by Alex C Vick
"Decide?"
We kept a few paces behind Petro so he wouldn't overhear. He gave us a couple of impatient looks, but we ignored him.
"If I want to take the Board of Mages up on its offer," he said.
"Yes," I said, remembering, "you mentioned that before. Wait. You mean you're supposed to learn the procedure? As in, how to actually perform it?"
He nodded. "You don't have to be a magician to use a Gallium Dagger. Most of the skill is in the carving."
My steps slowed. "Carving what?"
"Well," said Art, making a face.
"No, don't tell me. I can imagine."
We continued in silence. It looked like I'd be seeing a Gallium Dagger in action sooner than I'd expected. I told myself this was a good thing. I might as well find out what I could be up against.
15.1 Vidian, That Morning
Vidian Bavois. Journal Entry 15,218. Year 6015. Day 99.
It is early. I am writing my journal now because I will likely be away from home this evening. I am part of a small group accompanying Father on a trip to Phidiom. We seek to ascertain the identity of a particular magician. One who is apparently projecting A-grade lumien.
It is hard to believe that a magician operating outside the terms of the pact is capable of such a feat. In fact, it is hard to believe Phidiom has any magicians at all. There were only three magical families in Phidiom at the end of the war, and without the bonding ceremony sparks have to be nonexistent after all this time.
Adelle will remain in Vayl to watch over Art. Serena obviously trusts him if she told him about Phidiom. Perhaps she knows more.
16 The Procedure
The clinic was a short distance from the main square. As we approached, the surrounding noise created by the city's inhabitants reduced significantly. It reminded me of a Terran temple—a place where people instinctively moderated their speech and behaviour. Like the facility I'd stayed in two nights ago, it was set slightly apart from the buildings on either side. Perhaps the clinic's use of magic was also restricted, given the illness it was treating.
"Petro," said Art, tugging on the older man's sleeve as we arrived at the entrance. "Have we got time to visit someone first?"
"No. You're already late." He paused. "I wasn't aware you knew any of the clinic's patients well enough to visit them."
"Peric and Savra Ricard," I said. "They arrived the day before yesterday."
"Yes," agreed Petro.
"So you did know," I said before I could help myself.
He was baffled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I asked you if anyone else had arrived, and you said no."
"It's different," he said. "They are different. When you asked me, I assumed you meant anyone like you."
"Why are they different? Because they're sick?" I asked. "They're still people."
"Not in the eyes of the law," said Petro. He looked at Art. "Ammartus, please. Your mother will not understand the delay."
I could hardly believe it. Not in the eyes of the law? And who makes the law? Magicians. It seemed very unfair that those who'd caused the mage-sickness had subsequently granted themselves permission to discriminate against its victims.
Art leaned in to speak to me. "He's only doing his job," he murmured.
I forced myself to calm down. Art was right. Starting a public argument with Petro wouldn't help us.
"I'm sorry for all the questions," I said. "Art's mother has been kind to me, and I have no wish to inconvenience her."
Petro gave me a brief nod, mollified.
"I found this outside the city," I went on, turning my shoulder to show Petro the bag hanging from it, "and I want to return it to its owner. Savra Ricard. There was a letter inside with her name on it."
"I recognised the name from the sponsorship paperwork I signed," added Art.
"I see," said Petro. "Then why don't you and I return the bag, Serena, while Art observes the procedure with Madame Bavois? The clinic will probably allow us a quick visit."
"No," said Art. "I want Serena to stay with me. To be fair, those were my mother's instructions."
"What were my instructions?"
We all started. Adelle had appeared behind Petro without any of us noticing.
"Good morning, everyone," she said. "You are fifteen minutes late, Art, and Serena is supposed to be touring the city with Petro. Please explain how this matches my instructions."
As usual, Adelle's appearance was flawless. Her outfit didn't have a single crease, and her glossy dark hair was perfectly straight. I wondered if she woke up looking like that, or if she used spells to transform herself. The effect was impressive, if a little severe.
