William Calhoun and the Black Feather. Book I
Chapter 15 Nymus’s swollen palm

The next day William and El met, as usual, by the entrance to Professor Welbeck’s house and headed to class. When they entered the classroom, all the others were already there, and soon Welbeck appeared as well.

“Good history of existence to you all!” he greeted them merrily, then took out his magic feather out of his inner pocket. As expected, the feather was the same dark-grey incorporeal mass as himself. “Gather round, please!” he gestured at the table he was hovering by.

Everyone got up from their sofas and joined him, after which he spoke again:

“Today we’re going to refute the history of the Wizard Community creation!”

The enrolees stood tensely, waiting for the upcoming travel in time, while Welbeck continued slowly in his usual carefree voice:

“As you already know from the textbook, the creation of the Wizard Community had a positive effect only on wizards themselves, while demits, on the contrary, came to a dissention in their community, which had led to many wars, caused by the desire for undivided power over each other. According to the information given in the textbook, the creation of the Wizard Community made the increased power over demits the cause of discord among the wizards, which, in its turn, led to the dissention among them. We will try to prove the opposite, refuting both of these statements at the same time. And we will do this not by looking at the pages of history, but observing its immediate process!” He turned to William: “Mister Calhoun, may I have your copy of Wizard History, please?”

William went to his sofa obediently, took the textbook and returned to the table, not knowing whether to hand it to Welbeck or to place it onto the teacher’s table. As if having read his mind, Welbeck replied to him:

“Put the textbook on the table!” William silently placed the book on the table and stepped back.

“And now,” Welbeck literally floated into the table, stopping in the middle of it, “touch this textbook with the tip of your finger. And keep your fingers pressed to it!”

Welbeck being in the centre of the table allowed all enrolees to surround it from all sides, surrounding Welbeck as well. There was a bit of fuss, because not everyone managed to follow the teacher’s instruction right away, but soon each enrolee was touching the history textbook. Then Welbeck silently touched the open page with the first chapter with his incorporeal magic feather.

The next moment, the enrolees were surrounded by transparent mist and soon William saw the classroom slowly going blurry before his eyes and different landscapes and areas appear and disappear. Faces and even crowds of wizards could be seen in those pictures. Finally, everything started to become clearer. The whole group of enrolees was now standing not around the table, but in the corner of a large gloomy room, with a long table in the middle of it. Wizards in black were sitting at that table, serious expressions on their faces. Their solemn looks suggested that they were in some kind of a meeting. Everyone sitting in there looked rather severe and the whole room seemed very gloomy, creating not the most pleasant impression.

When they looked at Welbeck, they were surprised to replace that he wasn’t a ghost anymore, but quite corporeal. And the enrolees, on the contrary, had become transparent, turning into dark-grey incorporeal figures. Seeing this change in his appearance, El, who seemed very frightened, asked:

“Professor Welbeck,” he was staring at his transparent body in alarm, “since we are ghosts now ourselves, they won’t be able to see us, will they?”

“They won’t be able to see not only you, but me as well,” Welbeck replied.

“Then why are you in the flesh and we are, on the contrary, ethereal?” Ophella Adderly spoke up.

“Yes, why haven’t you warned us about it?” Roberta Brown asked him, unhappy as always.

“We will be able to return to normal later, won’t we?” Fergus Connelly asked in alarm.

“You aren’t ghosts, don’t worry!” Welbeck calmed everyone down, a smile on his face. “On the contrary, you haven’t been born yet at this moment, that’s why you look so ethereal. And that is why nobody here can see you. As for me, I was already living at that time, for a while, even! But they can’t see me, because…” his words were once again interrupted by a short and unpleasant smile, “I’ve been dead for a long time!”

His smile made all the enrolees feel uneasy.

“Why aren’t they moving and look like dolls?” Fergus Connelly asked. He had calmed down and was now examining the people sitting at the table.

“That’s how they’re supposed to look until I move the course of history, Mister Connelly. So, if there aren’t any more questions, let’s begin our lesson!” At this, he waved his magic feather, which ‘in the flesh’ turned out to be bright green.

After the wave of Welbeck’s feather, the room where the gloomy meeting was taking place was immediately filled with many voices, as if somebody had switched volume on. The people sitting there were whispering to each other, arguing about something, until a young wizard with a long beard, who was sitting at the head of the table, had gestured them to silence.

“Greetings, everyone!” As soon as he started talking with his thunder-like voice, everyone fell silent at once. After that, he continued: “Seventy two of us have gathered at one table today to decide the fate of our legions. We have come here from all parts of the World to finally decide our future and start a new dawn of the wizard life!”

There were noises of approval from those sitting at the table. Many of them nodded in agreement.

“There are many among us who don’t wish to submit to the agreement made between demits and us. Our friends from Antida,” he gestured at the wizards sitting to the right of him, “Agriculus, Clodius, Honorius, Hengist, and Anthemius, are extremely worried about the tension among demits, believing that this will inevitably affect us as well. Today, we must decide whether we should share their concern or, on the contrary, calm them down.”

“We are all worried, Tindarius…” the wizard sitting to the left of the one he had just called Tindarius spoke up. “Demits are weak. They are so weak they are ready to gnaw each other for power they can’t handle and that doesn’t belong to them in the first place. We share the World with them, and if they wish to conquer it, they will have to be reminded about everyone inhabiting this World…” at this, he slightly waved the feather in his hand.

