Voice of Power (The Spoken Mage Book 1)

by Melanie Cellier

  “The human body has limits that even a healer cannot circumvent. Energy levels are the most basic of these, and it is why a patient will need rest after a significant healing. It is also why a mage cannot push themselves past their own limits while composing and then simply compose themselves back to full health.”

  Her eyes flickered to me, but her expression didn’t change, and she didn’t halt in her lecture.

  “I would like an essay by next week on how the limits of the human body affect the work of healers. Beginner level students, your essays should explore the limits in our understanding of energy levels and why we have been unable to find a way to replenish them through the use of power. Advanced students, you will discuss the various stages of illness and injury from which a healer cannot effect a patient’s recovery. Include a summary of how the skill of the healer affects these thresholds.”

  As she outlined the assignments, the students all made notes on pieces of parchment in front of them.

  “You may hand them in one week from today when we will reconvene for a guest lecture from Duke Dashiell.”

  Several of the students exchanged excited looks at that piece of news. I took it that the Head of the Healers didn’t often address the students studying the healing discipline.

  Jocasta dismissed them, and they filed from the room, talking quietly among themselves. Those who noticed me ignored me, until Jocasta herself exited.

  “There’s no need to lurk at the door, Elena,” she said. “Class is always open.”

  “But I’m only a first year. I don’t do discipline studies.”

  She shrugged. “Discipline study is across year levels. It has to be when so many students choose to change their disciplines of study from year to year. We simply assign different tasks to the beginning and advanced students. And much of the study is done independently, anyway.”

  She chuckled. “If it wasn’t, Walden and I could never keep up with the load between us. As it is, we rely on guest speakers from the disciplines themselves. Although not usually from the actual heads.”

  She gave me a meaningful look. “And we could never have taken the time out to individually tutor you, as we have both done now.”

  I pressed my lips together and refrained from pointing out that it had not been my suggestion that she tutor me. Regardless of who had made the request, she had devoted many hours to teaching me—her only reward a near death experience at my hands. And apparently my transferring my tutelage to Walden had only increased her workload in other ways since she must have picked up his load with the older students in order to free up his time.

  Before I could reply, her eyes moved over my shoulder.

  “You’re a little late, Lucas.”

  I resisted the urge to spin around, but the prince stepped into my line of sight anyway.

  “My apologies, I had court business to attend to. I heard Dashiell is to pay us a visit. And that there’s an assignment?”

  She nodded. “To be handed in one week from today. An essay on how the limits of the human body affect the work of healers. Specifically, the limits in our understanding of energy levels and why we have been unable to find a way to replenish them through the use of power.”

  Her eyes moved back to me. “Think on what I said, Elena.” Then she nodded and strode away toward her desk at the front of the library.

  Lucas didn’t move. “So what are you meant to be thinking on, then?”

  I eyed him, my brow crinkling. Did he think we were friends all of a sudden? I put my chin up.

  “I’m going to join the class.”

  “First years don’t do discipline studies.”

  “You’re a first year.”

  Something like resignation flashed in his eyes. “Yes, I am.”

  How much did it chafe him to have been delayed in starting at the Academy? I narrowed my eyes. Did he think he was better than the rest of us because he was a year older? More capable?

  “So then it seems first years can join. I guess I’ll see you in class.”

  “I guess you will.” His cool eyes didn’t waver, so I spun on my heel and marched out of the library.

  Only when I reached my room did I remember that if I really was joining the class, I should have gone looking for books on healing and energy levels. I sighed. The library had probably been nearly cleared out by now by the other students.

  Reading, I enjoyed. But did I really want another class added to my load? I shook my head at myself. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t back down now that I had let Lucas bait me into declaring my intention to join.

  But as I slipped into bed that night, I decided that I would have made the same choice regardless. The rest of the students had time before them. They all had three full years of discipline study before graduation. But I had less than a year now until my eighteenth birthday. If I waited for next year, I would have only six months. And somehow I imagined the ability to compose healings would come in all too handy on the front lines.

  Chapter 23

  With the thought of my conscription spurring me on, I ended up joining the group studying the armed forces discipline as well, although the whole thing confused me. Why would any mage choose to join the Armed Forces and become an officer when it would almost certainly mean ending up on the front lines? Only ones who liked to blow things up, I supposed.

  It was a strange juxtaposition, studying how to destroy one day and how to heal the next, but no doubt both skills would come in handy. And at least when the armed forces trainees gathered, I didn’t have Lucas’s eyes boring into me. His second discipline was law enforcement, apparently. Not that I had been paying attention, or anything.

  I tried a few of the simplest healing compositions on myself in the privacy of my rooms, but I had nowhere to experiment with the type of compositions used by the Armed Forces. Even the less violent ones used for tracking enemy movements or disguising our own troops didn’t lend themselves to use inside the Academy.

  But Coralie assured me I would have plenty of chances to practice in second year.

