by Rick Field
Amy Iceworker fell silent, staring at the young woman in front of her. “I wish only to learn magic, My Lady,” The young girl spoke. “I have noticed a lot of insignia on My Lady's robes. May I ask whether My Lady will continue to take so many subjects?”
Liane smiled faintly. This one was sharp, and was asking a similar question she herself had once asked Cassandra. “I will indeed, My Lady. Should you become my Assistant, I will teach you to survive on four hours of sleep, and I will tutor you in any subject you wish to learn. I will expect you to join me in my classes, and assist me with any coursework and projects. I will not condone laziness nor idleness. Should you choose to honor my offer with an acceptance; you will be at the top of your age group. Should you choose not to accept, I will wish you well.”
Amy was silent, and Liane was just about to nod and decide to question another hopeful Assistant, when the young blonde said, “It would be my biggest honor to accept My Lady's invitation to become her Assistant.”
Liane smiled faintly. “Very good,” she said, practically ecstatic to have found her Assistant and feeling her magic surge in her chest because of it. “Please follow me, Assistant. We will now go and have our bonding completed. After that, I will accompany you to your room, where you can gather your effects and belongings, before you move into my room.”
Amy nodded. “Yes, My L... yes, Proctor,” she corrected herself. Liane nodded.
“Well done, Assistant. I did not catch the distinction myself the first time, and my own Proctor had to remind me,” she said, walking to the attending Mage, Amy half a step behind her right shoulder, trying to keep up with Liane's longer strides.
“Doctora,” Liane said to the Mage. “My invitation has been honored by an acceptance. May I ask you to complete the Proctor-Assistant bonding?”
The attending Mage looked at Amy. “This is by your choice, My Lady?” she asked.
“It is, Doctora,” Amy replied, her chest swelling and her head coming up now that she realized she was about to be an Assistant. The Mage drew an athame, and completed the bonding between them, mixing their blood and establishing the red wrist bracelets Liane had last seen when her own bond with Cassandra had been broken.
“The bond is complete, My Ladies,” the Mage stated, muttering a spell to sanctify her athame of the blood of Proctor and Assistant. “The bond will solidify in two weeks' time. If either of you wishes to break the bond before then, it can be done easily. After this two week initiation period, the bond will be much harder to break, and will remain in effect for the next three years under normal circumstances.”
“Thank you, Doctora,” Liane said to the Mage. “Come along, Assistant. We have work to do, and new rooms to move you into.”
“Yes, Proctor,” Amy said. She bowed slightly to the Mage, and said, “Thank you, Doctora,” before turning and walking after Liane.
As they left the administrative building, Liane allowed herself to smile wider. She had herself an Assistant.
Chapter Seven
Liane sighed, closing the book on Blood Magic she had checked out of the library a few days ago. It had been useful in expanding her understanding of the basics of the subject, but no more than that. It was no matter, she had to learn the basics as well.
Leaning back in the comfortable chair, she swiveled it around and watched the sun peak over the wall of the Academy. To ensure a good night's rest, the Sun Charm followed the standard day-night cycle.
She glanced at the sleeping girl in the second bed. After arriving here yesterday, ironically in the same room Liane had once inhabited with Cassandra, the girl had been assigned the bed on the left. Liane smiled slightly. She had a lot of very good memories of that bed.
Turning back to watch the sun rise, Liane interwove her hands and let her chin rest on them.
She had exhausted her Assistant yesterday, the girl practically falling asleep at around ten in the evening. She had started off too strong, Liane now realized, and she hoped that, one day, she would become as good a Proctor as Cassandra had been. Her Proctor was a hard example to live up to.
Liane once more looked at the sleeping girl in the second bed. She was sure Amy would get used to the schedule. All she needed to do was make sure she gave the young Assistant time to do so.
