Chapter XXXII. Ellery
XXXII
ELLERY
WINTER
Ellery and Julian walked down dark, half-remembered streets from her childhood until they found one where the trees pressed close like nosy neighbors. People milled in and out of pubs, their laughter mingling with faint music, the streetlamps haloed in flurried snow.
Julian led her into one such pub, called Altitude Sickness, shabby yet surprisingly cozy.
Gas lanterns flickered on the tables and on the bar, and a record spun merrily in the corner, playing a song Ellery hadn’t heard in years.
Ellery pushed through the crowd under the shroud of her cloaking spell, dodging elbows and shoulders.
But her spell was far from the only one.
Everywhere, from people lounging in the booths to leaning against the walls, were magicians.
Magicians dyeing their drinks different colors.
Magicians conjuring tiny gusts of wind to cheat at darts.
Magicians drawing designs into the frost on the windowpanes. And none of them wielded a Living Wand.
“Reminds you of the academy, huh?” Julian murmured, as Ellery gaped incredulously.
“How many hedge magicians are in Nordmere?”
“More than there were a few months ago. Just like me, they came here looking for them.”
He gestured to an alcove not unlike the one at the Order’s student lounge, where a large corner booth was filled with excited, chattering teenagers. Ellery didn’t need to ask who the supposed Winter magician was. They sat in the center, holding court.
They looked around Ellery’s age, if not younger.
Yet they carried the presence of someone who’d long since grown up.
They were striking, with a mane of wild brown curls, hazel eyes, and fair skin.
A patched-up coat and trousers hung on their rail-thin frame, cinched by a brown belt.
They held a training wand, but plenty more jutted out from their pockets, their waistband, even their sleeves.
Julian strode toward the alcove. The crowd parted for him, greeting him, as he slid into the booth beside the Winter magician, just as effortlessly as he’d done back at the academy.
He held out his palm triumphantly. “Pay up, Kester.”
The person—Kester—lifted a brow and flicked their gaze behind him, and although Ellery knew they couldn’t see her, she swore they looked her straight in the eyes.
“Get out of here, everyone,” they said lightly. “Suddenly, Julian and I have evening plans.”
The magicians around them rose without protest and scattered throughout the bar. Kester stood, then pulled a crumpled bill out of one of their many pockets and thrusted it at Julian.
Ellery flicked Iskarius. Her cloaking spell extended over the three of them. Kester seemed remarkably unfazed by Ellery’s sudden appearance, as though a Chosen One dropping in was just another night.
“You bet I wouldn’t come,” Ellery said warily.
“Yes, well, I like to win,” they said, without a hint of an apology. Then they stuck out a ring-studded hand. “I’m Kester Wright. You’re you.”
Their grip was strong. Their hand was callused.
“It’s a pleasure,” Ellery said automatically.
Kester’s mouth twitched in amusement. “And that’s Iskarius you’re holding, I presume?”
Ellery braced herself for a recoil, for a grimace. But Kester only peered at it curiously, then whistled. “Now that’s a wand.”
“We should talk.” Ellery gestured to the booth.
“I’ll leave you both to it,” Julian said, standing.
“Wait,” Ellery protested. “You’re not staying?” If Kester proved to be Summer’s traitor, she didn’t want to be left alone with them.
“I think you should get to know each other. You’ve got a lot in common,” Julian assured her. “And Kester … play nice.”
Kester frowned. “Don’t I always?”
Ellery was surprised he was so eager to go. But Julian would never lead her into a trap, which meant he must’ve considered Kester trustworthy. And maybe it would be easier to prod Kester for answers without Julian present, anyway.
“Okay,” she said cautiously. Julian departed as Ellery sat on the opposite side of the booth. The table was sticky from spilled drinks and littered with spare crumbs. Kester sipped a dark beer, unbothered by the mess.
“So you think you’re a Winter magician,” Ellery began, resting Iskarius in her lap beneath the table. “Why?”
The cloaking spell muffled the rest of the bar; sound and light felt distant as Kester leaned in, studying Ellery shamelessly. Usually Ellery knew what part someone wanted her to play. But with Kester, she had no idea.
“Well, I didn’t at first,” they answered.
“But you know how kids manifest magic. Mine was a little odd.” They waved their wand, and a tiny storm cloud spun above the table.
Nature magic. With another flick, it dissipated.
