Spellhacke- M. K. England Page 0,75
for my shoulder roll during the unicorn incident.
It says a lot that neither Ania nor Jaesin gets after me for speaking to Remi like that.
Remi takes no notice of our moods and, with triumphant precision, brushes the sand off their clothes and begins to put their hair back to rights. Ready to meet their ultimate hero.
Screw that. I’m ready for this to be done.
I walk straight past Remi and knock three times on the heavy wooden door. Shuffling steps approach from the other side, and I hold my breath. We’ve fought our way over two miles for some answers, and we’re about to meet the person who can give them. The knob turns, the door creaks, and finally we’re welcomed in . . .
. . . by a man with a giant fireball in his hand.
Should have known.
Nineteen
THE FIRE GLINTS IN THE man’s black eyes as he opens the door wider, the light deepening the shadows of his gaunt cheeks and making his rich golden-brown skin glow with ominous red highlights. He murmurs something under his breath and, with a twitch of his wrist, sets the fireball to spinning, the weave stretching, and I stumble back, throwing my arms wide to shield Remi behind me—
The flaming ball of firaz in the man’s hand bursts into a sparkling flower that settles into the center of his bow tie, glittering cheerfully.
“Good evening!” the man chirps, as if greeting an old friend. “Come on in! Do you take honey in your tea?”
“Yes!” Remi says. They grab my arm to steady themself, bright-eyed and eager. “Honey is great! Thank you! It’s so great to meet you, Professor!”
Whoa, dial it back there, Remi. The professor doesn’t seem to mind at all, though. He waves us inside and escorts us through a dowdy old sitting room, past another elderly man in an armchair. The man’s head is tipped back against the headrest, mouth open, with soft, rhythmic snores filling the small sitting room. Is the professor not even going to ask what we’re doing here?
“Don’t mind my husband,” he says instead, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He takes a nap once an hour, it seems. He’ll be awake in time for dinner, though, the old bastard, don’t you doubt it. As soon as the food is ready, poof! Alert as a cat stalking a mouse.” He pauses in the kitchen to fill a kettle with water and set it on the stove, then leads us onward without turning on the burner.
I turn to share a snicker with Jaesin, completely charmed by the man’s chatter, only to find him already waggling his eyebrows at Ania. The two of them share a near-silent giggle, hands pressed to their mouths. My shoulders sag, but I continue on, still supporting Remi as we walk. They practically glow with excitement, despite their visible exhaustion.
Once all this is over, if we aren’t dead or in jail, they’ll probably all go right back to their grand plans. Ania to university, Jaesin and Remi right back here to Jattapore. Especially now that Remi knows their dream professor is here. Silva will probably take them on as a student. Who could resist? Anyone who meets Remi can tell within ten minutes the kind of talent they possess.
Suddenly the old man isn’t quite so cute. I glare at the back of his head as he leads us back to a disaster area of a workroom. Three long tables dominate the space; one covered in vials of maz, one piled high with old paper books, and one so covered with potted plants leaning toward the nearest window for sunlight that the tabletop is barely visible through the foliage. One wall is lined with heavy wooden bookshelves cluttered with more maz and books, and even more spill out onto the floor. We can barely take a step without clinking bottles together or tripping over some overturned pot of dirt, though one area of the floor has been kept completely, meticulously clear: a giant hatch that reads IN CASE OF EMERGENCY.
Well, that’s not ominous at all.
Professor Silva shoves a pile of folded towels off a stool and sets it down in front of Remi, then looks up and blinks at the rest of us, as if surprised to see us there.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m afraid I don’t normally get this many visitors at once. I . . . oh, here we go!”
And with one grand sweep of his arm, two strands of maz fly from somewhere