Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) by Sever Bronny Page B

not what I meant—of course I love Priya, it’s just that this has nothing to do with her.”
    Mr. Goss made sure his son—who was again playing with his favorite toy, the Agonex—found his eggs. “What is so special about today? Put that away, Leland, I do not want you playing with it at breakfast.”
    Jengo tapped the table with a flourish, making his father’s cup dance in its saucer. “Today Augum, Bridget and Leera learn their first summoning spell!”
    Mr. Okeke rescued the cup before it turned over. He sighed and resumed reading the crinkled parchment.
    Leera tore her oatcake into manageable portions. “I’d be looking forward to it if we were learning the spell with Mrs. Stone instead of Harvus.”
    “Oh, come now, Leopold cannot be that bad,” Mr. Goss said as he poured himself a cup of tea.
    Mr. Okeke’s skeptical eyes appeared from above the parchment for a moment, but he said nothing.
    “Mr. Goss, I beg you, come to just one of our training sessions and you’ll—”
    “Stop exaggerating, Lee,” Bridget cut in. “He really isn’t that bad, Mr. Goss, he’s just … particular.”
    “You’re only saying that because you’re his favorite,” Leera said, “and you even know what he thinks of women in general—”
    While the girls argued, Augum glanced over at the Blackhaven Herald. He wondered if there was any news about the tournament, or his father, or especially, the search for Mrs. Stone.
    Augum learned that the Blackhaven Herald was crafted in the wee hours of each morning and hurriedly copied using arcane quills. Hired warlocks would then teleport to all the towns and constabularies, dropping off bundles. From there, couriers distributed them to the surrounding villages by horse. Apparently, being a warlock journalist used to be a fun job until the Legion started dictating what was written. Back in Willowbrook, the Herald was rarely seen, declared to be promoting witchery. Except, of course, when there was important news. Not that many of the villagers could read.
    “… but I’m sure Mr. Harvus was only trying to teach you a lesson in concentration,” Bridget said, referring to the time he made Leera write one thousand parchment lines saying I will listen attentively while Mr. Harvus is speaking.
    Augum tried forcing himself to look forward to learning their first summoning spell with Harvus, but it was like looking forward to cleaning soiled laundry. Instead, he fantasized about getting Harvus fired somehow.
    “—and why can’t we hire someone else?” Leera said as if reading Augum’s mind.
    “Because Mrs. Stone approves of Mr. Harvus,” Bridget said in a tone suggesting she was tired of repeating herself. “And besides, Mr. Harvus can keep our secrets.”
    Leera folded her arms across her chest, a sour expression on her face.
    “Any news, Kwabe?” Mr. Goss asked, taking the Agonex away from a moaning Leland.
    “A new decree, I am afraid.”
    “Another one?” Bridget asked. “What is it this time?”
    Augum sat forward. The Legion had decreed a spate of new rules of late—no celebrating unsanctioned holidays; no gathering in groups of ten or more people without a permit from a Legion constable; no worshipping gods of any kind; no practicing arcanery without permission; and so on.
    “No weapons of any kind are allowed,” Mr. Okeke replied, “without written prior consent.”
    “I do believe we saw that one coming,” Mr. Goss said. “They are afraid of opposition.”
    “I have to disagree, Albert.” Mr. Okeke handed him the parchment. “I think they merely wish to control us. Read the last one, decree ninety-six.”
    Mr. Goss adjusted his spectacles. “ ‘Every hamlet, village and town in Solia will hereby host a Legion Constable who will collect taxes, keep the peace, and settle disputes’.”
    They all glanced at each other.
    Suddenly there was a distant horn blast. For a moment no one moved. When the horn sounded again, everyone scrambled—Augum shot to a