Henry, despite everything, had to say, “Not at all a magician, are you?”
“Oh, shut up,” David said wearily, and dropped the iron-dust, and put a hand on Clarence’s shoulder, possibly for balance. “Were you considering my offer of a position? Do let me know.”
“You’re hoping earth-mages might stick together?” He let that line of interrogation go, though—there’d be time later; there would be time, later—and looked at Clarence, who was hugging himself, desperate, forlorn, smudged with dust and grass.
He said, “I won’t let anything happen to Theo,” and it was a promise and a vow and a demand for the future all at once. For David, about Theo’s brother, he added, “Keep him safe.”
And then he ran. For the Library, and Theo’s shield. Through the pandemonium, stopping only once to help a student