“You are right, Sarduri!” the wizard sitting opposite to him boomed, large, with long red hair and beard. “Bird wings allow it to fly over the heads of those not born to fly! But, unlike them, the bird can also walk on the ground, replaceing food for itself. And sometimes taking and replaceing is one and the same! We have enough power to conquer their rulers in a few waves! And we’ve always had!” he rumbled. “Wizards have never interfered in the affairs of demits because of the Balance that has to be maintained! But now the demits of the South have asked a small favour from us, and by doing it we can create our own ruling top among them, still maintaining the Balance.”

“Exploiting their weakness,” Tindarius spoke again, “equals their destruction, Hector! We aren’t destroyers, we’re creators! And even the bird that flies should understand that even when it is in the sky it can still become a prey!” He stared at Hector. “And it also should understand that there’s something to take even in the sky and there’s more delicious prey!” he reminded him unambiguously.

“There are those among us who would be eager to establish order among the demits, not to destroy it, Tindarius,” the one called Hector replied diplomatically.

“The type of government,” a fair-haired wizard at the end of the table spoke up, “is applicable to wizards and demits alike. And, as Sarduri has said, we share the World with them. But, being the more powerful part of this World, we have the right to handle the weight of its worries and concerns ourselves,” he paused, then added, “for the good of both sides…”

“What do you mean by this, Waterford?” Tindarius addressed him.

“I mean that we don’t need war,” he replied just as cautiously. “We can establish new order, where we’re going to be the ones maintaining it, but nothing more. Thus, demits won’t be the victims neither of each other, nor of our rule.”

“And how do you suggest ruling over them without interfering in their affairs?” Sarduri asked.

“We will divide their domains into different types of government, which will submit to a single law. The Law written by us. This will allow them to continue living and rule separately, but at the same time…” he hesitated, then finished: “Such government will be acceptable for them and instead of century-long civil strife they will work together for the good of their own future development.”

“This type of government,” Tindarius said, his dignified look making even the watching enrolees tremble, “will create unhealthy competition even among ourselves, Waterford!” He looked around the table. “Masters of the Feather have always been equal among themselves. However, the creation of the ruling class will bring discord to our ranks, which in turn will destroy our Equality.”

“Where there is government, there’s no place for equality between those who govern and those who are governed…” Hector said cautiously.

“Such form of government is necessary not only for demits, but for us as well,” Sarduri said.

All the wizards nodded approvingly, after which there was short silence in the room. People sitting at the table were waiting for Tindarius to speak up again and after a short silence, he said in the same thunder-like voice:

“Well, then! If this is your general decision,” he looked around the table, “then let it be so! We will divide demit domains and our own into counties. And each of you will be called counts from now on and rule your own county! But our government among demits must remain a secret only you will know! All of you are unmatched in the art of wizardry and none of you should forget that great responsibility for the heads of our brethren lies on your shoulders! Just as the heads of our brethren should be responsible for the burden on the shoulders of demits!”

There was whisper among those sitting at the table, and Sarduri was the first to speak up as he addressed Tindarius:

“It will make us happy to have a king rule over us, whom we name Ecgberht Tindarius the First…”

After that, all of them stood up as one and slowly walked to Tindarius’s massive chair, took out their frighteningly long feathers and, pressing them to their hearts to show their loyalty, kneeled and then bowed their heads before their newly elected king. When they rose, Sarduri turned to a bald wizard with really wide hands, whom William had just noticed and who was sitting apart from the rest, in the shadow, on a high iron chair not far from the table:

“Marcus!” Sarduri addressed him with a polite bow. “Let the world know about it! Let it, like us, kneel before the King!”

The wizard with large hands got up, saying:

“It is a great honour for the Magic Post Office to make its contribution to the election of the King!” And he peregrined with a horrifyingly loud sound of crumpling thick paper, which made the walls shake.

“Marcus Celestine…” William whispered under his breath, who had heard about him from Nymus.

Then Professor Welbeck waved his magic feather and the gloomy room, where the meeting just as gloomy took place, suddenly dissolved in the mist. After a moment, the enrolees were back in the familiar classroom, by his table. And Professor Welbeck himself, who had become an incorporeal ghost again, floated out of the middle of the table and said:

“Please, return to your seats, everyone!” His calm voice returned them back to reality completely. Shaken enrolees headed back to their sofas.

“My word!” El expressed his endless delight when they took their places. “To see Tindarius and Sarduri themselves! I still can’t believe it!” he was really excited.

“Have you heard of them before?” William was surprised.

“About Tindarius the First? Are you kidding me? He’s considered to be the first ruler in the whole world! He was the one to create monarchy! And he was the progenitor of the first kings! And Sarduri became his successor in the end!”

“Awesome!” El’s delight now passed on to William. “It means that a minute ago we were present at a really important party!” William remarked, only now realizing how lucky he was to see that.

