Magicians' Trial

by H. L. Burke

  “Patenting this spell made my family’s fortune.” Cordon sighed and ran his fingers over the graven symbols. “The Styles Device, able to gather magical energy from the air and harness it as power to run machines. Instead of being reliant on oxen and waterwheels to turn millstones, we could use magic. The expansions it allowed tripled the economy. It took magicians from lowly tradesmen to titans of industry and commerce.” He shook his head ruefully. “But now, that’s over. Since the artificial rifts shut, there isn’t enough magic to convert to energy. Oh, sometimes a natural rift might open that can power the machines for an hour, half a day if we’re fortunate, but we can’t count on that.”

  Auric opened and closed his mouth, wanting so badly to explain why he’d closed the rifts, how he’d had no other choice, but then he remembered Jericho’s warning not to implicate himself. “I’m sorry,” he said instead, hoping the apology was sufficiently vague. “Perhaps there are other ways to power these things.”

  Cordon scowled. “None that are reliable. Steam power with its dirty smoke and exploding boilers is a blight on our city. This electric mania pushed by the Machinists’ Guild tempts man to harness lightning as if that won’t have deadly consequences.” He hit a button and the panel slid shut again. “No, we need the rifts back. They need to open again, Auric, or else this city is going to shrivel and die.”

  Auric swallowed. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. Why was Cordon telling him this, though? Did he somehow know what Father was accused of? Auric had been careful to keep that out of his correspondence. “I don’t understand. Why are you showing me this?”

  “You know my father and uncle both served in the Magicians’ Congress. Well, those connections offer me certain perks.” Cordon stared straight at Auric who resisted the urge to loosen his suddenly tight collar. “I managed to get a look at the complaint leveled against your father. The Magic Inspector’s Office thinks he’s somehow behind the rifts closing. You told me your father had reactionary ideas about the opening of rifts. Did he do this?”

  “No, my father didn’t close the rifts.” Auric was glad he didn’t have to lie about that. No, the fault was all Auric’s.

  Cordon tilted his head, his gaze narrowing. “Do you know what it’s like to have hundreds of men depend on your family for their livelihoods only to see them turned out of their desolate factories? Unable to feed their families?”

  Auric’s heart twisted. “I can’t even imagine, Cordon, and I’m sorry.”

  Somehow he managed to meet Cordon’s stare without flinching. They stood in silence for what felt like an age before Cordon nodded and motioned for the door. “Well, at least you know what you’re facing. The Magic Inspector doesn’t have to prove anything to revoke your father’s license.”

  Auric grimaced. “I know.”

  “Well, maybe for the good of all of us, the rifts will somehow reopen and they’ll no longer have a reason to persecute your father. Maybe things will go back to normal. Let’s get you back home so you can prepare your case.” Cordon clapped his hand on Auric’s shoulder.

  As they left the factory, Cordon avoided eye contact with his friend. Auric’s stomach churned. If even Cordon believed Father was behind this, what chance would he have convincing a committee of strangers of their innocence?

  He was doomed.

  ***

  Auric checked his cravat in the reflection on the mantel clock’s face. “Do you think burgundy is too flashy? I don’t want to seem like I’m putting on airs, but I also don’t want them to think I under-dressed, might seem disrespectful.”

  “I don’t know.” Jericho shrugged. He leaned back comfortably in one of the two arm chairs, Jaspyr curled in his lap. “Maybe you should curl your hair and put on some rouge, just so they don’t think you’re letting yourself go.”

  Auric turned to glare at his friend. “This is serious, Jericho.”

  “He knows it’s serious, Aurry.” Rill crossed the room and touched her brother’s arm. “You look fine. Stop fussing.”

  He let out a long breath. “I know, it’s just, first impressions, you know?”