“My training wands kept doing that no matter what sort of spell I tried to cast. But they were just some wind and snow, and they didn’t hurt anybody, unless you count the occasional mailbox as an innocent bystander. ”
Ellery had been prepared for obvious lies, born of a grab for attention. But Julian was right; although Kester’s story wasn’t identical to her own, it was close enough to make her breath hitch.
“But you conjured storms?” she asked. “Didn’t anyone else care?”
“Once I got to one of those Order primary schools, some teachers definitely thought I was strange. So I just learned to conjure rain instead of snow.”
Ellery couldn’t decide if their nonchalance about their magic was an act or not. If it was, it was a convincing one.
“And what about after primary school?” she asked.
“I didn’t pass the Order academy’s entrance exam. And then Nordmere fell.” Kester grimaced. “But when my family stayed behind, I stayed with them.”
“Why? When I left, Nordmere was in ruins. It was…” She trailed off, trying to shake the memories.
Kester took a long draught of their beer. “I won’t pretend my family’s had an easy time sticking it out. But Nordmere’s my home. I’m glad we didn’t abandon it.”
Ellery, who’d never felt such a devotion, only nodded.
“Eventually, we started to rebuild. And as time passed, my magic felt stronger. At first I thought it was because I was getting older, but then I learned about you, a Winter Chosen One with a Winter wand. And it all started to make sense. I mean, we’re in Winter’s territory, aren’t we? You must feel it, too.”
Ellery thought of earlier in the day, when her spell to clear the road had been so unexpectedly powerful.
She grasped Iskarius more tightly in her lap.
Ice crusted the top of their seats, then flared out through the bar, until the interior of Altitude Sickness was gilded and garlanded with icicles.
People elbowed each other and laughed, marveling at the sudden décor change.
“I do feel it,” Ellery said breathlessly. “It’s like my magic is more.”
Kester grinned. “Exactly.”
Ellery decided in that instant that she believed Kester was truly a Winter magician.
She wasn’t alone.
For a moment her pulse quickened with the wonder of what that might mean for her, for Alderland, for the winterghast hearts in her pocket. Then she pushed her hope aside. She couldn’t get distracted.
Kester might still be Summer’s traitor.
“What about all the others here?” she asked. “Are they convinced they’re Winter magicians, too?”
“Most of them at least suspect it, although it’s not like we can truly prove it. But that’s why so many of them have come up here, some older, some more like us.” Kester nodded around at the bar.
“Julian said people are also coming here because they heard about you.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t really on purpose. But after the first few magicians showed up, word got around fast. Some of them were confused.
Some were really scared. And I became the person who explains why they don’t have to be.
Because someone has to, right? We live in a country where being a magician means dreaming of a Living Wand and a destiny to go with it, but every Living Wand except yours wields Summer magic.
So even if a Winter magician makes it to the national academy, none of us would stand a chance at bonding with one.
The best we can do is be hedge magicians with a little more power. ”
Kester’s easy demeanor seemed strained now. They fiddled with their rings.
“So that’s what you and your friends want to do?” Ellery asked. “Stay up here and haunt some bar?”
“There’s not much point in doing anything else.”
Summer’s traitor surely had a motive and a goal that involved hurting Alderland. Yet Kester wasn’t describing anything of the sort. If anything, Ellery admired what they were doing. They could still be lying, but Ellery was running low on reasons why they would.
“All right. I can see why you’d like it up here,” Ellery pressed on. “But there’s plenty of people in the fallen—in Winter’s territory who aren’t magicians. Why wouldn’t they move south?”
“In the beginning, I think most people were like my family. There was a lot of worry going around about repeating the Thirty Years’ Chill.
But we didn’t know for sure if that was what would happen to our home.
And as it turns out, losing a bit of territory to Winter isn’t the same as surviving a cataclysm.
For the last seven years, we haven’t been bothered by a single scurge or ghast. It’s colder, but it’s peaceful.
And besides, it’s been really good for the land. ”
Ellery furrowed her brow. “What do you mean, good for the land?”
“You know how we’re taught in school that Living Wands handle most farming? Apparently it’s because Aldrish soil is hard to work with. But since this region became Winter territory, the land’s changed. Every year, more and more crops grow without needing any magic at all.”
There had been more farms than Ellery had expected surrounding the city. But the idea that they flourished without magic was so strange, she didn’t know how to feel. Kester made it all sound so idyllic. Too idyllic, maybe.