by V. St. Clair
Asher raised an eyebrow and said, “It considered your meeting with me to be important in some way?”
“Certainly,” Laurren nodded as though this was absolute fact, which was unsettling.
“All right then, I guess that means I’ll be taking your class when it gets started up…”
“No,” the Master surprised him by interrupting, shaking his head. “It told me that I would teach you much about magic, but that you would never be a student of mine.”
Confused all over again, Asher only said, “Uh…how does that work?”
“I’m not sure,” Laurren admitted. “I assume we’ll become friends someday, though probably not for a while.”
Me? Friends with this weirdo?
It was true that Asher enjoyed the strange and unusual, but this was a little much even for him…
“I wouldn’t count on it,” he said baldly. “There isn’t a Master here who considers me a friend and I don’t anticipate that changing anytime soon.”
“You’re still naïve and innocent,” Master Laurren said, almost sadly for some reason. “You aren’t yet damaged enough to be friends with us, but someday you will be.”
Alarmed, Asher took a step backwards and said, “Is that a threat?”
“No, it is a guarantee. I have heard it, so it will happen, unless I’ve made an enormous mistranslation—which is always possible. It gives me no pleasure to see a young person broken down, and I offer you my condolences in advance. People think that knowledge of the future is a gift, but more often than not it is a burden that no one should have to bear.”
He said it in such a calm, serious way, that chills went up Asher’s spine. He shook his head in defiance and said, “I have no intention of messing with magic that is beyond me and crippling myself just so we can be buddies. If you don’t plan on letting me into your class, then I have nothing more to say to you.”
He turned his back on Master Laurren and walked out of the room, trying not to dwell on the eerie prediction about his future and whether it might be true. He would ask the other Masters—Willow, perhaps—if Laurren was just toying with him with this entire encounter. Maybe this was his favorite way of greeting new students…by terrifying them.
He was almost to the end of the hall when he heard the Master’s words trailing after him, so softly it was almost like a whisper in his ear.
“Not all damage is caused by magic…”
Those words seemed to echo eerily around the stone corridor and up the stairs after him, or perhaps they were only reverberating around inside his head. He was so unnerved by the time he reached the top of the stairs and flung open the cellar doors that he was momentarily shocked by the influx of sunlight. Somehow he had assumed the world would be dark and storming after just a few minutes in the basement.
Also surprising was that Masters Reede and Willow were waiting for him; the latter smiled and extended his hand towards the former.
“Fifteen minutes,” Master Willow said. “I knew he’d have more fortitude than you give him credit for.”
“Damn,” Master Reede withdrew a few credit notes from his robes and slapped them into his colleague’s palm before walking off.
“Really, sir? You all have nothing better to do than place bet on your students?” Asher blurted out, still creeped out from his trip downstairs.
“It’s a lucrative business, if you’re as good at it as I am.” He smiled at Asher benignly.
“While you’re here, and since I’ve made you marginally richer…if I ask you a question, will you promise to answer it honestly?”
Master Willow looked a little surprised by the turn in the discussion.
“Certainly. I have never lied to a student who asked me a question, nor do I intend to break that trend today.”
“Good.” Asher paused. “Have you, or any of the other Masters, mentioned me to Laurren before I met him just now?”
The Master of Wands shook his head and said, “Not that I’m aware of, no. We try not to discuss students with a new colleague, lest we color his opinion before he has a chance to meet you all and form his own. If you’d like a herald to announce your arrival next time, we can try to arrange one.”
“Very funny, sir,” Asher forced a smile, though he was feeling anything but amused right now.
“Unless there’s anything else you’d like to ask me, I am going to go collect my winnings from my other colleagues.” And with that, Master Willow walked off calmly, somehow managing to look dignified and professional despite his teasing.
Shaking his head hopelessly, Asher returned to the castle.
10
Aleric’s Plan
Aleric stared out at the Gawain Sea from his favorite vantage point on the rocky outcropping along the cliff face. Cinder was helping a flock of seagulls catch fish nearby, diving gracefully into the water and emerging with a fat fish in his talons each time, depositing his catch amongst the birds with a look of smug superiority.
I must have kept him out here longer than he likes if he’s bored enough to hunt fish for seagulls.
In truth, Aleric had no idea how long he had been sitting there on the hard rock ledge, staring out at the sea. An idea had begun forming in his mind last night while he was asleep, one that was either crazily brilliant or brilliantly crazy. He’d tried to put it to the back of his mind during classes, but for once he was even more inattentive than Asher, and after being rebuked for his lack of focus for a third time by Master Sark during their research hour, he gave up on school work and came out here to think.
Even if it was possible, which it probably isn’t…it would take me years to make any real progress on it.
It wasn’t the first time he’d had the thought, or even the tenth. All of his various arguments for and against the idea were replaying themselves on a constant loop inside of his head.
I need fresh perspective.