  Jericho stood. Jaspyr slipped to the floor with a gentle clank. The metal fox sniffed, stuck his nose in the air, and hopped back into the seat Jericho had abandoned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

  “I think, for now, it looks better if I go alone.” Auric took the letter from the court out of his pocket. “I applied for the appointment in both our names, but the response is only addressed to me. If you attend, they might question why. Besides, this is only a preliminary hearing. I’m just making an official protest on Father’s behalf so that they can set a court date. Also—” He nodded towards Jericho who still wore a simple white button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. “You still haven’t learned your lesson about dressing like a magician.”

  “I could change. I did bring the suit. I just don’t see a point to putting it on if all I’m going to be doing is lounging around babysitting Jaspyr.”

  Auric instinctively felt for his tablet and stylus and found both nestled in his breast pocket. It wasn’t as if they’d do him any good. He’d attempted a few simple spells the previous night, and while he was able to mark magical symbols in the wax by pressing with his stylus, the spells hadn’t activated. The only chance he’d have at using magic in the Capital would be if a rare natural rift opened near to him, and if other magicians didn’t get to it first. On the ride home the night before, Cordon had mentioned that the Magicians’ Corps had staked out the most common rift locations so they could immediately harness any energy to use in their essential spells.

  Apparently magical budgeting was a major source of congressional strife, various lobbyists clamoring for their need to be met first.

  “Well, wish me luck.” Auric gave a brave smile.

  “Like you said, it’s simply a preliminary,” Jericho said. “They don’t know anything. They can’t prove anything. If they ask about the rifts, just play dumb.” He smirked. “Should come naturally to you.”

  “Jerry, stop it!” Rill scolded. “He’s under enough stress without you poking at him.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Auric chuckled. “What with Jericho’s constant example to look to, I can embody the role of halfwit quite well.”

  Jericho laughed. “Yeah, you’ll do all right.”

  Auric double checked the court summons for the date and time. If he left now, he’d be about a half hour early, but better early than late, and who knew what might happen on the way to the congressional offices?

  Cordon stood in the foyer. He arched an eyebrow at Auric’s approach. “Are you sure you don’t wish me to accompany you?”

  Auric rolled his eyes. “You, too? What, do I have ‘incapable of speaking for myself’ written on my forehead this morning?”

  His host laughed. “No, but you are new to the Capital and I know my way around the local politics.”

  “I may be grateful for that expertise further into the process, but I think I can handle setting the court dates and filing paperwork.”

  “Of course you can.” Cordon’s gaze wandered to the upper landing. “Is your charming sister staying in today?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  Cordon smoothed his mustache. “Perhaps I can take her about today, introduce her to society. So young and entrancing, she could be a shining star in my social circle. It’s really a shame your father kept her cloistered so far from good society. It would be my pleasure to right the wrong. Does she like to dance? Attend the opera? Perhaps take in a lecture?”

  Auric hesitated. Rill probably would like at least two of those activities—maybe all three, though he’d never seen her dance—but even if Cordon’s intentions were honorable, he’d made no mention of Jericho. Still, he didn’t wish to offend Cordon by downright refusing on his sister’s behalf.

  “Thank you for offering, but I believe she’s been fatigued since our arrival, turned in early last night and barely touched her b
reakfast. I wouldn’t suggest straining her today. Maybe another time?”

  Cordon’s brow furrowed before he said, slowly, “If she would like to consult my family physician, I can summon him.”

  “No, a few days of quiet, and I think she’ll be her old self again. However, I’d better be on my way.”

  “Of course. I ordered my coachman to prepare for you. He should be waiting outside.”

  Auric had intended to walk, Cordon’s home being only a few blocks from the congressional offices, but he gladly accepted the ride.

  When he exited the coach in Government Square, he paused to take in the scene. Vendors with wheeled carts and some with colorful tents had set up shop throughout the cobblestone courtyard. A peace officer strolled between the booths, stopping to scold a young boy selling paper flowers.

  The domed, white marble congressional building rose over the whole scene. Auric drew a deep breath before hurrying up the broad steps. He’d forgotten how big it was. It might take him a while to find the correct office.