  “Combat class will be moving to the arena, remember.” She shivered. “And then our bouts will include compositions as well as weapons. I’m already terrified of going up against Dariela or Weston. They’ll rip me apart.”

  I noticed her obvious attempt not to look in my direction.

  “I don’t need reminding of what they’ll do to me if they get the chance,” I said. “All the more reason for me to be studying now. You could join me you know.”

  “It’s actually a pretty smart idea,” said Finnian from across the table.

  I eyed him. “But let me guess—neither of you will be joining me.”

  He grinned. “You want us to try harder to understand you commonborn, well here’s an insight into us mageborn. Avoiding as much work as possible is a time-honored Academy tradition. Trainees have been studying and perfecting the techniques for years.” He winked at me.

  “Lucas is in the classes.”

  He waved a hand. “Oh, royalty aren’t the same as the rest of us. Surely you’ve noticed that by now.”

  I chucked a bread roll at him and gave up trying to convince either of them to join me.

  My studies so consumed my time that I hadn’t ventured out of the Academy since I was dragged before the Mage Council. But one particularly warm day, right at the end of spring, the bright blue sky tempted me too much to sit and read.

  Coralie had disappeared somewhere, having long since given up on the hope of my joining her for our rest day, so I ventured outside on my own. The taste of the coming summer reminded me that the Academy would adjourn for the year half way through the warmer months, and I would hopefully have the chance to return home to see my family. I could only imagine what Clemmy would say if I arrived home only to admit that I had seen nothing of the capital in nearly an entire year of residence.

  I wished I had some coin so that I could buy my little sister something nice from one of the city markets, but I had
no way to raise any funds. Even if I had been able to write a composition, trainees were forbidden from selling them until they had graduated and achieved full mage status. Few of them would actually choose to do so at that point, of course. And while I might wish to, the permission wouldn’t do me much good. Not unless I could find someone who needed something done immediately rather than expecting to take possession of the composition and use it at their leisure.

  I had no actual expectation of ever graduating, anyway, but I still found myself daydreaming about ways I might sell my services as I hurried past the mansions of the mage families that filled the streets near the Academy. Healing seemed the most obvious answer, and I resolved again not to leave the healing classes until necessity forced me away from the Academy.

  I had already looked up the compositions that might heal Clemmy. Some of the simplest ones that would alleviate specific ailments were within my current skill level. But healing the underlying problem of her weak immune system would be far more complex. Most likely it would require an apprenticeship with the healers discipline before that sort of control and understanding of the human body was achieved.

  I loved the idea of being able to speak and see her grow instantly well, but the specter of Duke Lennox reminded me that any such attempt—even the healing of a trifling cold—would be foolhardy. While the other trainees were permitted to practice their compositions under the supervision of their families, I highly doubted the same permission extended to me. None of the mages would want me composing anything away from the watchful eyes of the Academy. And I didn’t intend to give the Stantorn and Devoras heads a reason to have me arrested.

  When the railings that protected the mage mansions gave way to storefronts, I slowed my steps. These were far grander shops than I would ever frequent—even if I had some coin—but they still interested me.

  I peered in through large panes of glass at beautiful silks, winking jewelry, and exotic spices and delicacies. One entire shop was filled with complex and intricate toys for children and another held every variety of writing equipment you could imagine.

  My steps grew slowest as I passed a store filled with shelf after shelf of books. The store owner smiled invitingly at me through the glass, and I pulled back quickly, hurrying on before I remembered I wore my white robe. No wonder he had looked welcoming rather than threatening. He assumed I was mageborn.

  He must be mageborn himself—from one of the minor families, perhaps—to be permitted to spend his days surrounded by words.

  When the shops finished, the commonborn part of the city began, and my steps picked up. This was the area I wanted to visit. The area my family dreamed of one day inhabiting.

  I entertained myself by trying to guess the function of the free-standing red sandstone buildings I passed. At least one looked to be a healing clinic, and one was marked as a law enforcement hub, using the symbol for law enforcement used by the common folk. A small park nearly lured me off the road, the grass full of running, laughing children, but my nose pulled me onward. I must be near a market.

  As I searched it out, I relished the thought of my family living in such easy reach of all of these resources. How much more full their lives would be here in Corrin than trapped as they were now in the confines of Kingslee and the unending daily drudgery of their store.

  The market square soon opened to one side, busy with hurrying people who wove among the dawdlers—those who were there to talk and browse through the stalls at leisure. My rumbling stomach made me wish I had begged a packed lunch from the Academy kitchen, but it was too late for that.

  I dove into the crowd, ready to push my way through as I had always been forced to do during village gatherings, but to my surprise the crowd parted before me. No one paid me any great notice, but somehow, wherever I walked, open space appeared around me.

  For a moment I felt unnerved, examining the crowd around me with confusion. And then a flash of white made me kick myself mentally. I had forgotten my robe again.

