A Study of Fiber and Demons

by Jasmine Gower

  It sounded dreadful, and it would distract from his current project with the demonweave. But how could he say no if he wanted to improve his standing again? That the Directors' Board considered him a candidate in any special projects should have been a relief—though they must have known how he would feel about working with Liam. "And why warn me?"

  Sylvestra stiffened, and Alim suspected the answer but couldn't let her know that. "Your career is not the only one that has been damaged by Master Steppard's actions. The distinction between you and I, of course, is that you deserved it."

  Alim sat up straighter and ran a hand through his hair, certain that it must have been windswept and askew for how thrown-about he felt. "I deserved to have all my hard work ripped out from underneath me? I deserved five years of humiliation?"

  "For taking bribes to tamper your research results to fit the interests of corporate organizations? Certainly."

  Well, yes, it had been unethical, in the traditional sense of the term—but it hadn't been on any important research, or at least nothing important to him. He had once been a rising star in the Demon Arts research department, but once exposed by Liam for his dealings with corporate entities looking for more optimistic spins on certain areas of research, Alim had been reduced to a mere peon within the university.

  Five years after the fact, the retribution he faced still felt overdramatic.

  "And how did he bring about your ruin?" Alim asked, realizing it would be suspicious if he didn't, as though he already knew. Which he did.

  She flashed a smile, but he could see the anger in it. Her jaw was too tight, her pupils too narrowed. "Oh, it's not worth mentioning. Even if you believed me, drudging up that old business just before we are all assigned to work this project together will only poison our upcoming working relations. Better to keep things civil."

  "Choke it all down and scream your agonies into your pillow at night? I know that old trick."

  Some of the tension of her grin eased, but only some, and Alim didn't warm up to her in return. She would have exposed his corruption just as quickly as Liam had, if she had known about it first. If anything, Liam did her a favor in destroying Alim's standing with the university, only a few months after he had already lost the position of Chief Researcher to her. Must have spared her fair amount of looking over her shoulder for him to usurp her for the spot. Not that she would ever be grateful to Liam for that, not after he plagiarized her research on demonweave.

  And now the Directors' Board was throwing both her and Alim in with that politicking viper. What a dreadful situation that Sylvestra appeared to now be turning to Alim for an alliance.

  But Alim would not give it. He had enough resentment in his heart for Liam and Sylvestra both.

  "Well, I thank you for the warning, but if the Directors' Board means to have me focus my time on whatever project this is, I need to finish grading my papers now more than ever."

  Sylvestra nodded and stood, seeming shorter on her feet than she did in the chair. It was a shame she was one of Alim's bitter rivals, given how lovely and clever she was. Thoughtful, too, considering her warning. Any other woman with her charms Alim would have invited up for drinks.

  "Yes, you'd better. The board has our first conference scheduled in two days."

  Alim bit down on his tongue. How long was the board going to wait before officially informing him of this assignment? A part of him hoped that this was all some ruse, but he doubted Sylvestra would have lowered herself to coming to Alim's office for any purpose other than spiting Liam Steppard.

  Sylvestra turned and left before he could offer a reply, and rather than torment himself with the sight of her strutting out the door, he cradled his head in his hands. For a moment, he considered actually grading the papers, but he instead rose and grabbed the jacket from the floor, slipping it on and going to clear his head somewhere that did not remind him so much of his miserable failures.

  *~*~*

  The Glass Gardens were the university's charming solution to the thin, frigid mountain air. Too high up for any flowering plant to properly grow, Pinnacle University had instead employed its own scholar-mages to construct elaborate walkways and statues of glass. The garden, a veritable maze nestled between the Artisan Magics tower and the second library annex, was used by the students and faculty primarily as a place of meditation, soul-searching, and sexual rendezvous between classes. Alim, tragically, was there for the second of those options.

  What was the Directors' Board thinking, putting him on assignment with Liam and Sylvestra? Was this some kind of punishment? An attempt to chase him out of the institution once and for all? Or were they thinking of his feelings at all? He might be nothing more than a pawn to them, his history and relationships with other faculty members beneath their notice.