She, Liane, was going to be responsible for raising this girl for the next three years. It was her duty to teach her magic, to teach her about life, to educate her in Decorum, to do everything and anything required of a good parent. Would she be up to the task? Would she... could she... do what was required?
Her admiration for Cassandra rose even higher when she realized just how little doubt, and how little insecurity, she had displayed throughout Liane's three years as her Assistant. Would Amy think of Liane in the same way, some time? Or would she denounce the time they spent together?
Liane still had trouble with spells on her first try, even with her added understanding of her magic. She still needed time to rework them, although her added understanding of her magic could get her to a very good approximation of the results in half the time it used to take her.
But still, how would she be able to instruct an Assistant if she couldn't even cast spells in any normal fashion?
Perhaps Milor had been correct, and she shouldn't have taken an Assistant. Looking away from the sunrise, Liane looked at the sleeping girl in the left bed. Ten years old. Had she, Liane, ever been that small? Had she looked at her own Proctor with eyes as big and as innocent as Amy had looked at her?
And how had Cassandra been able to teach her, raise her, and help her, without hesitation and without falter?
Liane suddenly felt inadequate. It sometimes felt as if she had trouble taking care of herself, and now she was expected to take care of another?
How had she ever thought this would be a good idea? This young girl depending on her now, and Liane didn't know how to live up to the responsibility. She swallowed. Making a mistake would mean hurting the girl that now depended on her, and Liane was vain enough to want to have Amy think back on their time with fondness, rather than rancor.
But still, one example she had not followed was the one where Cassandra had gotten her blindingly drunk. As much as she enjoyed a good glass of alcohol on occasion, she didn't want to inflict a hangover on her young Assistant.
That had to count for something, right? Already, she had saved the girl from pain. Even if it was something minor.
“Good morning, Proctor,” Amy said, groaning slightly as she sat up in bed.
Liane nodded. “Good morning, Assistant. Have you slept well?”
The little girl nodded faintly. “I have, Proctor.”
Seeing her chance at being a Proctor, Liane smiled faintly. “I believe I have explained that, within this room, you are allowed to call me by my given name, Amy,” she said with a faint smile and trying her best to sound as pompous as possible.
The girl swallowed. “Sorry, Liane.”
Trying to be supportive, Liane stood up and sat down on the bed, next to the girl. “We all learn new things every day, Amy. Don't worry too much about making errors, as long as you learn from your mistakes.”
Amy just nodded, looking at her with those big blue eyes of hers. Liane thought that, perhaps, she wasn't as bad at this Proctor stuff as she had feared.
“I've let you sleep, you seemed to need it,” Liane went on. “I usually sleep four or five hours, thanks to my own Proctor. It was necessary for me. But I will give you the choice.”
The young girl nodded. “I will do whatever my Proctor wishes of me,” she said with conviction.
Liane smiled, and pressed the nightstand. “Two breakfasts, please,” she ordered. Ten seconds later, two breakfast platters appeared. “Let's enjoy a quiet meal together, and after that, we can go to the library. I'll check out a few books I want you to read, books that have helped my own understanding of magic.”
Amy nodded again. “Yes, Liane. Thank you.”
Liane shook her head. “Never
thank me for being a good Proctor to you, Amy. I will ask a lot of hard work from you, but know that I am doing it to make you as good as you can be. I am sure you will be most impressed by the results,” Liane said. She hoped that she was right.
Standing up, she extended a hand to the girl. “Come on; let's get ready for the day, and then we'll go check out a few books to get you started.”
Amy nodded, smiling widely. Grabbing Liane's outstretched hand, the girl lifted herself out of the bed and went to the bathroom. “And I'll come and add the finishing touches to you,” Liane added, remembering how her Assistant had been dressed the day before. It wouldn't do to run around with anything less than a flawless appearance, after all.
Hearing Amy agree to the statement, Liane smiled faintly to herself. Looks like she might just turn out to be a decent Proctor after all.
