by Alex C Vick
"I have to check," she said.
He lifted his arms away from his body and turned in a circle.
"Thank you," she said.
He nodded. "The more safeguards the better."
"Step inside," she told him.
Arin walked under the arch and stood next to the boy. Adelle returned to the alcove and made a final adjustment. Suddenly, the reflection sharpened, became three-dimensional. I looked back at the crater and the arch there was empty.
So that's how they get in and out. And Arin is only allowed back without the dagger.
Wasting no time, Arin untied the boy. He was murmuring and struggling, albeit weakly.
"It's all right, Mika," said Arin. "I've got you."
He was gentle. Nothing like the Arin who'd plunged a knife into the same boy's head with such coldblooded precision moments earlier.
"Is it… is it over? Is it…?"
"Yes. All done. You did really well. Lean on me. I'm just going to project a Healing Spell and you'll feel a lot better."
Mika flinched, forcing his eyes open. "No," he said.
"Direct spells can't hurt you now," said Adelle, moving to support the boy's other arm. "Remember?"
"Oh," said Mika. He huffed a feeble laugh. "Right. Force of habit."
Arin projected his magic, and Mika straightened, lifting his head and blinking. I tried to see what colour his eyes were, but it was too dark. His gaze landed on me and Art. "Who are you? I never saw either of you on the ward."
"Art is my son," said Adelle.
Mika's face twisted. "A magician. My mistake," he said.
"It's not what you think," said Art.
Mika ignored him.
"Serena is a cotidian who successfully applied for sponsorship yesterday," Adelle continued.
"Hey," said Mika, giving me a friendly look.
"Hello," I said, feeling guilty. I'm a magician too.
"Can I go back upstairs now?" said Mika, losing interest. "I know my sister will be worried, and I feel fine, so…"
He'd already taken a couple of steps forward.
"Of course," said Arin. "I'll accompany you. Adelle, I'll be at home if you need me." He looked at Art. "I mean, if there are any questions."
"Thank you, Arin," she said. "Good luck, Mika. I know you'll do well. Your sponsors are lucky to have you."
"Yeah… I guess. Thanks, Madame Bavois."
Mika and Arin disappeared up the winding staircase, leaving the three of us standing in silence.
"Do you have questions?" said Adelle eventually.
"I need to think about it," said Art. "It wasn't at all what I expected."
You and me both.
"What about you, Serena?" said Adelle. "Do you want to ask me anything? I have to say, you coped with the procedure very well. You have a strong constitution."
She said procedure. Did she notice Arin used the word transition?
I had questions. I didn't understand why the dagger was such a big deal. It had been impressive as a surgical device, but how could it be used to win a war? Tying up your opponent before you could attack them would hardly be convenient on the battlefield, and the gloves looked like they weighed a ton.
"You must have at least one question," she prompted. "Very few cotidians have ever seen a real Gallium Dagger. Was it what you imagined?"
"Not quite." I tried to come up with a general observation. "The gloves were interesting. Are they essential?"
"Yes," said Art, to my relief. "I was wondering about the gloves too."
"As a cotidian, you would not have to wear them," said Adelle.
"Of course," I said. "They're a barrier. Like the inside of the lumien bottles."
No wonder Arin had struggled.
Adelle's gaze sharpened. "Exactly that. You don't miss much, Serena."
There was a pause. I kept my expression as vague as I could. I wasn't sure if she'd noticed the way Arin had substituted transition for procedure, but I didn't want her to think I had.
"Gallium is the rarest of substances, you see," said Adelle. "It can conduct and absorb vast quantities of magic, but it's only a vessel. It comes into its own when connected to a spark. Then it functions as both a shield and a weapon. Its power is limitless. Hard to control. Hard to resist.
"Hence the protection of the gloves. The dagger is almost completely ineffective in non-magical hands. However, as you saw, its latent energy is still potent enough to identify and destroy the source of mage-sickness."