“You have just become witnesses,” Professor Welbeck said to them when everyone took places, “to the making of one of the most important decisions in the history of wizards and that of demits! This moment became the foundation for the development of the whole Wizard Community and for the world events in general! Without even knowing, the gentlemen sitting at that table,” he nodded at the open book, “became the first nobles in the world, forming the aristocracy! Being the true rulers among the demits, they didn’t stain their hands with bloody wars, unlike them. And with time, such form of government spread all over the world and became common in the Wizard Community. But centuries later, there came dissention. It was necessary to unite numerous feuding clans of wizards. That was the aim of creating the International Federation of Wizards, which was meant to unify the rival parties and to create single government in the world, ruled by one person. In our following lessons, we’re going to examine historical events of later stages, and by the end of our classes, you will have all the necessary basic knowledge in the wizard history, which, in its turn, will serve as a base for forming your own attitude to the events of the past and, therefore, towards who you’ll become in the future. In other words, future should inevitably grow from the past, as a flower grows in the future from the seeds hidden underground. After which you, like that flower, will inevitably return to the ground where you’ve bloomed in the future. And I’m the bright example of this!” he smiled.

Judging by the reaction of the class, Professor Welbeck evoked only negative emotions by being happy with the fact that he was dead, which was completely unjustified according to El.

“And now,” he looked around the class, “let’s examine what we’ve just seen! Does anyone have any questions?”

“I do!” Ophella raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Adderly, please!”

“Professor, isn’t Tindarius the First considered to be a conqueror who came to power by bloody wars and barbarous raids from the sea?”

“Tindarius and Sarduri became the Founding Fathers of the whole Wizard Community, laying its cornerstone and starting the rule of wizards over their neighbours in the world, which exists still. It was Tindarius, later named Ecgberht Tindarius the First, who facilitated the situation where demits don’t know about the existence of wizards! Because only in that case they would stop relying on their help in everything and started to develop on their own, which later led to their today’s success. And what is more important – to their independence and autonomy. No doubt, from time to time, they bring themselves to rather critical situations planet-wide, but it is only then that wizards help demits, not allowing them to destroy themselves, but only without disturbing the Balance. So many wars, big and small, started by demits without them seeing their end! If it hadn’t been for wizards, they would have destroyed themselves after the first wide-scale war. But at the same time, without demits wizards would have been deep in endless civil strife, killing each other over power! Thus, answering your question, I’d say that this is a false opinion about Tindarius, Miss Adderly!” Welbeck said calmly. “As you have just seen, Tindarius wasn’t going to conquer demits or wizards. Wizards themselves decided to create the Wizard Community. And like any community, they needed a leader, whom Tindarius the First became.”

“But didn’t the rule over demits mean enslaving them, Professor?”

“Not at all, Miss Adderly! The ruling period of demits themselves happened exactly at the start of Tindarius’s rule. You have witnessed how they decided to create a unique type of world government by dividing it and submitting it to the general law, which wizards created later themselves. That was how the Wizard Community was began and what you have witnessed were the first steps along the path to its creation. However, as sad as it may be, later some members of the created Wizard Community, like Tindarius feared, started a fierce struggle among themselves, breaking the Wizard Community into two parts. One part, the acknowledged ruling aristocracy, was defending its rights for power in the course of wizard history, and the other part…” at this Welbeck once again glanced over at William and finished with a sad sigh: “And the other part wrote the darkest pages in that history.”

Then he added in a more cheerful voice:

“But in time, the competing party failed and disappeared almost completely!”

“Why almost, Professor?” Fergus, like the rest of the class, was still under great impression after everything seen in that gloomy room.

“Because after losing their leader, Mister Connelly, the rebelling classes of the Wizard community were defeated and unable to resist the power of the ruling aristocracy!” Professor Welbeck replied, then finished: “If there are no more questions, our today’s lesson is over!”

After a short pause and making sure than there were indeed no more questions, Professor Welbeck disappeared in the wall, like before.

When William had peregrined home after classes, he saw Mr. Hoggart sitting in the living room in front of the TV. He was busy watching evening news. William suddenly realized that this homely and rather usual picture with Mr. Hoggart in it looked rather amusing after witnessing Tindarius the First and his gloomy feather-bearers sitting at the table. He suddenly became aware of the fact that he had distanced himself from the Hoggarts over the past few month and, feeling guilty about this lack of attention, he decided to chat with Mr. Hoggart a little bit, like in the old times.

“William!” Mr. Hoggart noticed William, who had entered the room.

“Hello, Mr. Hoggart!”

“Hello, son! You’re a bit late today! Is school alight?”

Indeed, William thought, he hadn’t noticed how the day had passed and it was already growing dark beyond the window. Obviously, their travel to the past lasted much longer than it seemed in that room.

“Yes, we’ve had a test today, so I had to…”

“Damn TV!” Mr. Hoggart cursed suddenly when William was taking a seat beside him on the sofa and struggling to replace an explanation for his late arrival.

The moment William came close to the TV, there was static all over it.

Mr. Hoggart jumped up and a moment later, he was indignantly opening the back cover of the TV to replace the reason for the malfunction.

“Tell me, William,” he was saying, angry with the manufacturer, “why would they produce TV-sets if they can’t do it properly?!”

Mr. Hoggart belonged to that type of people who liked blaming manufacturers of different items, their critique followed by a number of suggestions and innovations for the companies producing them. At the same time, he was frustrated with the fact these innovations only came to his head.

William smiled as he looked at that amusing picture, where Mr. Hoggart was expressing his fury as he fidgeted with the back control panel of the TV-set. Suddenly, he felt some kind of movement in the inner pocket of his jacket, which he hadn’t paid attention to before because of the fuss around the broken TV. He felt the feather in his pocket moving more actively than usual. Suddenly, William understood the real reason for the static on the TV. He got up and hurried to retire to his room.