"You asked me to look after Serena and introduce her to life in Vayl," said Art. "The procedure is a part of that, isn't it?"
Adelle's lips thinned. "Of course not. The procedure is a magical matter. It's not for cotidians."
"Not for cotidians," Art repeated slowly. "Aren't they on the receiving end?"
"I won't debate this with you," said Adelle. "Petro, please take Serena and leave us. Art, follow me."
She turned and walked through the doorway, apparently confident her instructions would be carried out.
"Mother," said Art, raising his voice. The door swung shut behind her. We waited a couple of seconds, but she didn't reappear. Art shrugged. "Come on," he told me, grasping the door handle.
"What are you doing?" said Petro. "You can't—"
"Petro," said Art, "we can. I'll explain that it wasn't your fault."
I followed him inside. The room immediately beyond the door was small and decorated in cheerful shades of yellow and white. There was a solid stone counter in front of us. Sitting a little above waist height, it stretched from wall to wall, blocking access to the door behind it. There were no chairs that might encourage visitors to linger.
"Hello," said the dark-haired young man on the other side of the counter. He was wearing an amulet and an expression of curiosity. "Haven't seen you for ages, Art."
"Xavic," said Art. "I've been…" He paused. "I've been busy."
Xavic's gaze landed on me, flicking from my eyes to my neck and back again. "We thought maybe they'd found you another match," he said.
"No," said Art.
"Shame," said Xavic. "Your mother told me to send you straight through, but she never mentioned anyone else would be with you. Petro, you're not on the schedule for today."
"I'm aware of that," said Petro. "Serena, please. This is no place for you."
"Serena?" said Xavic. "Serena Caesar? I saw your name on the sponsorship papers yesterday."
"That's me," I said.
"Xavic Dantail," he said. "Nice to meet you."
"And you," I said.
"Petro's right. You have no indicators for mage-sickness. Why have you come here?"
"I invited her," said Art. "And we have permits."
"Visiting hours haven't started yet," said Xavic. "Sorry. If she wants to wait, though, I promise to keep her entertained."
He gave me a grin. It was hard not to smile back. He was very likeable. Art scowled.
The door behind Xavic opened.
"Mother," said Art.
Adelle's expression was calm. If she was angry, she was hiding it well. "Serena, you may accompany my son if you wish."
"Really?" I said.
"Really?" said Xavic at the same time.
"Why have you changed your mind?" said Art.
"Have you changed yours?" said Adelle, one eyebrow raised.
"No. I just want to make sure you mean it."
Petro and Xavic both winced slightly. Adelle's composure didn't falter.
"Xavic, please grant access to my son and his friend. Petro, I will see you in the office this afternoon as usual."
Xavic went to a lever on the far wall and pulled it downward. A section of the counter swung open. I sensed a faint tingle of magical energy as we walked through. There was obviously more to the lock than met the eye.
>
"Hope to see you again," said Xavic as we walked past.
"Maybe," I said.
"How's Brianne?" said Art deliberately. "Your bonding ceremony must be coming up soon, right?"
Xavic's smile disappeared. "Yeah," he said. "Next month."
"Follow me," said Adelle. "We've kept Arin waiting long enough."
The heavy door closed behind us with a soft thud. We were standing at one end of a long corridor. There were open archways left and right leading off into the clinic's main building. As we walked past I read the signs above the archways. Less Than Ten Days. Ten To Fifty Days. Fifty To One Hundred Days. Underage. Procedure Preparation & Aftercare.
It seemed the clinic's patients were sorted into different treatment areas. Adelle turned to face us when we reached the door at the other end.
"The numbers indicate expected days until death. Underage is where we confirm diagnosis for cotidians who have been affected by the Detection Spell. The sign concerning the procedure is self-explanatory." She paused, looking at me. "Any questions?" Her tone was matter-of-fact, but I felt like she was waiting for me to freak out or something.
"Yes," I said, meeting her gaze. "What happens if someone has more than one hundred days left?"