Now I get it. A weapon like that would be formidable indeed. Imagine having the ability not only to block attacking spells but to harness their power too. However strong your opponents were, in possessing the dagger you would always be stronger. Invincible, even.
"The war was a long time ago," said Adelle. "People forget. It's up to the magical community to make sure we never repeat the mistakes of our ancestors."
I agreed. But my doubts about her methods had only increased after watching Arin at work.
"Do you mind if we go now?" said Art. "I promised to show Serena the library."
"If you insist. I need to finish up here anyway. But I'd like you to make your decision soon, Art. Please join me for dinner. Both of you. We can discuss it then."
"I don't know about dinner," said Art.
"I would consider it a personal favour," she said.
Art looked at his feet. "Why didn't you tell me you planned to interrogate Serena?"
"What?" said Adelle.
"I'm sure you know what happened with Father and Grandfather this morning," he said.
"I…" She hesitated. "Interrogate is not the word I would have chosen."
Art lifted his head. "You lied to me."
"I did not lie to you," she said.
"Lying by omission is still lying."
Art's hand in mine was almost shaking. It was clearly an effort for him to confront her, but he held her gaze. A whisper of magical energy brushed against my fingers. Hopefully Adelle would think it a byproduct of his heightened emotions.
"I apologise," she said.
I blinked. Unexpected.
"Thank you," said Art. He took a breath. "So why are the most senior magicians in Vayl going all the way to Phidiom because of a bottle of lumien?"
"I can't answer that," said Adelle.
"No," said Art. "I suppose you can't. Or won't."
"Would you rather I lied to you?" she asked. I was surprised to hear a catch in her voice.
"No. Of course not," said Art. "Can you at least tell me if the lumien is dangerous?"
I held my breath as I waited for her answer.
"The lumien itself is not dangerous at all," said Adelle. "It is more what it could represent. I can't tell you anything else."
What's that supposed to mean?
"What's that supposed to mean?" said Art.
"I'm afraid you will have to trust me," she said.
Art turned his head. "Seems like the trust is more of a one-way thing than I realised," he muttered.
"What did you say?" asked Adelle.
"I said… nothing important. When are you expecting Father and Grandfather to return?"
"Tomorrow. Or perhaps tonight. Phidiom has only one mage-glass, and it was unattended when they got there."
She looked at me. "They didn't exactly have much to go on. We've created no new amulets for Phidiom in a long time. It seems odd that a person as sensible as you, Serena, would have failed to obtain a name."
Grinding my teeth, I managed not to reply. I gave Adelle a brief smile as if I were resigned to my own apparent foolishness. Galen wouldn't have recognised me. But my main concern was protecting Art, especially after what I'd just seen. I wasn't going to let his mother goad me into an argument.
The prospect of Vidian and Gentus returning early was unwelcome. It might mess up our plans. Apparently Art had the same thought.
"We'll leave you to it, then," he said, pulling on my hand. "See you later, Mother."
"Very well.
You can go. The door at the top of the stairs isn't locked on this side. But I'll expect you for dinner."
"Hopefully," said Art over his shoulder.
"Seven o' clock," she said.
We climbed the stairs without speaking. Back in the corridor, we both paused. Art let go of my hand and rubbed his face. "Whoa," he said.
"I know," I replied.
"There's so much I want to ask you, but we can't talk yet. Let's find the Ricards," he said. "We might as well keep to the list until we run out of time."
"OK," I agreed. "Do you still want to go? To… er…. my place, I mean?"
Art nodded. "More than ever. Will you still take me?"
"Yes."
He smiled. "That's a relief. I thought you'd run a mile as soon as we were out of there."
"Not without you," I said, aware of how sentimental I sounded and not caring at all.
"Serena, I…"
He lifted a hand to my face but stopped before touching me, shaking his head.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Later," he said. "I'll tell you later."
And with that I had to be content.
