Chaos and Conjurations by K.L. Noone & K.S. Murphy

Author:K.L. Noone & K.S. Murphy [Murphy, K.L. Noone and K.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-06T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Linnet did not speak aloud—Theo had never known precisely why—but their hands knew language, and Theo knew language. Linnet right now was asking for his help. It’s Dom—Theo, please—he says he’s fine but he’s asking for you—

“Of course—!” Theo bolted to his feet. “What can I do? Do you need—”

He says just you. And Henry if he’s with you.

“He’s not, but I can summon him—”

Dom says no, just come. Don’t bother Henry if he’s busy. Now, please. Linnet paused. He didn’t say please.

Theo snorted. “So he’s not too badly hurt?”

He won’t say so but—

“Linnet. Is he badly hurt?”

He’ll recover. I’ve got to—

“Go. I’ll be right there.”

Linnet’s shimmer-spell vanished. Theo stared at the empty air, swore aloud a second time, closed the account-book, ran out of the room, paused to snap yet another layer of his own wards into place in case of attack—if someone was coming after them—and then threw himself up the stairs and out the Library’s side door and across the College green, in the middle of a thunderstorm.

He nearly tripped over several wide-eyed undergraduates practicing rain-deflection charms. From their glances, Theo guessed someone might be speaking to the Headmistress soon: Head Librarian Theo Burnett causing disruptions. Again.

He did not care. This was Dom, in trouble, because of him—enough that Linnet had called—

The main infirmary was quiet, slants of silvery rainy light spilling through tall windows. Theo glanced around. Saw no one; heard nothing; breathed in scents of lavender, chamomile, willow, cleansing solutions, waxed thread, fresh cotton. He hurried toward the back.

Dominic was lying down in his office, on the small bed Theo knew he sometimes used when exhausted by a campus-wide outbreak of magic-resistant influenza, or an entire first-year class accidentally poisoning themselves with a nightshade-laced intoxicant, or the general stupidity of the world. He was wearing comfortable working clothes, not robes, and his face was pale, though he pushed himself up on both elbows at the sight of Theo.

“Dom,” Theo said, and flung himself into the office, “what happened? How can I help?” The corner of the bed was hard as his guilt, when he sank down on it.

Linnet touched his shoulder. He was in Geoffrey Lloyd’s head. Investigating. It went wrong. He collapsed. I found him on the floor.

“We never meant for you to be hurt—”

“Linnet,” Dom said, wry, lines of pain visible, “I’m fine.”

Linnet looked at Theo, eyes like wood smoke and steel, honed edges under homey kindness. Don’t ask him to do it again.

“I won’t. We won’t.” Theo swallowed down the ashes in his throat. “Dominic, I’m so sorry—”

Dom waved a hand. The silver in his dark hair caught the light, an admonishment: Dominic was after all older than both Theo and Henry, not elderly but no longer young. “It’s a headache, Theo. It’s not the end of the world. And I’m taking this personally now.”

Linnet made an expression, clear as day, standing beside his bed.

Dom sighed. “Yes, you can make me more of your tea. Even though I don’t need it and it tastes like lavender and I hate lavender.

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