“I’ll go to my room and do homework, Mr. Hoggart!” he said.

“Sure thing, Will!” came Mr. Hoggarts voice somewhere from behind the TV. “And I’ll try to figure this out! How dare they profit from honest citizens by selling these devices that unceremoniously break in the middle of a program!” he continued to fume.

As soon as William stepped away, he heard the voice of the news anchor not accompanied by static anymore. He smiled and was going to walk away, when the same voice from the TV rooted him to the spot:

“Last night there was a rather unusual occurrence at one of the London graveyards! Almost at the same time, two bodies were dug out and stolen from the graves, which caused public outrage! The Bedfordshire county reports similar information about one more body missing…”

“And this is happening in the modern world!” came Mr. Hoggart’s outraged voice from under the TV, who had, obviously, heard this information.

William immediately recalled Gobry’s story about the dugout graves, the one he had told him during their first meeting. That was why he considered the news he had heard to be rather alarming. However, he reminded himself, the world wasn’t focused only on wizards and events in their community, so he tossed those thoughts away. Deciding that this was nothing more than a coincidence, William wanted to move along, when the same voice from the news added:

“…those dug out of the graves were Knucklehead Smith, Rupert O’Shea, and Culverton Walsch. We should also add that a similar event had occurred several months ago, when in similar circumstances, two more bodies were dug out, late Thomas Deadlock and Augustus Neuville. It is believed that the two events are connected. The five people, whose graves have been defiled, died on one day – 5 October 1805. The relatives of the other people buried at those graveyards expressed their deep concern to the local authorities and demanded that they dealt with the unknown grave defilers. Scotland Yard is looking into the matter and soon new information about this strange occurrence is expected to be revealed…”

After that, William quickly headed to his room, locked the door and went down to the basement. On the way, he was frantically thinking about the information he’d just heard in the news. The bodies of Deadlock and Neuville had disappeared from their graves somewhere in September. So, that very Augustus who had killed von Bulberg that night, could have been the same Augustus Neuville! That was so obvious! He himself told von Bulberg that he had returned from the grave, risen from the dead! If that was a coincidence, it was a really incredible one!

Thinking about all that, William hurried downstairs to the study, approached the featherture of Reginald Hoggart and peregrined to the Magic Feather Graveyard. He rushed to Gobry’s hut. But the hunchback met him on the way to the hut, because he was doing rounds at the time. When he saw William, he headed towards him:

“William Calhoun! What an honour!”

“Gobry! Have you finished your rounds?”

“Is William Calhoun worried about something?” Gobry noticed William’s concerned look.

“Yes, quite so! I need to know something! Tell me, did anything go missing last night here?” he pointed at the graves.

Gobry gave him a puzzled look, then looked around the graves and replied in a bewildered voice:

“I don’t’ think so! Everything seems to be in order! Why is William Calhoun asking about it?”

“I’ve just heard over demit news that three bodies went missing! Someone dug them out and they disappeared without a trace! And I remembered your story about two feathers dug out a couple of months ago! At the same time two bodies disappeared from the demit graveyards, Gobry! I need to check them against the names of those written in our log. You don’t mind if I look through it?”

Gobry, who was listening closely, frowning and visibly concerned, said:

“William Calhoun is the Keeper of the Magic Feather Graveyard and is free to do what he wishes!”

They headed to the hut and, once inside, Gobry took out the log from the rickety cabinet. He opened the required page and held it out for William. He quickly scanned numerous names and soon found Neuville’s name in the list, then asked Gobry:

“Gobry, you said that apart from feathermages who buried their feathers themselves, people came here to bury feathers of murdered wizards! And what happens to the body of a wizard at an ordinary graveyard if his magic feather is dug out here?”

“Nothing!” Gobry replied shortly.

“And what if they weren’t killed by that time, but died after the feather had been buried? Is that possible?”

“Yes!” he confirmed as shortly.

“And what if a magic feather was stolen from someone and buried here and then somebody dug it out, then what?”

This question alarmed and puzzled Gobry for a while, as he was thinking it over.

“Things happen!” he replied hoarsely. “If we assume that a feather is dug out to bring its owner back to life, then…”

“What will happen to its owner?” William replied quickly.

Gobry hesitated, then replied in a dead voice:

“That person will rise!”

“But alive!” William finished.

“William Calhoun is absolutely right,” Gobry confirmed gloomily.

It was becoming clear to William that magic feathers weren’t being dug out to draw energy from them, but – this thought sent shivers down his spine – to attempt bringing their owners back to life! And, as it turned out, the attempt was rather successful.

He said goodbye to Gobry and returned to his room. It looked like somebody had intentionally returned Neuville back to life, so that he would kill von Bulberg. But who? He tried to figure out. This question was bothering him. Unable to replace an acceptable answer, he decided to stop thinking about it. Especially since he had to study the material for tomorrow’s Refutation class. And he would discuss that with El tomorrow. Perhaps, he would be able to shed some light on these events.

William spent the rest of the evening over the Wizard History textbook and fell asleep late at night. He dreamt that he was sitting in semi-darkness, behind a decaying table, with a blank piece of paper before him. William was watching himself from the side. For a while, William from the dream was sitting motionlessly, then he brought his hand holding an ink feather to the paper and started writing something. Everything seemed foggy and he could barely make out the words he was writing. He tried to focus on the paper and managed to make out blurry words:

“Duke… needs…. Augustus… meeting… Counties… Calhoun… dead…”

The letter was slipping in and out of focus and he wasn’t able to make out the whole text. Then the dream was interrupted.