  I wished I had left it behind at the Academy. I had thought to spend a few hours among my own kind, but I clearly looked out of place here. The lack of curiosity suggested that I wasn’t the first trainee or University student to lack the coin for the upmarket mage stores, but that didn’t mean I belonged either.

  I wanted to call out, “I’m not a mage!” to the people I passed, but I bit my tongue.

  My robe betrayed me, after all. I was a mage—even if the mages themselves couldn’t accept me. And it struck me with blinding force what that meant. I had been looking forward to returning home soon, but I would now have no more place in my village than I had in this market. I had become some strange hybrid, on edge among the mages, constantly waiting for them to turn against me, but no longer at home among the common folk, either.

  With no coin to buy anything, and no anonymity to enjoy, I soon wandered out of the market. Back on the street I blended in a bit more, lost in the traffic of horses, carts, carriages, and other pedestrians. When a fellow pedestrian dodged out of my way, I could at least pretend they had been moving to avoid a horse or a rough patch in the cobblestones.

  The gray stone of the tall buildings in this part of the city seemed colorless, but it was offset by the window boxes everywhere. I remembered noting them when I first entered Corrin in the autumn. Now, however, they were alive with blooms and bright cheer.

  I tried to focus on them, since they had no eyes to dart away from mine, but a strident voice pulled my attention back to those in the street.

  “Leave me be, woman!”

  A man in a red robe shoved at a commonborn woman who crowded too closely against him. Her face was tear-streaked and hysterical, and she didn’t seem to be aware of the scene she was creating.

  “I tell you, I need to report a crime.”

  “Do I look like a clerk? Let go of me.”

  “But he’s getting away!”

  The man glared down at the woman. “I. Don’t. Care. The lot of you are always turning on each other. I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

  My steps faltered as I stared at him in shock. He was wearing a red robe and had clearly been descending the steps of a large sandstone building marked with the symbol of law enforcement. He had chosen his discipline; how could he be so callous about a reported crime?

  Rage boiled through me. Clearly he only cared about crimes against mages.

  I stepped forward, meaning to confront him, but he gave the woman a final push—this one hard enough to send her to the ground—and stormed away before I could reach them.

  I continued to hurry forward anyway, meaning to help the woman to her feet, but a guard in a red uniform and a clerk—commonborn members of law enforcement—came rushing down the steps of the building to assist her. My feet still carried me toward them, my anger making it impossible to simply walk away, but a hard hand clamped down on my arm.

  I jerked to a stop, turning to confront familiar green eyes.

  “Let go of me!” My anger poured out onto the prince, but he didn’t flinch or let go.

  “She doesn’t want help from you.” His voice sounded softer than I expected, and it made me pause, blinking at him in confusion.

  “What do you—”

  He gestured at my white robe, and I bit back a frustrated snarl. How could I have forgotten again?

  I wilted, relaxing in his grip, and he instantly let go and stepped back. When I looked toward the woman, I saw her disappearing into the building.

  I trembled still, having been denied even the smallest of outlets for my anger and disgust. I wished there had been something I could have done to help her.

  “What are you doing here?” I whirled back on Lucas. “Have you been following me?”

  He raised both eyebrows, and I instantly felt foolish. Of course the prince of Ardann had not been following me all day.

  “I had business in the city. I do on occasion, you know,” he said, and I thought I detected a hint of amused condescensio
n.

  “Then I suppose you’re used to sights like that,” I snapped back. “And naturally you wouldn’t consider stepping in and reminding that man what it is exactly that his job in law enforcement entails.”

  Lucas shook his head. “Your disdain for mages is a little too obvious, Elena. You might want to work on that.”

  “And you might want to work on your disdain for us common folk. We do make up the majority of your family’s subjects after all.”

  “Perhaps.” He didn’t sound convinced. “But then I’m not the one whose life depends on it.”

  “No—theirs do!” I stared at him, chest heaving as my mind caught up with my mouth. “Wait. What do you mean my life depends on it?” Had something changed since the council voted to leave me be?

  “You do remember that Mage Council, do you not?” He raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Some very important people have been working hard to keep you hidden away and safe—despite your apparent lack of interest in assisting them. You might at least pretend to make an effort to look a little less like a threat.”

  “Very important people? Who? You?”

  When he just blinked at me, I flushed. Where had that come from?

  “Lorcan comes to mind,” he drawled at last. “Or haven’t you noticed how little emphasis he put on your studies? How slowly he let them develop?” He chuckled. “It must have been killing him to rein in his curiosity, but he’s always known how to play the long game. He looks like a distracted academic half the time, but he understands court intrigue better than most. I was astonished he held off that council meeting so long.”

  I shrugged, although his words made me uncomfortable. Suddenly I found myself rethinking all of my interactions with the Academy Head.

  “Too bad he couldn’t hold it off forever,” I muttered.

  “No, it was inevitable.” Lucas looked at me with hard eyes. “But so much time had passed. Even those most opposed to your position at the Academy had grown somewhat used to the idea—whether they realized that or not.”