But that was easier said than done. He had never been good at sharing his ideas with others, always worrying that someone else would act on his brilliance and claim all the credit for it. Still, even he had to admit that this secrecy had hurt him as much as it had helped him; keeping his own council meant that his work would only be as creative as he was, and he knew he was not the most creative person.
That award would go to Asher.
He sighed and rubbed a mist of salt water from his eyes, sprayed up from the waves below as they crashed against the face of the cliff. It wasn’t the first time he had considered going to Asher, even if just to ask his opinion, though in the past he had always talked himself out of it.
“Why?” he wondered quietly, frowning at himself. “Am I that paranoid that I can’t even rely on my best friend to keep my secrets?”
Trust your friends. Master Kilgore’s advice came back to him then, echoing around his mind like a whisper on the wind.
Cinder had plainly grown bored of entertaining the seagulls, because he returned to Aleric on the ledge and graced him with a look of haughty displeasure.
“Yes, we can go back in a minute,” Aleric assured his familiar, wishing for the umpteenth time that he could communicate with the dragonling effectively. Only the rarest and most powerful of mages could understand the language of magic itself with such fluency as to understand magical creatures.
Still, Cinder had been Aleric’s familiar since he was ten years old, and he knew the dragonling well enough to interpret his expressions. He looked like he wanted Aleric to explain what he was thinking about, and so he did.
“I’ve always kept my work and my research close to me,” Aleric began, still staring out over the waves. “But now I’m wondering if I’m becoming as paranoid as my father, as the years creep up on him and his mind fails him.” As much as he wanted the man to express some scrap of pride in his only son, he didn’t actually want to be like him at all.
Cinder made a noise that might have indicated skepticism or reluctant agreement. That was the problem with trying to get advice from something he coul
dn’t understand properly: it was impossible to interpret exact thoughts from the noises Cinder made, only broad feelings at best.
“I won’t let myself become like him,” Aleric insisted stubbornly, setting his jaw. “He is bitter and friendless, wary of everything around him and determined to exalt himself by bringing others low. When I rule the House, things will be different,” he promised, though he wasn’t entirely certain how he was going to pull that off at the moment.
Then your path should be clear…
Aleric wasn’t sure if he heard the words from Cinder, the wind, or his own imagination. Probably the latter, since he had never had any indication of being prescient before now.
“I’m going to trust my friends,” he decided abruptly, feeling better for having said it out loud. There was something freeing about choosing a path different than his father would have taken and committing to it, and he reveled in the fact that while his family could dictate what he would do and even who he would spend his life with, they could not control his thoughts.
I’ll follow their stupid rules, but I’m doing it my way, not theirs.
That decided, he stood up on the ledge, knees aching from having them bent for such a long time. He looked up the side of the cliff, gauging the height the same way he did every other time he came down here. He could use magic to levitate himself up the side without exerting any physical effort at all, but he suspected that the climb would help limber him back up again. Besides, he enjoyed the exercise.
Cinder took flight as Aleric began climbing, flapping his wings long enough to gain height and then coasting over the waves, using his momentum to swoop upwards and down, riding the wind with a grace that no other creature could hope to match. Aleric envied him this freedom, the ability to fly; despite all their levitation spells, mages had never successfully been able to duplicate true flight.
Aleric focused on the climb itself, knowing that one misplaced step could cause him to hit his head and topple lifelessly into the ocean, possibly smacking the cliff face itself a few times for good measure along the way. Cinder would save him if he could, but even a dragonling did not have unlimited power.
He began to sweat as he climbed higher, straining to reach the handholds on his least favorite stretch of rock, the only usable anchor points always spaced just barely out of reach. As always, he had to let go of the previous handhold and propel himself upwards with his legs before he was able to grab onto the next, a chancy prospect at best. Still, he managed to catch onto the rocks each time, as he had managed on every other occasion in the past. He mentally tried to estimate the likelihood of him missing and falling as he continued upward; after all, it was a statistical certainty that at some point he would miss the handhold. Each time he made this climb was therefore a roll of the dice, a tempting of fate…
He arrived at the top of the cliff face sweaty but invigorated, waiting for Cinder to signal the all-clear before pulling himself up over the edge. He hadn’t taken more than a few steps towards the castle when a stranger seemed to materialize right behind a tree to his far right, where the foliage became denser. With no convenient trees or bushes of his own to hide behind, Aleric was in plain sight of this newcomer, and felt a moment of panic at the thought of someone discovering his beloved hiding place.
The man caught sight of him immediately and made a beeline towards him, and Aleric braced himself for the worst as the figure drew closer in the fading light as sunset approached. As the stranger came nearer, Aleric realized that he recognized the man, though he had only seen him for the first time at breakfast that morning.
“Master Laurren,” he was barely able to conjure up the name in time to greet the new Master, who was not wearing his metallic green robes of Mastery for some reason. Most of the others wore theirs at all times during daylight hours, since robes were only allowed by certain people on certain occasions; it was a sign of status to be able to wear those colors and that apparel.