"Nothing," she said. "Mage-sickness is difficult to treat, and our resources are not unlimited, Serena."
What if one hundred days is too late? What if it could be cured if you intervened earlier?
Adelle unlocked the door, her hands and amulet glowing. On the other side was a winding staircase that descended below ground. Art walked in front of me very slowly. I was grateful because it meant I could use magic to support my ankle without Adelle noticing.
The bottom of the staircase opened into a large room with a low ceiling. It was dimly lit. After a few steps, Art came to an abrupt halt, inhaling sharply, and I bumped into him.
"Sorry," I said, holding onto his arm to steady myself.
My eyes adjusted. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all made from dark-grey stone. The room was circular, and it sloped downward to a sort of pit in the centre. The gradient was sharp, and the rock was smooth. I wondered how anyone got in or out if they couldn't use Solo Transference.
What I saw was disturbing enough to make my skin crawl. The crater contained two people: a man of about Vidian's age, red-haired and stern-looking, and a teenage boy. The boy was unconscious. At least, I hoped he was. His eyes were shut. I'd expected there would be a bed of some kind for the procedure, but instead the boy was tied to a vertical frame. He was restrained in too many places to count their number. The frame was assembled beneath a purple-and-silver arch.
The man's arms were bare, but he wore shiny gloves, making his hands look like they were made from metal. He nodded to Adelle before reaching to take something out of a small chest on the floor. When he straightened up, he was holding a knife. Its blade glittered so brightly the space surrounding it appeared to shimmer.
"Is that…?" I trailed off.
"That is a Gallium Dagger," said Adelle. "Vayl has three. One is kept here, and a smaller one is kept in the tower for bonding ceremonies. The other is in a secret location known only to the Board of Mages. Their size and strength differ."
The famous Gallium Dagger. It was almost beautiful, more a magical ornament than a weapon.
"What is this place?" said Art. "It's like a prison. Or a torture chamber. Is this…?" He swallowed. "Is this where I would be expected to transition?"
"It is," said Adelle. "But you would not remember it any more than the boy down there will remember his procedure today."
"Madame Bavois," said the man. His voice was whispery. "With your agreement, I would like to proceed."
"Of course, Arin," she said. "I apologise for the delay."
Arin turned to the boy. Feeling a mixture of disgust and fascination, I watched him lift the dagger. He pushed the tip between the boy's eyebrows, and magic flowed from the knife in sparkling lines. Gradually, they enclosed the boy's head until it was wrapped in a web of energy. There was no discernable pattern.
More and more lines appeared. Then, to my disbelief, they appeared inside the boy's head, pushing past his eye sockets and weaving into a mass of grey that I assumed was his brain. The outer covering of hair, skin, and bone had become transparent.
The light of the magic provided us with a clear three-dimensional view, even from our position above the crater. Blood glistened, and the brain pulsed. It was gruesome. I shivered, drawing closer to Art, who reached for my hand. I took it gratefully. His breathing was a little faster than normal, but he gave no other sign he was affected.
"Start the counter," said Arin.
Adelle was holding a timepiece. She pressed one of its buttons. "Started," she said.
Then Arin pushed the knife into the boy's head. Blood welled from the incision, rolling in a thick line toward the boy's chin. I gritted my teeth. I had seen blood before. I had seen knives before. But I'd never seen an assault as ruthless and deliberate as this.
Arin twisted the blade left and right, following one of the thicker lines of magic. The blade shimmered, flowing like liquid as it tracked the magic deeper and deeper. More blood flowed.
"How long?" said Arin.
"Two minutes," said Adelle.
An abrupt sigh. "I can't see it. Wait…"
Arin moved to the right, leaning close for a second. Although he didn't appear to be exerting much pressure on the blade, there was perspiration on his brow, and his arm muscles were sharply defined.
"There," he said.
Right in the centre of the boy's brain, exposed by the tip of the blade, was a diamond-shaped glow. Arin's wrist shifted the dagger's position in small increments, over and over. Finally the diamond splintered. Gleaming fragments merged with the blade, leaving behind an empty space, black and burnt-looking.