In the morning, when he was sitting in the classroom with El, he told him about the message on the news and that Neuville’s feather was buried at the Magic Feather Graveyard. When El heard about it, he immediately made an assumption:

“Knucklehead Smith, Rupert O’Shea, Culverton Walsch! They all must be somehow connected with the murder of von Bulberg and have a direct link to Neuville! Do you think they are all from the C.W.B.?”

“I don’t know,” William said, puzzled, “but we need to replace out, and as soon as possible! And, El, there’s more…”

Here William hesitated a bit before starting his story and El noticed that:

“What’s the matter, Will? You seem a bit odd today!”

“I’m alright! Listen El, I had a very strange dream last night!”

“Did you dream about Welbeck getting his body back?” El gave him a wide smile.

“No, this is serious, El! I dreamt that I was writing a letter and that I wrote the name of the one I was writing to.”

“Whom were you writing to?” El was serious.

“I addressed him as Augustus. There were also such words as ‘Duke’, ‘County’, and ‘Calhoun’.

“Are you sure this wasn’t just a dream?” El seemed concerned.

“It wasn’t, El! That dream seemed so vivid, so real… As if I was really writing that letter myself…”

“Are you a dreamzard?” El gave his friend a look of distrust.

Seeing William’s puzzlement, he explained:

“Those are wizards who can penetrate other people’s memories in their sleep, even of unfamiliar wizards, and see some fragments of their lives that have happened earlier. They are also called memory catchers!”

“Are you talking about the gift of clairvoyance?”

“No, that’s a different thing! You see, dreamzards can’t predict the future and they can’t see it. On the contrary, they see only the events of the past, they see it in the memory. And that memory usually doesn’t belong to them. It’s like rummaging in the memories that don’t belong to you.”

“And you think that I…”

“Well, if we assume that your dream was really that realistic and unusual, then you really seem to be a dreamzard.”

“In any case, my surname was mentioned in that dream. And I have to replace out everything I can about the events that happened in that dream. Are you busy after classes?”

“Well, like always, no!”

“Well, then, let’s go to my place, summon Nymus and ask him about the letter! After all, he’s a mailmage and he will be able to help us replace out who was writing that letter.”

After Wizard History Refutation, they peregrined to Blackfriars Lane, where they summoned Nymus and told him everything, including William’s strange dream.

“Unfortunately,” Nymus spoke up after hearing their story attentively, “I have no idea if Master Calhoun is a dreamzard or if that was just a dream.”

“But you can actually help us, Nymus!” William explained.

“I would be happy to!”

“Tell me, Nymus, “William asked, “can anyone send a letter without the Magic Post Office knowing about it?”

“No message in letter form can be sent over a distance without the Magic Post Office knowing about it. All letters, with no exception, have their copies at the Post Office Archive.”

The two friends exchanged looks, then William addressed Nymus again:

“You see, Nymus! If it turns out that my dream isn’t a dream at all and what I was writing in that dream was really a letter,” he was choosing each word carefully, “then I’d be really grateful to you if you check the Post Office Archive for a letter addressed to Augustus Neuville!”

The request seemed rather unexpected to Nymus.

“It is no difficulty to check it. But, if you do not mind me asking, why is Master Calhoun interested in this?”

“You see, if it turns out that a letter addressed to Augustus Neuville has really been sent recently, then I’d be very grateful to you if you bring it to me…” he finished.

“Envelope Seal! I protest in the letterest way, Master Calhoun!”

“But why, Nymus?”

“Because stealing letters from the Post Office Archive is the violation of the most important article of the Post Office Code! It says: “Violation of confidentiality of sending and receiving letters, as well as of confidentiality concerning the sender and the addressee, is strictly punished by the Magic Post Office, and the highest measure of punishment will be given to the perpetrator – banishment from the Post Office forever”.

“Nymus, I wouldn’t have asked, but it might be connected with my family or, perhaps, even my life. Besides, I’ll return all the letters to you once we replace the one we need, have no doubt about it!”

This made Nymus’s doubts grow visibly weaker and soon he agreed:

“Well, if that is so, then… being the Calhoun kin mailmage I cannot disobey my wizard,” the mailmage tried to justify himself aloud, “otherwise, I’ll dishonour the name of the fine Nymus kin.”

“I knew you wouldn’t refuse! Thank you, Nymus!”

“This is my duty!” Nymus’s face looked rather sad as he was saying that.

“When should we expect news from you?” William asked him.

“Well, considering the fact that the Archive is under constant watch, it could take at least a few weeks. I think, after the New Mail Year, when everyone will be busy re-archiving the letters, I will get a chance to sneak in there.”

“Why so long, Nymus?” William asked gloomily.

“It is not an easy task getting into the Post Office Archive, Master Calhoun, and I will need to do my best.”

“Well alright… Then see you soon, Nymus!”

“I will get back to you as soon as I get the letters! Good Mail, Master Calhoun!” and with that, Nymus peregrined.

***

A month and a half passed since the day William had asked Nymus to bring him Neuville’s letter, and January was gradually coming to an end. The three months William was studying magic at the Preparatory Course passed really quickly for him. Partially, this made him very happy, because when he was studying at an ordinary school for demits, he couldn’t wait for Christmas holidays from the start of September, and in general he was counting months until summer, which brought the long-awaited summer vacation with it.