*****
Liane stood, facing Amy, in one of the empty laboratories. The two week grace period for the Proctor-Assistant bond had elapsed, and Liane was now firmly convinced that Amy would be able to keep up with her. These last few weeks, they had gone to the same lessons, lessons that Liane had spent hours explaining to the younger girl after each day ended. And now that the grace period had expired, Liane would start teaching the young girl in earnest.
“There are two lessons I want you to learn before I start teaching you advanced magical theories, Assistant,” the new Proctor explained. “The first is the first lesson my own proctor ever taught me, a lesson she taught me before I even became her Assistant.”
She was silent for a few moments, time she used to lock her eyes onto Amy's. “The words are Tòmìr Ôrkàm, it is a verbal spell that will negate further action by a spell, ritual, or ceremony. It cannot be used to negate actions that have already happened, but one day, those words may save your life. If ever a spell or ritual or ceremony is about to go wrong, using those two words will break the cycle and stop the spell.”
Crossing her arms across her chest, Liane finished her explanation. “Unfortunately, if the event is already in progress, only further action will be stopped. The actions that have already happened will remain. I was taught this spell during a shared power-raising chant. As we raised magic, my Proctor spoke those words to stop the chant from raising more power. The power we already gathered, remained. With the course load I am taking, those two words may one day save your life.”
Amy nodded, her blue eyes wide open and a smile on her lips. “The second lesson I wish to give you is a lesson I have had to figure out for myself. Nobody ever explained this to me, and I would be a poor Proctor if I did not share with you something that I have discovered is so very basic that it is so often overlooked.”
“The second lesson, Assistant, is about words.”
Amy blinked, and frowned slightly, obviously not understanding. “We use words in spells as crutches; use them to assist us in casting spells we are not familiar with, as a way to guide our magic in doing our wills. But, Assistant, words have power. They stem from ideas, from emotions, and those are what govern our magic.”
She started pacing back and forth as she spoke, the subject so intimate to her, so close to her heart, that she could not remain still. “Words can sound like thunder and flash like lightning, they can be words of honor, of bravery, or power and intent. Words can make your heart soar, and your soul sing. Words, Assistant, can bring you to use magic in ways you did not intend, in ways that you did not even imagine!”
She stopped her speech and turned to her Assistant. Amy had an excited smile. “Of course, none of this is useful for standard spells, but once you start creating your own, when you understand your own magic on a fundamental level, the words you speak will change with the intent and emotion you bring to them, making your magic react in different and unexpected ways. Most Nobles do not care. They care only for the standard spells.”
Liane stepped to her Assistant, now close enough to force the girl to look almost straight up. “You are not most Nobles, and I will teach you. I will teach you to listen to your magic, to your emotions, to what lives deep within you. And I will show you how to use that. Your magic is stable. I needed this lesson because I would not be able to cast without it. I will teach it to you as my gift as your Proctor.”
Amy swallowed deeply, before a smile broke out on her face. “Good, I see you understand,” Liane answered with a dip of her head. “We'll talk more about this later. Now it's time for Rituals & Ceremonies.”
Half an hour later, they were waiting outside the classroom for the Doctora to show up. Liane was one of the ten students taking the Rituals & Ceremonies class that year, not counting the three Assistants that were accompanying their respective Proctors. The Doctora stepped up, her face schooled in the neutral visage proscribed by Decorum, her pure white robes immaculate. As she opened the door, the others filed in behind her.
“My Lords and Ladies, permit me to welcome you to this year's course in Rituals and Ceremonies,” she spoke, her voice level. Like all teachers at the Academy, the Doctora's voice was calm and cool, totally and utterly composed, in control over their abilities.
“This year you will learn to perform and participate in many different rituals and ceremonies. In order to graduate this class, each of you will conduct a ritual or a ceremony of my choosing as a graduation test. Fail this test, and I will fail you in this course – and thus you will not be allowed to graduate to your next levels.”
