can learn the Wundrous Arts.’
Morrigan’s eyebrows shot upwards. ‘They can?’
‘Well …’ Sofia tilted her head from side to side as if she didn’t quite agree. ‘I wouldn’t say anyone can learn the Wundrous Arts, Conall. Perhaps … anyone can learn a Wundrous Art. At least partially. Take Saint Nicholas, he learned Inferno—’
Morrigan gasped. ‘I KNEW IT! I knew that stuff he does had to be Inferno!’
‘Some of it is,’ Conall said with a disapproving grunt. ‘The rest is illusion, crafty mechanics and the talents of an underpaid elvish workforce.’
‘But although he’s prodigiously talented,’ Sofia continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, ‘Saint Nick doesn’t have an exhaustive knowledge of Inferno, by any means. And Professor Onstald dedicated his entire life to learning only Tempus. He was very good, but he didn’t master it. There’s simply too much to learn, one lifetime isn’t enough.’
Morrigan felt her excitement wilting slightly. ‘Oh.’
Sofia wrapped her bushy red tail around her body. ‘That’s why Professor Onstald founded the Sub-Nine Academic Group – he was trying to preserve the Wundrous Arts in the absence of Wundersmiths, some time after Squall was exiled. There were nine founding members, and each vowed to dedicate their life to mastering one of the Wundrous Arts in secret, to keep that knowledge alive.
‘Onstald came the closest. Others, like Nicholas and Stelaria – you’ll know her as the Yule Queen, of course—’
‘The Yule Queen studied here too?’ Morrigan asked, delighted.
‘Oh yes, she’s quite a good Weaver. They had some degree of success, but most of those original nine failed miserably, became disheartened, and abandoned the project altogether. They passed what they’d learned on to Conall’s generation, though, and his generation passed it on to the next, and then the next … and on we go, trying to keep the torch of knowledge burning.’
Morrigan peered curiously at the foxwun. ‘Which Wundrous Art are you learning?
‘Me?’ Sofia chuckled. ‘Heavens, no! I’m here to witness the arts, not to use them. A few of the other academics have dabbled a little – young Ravi is determined to learn Masquerade – but in recent years the Sub-Nine Academic Group has become much more focused on preserving history than reliving it.’
‘For us ordinary people,’ Conall explained, ‘trying to learn a Wundrous Art is like trying to learn an incredibly complex language, when you don’t know anyone else who speaks it and have never heard it spoken aloud.’
‘I’m not very good at learning languages,’ Morrigan admitted.
Sofia came closer and sat right in front of Morrigan, looking at her intently. ‘He said that’s what it’s like for ordinary people to learn a Wundrous Art. For a Wundersmith, it’s more like … suddenly remembering you’ve been able to speak another language all along.’
Sofia allowed this information to sink in. For some time, there was no sound but the crackling of flames in the hearth.
Morrigan stared at the pages of The Book of Ghostly Hours, frowning. ‘I don’t understand. Professor Onstald did all this – and spent his life learning one of the Wundrous Arts – but all he ever taught me was how evil and stupid and dangerous the Wundersmiths were. He said it was a good thing they were all dead. Was he … do you think he was just … jealous?’
Conall and Sofia shared a look.
‘We know he was like that in his later years,’ said Conall. ‘But that Hemingway Onstald bore no resemblance to the one I used to know. The Hemingway I knew – my friend – was as passionately interested in the lives of the Wundersmiths as I am. But something changed in him. Couldn’t say what, exactly, because the stubborn, angry old fool left the group one day and never spoke a word to any of us ever again.’
Sofia made a soft, sad noise. ‘That was long before I came to Sub-Nine. But his life is a great loss for the Wundrous Society. Greater than even the Elders could possibly understand. We think his mastery of Tempus was probably unique in the living world. Not including Ezra Squall, of course.’
Morrigan thought back to Hallowmas night. The Museum of Stolen Moments. She could still see Onstald’s face, still see the slow blink of his eyes as he mouthed the word ‘RUN’.
‘I’m sorry you lost your friend,’ she told Conall.
Sofia put her front paws on Morrigan’s arm, peering up at her. ‘Nobody blames you for Onstald’s death. You understand that, don’t you? It had nothing to do with you.’
‘It had a bit to do with me,’