The Tower by Cari Z

Author:Cari Z. [Z., Cari]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0BC9QF4WG
Goodreads: 62587072
Published: 2022-10-11T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Harry Beaufort couldn’t be found inside the main building at all, or in any of the accessory halls. There was a small park in the center of the campus where many of the students paused for a moment in the sun before scurrying off to their next class, but he wasn’t there either.

Eventually Anton stopped and asked someone he recognized from one of their mutual classes, who told him, with a wry look, to “follow the sound of blasting, sir. Beaufort’s the only one with permission to be experimenting like that right now.”

Anton frowned, ready to ask for more details, when Camille’s hand on his arm cut him short. “Listen.” He caught Anton’s eye and gazed upward. “Higher up.”

Now that he mentioned it… “The roof, perhaps? But what on earth could he be doing there?”

“I suggest we go and find out.”

The stairs leading to the roof were old and worn, and obviously not used much. In fact, there was only one set of footprints in the dust that Anton could see. Whatever Harry was doing, it wasn’t something he cared to share with others.

As soon as Anton opened the door leading out to the top of the building, he understood why. Harry stood perhaps twenty feet back from a metal dummy fused to a post midway down the rough stone expanse. He held what seemed to be a wand of some kind and, raising it toward the dummy, he squared his shoulders and shouted a single word: “Fire!”

To Anton’s shock, a thin jet of orange flame shot out of the wand with a bang, straight into the dummy’s chest. It didn’t cause it to burn, but the rapid appearance and speed of the flame was surprising enough. Anton heard a crack and a moment later, Harry dropped the wand to the roof, shaking out his gloved hand. “Damnation,” he muttered. “Thought I had it that time.”

“Impressive.”

Camille’s dry tones caused Harry to whirl around, already reaching inside his robe for—what? A weapon of some kind, perhaps another of these strange wands? He paused before withdrawing anything, though. “Who are you, then?”

“I am Lord Lumière, here on the emperor’s business. And you,” Camille indicated the expanse between the dummy and Harry, “seem to be in the business of novel thaumaturgical destruction.”

Harry didn’t relax, but he did at least lower his hands. Anton breathed a silent sigh of relief. He was confident in his own abilities, but he had no idea how to counter anything like a jet of flame, and despite Camille’s untouchability when it came to spells, that likely didn’t apply in this situation.

“And what do you want with me?”

“At the moment?” Camille smiled disarmingly. “A simple explanation will suffice. How did you accomplish that spell without writing out the equations for flame and prepping the ingredients beforehand?”

A smug expression crossed Harry’s round face. He looked like an overgrown cherub, rather incongruous given the smoking remnants of the dangerous wand at his feet. “Ah, but I did write the equations and prep the ingredients beforehand.

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