There was some uncomfortable shuffling from a single fourth-year Warlock. It was his first extra course, no doubt, and he was not used to the vague threats each and every member of the Doctorii made at the start of their respective course. Liane had long since become used to it. The Lady Doctora finished looking each and every student in the eye. “You might be called upon to conduct an interment, a wedding, or a coming-of-age ceremony. You may be asked to perform a temporary power-raising ritual, or a pacification ritual to calm an angry spirit. You will not know which it is until the day of your test, so as not to give you time to prepare. You will be expected to know each and every ceremony and ritual, or you will fail.”
Liane smiled. This was more of a threat than most other Doctorii bothered with, but she liked the challenge and was looking forward to it.
*****
Liane side-stepped a puddle that lay, inconveniently, in the middle of the road she was taking. Half a step behind her right shoulder, Amy swerved in a similar fashion, months of training having conditioned her to stay in exact step with her Proctor at all times.
Stopping to buy a couple of pears, Liane spoke to Amy without looking at her. “Assistant, did you find and read the book I recommended to you?”
Amy answered promptly. “Yes, Proctor. The Arcanist was most helpful. She provided me with clear instructions on where to find the book you recommended.”
“Good. The Arcanist knows where each book in the library is. She is most helpful. Can you recite for me the four stages in the creation of the Stone of Magi, as described by the book in question?” Liane then asked.
Again, the younger girl replied without hesitation. “Yes, Proctor. The Magnum Opus – the Great Work – consists out of these four stages,” the young Assistant said, starting to tick her fingers.
“Nigredo, the Black Work, the dissolution of the elements, is followed by albedo, the White Work, which is the purification of the elements. Then citrinas, the Yellow Work, which holds the chemical wedding that results in the philosophical mercury, and finally, the rubedo, the Red Work, which creates the Egg of the Philosophers, which must be cracked with a silver hammer and from which comes the Stone of Magi, which is actually a powder rather than a stone.”
Liane nodded. “Please describe the Red Work for me, Assistant.”
Amy answered with no delay. “The philosophical mercury that results from the Yellow Work must be repeatedly distilled and purified until it starts to settle into a homogenous mass above the fire. The process can be stopped only when the mass gains the different colors of the ra
inbow, after which it is allowed to cool, a process during which the mass will take on aspects of each color individually. When it is cooled, the Egg of the Philosophers is created.”
Liane held out a pear. “Thank you, Proctor,” the young girl said, accepting the fruit. She ignored a horribly coughing Commoner on the other side of the street, and went on with her explanation, “the Egg of the Philosophers must then be cracked with a small and specially enchanted silver hammer to allow the Stone of Magi to be released.”
“Good work, Assistant,” Liane said, biting into her pear and chewing thoughtfully on the fruit as they walked through the market place.
“Describe for me the most used properties of the Stone of Magi, Assistant,” she finally said.
“The Stone can be used to turn base metals such as copper and lead into gold. It can also be used to heal any wound, and in some cases, even return people from the dead,” the young girl answered promptly. She loved the little interrogation sessions Liane held at the most unusual times.
“One final question, Assistant, and then we will return to enjoying our afternoon at the market. Why does the Stone of Magi not destroy our economy, and why are we not all immortal?”
Amy nodded, having expected that question. It was based on one of the fundamental ethical questions of all Alchemy. “The Stone of Magi is beyond the reach of most alchemists, indeed, the very creation of one will immediately classify one as a Master of the arts. Second, most esoteric and rare elements used in the creation of one, are heavily restricted items and can only be bought through the Imperial Palace. There is a death penalty for black market trading in these elements.”
“Finally,” Amy finished, “the Stone itself is a regulated substance that may only be used to cure illness or other damage, and those alchemists that have created one are regulated by the Palace to ensure that their stones are not used for the creation of valuable metals, while the creation of worthless imitation metals for decoration or construction is allowed.”