William liked holidays and preferred celebrating them with his family, unlike his classmates and people he knew. Though the Hoggarts weren’t his blood family, he was really attached to them and he liked their trips to the countryside or the holidays they spent together. But this year, first time in his life, William felt that he had no desire to make a break for holidays, in the middle of his studies at the Preparatory Course. William spent winter holidays with the Hoggarts, at their country house in Devon. All this time, it seemed to him that his former life was back and that everything that had happened to him before that was nothing more but a fairy-tale. Before leaving for Devon, he warned Gobry that he wouldn’t be in the house for some time and that he wouldn’t be able to visit the Magic Feather Graveyard. He had gotten completely used to his duties as the Keeper of the Magic Feather Graveyard. Actually, he didn’t have any duties per se and he only had to visit the Graveyard every day and ask Gobry how things were there. And he spent at least an hour there, after classes at the Professor’s houses, and later, at night, when the Hoggarts were asleep, he went down to check up on Gobry again, have some tea with him and talk. In the very beginning, after William had just left, El contacted him through the feathermap and wished him good holidays:

“Will! Happy Saint Nicolas Day, mate! I love this holiday! It’s finally come! Guess where our family is right now!” El was speaking feverishly fast and greatly inspired.

“Merry Christmas to you too, El!” William greeted him happily. “I don’t know! Where?”

“At grandpa Rodg’s house! We decided to celebrate Saint Nicolas Day here this year! Actually, the poor guy may not live until the next one!” El gave a wide smile from the feathermap.

“El! He’s your grandpa!” William reminded him with reproach, but not without a smile.

“I know! That’s why I adore him! By the way, his sends his regards! He says that he hasn’t forgotten his young admirer and even asks me to give you his present!” El’s head leaned somewhere into the feathermap, revealing the top of it, then returned to sticking out again. “Yep, that’s right, it’s a swamp cloak!” he glanced at the present.

“Unexpected!” William said with feeling. “Give grandpa Rodg my thanks! I just don’t know what to give him!”

“Give him Gobry!” El recommended ironically. “He’d be happy to get a present directly from the swamps!”

“Come on, El!” William laughed. “Leave my assistant alone! By the way, he sends his regards! He says you should visit him more often together with me!”

“I will, right after the holidays!” El replied. “Listen Will, grandpa Rodg is going to sing songs and has already arranged the famous Gibbs Family Choir, so I don’t think I can weasel out of it this time! Send my regards to the Hoggarts!”

“Bye, El! I was happy to see your head, buddy! Send my regards, too!”

“Alright! Until we wave again, mate!” William’s feathermap folded up, then unfolded, without El’s head in it.

***

It was evening when Nymus returned with his palm visibly swollen. William and El, who had recently returned from Gobry’s hut, were talking about something excitedly. When they saw Nymus, they rushed towards him.

“Hi, Nymus, old pal!” El greeted him. “Do you know if the bucket factory in Scotland is still working? I’ve been telling Will that they make the best bucketcrafts in the world!”

“Master Elian!” Nymus nodded at him politely. “It was moved to Sweden! There are more acceptable conditions for manufacturing them! Good Mail, Master Calhoun!” he turned to William and held out his swollen hand. “Where should I unload the mail?”

“Hello, Nymus!” he looked at his hand. “Are there so many letters addressed to Augustus?”

“Seven hundred and one envelope, to be exact!” the mailmage told him.

“Well, place them there!” William pointed at his bed.

Nymus walked up to it, held out his hand, and a flow of letters poured out of it, turning into a pile of letters on William’s bed in just a few moments.

“May I be trice enchanted! Now I know where to hide in case of a flood!” El cried out in amazement.

“These are all the letters sent to Augustus over one century, Master Calhoun! Only the Post Office Master has an access to the Centuries-old Archive!”

“Thank you, Nymus! You’ve helped us a lot!” William thanked his mailmage. “If a letter was sent more than a century ago, we don’t need it, so it’s alright!”

“So, how are the things at the Post Office? Have they decided who will be new von Bulberg?” El asked jokingly.

“Candidates for the post of the IFW president are Arnold van Keppel, Cristobal Kemp, and…” he couldn’t hold a happy smile, “Ferzibald Fafner!”

“Fafner!” El cried out. “Awesome!”

“Finally” William replied just as happily.

“That is all about the elections for now!” the mailmage said. “If Master William does not need me anymore, I will return to the Post Office.”

Left alone in the room, William and El approached the pile of letters.

“So, how are we going to replace the letter we need in this pile?” El asked, looking at all the envelopes. “At least, his name isn’t Jack or Johnny or we’d have to search until Friday!”

“Yeah, that’s a lot of work…” William agreed with him. “We’ll look through all of them, there’s nothing else to do!”

“Well, then, let’s not waste any more time and begin!”

They divided the pile of letters into two parts and started looking through them, envelope by envelope.

“Augustus Downing… Augustus Adam… Augustus Jones… Augustus Carter… Augustus Henderson…” Ell was going through the letters, reading the names of the addressee and tossing the letters they didn’t need aside.

About an hour had passed when El, finally, came across a letter with the surname they were looking for.

