I told myself it wasn’t worth worrying about it as I dressed, then checked my appearance in the mirror. We had forging in the morning and I was actually looking forward to it. Forging was an art that didn't require magic, not really. I’d learnt a great deal from my father and his apprentices, while Alana and Bella had concentrated on other lessons. I had even dared to hope, once upon a time, that I could become a Master Forger. But even that required magic.
Rose joined me as I walked down to breakfast, grinning from ear to ear. She’d seen Isabella humiliated too, although she had no idea what had actually happened. I wasn't about to tell her, either. Isabella would hate her all the more if she knew Rose knew the truth. The dining hall was nearly empty when we entered, save for a handful of upperclassmen who looked as though they hadn't gone to bed. They were drinking coffee like it was water.
I told myself it didn't matter, but it was still a relief when Isabella and her cronies entered the dining hall. She looked quietly furious, unsurprisingly. There was no way she could tell them the truth. I resisted the urge to smirk at her and concentrated on finishing my breakfast before the hexes started flying. Rose followed me as we left, picking our way down towards the Foundry. A small line of students - all boys - was already forming outside the doors. We joined them and waited, none-too-patiently, until the doors were slammed open and we hurried into the giant room.
It looked heavenly, I thought. Twenty-one workbenches, each one covered in tools; dozens of books detailing everything from chemical compounds to designs for Objects and Devices of Power; a giant set of forges, anvils and kilns ... I fell in love at first sight. I couldn't help grinning like a loon as I cast my eyes over the piles of supplies, even glancing into the dustbin. Some of the pieces of wood and metal students had thrown out over the last couple of days were still usable, if one knew what to do. I was surprised the teacher had allowed such waste.
“Choose a workbench,” a voice boomed.
I stared. Magister Tallyman - I’d looked him up specially - was in his early thirties, a true giant of a man. His head was bald, his face was a patchwork of replaced or regenerated skin, his arms were muscular ... unlike the other teachers, he wore a workman’s outfit rather than fancy robes. A large belt dangled at his waist, crammed with tools: knives, spanners, a giant hammer ... He should have been intimidating, but there was something about him that made me relax. His bright eyes darted from face to face, quietly assessing us. I listened attentively as he called the register and issued the standard warning about not coming late. About the only difference between him and the other tutors was that he didn't bother to threaten us with a detention for non-attendance.
“Right,” Magister Tallyman said, once he'd finished the register. “Some of you will have earned badges in forging. Who has a one-star?”
I held up my hand. So did two-thirds of the class, including Alana and Akin. I knew that Bella had failed her test - and Rose would never have had the opportunity to take it - but I was surprised that Isabella didn't have the badge. Maybe her father had declined to teach her how to forge. Too many older magicians believed that forging was man’s work.
“Very good,” Magister Tallyman said. “And a two-star?”
I held up my hand again. So did Akin.
“Only two of you?” Magister Tallyman asked. “Not to worry, eh? You’ll be well ahead of a two-star by the time you finish this year and you can take the test over the summer, if you want to. It won’t mean anything compared to your exam paper.”
He smiled. “You,” he said, pointing a finger at Rose. “What is the difference between an Object of Power and a Device of Power?”
Rose flushed. “Ah ... an Object of Power lasts, sir,” she said. She wouldn't have known that if I hadn't made her read a few books last night. “A Device of Power doesn’t.”
“True enough,” Magister Tallyman said. He jabbed a finger at one of the rickety bookshelves. I couldn't help feeling that it was on the verge of collapse. “I have books copied from the old empire - I have originals, passed down through the generations. I have the instructions for making Objects of Power. And yet, I cannot make them.”
He waved a hand around the room. “I have the finest collection of tools in the world, gathered here,” he added. “I have raw materials from all over the world. And yet, I cannot make a single Object of Power! Nothing I do lasts!”
“You must be doing something wrong,” Isabella muttered.
“Well, quite,” Magister Tallyman said. Behind me, I heard Isabella squeak. She must not have meant to say that out loud. “But what?”
He picked a book off the workbench and held it out. “The materials are right. The process is right. Everything is as detailed in books that survived the holocaust that destroyed the empire. And yet, the Objects of Power do not work.”
Rose glanced at me, clearly asking a question. I nodded. Dad - and his apprentices - had said the same thing. In theory, we knew how to make Objects of Power; in practice, something was missing. There had to have been something left out of the ancient tomes, all of the ancient tomes. But what? I had gone through some of the textbooks myself, even the ones that Dad had never shared outside the family. As far as I could tell, nothing was missing. And yet, we couldn't duplicate the secrets of the ancients. It was frustrating.