  Humiliating, either way. But if he turned down the assignment, that certainly would get their attention. They would only see him proving once again to be a useless embarrassment to the university.

  He strode on a pewter promenade that cut between beds filled with glass marbles that covered the bases of glimmering statues, following the path to a balcony that offered a view of the wild mountains to the southwest. Leaning against the railing, he gazed out over a vista of rugged, bare peaks. The chilling wind swept away some of his rage—a small relief.

  With his hands gripping the railing, the glistening sheen of the demonweave on his wrist caught his eye. He had been wearing it for over an hour, and he wondered if it might be ready to react. He focused on the bracelet, on his emotional connection to Farrah born of decades of mutual sibling torment and camaraderie, and willed his thoughts toward her.

  Hello? Farrah?

  Nothing. Perhaps it required more emotion behind it. Demonweave was a volatile material, reacting as much to feeling as to thought. He had heard of mages with too much demonweave embroidered into their robes accidentally incinerating themselves from anger alone. The bracelet was a harmless amount, though, and Alim assumed the worst he could do would be to scream into Farrah's head.

  It's been a dreadful day, Farrah. Sylvestra Geruz came by my office. She says the Directors' Board has a project for the two of us and Liam Steppard. Can you believe? They expect me to play nice with those vipers, to offer my knowledge and cooperation—

  He shook his head when he realized his rant wasn't being received. Maybe he was being too fanciful with it. Magic was often more practical than people realized, following similar physics as the mundane.

  He focused again on that intangible sibling bond, touching the demonweave band with his opposite hand. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

  "Yes?"

  Alim jolted. It wasn't Farrah who answered. The speaker had a far deeper voice, low and almost growling even in that one syllable. It was not a voice Alim knew well enough to recognize, and he turned to see who had walked in on his experiment.

  Liam Steppard's face was far more familiar than his voice.

  Standing at the mouth of the balcony was a tall, broad-shouldered man with pale pink skin, burly to the point that he would have aesthetically fit better at a lumber mill than a university. He was a few years older than Alim, and in his ruggedness retained the essence of a silver fox, though his hair was still sandy blond.

  Alim envied his fatherly handsomeness, his mountain-man body, his flourishing career, and the respect he garnered in the university. Alim could taste that envy in the back of his throat, an acid that choked him.

  Liam had exposed Alim's corruption and ripped years of study and work out from under him, condemned him to years of shame and yet more work—trite, pointless work. And it wasn't that Alim didn't understand that taking those bribes was intellectually unethical, but he couldn't stand the thought that Liam had been the one to expose it when he himself had built his career off stealing Sylvestra's research. Liam was as corrupt as Alim had ever been, but he got to enjoy career of real, meaningful work.

  That envy might have propelled Alim to try to toss Liam over the edge of
the balcony, if not for Liam's obvious advantage of mass.

  Instead, he opted to utilize his greatest strength: haughty attitude. Turning to face Liam and crossing his arms over his chest, Alim said, "Do you mind? I am trying to have a conversation."

  He expected Liam to look around for his supposed discussion partner, but instead Liam ducked his head. "My apologies. I thought perhaps you were speaking to me."

  "I have nothing to say to you." That wasn't true. Alim had many things to say. Alim had a journal in his apartment specifically for writing down the many, many things he had to say to Liam. But he shared Sylvestra's concern about maintaining civility between the three of them.

  Liam shifted where he stood, seeming almost bashful. "I take it Professor Unteng already spoke to you about the demonweave project."

  The demonweave project. As though Alim couldn't have been working on projects of his own. As though anyone in the entire Demon Arts department wasn't doing anything of value until the administration decided to get Researcher Steppard from Biomagics involved. Alim wanted to rake his nails across Liam's face, maybe leak out some of the air in his head and deflate that ego.