“Neuville! Augustus Neuville! This must be the letter we need, Will! It was sent on 5 September last year!” he looked at William. “Almost a month before the murder of von Bulberg! It was written not long ago!”

“Open it, El! What does it say?” William tossed his pile of unchecked letters aside and was ready to listen.

El broke the seal saying ‘Magic Post Office Archive’ and took the letter out of the black envelope.

“My word! We could have saved time by looking for the most ominous envelope!” he grumbled in his usual manner, then opened the letter and read it aloud:

“Your Duke needs you again, Augustus! Call the meeting of the County Without Banners! By that time Calhoun will be dead”, El read the last three words slowly, turning white as bedsheets.

He reread the letter again, this time silently, then looked at William, who was just as pale.

“Do you think it’s about you?” El asked him gloomily.

“Do you know any other Calhoun living today?” William replied calmly as he was trying to pull himself together after hearing what El had read. “Not about my dead parents or relatives. Who else?”

“Sorry, Will, I didn’t think…”

“It’s fine! Can I have the letter?”

El gave him the letter and he read the sender’s name on it:

“Henry Lauderdale…”

“Where could I’ve heard that name…” El frowned, then cried out a few moments later: “Alpurg!” it dawned at him: “I remember! We read about him in the ‘Informed Wizard’, back in Alpurg!”

“That’s right!” William snapped his fingers and held out his index finger. “Now I remember, too! He killed the literarium! But he didn’t look like a criminal back then.”

“And I told you that my genetic wizhunter sense doesn’t let me down! I knew there was something fishy about him! First, he killed the literarium, then went after you! He must be one of the Counts!” he concluded.

“Do you think they both serve that duke Bardalf and Geldern were talking about by the kitchen doors in Alpurg?” William started to understand, comparing everything he knew about the duke.

“I think so! But what do we know about the Duke himself? That’s one really important question!”

“Well, we heard about him for the first time at the Alpurg kitchen, when Bardalf mentioned him while talking to his friend, saying something about the search for his grave, I don’t remember what exactly!”

“And old man Bardalf ruled three centuries ago!” El started to recall. “Frau Nastiness told us about it during the tour in the Portrait Hall!”

“That’s right!” William agreed. “Do you remember von Bulberg mentioning bowing to the duke during his conversation with Neuville? He also told him that the duke found his way back and von Bulberg was speechless after hearing that!”

“And now Lauderdale mentioned him in his letter to Neuville!” El finished and added: “Not enough information! I can’t remember any other mentions of duke! Unless…” he glanced at William, then nodded at the stone door in his room, “the crown under the featherture and all that…”

“Don’t bring Hoggarts into this! There have been enough suspicion about them from us!” He thought for a moment, then said: “Wait! We know that Bardalf ruled three centuries ago! Then the counts were trying to replace his grave back then! And if he was dead back then and Neuville bowed to him while he was alive, as von Bulberg said, then Neuville lived at that time! We also know that three centuries later Neuville rose from his grave and killed von Bulberg. During the same period of time, Lauderdale kills the literarium and is on the run! It means that the duke they both serve is also back! And for some reason he wants to kill a Calhoun! Besides, he ordered Neuville through Lauderdale to call the council of counts!”

El thought about it for a bit, then said slowly:

“And what if… what if…” he hesitated.

“What?!”

“What if you still have relatives and Lauderdale is going to kill one of them, not you?” Seeing that William was going to object, he hurried to continue: “Otherwise, how are you going to explain the fact that you’re still safe and sound? And that’s considering the fact that you live with feathermages and there’s nobody to protect you in case anything happens!” These words made William think and El said hopefully: “Even if we suppose that they were going to kill you, then, perhaps, they’ve changed their mind! Because almost half a year passed since the letter was sent!”

“Do you think it’s possible?” William asked not without hope.

“Well, think! After the letter had been written, many things changed in the Wizard Community! Von Bulberg was killed and there was that fuss around his death! Remember how hard the authorities were trying to hide the real cause of his death and preferred keeping everything a secret! It’s possible that wizhunters caught Neuville long time ago and killed him as secretly.”

“Actually, this seems more likely than them deciding not to kill me,” William said with his hopes lifting.

“Why did he have to write to Neuville and not tell it to him personally?” El couldn’t understand.

“I don’t know! But if he sent the letter he had no other option. He’s on the run and all wizhunters are looking for him!” William looked at the address of the sender. “Number 4, Bleak Street!” He turned to El: “Where is that street?”

“It’s the first time I’ve heard about it! Are you sure you’ve read it correctly?”

“It’s written right here,” he pointed at the address on the envelope: “number 4, Bleak Street!”

“Alright, alright, I’ve just asked…”

“We need to ask Nymus!” William said. “He’s a mailmage! He has to know where that street is!”

When Nymus had returned, William read the letter to him and he was horrified to hear it.

“Kill Master Calhoun!” he cried out angrily, clenching his large fists. “Green Monogram! We can’t allow it to happen!”

“Nymus, Nymus!” William hurried to calm him down. “Nobody’s going to kill me if we replace out where this letter was sent from,” he handed him the envelope: “Do you know where this street is?”

Nymus looked at the address:

“Number 4, Bleak Street…” Nymus read, frowning and looking puzzled.

“Is it unfamiliar to you?”

“I swear to Post Office, I can’t recall any street with this name, Master Calhoun!” the mailmage said after reading the address with distrust.