18 The Ricards
"I guess we know where they'll be," I said, looking for the Less Than Ten Days sign. The ward beyond the entranceway was approximately half full. Large windows at the far end let in the sunlight. Although the brightness was welcome after the underground chamber, it also highlighted the ravages of mage-sickness on the faces of the patients. Each had a bed and a storage cabinet. The tops of the cabinets were full of spell bottles.
Peric and Savra were next to each other, dressed alike in layered clothes of green and silver. Marty was sitting on the edge of Savra's bed, reading a book and swinging his legs. Peric noticed me but he didn't speak, watching in silence as we approached.
Visiting hours were underway. Conversation ebbed and flowed around us as we walked down the centre aisle. I stopped in front of Savra, and she looked up.
"Serena," she said, smiling. "This is unexpected."
Marty gave me a sideways glance before ducking his head.
"Hello, Savra. I found this outside the city yesterday." I offered her the bag.
"Oh," she said, her smile getting bigger, "that's wonderful. I thought I'd never see it again. Most of our things were in Per's bag, but I had some letters and some drawings of Marty's. Not to mention the lumien, of course."
Savra looked inside the bag, still talking. "It's so kind of you, most people would have… What's this?" She examined the two-mystron bottle.
"Let me see that," said Peric, and Savra passed it to him. He rubbed his thumb over the Judix symbol, but the silver glow indicating that the bottle was full didn't diminish.
"The others are full too," Savra told him.
"I swapped them. Consider it a gift," I said.
"Why?" said Peric. "We don't need your charity."
"Peric," said Savra. She inclined her head toward Marty, who was tracing the text in the book with his finger and mouthing the words slowly. "Your pride is a luxury we can't afford," she added.
"Forgive me," Peric said through gritted teeth.
I felt so sorry for him, though I knew he'd want my sympathy even less than the lumien. Of course he'd prefer to earn his own credit. He hadn't asked to be struck down by mage-sickness.
"Thank you, Serena," said Savra. "And…?" She gave Art an expectant look.
"Oh," I said. "This is… um… Ammartus Bavois."
Her eyes widened. "Thank you, Ammartus."
"Art is fine," he said.
"I'm Savra Ricard, and this is my husband, Peric."
"What on Xytovia?" said Peric. "Two days ago you refused to help us. But all the time you were best friends with the heir to the primary family?"
"Technically, my brother is the heir," said Art.
Peric ignored him. "What happened? Did you feel guilty once you were back with your Bavois sponsor?"
"No," I said. "That's not—"
"Don't waste your breath." He put the lumien bottle on the cabinet with a thump. "This is more of a gift for your conscience than it is for us."
"Hey," said Art, scowling, "you have no idea what Serena was thinking. You don't even know her."
"It's OK," I said.
I turned to Peric. "Two days ago, I wasn't in a position to help you even though I wanted to. I still want to. It's the reason I'm here."
I held his gaze, determined to make him believe me. Peric's brown eyes were young and fierce in his wrinkled face. My magic crept outward as my emotions intensified, but I didn't break eye contact. Hopefully he would think it was the sunlight in my eyes.
"I met Art the same day I met you," I added.
Eventually, Peric gave me a small nod.
"And if you knew her even half as well as I do, you'd know she's telling you the truth," said Art, still annoyed.
"I see," said Peric. He gave us both an appraising stare. I struggled not to blush.
Marty tugged on my sleeve. "My name's Ammartus. Remember?"
"I remember," I said, smiling at him. Was I imagining it, or did I see another flicker of purple in his eyes?
"Hello," said Art, his expression solemn. "I've never met another Ammartus before. I hope people don't get us mixed up."
Marty looked him up and down before letting out a small giggle.
Art grinned. "Tell you what, just to make sure, you stick to Marty and I'll stick to Art. OK?"
Marty nodded slowly. "Are you sick too?"
"What do you mean?"
"Mother and Papa are sick. That's why we came here. But we'll be leaving soon."
Art looked at me, unsure how to respond.
"Marty, we never said we'd be leaving soon," said Savra. "Who told you that?"