  Once inside, he followed a series of wooden plaques engraved with golden letters and arrows from the open lobby down a series of ever narrowing halls and up a stair to another lobby. Though not as grand as the one at the entrance, the room still included six wooden benches before a large wooden desk that blocked the hall to the offices beyond. A small, middle-aged man in spectacles and a pressed black suit sat behind it, writing with a quill pen.

  A few petitioners waited on the benches, but confident in his appointment, Auric strode straight to the desk.

  “Excuse me, I have a ten o’clock with—”

  “Take a number,” the man grunted, not looking up from his ledger.

  Auric’s brow furrowed. “I already have a set appointment, though. It’s in perhaps fifteen minutes, a half hour at the most.”

  The man shot him a glare, his fingers tightening around the quill sending a blot of ink onto his ledger. “I said take a number.” He jerked his chin at a metal gear with a handle sitting beside him on the desk.

  Clearing his throat, Auric turned the handle. The teeth of the gear pressed onto a slip of paper which slipped out revealing the number “15.” Auric glanced from the man to the slip, then took it and returned to the nearest bench. There weren’t even fifteen people in the room. Perhaps that meant the majority of folks hadn’t had to wait long. He was glad he’d come early.

  Auric rubbed his knees and waited for his number to be called. Behind the desk a large wall clock ticked away. He hadn’t noticed it at first due to his focus on the bespectacled gatekeeper, but now it heralded the approach of his ten o’clock meeting, and hopefully the beginning of the end of his trouble.

  He started running the words of his official protest over and over in his head. The night before, the three of them had hashed it out, even coming up with a written statement that could be handed to those in charge of the whole fiasco. It basically stated that Hedward was a loyal servant of the Republic who had done nothing wrong and was now in ill-health, so persecuting him was downright unchristian as well as drattedly unfair—but in much more official sounding language. Approaching footsteps drew his eye.

  “It’s your first day here, isn’t it?” A round-faced man with a shock of red curls grinned down at him. He plopped beside Auric, his weight shaking the bench. He dropped a leather satchel on the floor. Something clanked within.

  “I have an appointment.”

  “Ah, your first of many, I’m sure.” The man offered Auric a pudgy hand. “Terryn Alvin’s the name. And you?”

  Auric shook the stranger’s hand. “Auric Spellsmith.”

  “So, you have an appointment?” A smile quirked the corners of the man’s mouth in a way Auric didn’t like.

  “At ten o’clock, so they should be calling for me soon,” Auric said.

  “Ah, well, you’re already farther along than I am. I have to take a number and hope they can fit me in the schedule. Mind if I ask your business here?”

  “It’s a private matter.” Auric frowned.

  “Interesting. Mine isn’t. No, mine is purely business.” Alvin crossed his arms over his paunch. “I have a proposition that could end the magical drought, but will they listen to me? No, I can’t so much as get a hearing with the right committee. Just an endless ‘fill out this form and come back next week’ shuffle. You’d think they were trying to get rid of me.”

  The words “end the magical drought” caught Auric’s attention. “How are you planning to end the drought through business?”

  “Well, that’s my trade secret.” Alvin grinned.

  “Oh.” Auric shrugged it off and returned to practicing his speech in his head.

  Alvin stared at Auric, shifted in his seat, and cleared his throat. “However, if you’re really curious, I could tell you more.” He arched an eyebrow.

  “Of course,” Auric agreed, not wanting to be rude.

  “You see, the problem with magic is that it’s spread evenly by land area, not by need. So a mile in a rural area gets the same magical energy from the rifts as a mile in the big city, filled to bursting with magicians who need that energy.” Alvin leaned forward, his green eyes glinting. “But what if we could redistribute the magic according to need, rather than location?”

  “You can’t just move Fey energy around like rerouting a river, though.”

  Alvin’s plan might help the Capital, but the potential downside for areas such as Mountain’s Foot could be disastrous. Yes, the country magicians didn’t need quite as much magical energy, but they did need some, and the Capital presented an unending demand, as well as more political clout.

