by Alex C Vick
"I removed the one with the spell," said Art. "I only use it for emergencies, and the night before last I really needed it. I didn't realise what was happening to you until it was too late. "
"Ten hours," I repeated. "Why did it hit me so hard?"
"It's my fault," he said. "I knew I was building up a tolerance—using more of the spell than is recommended—but I didn't realise quite how much."
"That's a relief," I said. "Oh. I mean… I guess it's not a relief for you. Sorry."
Art shrugged. "I've always had problems sleeping."
"It's the eighth thing on that list of criteria, isn't it?" I said. "Nightmares and insomnia."
He nodded. "Without the Sedating Spell I'd probably score a ten. Maximum risk."
"You can't sleep better to order," I said. "That's stupid. It's like they want you to struggle."
"You don't think much of the scoring system, do you?" said Art.
"What gave me away?"
"Well, I'm very intuitive," he said, smiling.
I laughed.
"Do you want something to eat?" he said. "I have these cinnamon cakes that are kind of nice. I could heat them up."
"Sounds great." It did. Just the mention of food made me aware of how empty my stomach was. I followed Art into the kitchen and leaned against the counter while he prepared our breakfast.
"What have you been doing while I was sleeping?" I asked.
His cheeks reddened. "I… er… I tried some spells."
"Really? That's brilliant. How did it go?"
Relaxing in the face of my enthusiasm, he gave me a smile. "It was kind of amazing."
I smiled back. "I've always thought so."
He put a hand to his collarbone. "That reminds me. I took off my amulet. I should put it back."
"Why did you take it off?"
"I was being stupid." He shrugged. "I don't know. It was going to be taken from me. I suppose I wanted to prove I could be a magician without one. Like you." He gave an embarrassed laugh. "It sounds ridiculous now."
"No, it doesn't," I said. I bit my cheek, trying not to smile any wider.
"I never expected it to be so…" Art trailed off, frowning slightly as he brought the warmed-up cakes to the counter. "So instinctive. It was like my thoughts just translated into magic."
"Sounds normal to me," I said.
"Does it?"
He sliced the cakes in half and spread them with butter. It melted immediately. The cakes smelled delicious, and my mouth watered.
"Of course it sounds normal," I said.
Art's frown deepened. "There's supposed to be a period of adjustment after the bonding. Before you can project spells properly."
"Bonding?"
He dropped the butter knife with a clatter. "Not us. I mean the ceremony."
"Well," I said, "using a dagger on your force field probably does some damage."
"I guess. Anyway, we could eat now, or I could keep them warm until…?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"Until what?" I said.
"I didn't know if you wanted to… um… the bathroom is that one," he said, pointing to the door next to the library. "There's loads of hot water and towels and stuff."
"Oh. Right. Thanks, but I don't need it," I said. "I projected a Cleaning Spell."
"A Cleaning Spell? On yourself? Isn't that kind of painful?"
"Well, there are Cleaning Spells and Cleaning Spells," I said. "It's a little different from the one I'd use to scrub the floor."
"And it works?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, feeling defensive. "It's just as good as the manual way. Better, in fact. I… I don't have to use the bathroom at all."
"At all?" He stared. "At all? You don't mean…?"
"Yes." My voice rose. "I do. This is ridiculous. Don't magicians use personal Cleaning Spells here?"
"Here?" said Art. "You mean in Vayl?"
"No. In Xytovia."
Art put down the plate he was holding. "Where else is there?"
For a few seconds neither of us spoke.
"I thought you came from one of the outer territories," said Art slowly. "I thought maybe you didn't know about the pact because your ancestors rejected it."
"No," I said. "That's not it."
Another silence.
"Maybe we should eat," he said. "Something tells me this isn't going to be a short story."
We took our plates over to the armchairs and balanced them on our knees. Art had made a citrus-flavoured drink too.
