The Iron Trial by Holly Black, Cassandra Clare

plucking an apple off the low-hanging branch of a tree.
    Everyone was still for a moment, staring. Call’s father had been pulled through the far doors of the hangar by the mages. He was gone.
    “Here,” said a voice at Call’s elbow. It was Aaron, holding out the dagger. It wasn’t anything Call had ever seen before. It was a glinting silver color, with whorls and scrolls in the metal. The hilt was shaped like a bird with its wings outspread. The word Semiramis was etched along the blade in an ornate script.
    “I guess this is yours, right?” Aaron said.
    “Thanks,” said Call, taking the dagger.
    “ That was your father?” Tamara asked under her breath, without turning her face toward him. Her voice was full of cool disapproval.
    Some of the mages were looking over at Call like they thought he was crazy and they could see how he got to be that way. He felt better with the dagger in his hand, even if the only thing he’d ever used a knife for was spreading peanut butter or cutting up steak. “Yeah,” Call told her. “He wants me to be safe.”
    Master Rufus nodded to Master Milagros and she stepped forward.
    “We’re very sorry for that disruption. We appreciate that you all remained in your seats and stayed calm,” she said. “We hope that the ceremony will proceed without any further delays. I will be selecting my apprentices next.”
    The crowd quieted again.
    “I have chosen five,” said Master Milagros. “The first will be Jasper deWinter. Jasper, please come down and stand by me.”
    Jasper rose and walked to his place beside Master Milagros, with a single hateful look in Call’s direction.

T HE SUN WAS beginning to set by the time all the Masters had picked their apprentices. Lots of kids had gone away crying, including, to Call’s satisfaction, Kylie. He would have traded places with her in a second, but since that wasn’t allowed, at least he got to really annoy her by being forced to stay. It was the only perk he could think of, and as the time to leave for the Magisterium drew closer, he was clinging to any comfort.
    Call’s father’s warnings about the Magisterium had always been frustratingly vague. As Call stood there, singed and bloody and soaked with blue ink, his leg hurting more and more, he had nothing to do but go back over those warnings in his mind. The mages don’t care about anyone or anything except advancing their studies. They steal children from their families . They are monsters. They experiment on children. They are the reason your mother is dead.
    Aaron tried to make conversation with Call, but Call didn’t feel like talking. He played with the hilt of the dagger, which he had stuck through his belt, and tried to look frightening. Eventually, Aaron gave up and started to chat with Tamara. She knew a lot about the Magisterium from an older sister who, according to Tamara, was the best at absolutely every single thing at the school. Troublingly, Tamara was vowing to be even better. Aaron seemed happy just to be going to magic school.
    Call wondered if he should warn them. Then he remembered the horrified tone in Tamara’s voice when she’d seen who his father was. Forget it , he thought. They could get eaten by wyverns traveling at twenty miles an hour and bent on revenge for all he cared.
    Finally, the ceremony was over, and everyone was herded out into the parking lot. Parents tearfully hugged and kissed their kids good-bye, loading them down with suitcases and duffel bags and care packages. Call stood around with his hands in his pockets. Not only was his dad not there to say good-bye to him, but Call didn’t have any luggage, either. After a few days with no change of clothes, he was going to smell even worse than he did now.
    Two yellow school buses were waiting, and the mages began to divide the students into groups according to their Masters. Each bus carried several groups. Master Rufus’s apprentices were put with Master Milagros’s, Master