Wundersmith: The Calling of Morrigan Crow (Nevermoor, #2)

by Jessica Townsend

“because it’s transient. Because Israfel can’t keep singing forever. And when he stops, eventually that feeling of perfect happiness will fade away. And you’ll be left here in the real world, with all its hardness and imperfection and muck. It will be so unbearable, and you will be so empty, it’ll feel as if your life has stopped. As if you are trapped in a bubble, while the rest of the world carries on living imperfectly around you.

We all must join reality at some point. For those who suffer from addiction; once reality hits, it will hit the afflicted like an avalanche.

The Deucalion was draped with millions of flamingo-pink fairy lights that lit up the whole night and could probably, Morrigan thought, be seen from outer space.

😂😂 Wednesday vibes loading

Morrigan shook her head, trying—and failing—to control a smile that was twitching at the corners of her mouth. She felt a warm, sunshiny glow right in the center of her chest, as if a cat had curled up there and was purring contentedly. She’d never had a birthday party

🫠awww 🥰

SISTERS AND BROTHERS, LOYAL FOR LIFE, TETHERED FOR ALWAYS, TRUE AS A KNIFE. NINE ABOVE OTHERS, NINE ABOVE BLOOD, BONDED FOREVER THROUGH FIRE AND FLOOD. BROTHERS AND SISTERS, FAITHFUL AND TRUE, EVER TOGETHER, THE SPECIAL AND FEW.

So many thoughts come to mind. For where in life this applies

Jupiter looked as if the sun itself were shining out of his face as Morrigan ran up the steps to greet him. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, his blue eyes welling up ever so slightly. Morrigan was surprised, and rather touched, by the unexpected display of emotion. She showed her appreciation by reaching out to punch him in the arm. “Pathetic,” she whispered. Jupiter laughed, wiping his eyes. Beside Jupiter stood Hawthorne’s patron, young Nancy Dawson, her cheeks dimpling as she grinned down at her own candidate.

😂😂 this girl needs therapy

Baz’s candidate, the mesmerist Cadence Blackburn, stood with her arms folded across her chest. She tossed her long, braided black hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, looking so perfectly at ease in this bizarre situation that she could almost have been bored. Morrigan was somehow both impressed and annoyed by that.

😂 she’s like Boredom from Inside Out 2

Jupiter had insisted that Wundersmith wasn’t a bad word. That it hadn’t always meant something evil. He’d told her that Wundersmiths used to be honored and celebrated—that they used their mysterious powers to protect people, even to grant wishes.

“Squall didn’t do the things he did because he was a Wundersmith, Hester. He happened to be a Wundersmith and a psychopath. Unfortunate combination, but… there you have it.”

Look at this little black-eyed beast—anyone can see she’s a wrong’un. What’s to stop her using Wunder to control us?” He looked at Morrigan with undisguised hatred. Morrigan clenched her teeth; the feeling was entirely mutual.

She had an impulse to run down the long drive and straight through the flower-covered gates, but then she felt Jupiter’s warm, steadying hand on her shoulder. “Oh, you’d rather she was somewhere out there, would you?” asked Elder Saga pointedly, stamping his hooves. “On her own? Doing heaven knows what?”

Train a child in the way he should go

“No point, Mog. You can’t see anyone else’s imprint until you have your own. Like I said, it’s for us. It’s how we recognize each other. A sort of… family emblem. You’ll start to notice them all over the place now, you’ll see.” A family emblem. Those words tugged gently at Morrigan’s heart.

Maybe this door was her bedroom’s version of a great big snotty sneeze. “Still,” said Martha with a shrug, “it’s not the weirdest thing this room’s ever done, is it?” She cast a look at the octopus-shaped armchair in the corner, which gave a sinister flick of its tentacles. The maid shuddered. “I do wish you’d get rid of that thing. It’s a nightmare to dust.”

I love the personality of the bedroom lol

She’d told Morrigan after the Show Trial that nobody apart from Morrigan ever remembered her—that was the downside of being a mesmerist. But Morrigan had never had a problem remembering her. In fact, she found Cadence extremely memorable.