Master Laurren stopped a few yards away from him, those strange purple-blue eyes focusing on him like a laser as his entire body became suddenly taut and tense. Wondering if there was something alarming behind him—like a chimaera, judging by the look on the man’s face—Aleric spun around to check.
There was nothing but empty space, and by the time Aleric turned back to the odd-looking Master, the man had relaxed his features into a more neutral expression.
“Hello there,” he answered politely, studying Aleric as much as he himself was being scrutinized. “I didn’t think that students were supposed to be this close to the cliffs.”
Trying not to panic, Aleric said, “I was just taking a walk and wanted to admire the view of the waves.”
Lame. He’s never going to buy that…
“Ah, well be careful, especially this close to sunset. We wouldn’t want any unpleasant accidents happening,” Master Laurren explained, apparently taking him at his word. Aleric tried not to look too relieved at discovering that he hadn’t actually been seen climbing over the edge of the cliff. His hiding place was still secure.
“Of course, sir,” he answered politely, careful to mind his manners until he learned what sort of personality this Master Laurren had. Some of the Masters could get very prickly over disrespect—real or perceived—which is why it came as no surprise that they despised Asher.
“You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” the Master continued casually, apparently deciding to strike up some friendly conversation.
Aleric wasn’t used to people not recognizing him around Mizzenwald, so the fact that Master Laurren didn’t know him on sight was slightly stunning to him.
“Aleric Frost,” he replied. “Before you can ask, yes, I’m one of those Frosts, the heir to the House in fact.”
He had expected the man to ooh and aah over that information, since everyone else did, but for some reason Master Laurren looked even less interested in him than he had before. That was enough to be intriguing.
“I see,” he said simply, sounding bored.
“That’s it?” Aleric asked in amazement, not sure whether to be delighted or offended that this Master wasn’t making a big deal of his lineage.
“Sorry, was I supposed to congratulate you?” Master Laurren looked genuinely curious. “I’m not from Junir, so I’m not terribly good at local customs.”
Aleric almost laughed out loud. This was the strangest encounter he’d had with someone in a long time.
“It’s not that,” he explained. “It’s just that most people make a big fuss over my being from a Great House, especially girls of marriageable age and their mothers.”
“Ah,” Laurren brightened in understanding, watching curiously as Cinder alit on Aleric’s shoulder. “I must confess, I’ve never paid too much attention to the Great House Shuffle, possibly because I’m neither a girl, nor her married mother.”
“The Great House what?” Aleric asked, confused by the unfamiliar term.
“Sorry, that’s what my friends and I always called it. You all tend to intermarry so that future generations can carry on the games you all play with each other, hence the ‘shuffling.’ ”
That’s actually not a bad way to think of it…
Aleric was caught somewhere between agreement and indignation of the assessment by this outsider, who clearly had no experience dealing with those of the upper class at all.
“I suppose that’s how it must look to someone unaffiliated with a House,” he answered carefully. “Have you been teaching for long?” he changed the subject abruptly, preferring to gather more information than he gave up during new encounters, a trait his mother had instilled in him.
Master Laurren smiled mildly and said, “Not terribly long, no.”
“Have you always taught Abnormal Magic?” Aleric tried again.
“Yes,” he answered simply, and not invitingly. This Master clearly didn’t want to talk about himself, but for some reason he hadn’t told Aleric to take a hike yet, so he continued to push the man.
Laurren looked at him like he was stupid.
“The five major arcana are the only subjects one can major in, hence the title,” he explained with a touch of condescension that made Aleric’s face flush in embarrassment. Who was this nobody to mock the descendant of a Great House?
He was going to ask what the man’s major actually was, but found himself too angry to care just now. The only answer that would have made him respect the man more was Prisms, and he clearly wasn’t a Prism major, or he’d be wearing his circlet.
“I understand the difference between the major and minor arcana,” Aleric said a little snappishly, trying to force himself to be polite to the Master because of his rank. “I was trying to determine how you came to be at Mizzenwald, teaching a subject as obscure as Abnormal Magic.”
Master Laurren still looked like he thought Aleric was simple when he replied, “I needed a job.”
Lords and ladies, this man could talk circles around even Asher.
For some reason it frustrated Aleric much more, coming from this stranger to the school than from his best friend. He wondered if Asher had already caught up to Master Laurren that morning, and if their conversation had been similarly aggravating.
“How did you learn Abnormal Magic?” Aleric asked bluntly.
“Years of study,” Master Laurren answered smoothly, still being deliberately vague.
“And how does one study Abnormal Magic?” Aleric had no idea why he was still peppering the man with questions, other than a weird determination to make the man reveal something more telling about himself than the elliptical answers he was giving now.
“Well, books help…” he smirked, and Aleric clenched his fists at his side at being patronized by someone who didn’t know him at all. “Then there’s the experimental component…”
Aleric was tempted to point out that he was the most talented, highly-ranked student in the school, and that the man should watch him work in a challenge arena before condescending him like this. It was only a remembered adage of his father’s that stopped him.