"Yours contains a mild Energy Spell," he explained as he put the glass on the table next to me. "I hope that's OK. It's standard protocol after the Sedating Spell."
"I suppose so." I took a sip. Lemon bubbles fizzed against my tongue, and I screwed up my nose. "Do you have a store cupboard for spells or something?"
"Yes. Spell bottles for consumption or personal use are in that cabinet at the end," he said, pointing toward the kitchen.
"How do you know what's inside them?" I asked.
"The Judix Symbol. It has a different colour and pattern for each spell."
Art put down his plate and went to the kitchen, returning with a small bottle of magic. I brushed the crumbs off my fingers and took it from him.
"This is different from the lumien bottles," I said. "The lid has perforations on it."
I tipped the bottle to see the symbol curling along the side. It was illuminated about two thirds of the way up in red and gold stripes.
"Yes." Art put his hand on top of mine, positioning my fingers over a cluster of small buttons around the base. "Don't push any of them," he warned, "but these are the dispensers. So that cotidians can release the magic. Most often as drops, but sometimes like a mist. It depends. The outlet on Petro's bottles is very narrow because he's a warden, and his spells need to be precise."
"Clever," I said.
"Bottled spells are A-grade," said Art, sitting down again. "We use B-grade for things like heat and light. Pipes from the tower go across the city. There's a lot more magic inside the tower though. I mean, cotidians do things by hand whereas my family would project a spell."
"Must be time-consuming filtering all that magic," I said.
"We don't exactly have a choice." Art's voice had sharpened.
"No. Of course not. Sorry."
We ate in silence for a few minutes. My cake got stuck in my throat, and I decided I wasn't hungry anymore.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you," said Art. He leaned forward. His arm was just long enough to reach across the space between our two chairs, and he brushed my wrist with his fingertips.
Someone knocked at the door, three times, loud and precise. Art's expression turned to one of resignation. He pushed his hair off his forehead, using his fingers in an attempt to comb it. Then he fastened the top two buttons on his shirt.
"It's my grandfather," he said. "I get on all right with him, but he can be meticulous about certain things."
"Oh," I replied, lifting a hand to my own hair. Our eyes met. Art failed to suppress a grin, and I gave a huff of exasperation.
"I can't help it," I said. "If I tie it back I get a headache. If I cut it short I'll look hideous."
"No, you wouldn't," he said softly. "You couldn't."
I blushed. He went to open the door, and I concentrated on suppressing my force field.
"Grandfather. Can I help you with something?"
The man on the other side of the threshold scanned the room until his gaze landed on me. He was tall, like Art, but thin to the point of emaciation, with combed grey hair and sharply tailored clothing. His faded purple eyes, surrounded by folds of wrinkled skin, appraised me with disconcerting intensity.
"Serena Caesar, I presume?" he said, stepping around Art.
I got up.
"That's me," I said.
"Excellent. This won't take long. I'd like the name of the magician who provided the lumien in your possession yesterday."
13.1 Ammartus, The Night Before
I don't know what to write. I don't know how to say anything about today without putting us at risk. Us. I never thought I'd say that again. And this is not official or anything. She might not feel the same. But it's nothing like Maxia. It's not polite. Or careful. Or restrained. Right now, I feel like anything is possible. (Assuming she's still speaking to me when she wakes up, of course.)
I might as well fill the page while I make sure she's OK. I'm in my room. Sitting on the end of the bed. Too excited to go to sleep. I've been experimenting after what happened on the roof. And it was incredible. I think this has been the best day of my life.
Still wide awake here. I wonder if she's ever kissed anyone before. I haven't. Obviously. I don't know if I would dare. But I want to. Well, I want to kiss her. If she wants to kiss me. I hope she does. I really like her.
14 Truth And Lies
"The name," repeated the old man when I didn't answer him.
Art's expression faltered. Still think your mother didn't notice anything?
I smiled politely. "And you are…?"
His lip curled. "I am Gentus Bavois. Head of the Board of Mages and the primary magical family in Vayl."