I bet the I bet this has something to dow with being wundersmith

“How good are these BOOTS?” Hawthorne stomped dramatically onto the platform. He grinned at Morrigan and put his hands on his hips, pushing out his chest. “How cool are these clothes? I can see why you like wearing black. I feel like a SUPERHERO. Don’t you feel like a superhero?”

He is so sweet

“I’m Miss Cheery. Marina Cheery. Your conductor.”

Hometrain

“The Wundrous Society is split into two streams of expertise: the Mundane and the Arcane.”

“This big circle here represents the Mundane—yours truly included. This is the largest Wundrous Society sector, engaging in public-facing arts, acts, and services, comprising knacks based predominantly

the medicinal, sporting, performing, creative, engineering, and political disciplines. First line of attack in managing the popular and financial support crucial for the...

“Our motto inside Wunsoc is Just Try Getting on Without Us.”

Engaging in private-facing arts, acts, and services, comprising knacks based predominantly in the magical, supernatural, and esoteric disciplines—your witches, your oracles, your psychic mediums, your sorcerers, and so on. They’re usually the first line of defense in protecting the Society, the city, and the Free State from forces that wish to harm.

Their motto is If Not for Us, You’d All Be Speaking Zombie.”

“What’s the black circle for?” asked Cadence, pointing to the center of the chart.

Is it really? I bet that’s use to be the Wundersmiths!

Why was she in the School of Mundane Arts, when Cadence and Lambeth were in the Arcane? What was so mundane about being a Wundersmith?

I call discrimination!!

Ms. Dearborn or Mrs. Murgatroyd

New Characters - Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde vibes

“You may call me Ms. Dearborn, or Scholar Mistress. You may not call me Mrs. Dearborn, or Miss Dearborn, or Professor Dearborn, or Mother, or Mama, or Mummy, or any other derivative thereof. I am not your parent. I am not your nursemaid. I have no time for childish problems. Should any arise, you will either take them up with your unit conductor, or squash them deep down in the pit

How nurturing a welcome to new family lol

of your soul where they shall no longer bother you. Have I made myself clear?”

“Please, you’ve got to talk to Murgatroyd. She said she’s going to shave my head tomorrow because my unit failed our last Civic Duty exam. But it’s not my fault, she—” “Entirely your own problem.” “But she said”—the boy whimpered—“she said she’s sharpening her razor blade tonight.” “I don’t doubt it.” “Please, couldn’t you talk to her or—” “Don’t be absurd. Of course I can’t talk to her,”

Haha! So rude

“How come they get to go home already, when we have to stay?” asked Cadence. “Oh, poor you,” snapped Thaddea, rolling her eyes in disgust. “Must be so hard, having such a special-snowflake talent that you get to see three whole floors the rest of us are banned from. I’m positively aching with sympath—”

Thaddea is hilarious!

“Quite a few things, yes.” Dearborn snatched the timetable back from Miss Cheery with a sneer. “Almost all of them, in fact. Mindfulness and Meditation with Cadel Clary? No.” She took out a pen and drew a line through the class with a theatrical swipe. “Self-Defense Through Unarmed Combat? I think not.” Swipe. “Treasure Diving for Beginners? Stealth, Evasion, and Concealment? No and no. What exactly are you trying to turn this girl into?” she hissed. “A weapon of mass destruction?”

Hemingway Q. Onstald was more human than tortoise, but he was still a lot tortoise.

“I have been… instructed… to oversee your thorough… education… on the history of your… predecessors.” Onstald paused here, coughing from all the dust, and it turned into such a dreadful fit that for a moment Morrigan was afraid she might have to report to the Scholar Mistress that her teacher had died ten minutes into their first lesson. Eventually, however, he got his lungs under control and continued. “So that you have a full and… unflinching grasp… of the dangers and… disasters… Wundersmiths present to… us all.”

Professor Onstald was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, it was in a voice so tired—so ancient and grim—that he could have been rising from the dead.

The Magnificat glared at her and rolled over, effectively ending the conversation. Morrigan stared at her enormous backside, wondering if she would ever fathom the surprising depths of Fenestra’s

world. She was still reeling from last year’s discovery that Fen was a former Free State Ultimate Cage Fighting champion.

“Mog, listen to me. I know that Wundersmiths can be good.” He leaned forward and fixed her with a serious, searching look. “I know it because I know you. You are a Wundersmith. And you are good. I don’t need any more proof than that.” Morrigan sipped her tea and wished she felt the same way.