“One day, this problem will be solved,” Magister Tallyman said. I suspected he wanted to solve it. “But until then, we are stuck with Devices of Power. And while Devices of Power are laughably inferior, they are more flexible.”
He studied us for a long moment. “Partner up,” he ordered. “If you have an award, try and find a partner who doesn't. I’ll expect the two-stars to be very helpful over the next few weeks as I work to get everyone up to speed.”
Akin stuck up a hand. “Do we get to give detentions?”
“No, but you get to work on extra-credit projects after class,” Magister Tallyman said. I looked up, attentively. “I also need assistants to help with my projects. If you’re interested - if you have at least a one-star - talk to me after class.”
I smiled. The chance to work with a Master Forger ... it wasn't something I’d pass up, even if it was unpaid. And it wasn't unpaid. Brian had told me that he’d worked for his teacher, putting aside a nest-egg by the time he’d become an upperclassman. After that, he’d been too busy to continue. But I wasn't going to make it to the upper years anyway. I could earn something now to keep me going after I was disowned.
“Some of you already know this,” Magister Tallyman said. “But just to make sure we’re on the same page ...”
He launched into a long and complicated safety lecture. Most of it I already knew - Dad had made sure I knew what I was doing before I started forging - but some aspects were new. No magic in the forgery without prior permission, no horseplay ... his graphic warnings of precisely what would happen to anyone who fooled around in the forgery were welcome, as horrific as they sounded. The forgery would be a safer place for me than anywhere else, despite the risk of being struck by molten metal or worse.
“If you don’t have a one-star, you are not to work unsupervised until you satisfy me that you can handle your tools,” Magister Tallyman concluded, after a thunderous list of accidents that had taken place over the last decade. “If you don’t have a two-star, you are not to supervise your fellow students - and even if you do, I expect you to be careful.”
Rose nudged me. “You could make more money by supervising your fellows.”
I shrugged, trying not to show how much that hurt. Isabella wouldn't listen to me. None of the others would listen either, particularly as it became clear that I lacked magic. Besides, her brother could supervise her.
Magister Tallyman continued. “Your homework will consist of essays on tools, materials and how the various different kinds of metals and gemstones interact,” he told us. “I expect you to be fully conversant with this book” - he poked a finger at a large textbook - “by the end of term. Now ... with your partners ...
I want you to design and build a magic-sensor.”
“Boring,” Akin muttered.
I would have agreed, if I hadn't needed the sensor. It was simple enough to produce, but it lacked flexibility. A magician could determine if the magic was a jinx, a hex or something really nasty, while all the Device could do was detect the presence of magic. But if you couldn't sense magic in the first place ...
“You need a strand of gold and silver,” I told Rose. “And you have to diagram it out.”
Rose blinked. “Why?”
“So you know what you are doing,” I said.
I opened the notebook and wrote our names at the top. Dad had insisted I write down everything, just so I’d know what I’d done. It was, he’d claimed, the easiest way to carry out experiments. A record of what hadn’t happened could be just as useful as knowing what had happened. I opened the textbook, found the page detailing the different properties of metals and held it out to her. Rose would have a steep learning curve, but she’d make it. She wasn't stupid, after all.
“I don’t see how it works,” she muttered, picking up a spool of gold thread. “This ... this is gold, right?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Gold reacts to magic - linked with silver, you can pinpoint magic. Iron is magically neutral, so it serves as a base for Devices of Power.”
Rose frowned. “If it’s neutral ... is that what causes Objects of Power to fail?”
“It’s been tried,” Magister Tallyman said. We both jumped. For such a large man, he moved with surprising stealth. Neither of us had realised he was coming up behind us. “Iron dampens the magic. When removed ... the prototypes simply failed quicker, if they worked at all. They were nothing more than expensive Devices.”
He patted Rose on the shoulder. “Good thinking, though,” he added. “Do you have any more thoughts?”
I felt a flicker of jealously. Rose knew nothing, beyond what I’d shown her. And yet, she’d already had a good thought ... I told myself I was being stupid, really. A person with more experience would have known it was actually a bad thought. Iron cancelled magic, among other things. It was why iron was rarely used outside the forge.
And why iron blades are so dangerous to magicians, I thought.
“This is gold,” Rose said, instead. “It must be expensive.”
Magister Tallyman shrugged. “Much of what you use can be recovered,” he said. “The iron is the only component that cannot be recycled, but it can be sifted out and used for something else. And besides, it isn't that high a cost.”
