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“Which you’re currently doing your best to uphold.”
“—of the mad necromancer—”
“Is that what you are?” I asked, feeling my stomach fall. Jonas had said as much, but I’d been hoping he was wrong.
Roger shot me an impatient look. “Despite what you may have been told, it isn’t a bad word. It’s merely a name for a magic worker who specializes in the dead—all sorts of dead. The only reason it has an evil connotation is that the Circle has gone out of its way to give it one.”
“And because so many of the breed end up having to be locked away,” Pritkin added.
“Yes, I always wondered about that,” Roger said sweetly. “If we’re so powerless, why bother?”
“It’s not your power anyone questions, mage. It’s your principles.”
“Principles.” Roger huffed out a laugh. “As if the Corps would know anything about them.”
“As opposed to the Dark Circle, which has such a record for altruism.”
“Yes, let’s pretend those are the only two options.”
“The Corps is the only option that keeps the magical community safe!” Pritkin said, flushing.
“From everything but itself.”
“From those who would recklessly ignore the experience of centuries—”
“From those who resent the absurdity of stagnant magic that gets weaker every year—”
“—and attempt dangerous experiments that are almost certain to end in disaster!”
“—while our enemies get stronger! Yes! Cut off your nose to spite your face, war mage!” Roger snapped. “But don’t doom the rest of us to go down with you. There are those who would prefer a fighting chance!” And the mug came crashing down.
Daisy and I jumped. The colonel’s mustache twitched. Pritkin and Roger glared at each other. And I jumped in while I had the chance, since I might not get another.
“How are ghosts more powerful than demons?” I asked. Because if it was true, I really needed to have a chat with Billy Joe.
Roger sent me a glance, like he knew what I was doing. But after a moment, he answered anyway. “Well, for one thing, they’re less vulnerable. Take the colonel. Do you see a control gem in his forehead?”
“He doesn’t have a forehead,” Daisy said, looking disapproving. “Doesn’t even have a head—”
“I have a head, woman!” the colonel said indignantly.
“I meant on your new body.”
“So did I! The whole point was to leave ’em empty above the neck so our own heads would have a place to go!”
“But nobody sees our heads,” Daisy pointed out. “And they look so . . . odd.”
“They’re not the only thing odd around here.”
“My point,” Roger said, talking over them, “was that the colonel doesn’t have to worry about someone erasing a spell on his forehead or pulling a scroll out of his mouth—”
“Which would be easy enough since it’s usually open,” Daisy put in.
“—or any of the other typical ways of immobilizing a construct like a golem. Because they’re not constructs; they’re just using them.”
“Like driving a car,” Daisy told me. “It gets totaled, but you walk away.”
“Can’t a demon walk away?” I asked.
