focused on the eraser and thought the spell that put it under my control, then willed it upward to where Rod had written the communication spell. It moved, but not as briskly as it usually did. It seemed a little more sluggish, and it took more effort. I had beads of sweat on my forehead and upper lip by the time the board was clear. I couldn’t tell if the guys noticed how hard I was struggling.
“See, you can still do that,” Rod said. “We’ll come back to the communication later. How about something fun? Remember that time Owen and I made it snow indoors?”
I smiled at the fond memory from not long after I’d joined the company. “And that was real, right? Because I could see it.”
“Yeah, it was real, though you can also get a similar effect with illusion.” He wrote new instructions on the board, then demonstrated by creating his own snowfall. Delicate flakes danced in the air, and now that I knew what to look for, I could sense the way he directed the magic. It was so vivid that I felt cold, even though I knew it wasn’t real snow.