"Nice to meet you," I said.
"Indeed. The name if you wouldn't mind. I'm a busy man."
He enunciated each word with irritated precision.
"The magician in question is not a citizen of Vayl," I said, opening my hands in a gesture of apology. "I don't think it would be right for me to share their identity with you."
"Yet you have no qualms about accepting my hospitality," said Gentus with a thin smile.
"Are the two things connected?"
I pretended to be confused. I suspected they were. I'd just like you to admit it.
"Careful, girl. I am not your enemy, and you would be well advised to keep it that way."
By this time, Art looked quite taken aback. "Grandfather, I wasn't aware—"
"The name," said the old man, interrupting. "I insist."
"Grandfather," said Art. "Serena is my guest. I don't—"
Gentus cut him off again. "Technically, as cotidians, you are both my guests."
Art took a step back. His expression of dismay quickly hardened into something colder. Gentus seemed to realise his mistake.
"Ammartus," he said, lowering his voice. "you have to trust me. The girl has information—"
"Good morning, everyone," came a cheerful voice from the doorway. It was Art's father, Vidian. He stepped into the room, smiling at each of us in turn, apparently unaware he'd interrupted a difficult conversation. "Father, I wasn't expecting to see you here. I thought you'd called a board meeting."
"That is correct," said Gentus. "I am preparing for it now."
He stepped closer to me. The veneer of courtesy was completely gone. His eyes narrowed and turned silver at their edges. A quick glance at his amulet confirmed it was glowing, along with his age-spotted hands.
All right, old man. If you want a fight, you can have one. I lowered my eyelids halfway, closed my hands into fists, and prepared a Containment Spell. Waiting for Gentus to make the first move, I trembled. Holding back the spell took a lot of concentration.
"I see you've met Serena," continued Vidian. "I brought the permits. They're all yours if you still want to go." He reached into his pocket but quickly removed his hand and held it to his amulet. "Father?" he said warily. "What are you doing?"
"Yes," said Art. "What are you doing?"
Gentus's tone was dismissive. "Board business. Nothing that concerns you."
"Board business?" asked Vidian. "First thing in the morning in Art's home? Please explain."
The two men locked gazes. Vidian's eyes glinted with silver. I relaxed a little, keeping my force field half projected. The expression of supreme irritation on the older man's face was almost comical. I was quite impressed by the way Art's father ignored it.
"It is not your concern," said Gentus.
"I disagree," said Vidian. His gaze remained steady. "My son is very much my concern. He and Serena are both underage, and I'll thank you not to project your magic so close to them."
"Then leave," said Gentus through gritted teeth. "Take your son and go, if you think he's so fragile. I don't need either of you for this, and time is pressing."
Art recoiled when his grandfather said the word fragile. Gentus either didn't notice or didn't care.
"Don't be ridiculous," said Vidian. "Leave you alone with Serena—what for?"
Gentus made a visible effort to master his frustration. The cords in his neck tightened. "Did your wife explain about the lumien this girl had in her possession yesterday?"
"Yes," said Vidian. "But the intention was to wait until Serena had settled in before questioning her."
I knew it. I gathered my resolve. I wasn't going to tell them anything. Not when I didn't know what they might do to me. Art stared at his father with the kind of frozen look people get when they're too shocked to translate what they're feeling. I felt terrible for him.
"I don't care about your intentions," said Gentus. "I want the creator of that magic, and I want them now."
My heart thudded unpleasantly. His tone did not indicate a warm welcome for the magician in question.
"What's so special about it?" said Art.
Ignoring him yet again, Gentus looked at Vidian. "Either you will support me in the retrieval of this information or you will leave."
Vidian shook his head. "You cannot use magic on an underage cotidian. The risk is too great."
"Who's going to stop me, Vidian? You?" Gentus chuckled. "Come, now."
"I will do the right thing, Father. Someone has to uphold our family's obligations. It is you who should reconsider your position."