  Even so, Alim didn't want Liam to know how much he was still affected by his treachery, so many years after the fact. "It was Mistress Geruz, actually. Why, is Professor Unteng participating, as well?"

  "We'll be reporting directly to him on our progress. One of his colleagues, Professor Jacamal Welling, will be working more immediately with us. That's about the extent of what I've been told."

  Alim stood up a little straighter, trying to posture himself without making it obvious. "We have a conference in two days."

  Liam nodded, just a mild tilt of the head. "Yes, in the alcove on the eighth floor of Research Tower C. Noon exactly." Alim bit the inside of his cheek. Even in academia, no one liked a know-it-all.

  "Very well. I will see you then." Alim wasn't sure why Liam had insisted on interrupting him (hadn't he ruined enough for Alim?) but he wasn't about to stand about suffering Liam's brutish presence for any longer. He began to make his way back to the pewter pathway, but when he passed Liam, Liam's hand shot out and grabbed Alim's upper arm.

  He couldn't help but flinch at the sudden contact, but Alim did his best to appear affronted rather than frightened. "Is there something in particular you need with my right sleeve?"

  Liam's eyebrows scrunched, ignoring Alim's bitter wit as he lost himself in his own thoughts, which were presumably broody and overdramatic. "I'm not sure what's going on. It seems odd that the Directors' Board would so abruptly spring such a project on so many faculty members. They are not known for expedience, and the four of us come from disparate fields of expertise."

  The weight in his growling voice lured Alim away from his tension, even as Liam's ponderings stirred a faint concern in him. "I don't know Professor Welling. What is his position?"

  "Associate Professor of Demon History. Wrote a dissertation on the cultural impact of demonweave."

  Alim's concern dissipated. "Well, it would seem the Directors' Board is interested in demonweave." How had this dolt ever managed to surpass him in standing?

  "I gathered. I am unclear as to why."

  Alim ripped his arm away and brushed his coat off with a great flair of indignity. "For profit, no doubt. You know the university's inner workings well enough, surely." Alim expected Liam to bite back with some underhanded remark on Alim's history of corruption, but no response ever came. Liam only stared off at some unseen distance, pouting like a character from some romantic poet's imagining. What a waste that such a man was an abhorrent, hypocritical coward.

  "Well, if you're quite finished making grabby-hands at me, I have work to return to." The thought of that folder of ungraded papers returned to his mind. Maybe the telepathic link was working, and Farrah was helpfully nagging him across it.

  "Of course." Liam's voice was distant, almost ghostly compared to his normal gravelly baritone. "Then I will see you at the conference in two days."

  Alim adjusted his coat as he walked off. "Yes, at noon exactly."

  *~*~*

  Alim planned to show up ten minutes early to the alcove where the conference was held, so naturally he arrived five minutes late. It didn't matter—the Directors' Board was still in whatever meeting they had been holding beforehand, leaving four individuals waiting in lattice-iron chairs in the corridor outside.

  Liam and Sylvestra sat next to each other in professional if icy silence. Across from them sat two men—Professor Unteng and a young man Alim had never met.

  All eyes except Liam's turned to look up at Alim as he approached, though Professor Unteng averted his gaze after only a second. Alim had once studied under Unteng as a student and respected him as a colleague. They had gotten along quite well until Alim's downfall, and Unteng had not spoken to him since. Thankfully, it had only been a polite avoidance rather than a hostile disownment.

  The stranger rose as Alim joined them near the alcove doors, and Alim remembered Liam mentioning a professor of Demon History, but he wasn't sure if this was the man or some aide of Professor Unteng's. He was short and narrow-boned, and his light, lineless face was sprinkled with tan freckles. Mousy brown hair hung in waves to his shoulders, with a single braid at the left temple tucked behind his ear. Alim thought he was a handsome young man, until he flashed a smile, at which point he struck Alim as a gorgeous young man. The warmth of his smile sunk so deep into Alim that he nearly forgot about both Liam and Sylvestra sitting within kicking distance.

