Trials of Magic (The Hundred Halls Vol.1)

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  All of it made her worried about what she was getting herself into by joining Coterie and working for Radoslav. She needed to know what was in the filigreed box. It seemed like it was a key to understanding what was going on. Radoslav would have another box for her in six weeks. If the pattern held, she'd be delivering it to another patron of the Halls, who would also be a member of the Cabal. Which meant she would have to break into the box before she delivered it. The magical protections on it were quite strong, and she hadn't really even tested them. She had a lot of work to do if she was going to be ready.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Arcanium Hall felt like a monastery to Aurie during the winter break. She wandered the halls, mostly alone, usually with a book in her hand and the earrings providing golden light.

  On this day, she was sitting in the corner of the Serapeum, her back propped against the wall, surrounded by books she'd pulled from the shelves. She was reading a book on Egyptian magical history called Mummies, Mayhem, and More, looking for ideas that might help Dr. Fairlight with Emily's curse. Through email, Aurie had learned that the lichwood tea had stabilized Emily, but required higher dosages each time for the same effect. Dr. Fairlight had confided that she couldn't use much more lichwood without risking an overdose.

  Aurie read through the whole tome and slammed the book shut when she was finished. The rows of books swallowed the noise, making the action less cathartic than she desired.

  She put her face in her hands, letting the book slide through her knees and fall to the floor.

  "Five straight days of reading and I've found nothing. Not one damn thing," she said to herself. She was so used to talking with her sister that she'd been thinking out loud, forgetting no one else was around. Which made her miss Pi.

  She poked the stack of books with a finger. They weren't going to go back onto the shelves themselves, and she was too tired to spell them back up there. Professor Mali would have disapproved, anyway. She liked to lecture about the importance of not relying on magic too much.

  She was about to climb to her feet and start putting away the books when she noticed an inscription on the inside of Mummies, Mayhem, and More. The book had fallen open to the title page. A note was written in the margin:

  To Nahid. I wish I could go with you to Egypt. But since I cannot, I'm sending along the next best thing: this stack of books to help you find what we've been looking for. Love, your bawdy lad. —Kieran

  If she hadn't been sitting she would have fallen. It was a book from her father to her mother. They'd lost everything in the fire. Nothing had survived, including all the notes from their artifact research.

  Except this book.

  Aurie trembled as she lifted the tome. She studied the scrawling handwriting as if it were a spell that could bring them back. Both her mother and her father had held this book. She squeezed it to her chest and then inhaled the musty aroma.

  Why was it here? Were there any others? Maybe they'd had too many books at home and Nahid had brought the extras to Arcanium. Aurie looked upon the rows and rows of books like a starving child upon a delicious feast.

  The book could give her a link back to her parents. Maybe it would help her deal with the room of truth. Or maybe some other book her mother had owned might help with Emily's curse. Hope bloomed in Aurie's chest like a mountain sunrise.

  She went back through the book, this time scouring the pages for information that could lead her to other books. She made notes on the references in the margins, then ran to the Biblioscribe, her boots echoing in the empty hall. The paper crinkled in her hands as she addressed the brass golem.

  "Scribe, do you keep a history of the books that have been checked out?" she asked.

  The Biblioscribe had a serene look on its metal face. Aurie thought it looked like it had just passed gas.

  "Yes, Aurelia. I keep records on all transactions within the Arcanium."

  "If I give you a list of books, can you tell me if Nahid Silverthorne checked any of them out?" she asked.

  "Affirmative," he said.

  She was tingly with excitement. Aurie took a deep breath and read them off. When she was finished, the golem stared at her blankly.

  "Scribe? Any matches?"

  "Negative," he said.

  "Dammit," she said, crumpling up the paper into a ball and slamming it into the wastebasket.

  She tapped on her lips, not ready to give up. "Can you tell me about the books donated to the library by Nahid Silverthorne?" she asked hopefully.

  "Affirmative. Nahid Silverthorne donated the following books: Monsters of the Adriatic, Slow Wind, The Short Guide to Royal Tomb Protections, The Artifacts of the Kings, Scarabs Are Spells, The Final Dimension, Zoroaster Magic, The Life of Darius the Great, and Magians Not Magicians."

  Aurie had the Scribe give her the locations, and went on a scavenger hunt. The Scribe could have levitated them to her, but that feature wasn't available to first-year initiates. She wasn't even really supposed to be using the Scribe. She found all the books and piled them onto a table and started reading, keeping an eye out for notes.

  It wasn't until she was reading The Short Guide to Royal Tomb Protections that she found more evidence of her mother. Nahid had beautiful penmanship. As a young girl, Aurie had treasured the postcards she sent from across the ocean. The i's were dotted with a tiny diamond and the ends of sentences had wonderful flourishes that looked like they'd been made with a calligraphy pen, even though they weren't, an artifact of her mother's childhood in Tehran.

  Nahid had marked the spells and enchantments that she thought were most useful for exploring tombs. Aurie spent a little time memorizing the spells before she remembered there were more books and set it aside for later study.

