Caleb could trace his family line far back through many lines of warlocks and witches, but it was tedious to do it for his history lesson. “Master Jason?” he yawned. His tutor looked at him, his yardstick hovering on the name Caleb Wilson I, Caleb’s namesake.
“Yes, Caleb?” Jason was only twenty-four, but he had studied with the Phoenices, and they knew nearly everything about, well, everything. He was a well meaning, kind man, but Caleb found lessons boring no matter who was teaching them or what he was learning, excluding swordplay. Jason was sure that if he and Caleb were enemies in a war, Caleb would skewer him like meat on a stick.
“Could we end lessons early, just this once? Father said in this morning that Grandma might be coming to visit today.” Caleb always anticipated visits from his grandmother, because no matter what, they were always interesting. Caleb’s grandmother was not only a witch, but aPhoenix, and she had known the Genitor Cogitationis back before she had disappeared.
Jason sighed heavily. Caleb always asked to end lessons early, but he enjoyed visits from Yithia Wilson. She was a curious person to be around, because she always did something unexpected, whether it was turning flowered china dish into a living rose or showing up disguised as a traveling merchant. No matter what, she was unexpected, and one of the most lighthearted of the Phoenices. “Sure, Caleb,” he said, “but just for your grandmother’s visit. As soon as she leaves, whether that is tomorrow or next week, we will restart our lesson that day or the next, do you hear me?”
Caleb grinned; he knew his tutor wouldn’t be able to resist. “Yes, Master Jason. May I go now?”
“Yes, Caleb, you may go.” Caleb was out the door of the small room and sprinting down the halls in a flash, and Jason was left behind, smiling and shaking his head. He lived with theWilsonfamily in their castle; food, board, and good pay, but a crazy student. It was worth it, and Caleb was an interesting child, even if he did dislike lessons.
Meanwhile, Caleb dashed through hallways, down a staircase, up another staircase, and down two more, all in mere seconds. Grandma is here, Grandma is here, Grandma is here—Caleb believed that if you thought something hard enough, it would come true. And come true it did. Caleb sped toward the main door, and nearly knocked into a tall, domineering woman with spectacles and in an amethyst dress that looked like it belonged in the eighteenth century. “Grandma!” he exclaimed, and she chortled.
“Caleb, good gracious, you’re going to kill someone! How many people do you knock over a day?”
“One, on a good day,” Caleb mumbled, but his Grandmother continued to laugh. “Three on a bad.”
“Well, hopefully, this is a good day. Is your sister around?”
“She should be arriving soon.” That’s right, Caleb thought suddenly. Where was his sister? She said she would be back at two. Perhaps the Intermundium was full to bursting. He was jealous of his sister having a VTA. He always wanted to get one of his own, but for now he was stuck using the family one, and even then he had to have permission. His parents, with all his running and rushing around, didn’t want him to be able to go to the Intermundium at will. He would probably come back with a broken neck, or even worse, someone else’s.
“Mother!” Charles Wilson, a tall man, like both his parents, walked into the room. He was halfway to becoming aPhoenixhimself, but it was wearing on him. His face was pale and his eyes drooped from lack of sleep. It took many years to become aPhoenix, but Caleb was sure he wanted to follow in his ancestors footsteps, and half of them were still alive. Charles swept his mother into a hug.