"No one," he said. "I read the sign."
"The sign?"
He pushed himself off the bed and pointed to the entranceway. "The sign. Ten days, it says. You'll be better in ten days."
Savra raised a hand to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears. Peric twisted the bedsheet in his fists, and the lines on his face deepened.
"No more," said Peric. "I'm telling him."
"Don't," said Savra. "Please. Not yet."
"Enough, Savra. I won't be a party to this any longer."
She shook her head. A few tears escaped. Peric twisted the sheet some more. Marty stared at his parents. His hand, still pointing, gradually lowered. Neither of them looked at him, so intent were they on their silent argument.
This is horrible. What are we supposed to do?
"Marty, how about we go and find a snack for everyone?" said Art.
A tiny crease appeared between Marty's eyebrows. "They don't like exploring here. They tell you off."
"Well," said Art, leaning in, "I'll tell you a secret. I used to go to school with the boy behind the front desk. He won't tell us off. I promise."
Marty looked to Savra for permission. She removed her hand from her mouth and quickly brushed the tears from her cheeks. "It's fine, Marty."
"Papa?" said Marty.
"Go on," said Peric, his voice gruff. "And be good."
Reassured, Marty followed Art out of the ward. I made to leave as well, but Peric stopped me, raising his hand.
"Wait," he said. As I watched, his stern expression turned into something softer. "Please stay, Serena. You said you wanted to help. Perhaps you can."
"Yes," agreed Savra.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
I winced. Stupid question. "I mean… what can I do for you?"
"We have to make a plan for Marty," said Peric. "It's time, Savra. You know it is."
Savra was crying again. Silent tears spilled from her eyes. She didn't answer. But neither did she shake her head.
"I'll do what I can," I said hesitantly.
What if they ask for something beyond my ability?
Peric sighed. "You must think the mage-sickness has affected my head."
"I don't understand," I said.
"You do," I protested.
"My wife has the same excuse, yet she doesn't need it. Hasn't needed it. Not once in the entire year since our diagnosis."
"One year?" I said. "That's all?"
It hardly seemed possible they could have aged so much in so short a time.
"Anyway," said Peric, "I apologise for my behaviour. I only wanted to assure you that I haven't changed my mind on a whim."
I took a few steps closer so I could speak more quietly, even though the beds on either side were empty. "Why, then?"
"You're different."
I smiled nervously. "What?"
If he suspects I'm a magician, I could be in a lot of trouble.
"As far as I can see, you have nothing to gain from helping us. Yet I can't seem to put you off. I want to trust you. It's been a long time since…" He stared at his hands. "However, I'm not going to lie. Your willingness to help is only part of it. The Bavois boy can't take his eyes off you. He obviously cares a great deal. And his position in Vayl—"
"He does? Really? I… Are you sure?"
I bit my lip. Shut up, Serena.
"Yes. I once looked at someone that way." He smiled at Savra. "Right before I fell in love with her."
"Oh, but—"
"Don't tease her, Per," said Savra. "They're not ready for that yet."
I'm so glad Art isn't here. I might die from embarrassment.
"Also, my son likes you," said Peric, "and he's an excellent judge of character."
"I like him too," I said, seizing on the change of subject. "My brother was just as shy when he was Marty's age. Of course, as soon as he got his—"
I stopped a split second before saying force field, horrified with myself for the lapse in concentration.
"He got more confident when he was older," I added awkwardly. "So… where were we? How can I help?"
Savra patted her bedcover. "Will you sit down?"
I sat. Peric did most of the talking, but Savra took over whenever his cough interrupted. He and Savra were both only children, having each lost their parents to mage-sickness when they were relatively young. They'd waited before having Marty, thinking themselves safe from their parents' fate by then.
Signs of the disease usually manifested before the age of twenty-five. Peric and Savra were diagnosed at the age of twenty-seven and twenty-six. My shock at their deterioration since then was justified. It had been unusual.