"How long?" asked Arin for the second time.
"Three minutes," replied Adelle.
Carefully, Arin pulled the dagger back, following the same twisting path. When it was out of the boy's head, the hideous translucency vanished, and the boy looked ordinary again. Arin collapsed to his knees. He was trembling, but his hold on the dagger remained firm. The blade shone. There was no blood clinging to it despite what it had just been used for.
"Is he all right?" said Art.
"He will be," said Adelle. "The precision required is quite draining. Arin can only perform one procedure per day. That's why we would like to train you to—"
"I meant the boy," said Art.
"Obviously," I muttered.
Adelle's face tightened. "Arin has saved hundreds of lives. He is more deserving of your concern than any random cotidian."
Arin looked up. "The boy is fine," he said in his rasping voice. "It was a clean transition."
My breath caught at Arin's choice of words. Transition. He said transition. Not cure. Or procedure.
Why would he mix up the terminology? Trying not to panic, I thought about what we'd just seen. I didn't know what mage-sickness was supposed to look like. I'd never seen inside a magician's head either. Perhaps I was jumping to conclusions. And yet…
It seemed possible the boy had just had his magical core destroyed. But he's a cotidian. Isn't he?
17 The Gallium Dagger
I fought the urge to turn around and run back up the stairs. Lowering my gaze, I checked that my force field remained well-hidden. This would be the worst possible time to reveal my true nature.
"Mother, you can't honestly expect me to… I could never use a dagger that way," said Art. "Why did you bring me here?"
"Because I have faith in you," said Adelle.
"To do what? I don't understand."
Arin wiped his brow with his free hand before placing the dagger back inside its chest.
"I thought the same as you, once," he said. "I believed myself to be entirely unsuited to the task. Yet here I am."
He took off the gloves and projected a Cleaning Spell before putting t
hem in the chest and closing the lid. "Have you ever seen a cotidian die from mage-sickness?" he asked.
"No," said Art. "I mean… not literally."
Getting to his feet, Arin flexed his fingers. "It is not a dignified end," he said. "Perhaps, having seen the procedure, you should now observe one of the deaths it can prevent. You may find your opinion changes."
"That's not it," Art protested. "I know the procedure is worth any amount of unpleasantness. But I also know my scores."
"Art, your scores are part of this," said Adelle. "Your compassion will make you steadfast. You'll do what needs to be done."
"And what if I can't?" he said.
"You have a history of underestimating yourself," said Adelle.
"That's not fair," he said. "I've been taught to manage my expectations. Darix had ten potential matches, Mother. I had one. One."
He paused, visibly upset. "And I know Grandfather put pressure on Maxia's family so they would choose me. I'm not stupid."
I squeezed Art's hand in silent sympathy, and some of the tension left his body. He linked his fingers with mine.
Arin cleared his throat. "The Stasis Spell will wear off soon," he said.
"Of course," said Adelle. "Go ahead."
Arin walked up to the boy and methodically loosened some of his restraints. Then he brushed his fingers over the boy's forehead, leaving behind a purple glow. When the glow cleared, the wound had shrunk to a thin red line.
"It won't be long," said Arin. "He's showing signs of waking up."
"All right," said Adelle. "I'll activate the glass."
She stepped into an alcove I hadn't noticed before. All my attention had been on the crater below us. Leaning, I could just see a purple-and-silver arch inside, identical to the one surrounding the boy. Adelle made some changes to the curling shapes on its outer border, linking them together in a zigzag pattern, and the space within the arch gleamed. But instead of Adelle's reflection, it showed the boy's. His image rippled as if made by a pool of water instead of a mirror.
"That's mage-glass," whispered Art. "There are fifty arches across Xytovia, all connected. A reflection can be transferred between them."
I looked at Arin, who was also making adjustments to his arch. Adelle emerged from the alcove and waited for him to finish.