  “My invention can.” Alvin reached down and picked up the satchel. Opening it revealed a line of glass vials with wax seals and magical symbols etched into the wax. “These are my collection units. The thing is, they’re small … and they need to be physically present in the area where they absorb the energy.” His mouth contorted as if tasting something sour. “Traveling around collecting magic from the various backwaters of the Republic, well, there is no way I can do it efficiently enough to make a business of it on my lonesome. Takes a couple days for me to gather enough for a few basic spells and then I have to travel back to the Capital to sell it. It’s time consuming and cost prohibitive. I have to keep my prices at luxury levels because supply is never going to meet demand. Only the very wealthiest can afford them as is.”

  “Yes, I can see how that would be a problem.” The tension between Auric’s shoulders eased. This man wasn’t about to leech the magic out of Mountain’s Foot.

  “Well, imagine if I had government resources. With a little bit of taxpayer funding, we could set up collection stations all over the Republic, have people ship it right to my doorstep! That’s where the money is, government contracts. None of this ‘free enterprise’ malarkey. I tried it that way. Much too much work.”

  Auric glanced at the clock, wishing he could somehow jump ahead the ten remaining minutes to ten o’clock.

  “Now serving number six!” The man behind the desk called out.

  Alvin leaped to his feet with an unexpected quickness for a man of his girth. “That’s me. Wish me luck, Spellsmith!”

  “Good luck,” Auric said, hardly meaning it. Number six? He glanced at the number fifteen stamped on his ticket. Did that mean there were really nine more people between him and his appointment. Could they see to that many in ten minutes? There had to be a mistake.

  Eight minutes passed with Auric conscious of every jerk of the clock hands. Only one other number was called. Determined to stand up to the desk bully, Auric approached him.

  “Excuse me, I have a ten o’clock appointment with—”

  “You already took a number. You’ll have to wait your turn like everyone else.” The man waved his quill pen under Auric’s nose.

  Auric’s collar tightened about his throat. “Perhaps you can explain to me what the point is of assigning me a ten o’clock appointment if I am not allowed to so much
as announce my presence. Am I even in the right office?”

  The man bared his teeth but pulled out a ledger and flipped it open. “What was your name?”

  “Spellsmith, Auric Spellsmith, and my appointment is with the Magic Inspector’s Subcommittee of the Magicians’ Congress.”

  The man ran his finger down a column of names, dates, and times, and stopped. “Yes, you’re here. No special instructions, though. Nothing about skipping to the front of the line.”

  “Could you at least make sure the committee knows I have arrived?” Auric tried to keep his voice pleasant in spite of his growing frustration. “I’d hate for them to cancel my appointment because they thought me tardy.”

  “Edgar!” the man barked.

  A page boy of perhaps eight scurried from the room behind the desk.

  “Hurry to the M. I. S. office and inform the secretary that an Auric Spellsmith awaits.” A smirk crept over the desk bully’s mouth. Auric’s face warmed.

  “Yes, sir.” The page nodded and hurried off.

  “Now, will you go sit down?” The man raised his eyebrows.

  Auric took a seat at the back of the room where he could slouch against the wall. He didn’t feel like keeping up appearances or trying to impress anyone at the moment. Out of habit, he took out his tablet and flipped it open to reveal the sheet of lavender-scented wax inside. He wrote out a simple spell: commencement symbol, flower symbol, light symbol, activation symbol. Nothing happened. Normally light would race across the spell then an ethereal flower would sprout mid-air in a temporary display. Pretty, if frivolous.

  It wasn’t that Auric had any pressing need to do magic, but the idea of not being able to grated on him. He rather sympathized with the Capital magicians and what they had lost.

  Maybe Cordon was right. Maybe the best course of action was to find a way to re-open the rifts. If they could do so more conservatively—fewer rifts, smaller rifts—maybe the deadly flood of Fey energy could be held back. Of course, Auric didn’t know how to do that.