  The stranger held out a hand. "You must be Instructor Azura. An honor to be working alongside you in this project." It was the first time in five years that Alim had heard someone use the word "honor" unironically in reference to him.

  Alim tried to remember the name Liam had mentioned in the Glass Garden. "Professor Jacamal Welling, is it?" He took the young man's hand and shook it.

  Professor Welling's smile widened until it crinkled the skin around his eyes, but the effect did not diminish his youthful appearance. "Indeed—although, just 'Jack' will suffice. Even my students don't call me Professor Welling."

  Sylvestra huffed. "Ah, one of those professors." Jack turned his attention to her, and although his smile faded, he didn't appear offended. "I suppose it makes sense. Most of your students must be older than you, yes?"

  Jack laughed. "Oh, no. I get that a lot, but I'm quite a bit older than I look." He glanced back toward Alim. "The freckles, you know," he said with a wink. Alim thought his heart was about to punch a hole through his chest.

  "Professor Welling is fresh from graduating himself, true, but his expertise in demon history is unparalleled," Unteng said. "His knowledge and passion will be an essential asset to our project."

  Liam's gravelly voice shattered the calming presence created by Jack's amicability. "And you know what this project is, Professor Unteng?"

  "I've been briefed on the board's outline for it, yes. We will all know the details soon enough." Liam hummed, pretending to be content with that answer even as the fists that grasped at the cloth of his pants betrayed his impatience. Sylvestra's eyes darted toward Liam's clenched hands, but she tactfully averted her gaze.

  Why didn't they just say what they thought? The cowards. Alim bravely allowed his own bitterness to surface. "I must say, I'm not encouraged by the lack of organization in this project. I wasn't even officially notified by the board of my invitation to participate. If Sylvestra weren't such a terrible gossip I might have missed word of it entirely."

  "The conceptualization of the project was abrupt," Unteng said, speaking to the empty air between Liam and Sylvestra. "It seems a cache of demonweave was located by scavengers recently, and the board is hopeful more yet might be found in the same location. They want a research team to examine the find before clothiers catch wind of it."

  If Unteng had bothered to look at Alim, he might have noticed the demonweave bracelet still on his wrist. The others certainly did, as they all turned their eye
s to him yet again.

  Alim had had no luck connecting with Farrah after wearing the bracelet for two days, but his mind wasn't on that project at the moment. Demonweave was typically found discarded in clumps, and where one clump was found a short trail of more often was too. But the scavengers he had hired had not mentioned finding more than what they had delivered to him. He would have assumed if they had, they would have sold the extras off to clothiers.

  "Professor Unteng, I don't suppose you know whether these scavengers were approached by the university after their find?"

  Unteng finally lifted his eyes to Alim, his stare firm and cold. "You can't think that the board wouldn't have noticed you billing the expenditures of your pet project to the university." Ah, yes. Money. It was so much easier to forget about when one wasn't spending one's own.

  "Perhaps leave the research to the researchers, dear," Sylvestra said, and Liam shot her a glare.

  "A true scholar would relish in the explorations and findings of another. Why discourage him?"

  Sylvestra's nostrils flared, and Alim half expected for a moment that she would physically swipe at him. Liam had certainly relished in her findings, and Alim suspected that Liam only supported his endeavors on the chance that he might have another opportunity to sweep up another scholar's hard work. It had been a while since Liam had impressed his colleagues to a great degree—perhaps he felt he was overdue for another big "find".

  Jack laughed in the heated silence that followed, a shaky staccato of a noise. "Well, we'll soon all have the chance to research together. Mistress Geruz, I'm sure you'll be able to guide us expertly in doing so."

  Sylvestra shifted her glare to Jack, though it didn't hold the same fire as it did toward Liam. She seemed entirely unmoved by Jack's pretty, delicate handsomeness. As unbelievable as that seemed to Alim, who had been infatuated two seconds into knowing Jack, he had heard that Sylvestra wasn't the sort who experienced physical attraction. But Jack's good nature might yet win her over where his lovely face could not.