Legacies (Mercedes Lackey) - By Mercedes Lackey Page 0,10

air was cool, though not as chilly as it was outside.

“He’s ready for them, Ms. Corby,” the woman at the desk said before Spirit quite got through taking it all in.

The woman with them just nodded, and headed for a pair of huge brass-studded wooden doors next to the reception desk. One of them opened at her touch, and she motioned to Spirit and Loch to go inside. They stepped past her cautiously, and even Loch looked a little daunted by now.

The walls of the room were almost solid floor-to-ceiling bookcases, with books arranged in mathematical precision. Between the books—and along the tops of the bookshelves—there were statues, bits of pottery, things Spirit couldn’t even identify, but which looked expensive. The floor was carpeted with thick moss-green carpet that was so plush her feet sank into it. There were two more of those deer-horn chandeliers, and tall bronze floor lamps in the corners of the room. They were all necessary, because it didn’t have any windows.

Dominating the room was a huge desk that Spirit decided had to have been built right here, because as wide and tall as the double doors were, there was still no way it could have come in through them. Its top and sides were inlaid with more of those Egyptian-y patterns in different colored woods, and there were two of the peeled-log-and-leather chairs in front of it, set side by side. There was a fireplace behind it, a little smaller than the one in the Entry Hall, with a fire burning in it. And seated behind the desk was a man in a gray double-breasted suit.

His hair was pure silvery white, combed straight back, and long enough to brush his shoulders. His beard was the same color, and it was just a little bit longer than anybody but modern-day hippies wore them these days, but despite that he didn’t remind Spirit of any of her parents’ friends—or of a kindly, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked Santa Claus. He looked as if he should have been wearing wizard’s robes instead of a modern-day power suit. He regarded them for a moment as Ms. Corby closed the door behind them. Finally he spoke.

“Spirit White. Lachlan Spears.” He had a very compelling voice; deep and sonorous, with a faint British accent. Despite his silver hair and beard, his voice didn’t sound old at all. “I am Doctor Ambrosius. This is my establishment. Please sit down.”

He indicated the two chairs in front of the desk. Gingerly, Spirit took a seat in the right-hand one, leaving Lachlan the left. Doctor Ambrosius regarded them both with the same detached interest that some of the doctors in the hospital had used—as if she and Loch were “interesting cases” and not people. Well, okay. It wasn’t as if she had to like him. She just had to make sure that from now until she was twenty-one she didn’t give him any reason to make things hard for her. So she put on her best poker-face, the one she’d learned over the last few months as she’d fended off social workers and counselors and everyone who’d wanted to “help” her “come to terms” with her “loss.”

Doctor Ambrosius leaned forward a little. “What is in the video you saw on the plane,” he said, his voice taking on a confidential tone, “was not—quite—the whole truth. Yes, you are Legacies. Yes, we do keep track of our Legacy children. And yes, if something happens to their parents, we see to it that the children are well cared for until they are twenty-one. But”—he held up a finger—“we don’t bring all of them here. However you—like the rest of the young people here at Oakhurst—are very special.”

Spirit exchanged a glance with Loch. Any minute now he was going to tell them they were Jedi Knights, or lost members of an alien race, or . . . something.

“Special how?” Loch asked neutrally.

Doctor Ambrosius smiled slightly. “You, and all the others here, are—or rather, one day will be—magicians.”

Spirit broke into a disbelieving laugh. “Right,” she said, starting to stand up. Mean, she could deal with; crazy was something else. “Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. I hope that train hasn’t left yet, because—”

Doctor Ambrosius made a careless gesture, and suddenly Spirit was shoved back into her chair. It felt as if someone had pushed her—hard!—but there was nothing she could see. Before she could react, Doctor Ambrosius crooked his finger, and two of the bookcases slammed together across the door with a hollow boom.