The two men faced off, their hands raised identically, one at the shoulder and one extended, both palms facing outward. I wondered if I could make something up to buy myself a bit of time. Perhaps I could send them to a faraway territory while I returned to Terra and the safety of Galen's island. But what about Art? Would he support me?
"Wait," said Art. He looked at me. "I'm sorry, Serena. I'm going to tell them."
"What?" My stomach fell away. "You can't."
"I've decided where my loyalty lies. And if a reclusive magician in Phidiom is creating lumien that somehow puts Vayl at risk, my duty is clear. I'm sure you understand me." He gave me a pointed look.
It was a few seconds before I could make sense of his words through the panic buzzing inside my head. He's making it up. Just like I was going to. He's on my side.
I met his gaze and gave him a brief nod.
"I can't believe you would do that," I said.
A faint smile flickered on his face, so fast I almost missed it. "Believe it. As it happens, Grandfather," he went on, his voice becoming lower, confiding, "Serena has been travelling for months. She visited a territory outside the boundaries of the pact."
Gentus lowered his hands, giving Art his full attention for the first time. Vidian looked from me to his son and back again.
"Phidiom, you said?" Gentus touched a finger to his thin lips. "That's a difficult journey, even using mage-glass."
What on Androva is mage-glass?
"You were in Phidiom?" said Vidian. "I thought you most recently lived in Helex."
I stared back at him without speaking, wanting him to believe I was reluctant to explain. I wasn't a very good liar. There had been no need to learn.
"When my parents died," I said eventually, "I didn't know where to settle down. I haven't always had positive experiences with magic. Exploring new places… meeting new people… it seemed like the best way to figure things out."
"And have you?" said Vidian. His hands were no longer raised, and his expression was kind.
"I'm getting there," I said. "I want to understand everything before I make a decision."
Vidian nodded. "Good for you. It's no wonder we thought you older than sixteen."
Art hunched his shoulders. I wanted to
remind him that it was easier for me. I hadn't been told my whole life how inadequate I was.
"We are getting off the point," said Gentus impatiently. "Who is the magician?"
I remained silent.
"She doesn't know. Why is it so important?" said Art.
Gentus said nothing. He'd really mastered that lip-curling thing.
Art looked at his father. Although Vidian's expression was far gentler, he apparently didn't intend to answer either.
"You're hiding something," said Gentus, walking closer to me. I suppressed my force field. A glimpse of my magic would completely undermine Art's story, and he'd risked a lot by lying for me.
"What else do you know about the lumien you brought to Vayl yesterday?" asked Gentus.
I shrugged, trying not to shrink away. "As far as I'm concerned, it was just ordinary magic inside of that bottle."
With unexpected speed, his arm shot out and bony fingers grabbed my wrist. Magical energy tingled against my skin. "Say that again. Exactly that. If you can."
"Father, no," said Vidian, striding across the room.
"What is he doing?" said Art at the same time.
I barely heard them. "As far as I'm concerned, it was just ordinary magic. It really was. It—"
"Enough," said Vidian, pushing Gentus away.
"No need to overreact. It was only a tiny Truth Spell."
Art, two steps behind his father, was furious. His eyes were so dark the magic glittering in their depths was like a constellation of Terran stars. I was about to tell him as much when he shook his head. "Don't say anything, Serena."
I pressed my lips together, trusting him. Vidian was arguing with his father. As I listened, my disorientation lifted. Vidian had intervened just in time to prevent me from explaining it had been my ordinary magic inside the bottle.
"I will report this," said Vidian angrily. "Serena, please accept my sincere apologies."
"Report it if you wish," said Gentus, supremely unconcerned. "I had to be sure. Phidiom it is."
He left the room without another word.
"Are you all right?" said Art. "I can't believe he did that. I can't believe…" His voice trailed off. I suspected he could have ended that sentence any number of ways after what he'd just seen and heard.