  Aurie did a lap around the table when she opened The Artifacts of the Kings. The text was filled with her mother's handwriting, at the bottom, in the margins, even in the spaces between the sentences. Her father's wild scrawl could be seen here or there, as if they'd each read the text multiple times and left each other notes and thoughts. She read the back-and-forth in their voices, hearing the warm tones and affection they had for each other. Even though the material was quite dry, mostly dealing with the trivialities of the arcane, she could feel the love and respect they had for each other in the notes. They were a terrific team.

  It seemed they thought some ancient Egyptian artifacts from the time of kings could be used at the hospital. They had identified a number of candidates, but the section that had the most writings from her parents was about an artifact called the Rod of Dominion.

  Aurie did a double take the first time she read the name of the artifact. It was the same one that Pi had summoned the demon Pazuzu to ask about. Pi's sponsor at Coterie had wanted to know where the item was. The answer came back to her: beneath the city of lights in the halls of the dead. Or at least that's what her Infernal translation was.

  The notes indicated they'd narrowed down the location where the artifact might have been kept, but ancient magics in the Valley of the Kings prevented them from exploring further. They brainstormed ideas on how to bypass the magic. Most of the terms were advanced concepts Aurie had never heard of, like transdimensional legerdemain.

  Aurie was so busy with the books and her parents' notes that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps until it was too late.

  "Good evening, Aurelia," said Semyon, in his formal robes. He had heavy bags beneath his eyes as if he'd been up for days.

  "Patron Semyon, hello," she said, startled, then glanced at the darkened stained glass windows. "Good evening?"

  "Accomplishing a little studying?" he asked with an eyebrow raised and a finger poking into the opened The Short Guide to Royal Tomb Protections near the edge of the table. "This doesn't look like anything Professor Mali would have assigned."

  "Just killing time during the holidays," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  He plucked the book from in front of her, a frown on his lips.

  "I
see," he muttered as he reviewed the text.

  "Is something wrong, Patron Semyon? Am I not allowed to read these?" she asked.

  "No," he said, clearly troubled. "I'd just forgotten what your parents were working on at the time of their passing. These are very dangerous artifacts they pursued. Many of them have terrible curses associated with them. I always worried that they might awaken one in their pursuit. I hope you're not messing around with this?"

  "No, not at all," she said. "I found it by accident."

  "Accident? Be careful, Aurelia, the world of the arcane does not exist upon accident," he said. "And you should be focusing on your studies with Professor Mali. She's very disappointed in your efforts thus far."

  Aurie opened her mouth to refute it, but realized it would be foolish. He'd given her a chance by letting her in.

  "I'll double my efforts, Patron Semyon," she said.

  "Very good," he said, though he sounded distracted. "You have a lovely winter break, Miss Aurelia."

  He gave the book back and meandered away.

  "You too!" she called after him, then buried her face in her hands.

  What was she doing? She should be studying truth magic and preparing herself for the next time in the Verum Locus. But the homework didn't seem like magic at all. Professor Mali had assigned them each to write about their experiences in the room and meditate on what they learned. How was this helping with becoming a member of the Arcanium?

  So Aurie had decided to make her time useful. If she couldn't meditate, she could at least find a solution for Emily's curse. This had seemed like the proper course until Patron Semyon had arrived.

  Aurie stared at the piles of books, the notes, the smudges of ink on her fingers.

  Then she made a declaration to herself. "Better that I find a solution for Emily's curse than to become an initiate in the Arcanium."

  She threw herself back into the books, quietly hoping that she was doing it for the right reasons.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Professor Augustus strolled around the twenty-by-twenty-foot-square room, tapping on the exterior glass walls. His lips were set at a grim line. Smoke swirled between the two panes of glass. A faint keening could be heard when Pi placed her ear on the smooth surface, making her nose wrinkle in disgust.

  "These are what are affectionately called 'kill rooms,'" said Professor Augustus once he'd made a complete circuit around the room. "You will be spending the next two weeks in one of these."

  Various tables and other equipment filled the space: small melting furnace, chemical shower, reagents shelf, trays, pouring ladle, and other items. Each room was repeated on both sides of the long hallway. The cube-shaped rooms were separated by double panes of glass. The smoke was faint enough that seeing from one cube to another wasn't difficult.

  Alton stood at the back of the room, picking lint off his jacket. He was humming to himself with a satisfied look on his lips.

  "These rooms are designed for the safety of your fellow students. For the next few weeks, you'll be creating runic switches, which can be used for higher-level constructions, including translocations and le mystère de la pendaison," he said, evoking a chuckle from the students.

  "Between the panes of glass are deathgeists. A particular geist bred for their attunement to danger. They can sense future mass deaths through the temporal matrix. Or in other words, they can narrowly see into the future. If they believe that you're about to create a fatal incident that could endanger the rest of the class, the glass will break and they will kill whoever is in the room, thus eliminating the cause," he said.

  The professor pulled his glasses off to wipe them against his robe. The squeegee sound could be heard above everyone's heartbeats. When he was finished, he replaced them and beamed a big smile.

  "Now that we're done with that unpleasant message, let's get to work. Any questions?" he asked.