“Fen!” she cried, clutching her chest and sitting bolt upright. “Don’t do that, you nearly scared me to death.” “Good,” said the gigantic gray cat with a scowl. “If you die of fright, perhaps I won’t have to play the role of lowly messenger on the whims of our eccentric proprietor anymore. As if I don’t have better things to do.”

“Yes, you’ll all be decoding Nevermoor together.” Miss Cheery clapped her hands with delight.

It was a perfect representation of Nevermoor in microscopic, moving detail. Not just a model town or a dollhouse village… a living, breathing, three-dimensional city.

“Henry,” said the young man, holding out a hand to shake Morrigan’s. “Mr. Mildmay, I suppose. Gosh, doesn’t that sound odd. Perhaps I’ll just go with Mildmay. That’s better, isn’t it? More relaxed. Oh—it’s my first class,” he explained, noticing Morrigan’s look of polite confusion. “I’m new. Just graduated as a Senior Scholar last year. Go easy on me, won’t you?” Morrigan smiled.

Nevermoor Map teacher- this will become a sweet friendship

“Just let me look at it, Thaddea,” Anah said, fussing around the taller girl’s face with a damp cloth. “It looks dreadful. You don’t want to get an infection, do you?” “For the millionth time,” said the redheaded girl through gritted teeth, “I’m FINE. Stop your bleating.” “You’re being ridiculous,” huffed Anah, shaking her head of ringlets. “And you’re BLEEDING! I bet Miss Cheery would tell you—” “Nobody asked you,” Thaddea snapped. She was, indeed, bleeding from what looked like a fairly serious gash in her forehead.

lol these two forever arguing

Mildmay cared not a fig. She was beginning to see that Ms. Dearborn had meant exactly what she’d said about grown-ups in the Wundrous Society. Nobody’s going to hold your little handies or wipe your little nosies. Yet they were quite happy to break their little handies, apparently.

“Hello?” Thaddea shouted, waving a hand in front of her face. Lambeth flinched. She recovered quickly to turn a haughty, disapproving glare on Thaddea, who quailed slightly and lowered her voice. “We’re meant to be looking down there, not at the ceiling.” She pointed at the three-dimensional map of Nevermoor.

Lambeth returned to watching the stars, which seemed a lot less stressful.

“I certainly hope you’ll try to figure it out, Miss Kahlo, but as nobody has ever been able to do so in Nevermoor’s entire history,

The challenge to make a route from A to B without passing certain points

Morrigan, however, was enjoying herself for perhaps the first time since coming to Wunsoc. While some of the other scholars were easily discouraged when their route was dead-ended, she found it strangely satisfying to puzzle out an alternative path.

Morrigan slowly approached Mildmay’s desk. “Sir?” “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble,” he said. “Quite the opposite. I wanted to tell you how impressed I am. You did terrific work today.” He held up her set of directions, shaking his head in amazement. “This is perfect.” Morrigan smiled, feeling her face grow warm. “Thank you.” “Did you enjoy the lesson?” “Yes!” she said with sincere enthusiasm. “I’ve never done anything like it before.”

I wonder if this is apart of Mog’s knack 💭🤔

Last year, when horrid Inspector Flintlock of the Nevermoor City Police Force had been (rightly) convinced that she’d been smuggled in from the Republic, and the threat of deportation had hung over her head, Jupiter had advised her to keep quiet about where she’d come from.

That she hadn’t even known about this place until she’d met Jupiter? The Seven Pockets of the Free State kept strict border laws and even stricter secrecy, and her patron had risked everything to smuggle her in. Would she be putting him at risk if she told the truth now?

I love how Mog thinks about all possible consequences of her actions

grew up outside of Nevermoor,” Morrigan admitted, and left it at that. “I moved here to take the Wundrous Society trials, last year.” He looked deeply impressed. “Goodness. You’ve only been here a year? And yet you and Nevermoor seem to go hand in glove. It’s almost like this place was made just for you.”

🥰🥰

Lots of whitesleeves in my unit, see—we’ve got a couple of sorcerers, and Tilda Green’s a fire oracle, and Susan Keeley can speak to water—”

Oh snap is she related to a wundersmith?!