“Well, then, just peregrine us there!”

“Master Calhoun, mailmages know all the addresses that can exist! In other words, all addresses on the maps. If we don’t know an address, then it does not exist!” Nymus said confidently.

“But you’ve said it yourself it’s impossible to send a letter to a false address and that the Post Office won’t send a letter if the address doesn’t exist!” El reminded him.

Nymus thought about it for some time. After while he announced:

“Well, then! There is only one way to replace out!” he opened his arms: “We need to peregrine there! But let me tell you, Master Calhoun, this smells bad!”

The two friends approached the mailmage, he placed his large hands on their shoulder and said clearly:

“Number 4, Bleak Street!”

There was a moment’s silence as they waited for the peregrining, but nothing happened. The three of them exchanged glances involuntarily after that, then Nymus removed his hands from their shoulders, saying:

“It is no use, Master Calhoun! This address does not exist! Bleak Street is a ghost street!”

“Then there’s a false sender address in the letter so it couldn’t be traced?” El spoke first.

“That’s impossible!” Nymus objected. “Magic Post Office cannot sent a letter with a false sender address even if it wishes. I will peregrine back to the Post Office and try to replace out where that street is in our system of maps. I will return as soon as I know!”

“Alright, Nymus! We’ll be waiting! And you can take the letters! We won’t need them anymore!”

“See you soon, Nymus!” El said.

The mailmage approached William’s bed and held out his hand over it. Almost immediately the pile of envelopes lying on the bed flew up to his hand and got sucked into his palm pocket obediently.

“Be careful, Master Calhoun!” Nymus gave his master a worried look, then turned to El: “Master Elian!” he nodded politely, then peregrined.

When they were alone again, El started pacing the room and thinking aloud:

“I don’t like this, buddy! I don’t like it at all!”

“El, you don’t have to get involved and risk your life because of me! It’s best if you…”

“It’s best if you shut up, Will! We’re friends! Remember?”

“Of course I do. That’s why I don’t want anything bad happen to you.”

“It won’t, don’t worry! We just need to understand what they need from you, try to protect you if anything happens!”

“If those counts made such a mess that the whole Wizard Community decided to protect their descendants from stories about them, and the authorities decided to tell an open lie in mass media about the real cause of death of the president of the International Federation of Wizards, then the ill fame surrounding them was really all over the world at that time. I know how we can learn more about them than we’re supposed to know!”

“How?”

“Have you forgotten? We have a transparent professor, who lived a long time ago and now weighs zero milligrams!”

“Welbeck!”

“That’s right! We need to ask him about C.W.B.!”

“Do you think he’ll be eager to tell two enrolees about the things everyone is trying to hide from them?” William was dubious about the idea.

“Why not?! He has no point in hiding that from us and he doesn’t care if we know or not! He keeps saying ‘I’m dead!’, letting us know that he doesn’t give a damn about the things that are happening!”

They had been sitting like that, thinking over all possible options, until Nymus showed up. His face looked unusual and he seemed seriously concerned about something.

“Nymus! What happened and why are you so pale?” William asked him.

“Master Calhoun, the address on that letter…” Nymus fell silent, then finished: “It doesn’t exist.”

“I knew it was sent from a false address to hide all traces!” El said with satisfaction.

“I have already said that it is not possible, Master Elian!” Nymus cooled El down.

“Then how can you explain the fact that this address doesn’t exist?”

“About two centuries ago all maps were changed and many streets were renamed. But I have checked the old map as well! The Bleak Street simply does not exist.”

“But why are you so sure that the letter wasn’t sent from a false address?” William asked after a bit of thinking.

“Because that is how the Magic Post Office itself works. Even the most ancient and powerful magic is not able to trick the Post Office, Master Calhoun. The Magic Post Office has its own mailmagic that excludes any kind of fraud.”

“Then we’re at a dead end!” William was upset with Nymus’s words.

“And what if we replace out the addressee’s address and after replaceing it, go to him and try to replace out where he sent the letter?” El suggested.

“We cannot!” Nymus objected. “The mailmage transporting the letter gave it directly to the addressee! And the sender’s address must always be written on the envelope, because all letters in the Post Office Archive must have the sender’s address! That is the law! And no mailmage would be able to peregrine with that letter even if he wished so. That is the imposed mailmagic.”

Nymus peregrined and there were two of them in the room again.

“We need to replace out the address the letter from the Bleak Street was sent to! Then we will replace out the location of Neuville himself…” William said loud after a bit of thinking.

“Will, you do realize that Neuville is a dangerous criminal and a powerful wizard if he managed to kill von Bulberg?”

“We’ll think of something, El, don’t worry!”

“I’m not worried! We can turn for help to my dad at any moment, after all, he’s a wizhunter! I just want to know what’s our plan for catching that Neuville fellow.”

“El, please, don’t bring Mr. Gibbs into this! I don’t want anyone to know about this whole thing, except for you, Nymus and me. This feels right!”

“Well, as you wish! Shall we get some answers from Welbeck after the lesson?” El got up and headed to the exit.

“Yes, sure! Thanks for all your help, El!”

“Nonsense, we’re friends!”

They went into the backyard, where El took out his feathermap and peregrined home. William decided to spend the rest of the day with the Hoggarts and when he lay in his bed at night, he went over today’s events again, thought about them, and was soon deep asleep, holding the feather tight in his hand.