  Orson cleared his throat. "How often does the glass break?"

  Augustus adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. "I think we only had one last year. It was a good year. But I must warn you that runic switches are much more difficult to produce than what they were making at that time. This year's task is by special request from your patron."

  There was a lot of swallowing and brow wiping after that. Pi entered her cube at the same time as the rest of her classmates. The glass door magically sealed behind her, forcing the air out in a whoosh. Ashley mouthed the words good luck from the next cell.

  Pi slipped on the leather apron, tying it tightly around her midsection. The goggles pressed against her face, making her nose itch. She poked at it a few times before realizing it was just going to be uncomfortable.

  The professor's voice came through the speakers: "I almost forgot. Each student will be expected to make one hundred runic switches within the two-week period. You may only use the tools and materials in the rooms. You will be graded on your speed and their quality. Myself or Alton can verify if you think you've made a proper switch. I suggest you make a small batch first before continuing, or you'll waste a considerable amount of time due to the inevitable mistakes."

  The instructions were given on an electronic pad that was positioned near the table so they could read and scroll easily. Pi studied the directions, reading through them multiple times for context and nuance.

  In the next cube, Orson hurried through his motions, his dusty blond hair swaying in front of his face. Pi cringed at the way he clinked his beakers together. His leather apron had come loose in the back.

  The rest of her class, even Ashley, had thrown themselves into the task. Though it was hard to see through the successive panes of smoky glass, she had the impression of a hive of bees in the honeycomb.

  At the moment, Pi was bottom of the class in ranking and had no sponsor for her second year lined up. She would have contacted Eugene Hickford, but he'd disappeared into the Ozark Mountains years ago and no one had heard from him since.

  She had to climb the rankings, or she'd get booted out of Coterie at the end of the year. Just doing well wouldn't be enough. She had to score enough points to catch up to the others, and after studying the recipe, she knew playing it safe wasn't an option.

  The process for making a runic switch took three days. Which meant that after the test batch, if she only did one batch at a time, she'd have eleven days or three batch cycles to finish the rest, making around thirty to thirty-five each time. Or at least, that's how the other initiates would probably make theirs. The equipment and setup suggested that course of action. Pi had no intention of following the standard path.

  The first step was casting the switches. Each one looked like an oversized dog tag with piston and cup connecting ends so they could be snapped together. The runes would have to be meticulously added after the blanks were prepared with an acid solution. Runic switches were used to create magical fields that could be used in all sorts of different constructions.

  Pi turned on the melting oven and set up the pig molds, which were iron trays with impressions in them to pour the lead. She only had enough ingot to make one hundred switches, which meant any extra material had to be remelted and poured again, wasting valuable time.

  Using a hunk of molders clay from the bench, Pi formed little dams on the mold and enchanted them with some fire protection. It would require pouring each one individually, rather than dumping the metal into the main channel and letting it fill each impression like a miniature river way. The mold held ten impressions, so she'd have to repeat the process ten times to make a hundred switch blanks.

  Once the electric furnace was hot enough, Pi used the leather gloves to place the lead ingot bars into the pouring cup in the oven. Rather than let the venting system remove the dangerous fumes, Pi put a charm on the pipe to collect the lead smoke rather than pull it out, so the furnace would stay hotter and she could melt faster.

  While she waited, Pi dumped sand into the pouring ladle and practiced so that she didn't spill any when it came to the real task. By the t
ime the lead was liquid, she was ready, only spilling a few grains of sand each pour.

  Pi cleaned out the mold, put all the sand back into the dish, and put on her protective face shield. After pulling the small crucible out, Pi scooped the impurities off the top and dumped them into a slag bin. Then she hooked the handle to the crucible to pour. When she lifted it, the end of the ladle sagged from the weight. The sand was nowhere near as heavy as the lead. She compensated by grabbing further up the handle, but that made pouring less precise.

  Setting the ladle lip against the mold impression, Pi tipped it over, releasing a stream of orangish-silver liquid. The metal sizzled in the mold. Tiny smoke balloons released from the surface. Pi held her breath even though the face shield was enchanted to protect her from the lead fumes.

  She repeated the process until the ten molds were full. Then she put new ingots into the crucible and returned it to the furnace. When the blanks were cool enough, Pi popped them out and threw them into a pile of sand.

  While she waited for the ingots to melt, Pi reformed the clay barriers and repeated the whole process.

  After the fourth batch, the room sweltered with heat, forcing Pi to wipe the sweat from her forehead before it ran into her eyes. The iron mold was popping as it cooled, deforming back into shape. She tied a towel around her forehead to hold the sweat back.

  The other initiates had moved past the lead pouring and were preparing their blanks for the next stage. Professor Augustus tapped on the glass door and raised an eyebrow. Pi gave him a thumbs-up before pouring the next batch.

  On the sixth batch, her mold cracked, spilling lead over the ceramic tiles. Pi used sand to make a dam before it damaged the floor. Once she had the molten lead contained, she eyed the smoke in the glass walls. Swirls of crimson floated between the panes, signaling the deathgeists' interest in her mistake, but they quickly returned to colorlessness.