He turned and headed over to Isabella’s table, where she was quarrelling with Gayle. I hoped they weren't going to start tossing spells around, even though it was nice to see Isabella angry at someone else. The giant room was full of dangerous materials. Who knew what would react badly to their magic?
I carefully cut three lengths of gold and three lengths of silver, then showed Rose how to twist them together. She picked it up very quickly. I found an iron rod and wrapped the combined threads around it, making sure to leave room at the end for my hand. There was nothing to be gained by accidentally channelling the magic into my body. I’d done that once, two years ago. My sisters had laughed themselves silly. Even Dad had been amused, although he'd done his level best to hide it.
“This isn't too hard,” Rose said, as she copied me. “It can’t be this easy ...”
“This is a very basic exercise,” I assured her. I made the third rod, then dropped it in my pocket. Magister Tallyman wouldn't notice if I took it. “It gets much more complicated later on.”
Magister Tallyman whistled, loudly. I glanced up at the clock. Had it really been nearly two hours since we entered the forgery?
“I’ll be testing your work now,” he said. “While waiting, read chapters one and two of your textbooks, with specific reference to heat used to melt raw materials.”
“Do it,” I told Rose. “You need to know the melting point of all sorts of metals.”
Rose did as she was told, while I skimmed the textbook to see if there was something I didn't already know before reading ahead. There was nothing, although someone had added a footnote about modifications to a standard magic-dampener. Someone else had scribbled a rude note about a fellow student’s body odour. I hoped Magister Tallyman didn't blame me for writing it.
“You have a two-star,” Magister Tallyman said, stopping in front of us. He placed three fist-sized gems on the workbench, all green. “I expect good things from you.”
He took my Device and held it up to the first gemstone. The Device vibrated in his hand. He nodded, then moved to the second and then the third. The Device vibrated all three times.
“Very good,” he said, approvingly. I couldn't help feeling proud. “Very good sensitivity.”
He took Rose’s and repeated the test. Her Device failed the third hurdle.
“You didn't wrap the two strands tightly enough,” he informed her. “It should be capable of detecting most of the spells you will encounter, but some of the more subtle ones will be missed. That could be bad.”
“It's my first,” Rose said.
“You’ll get better,” Magister Tallyman said. “Keep it, if you want. It won’t last, but the first Device is always special.”
He checked the last two workbenches, then raised his voice. “For homework tonight, finish reading those chapters. After that, write me an essay on the uses of opals and iron pyrites in forging. I want you to pay special attention to the principle use of iron pyrites, including the dangers involved in using it without careful preparation. I’ll see you again in two days. Dismissed.”
“You go to lunch,” I said to Rose. “I need to speak to him.”
“I’ll keep a seat for you,” Rose promised. “Good luck.”
Chapter Twelve
I wasn't the only student waiting to speak to Magister Tallyman. Akin, the only other two-star in the class, eyed me thoughtfully as the remainder of the students filed out of the forgery. Magister Tallyman ordered us to wait five minutes while he headed into his office, leaving us alone. I couldn't help feeling a shiver of fear as we stared at each other. I’d never met Akin before, but his sister was a menace.
He did look like her, I decided. Their faces were nearly identical: pale skin, blond hair, a faintly supercilious smile. It would be easy to mistake one for the other, at least until they grew up. But he didn't seem to have Isabella’s easy malice ... unless, of course, he hadn't realised I didn't have magic. Alana had done well in class. He might have assumed I could defend myself just as well.
Magister Tallyman returned, rubbing his chin. “I assume you both want to work as assistants?”
I nodded. Akin followed me, a second later.
“Very good,” Magister Tallyman said. “You’ll be working with your fellow firsties on Friday afternoon, if they require assistance, and working with me on Sunday ... unless you have detention. I’m afraid I will not be paying you if you have detention and can’t make it - and no, I will not cancel your detentions for you. The best I can do is arrange to have it rescheduled.”
He paused, dramatically. “Your duties with me will involve going through the old books, preparing materials to my exacting standards and - perhaps - helping to put together a prototype Object of Power. I’ll do my best to take care of you, but there will be dangers and you may be hurt. If you want to stop, just say so. I won’t hold it against you.”
“And you don’t do the exam marking anyway,” Akin said. “Sir.”
Magister Tallyman smiled. “No, I don’t,” he said. He shrugged. “Not everyone stays with me for an entire term, let alone a year. If you want to leave, let me know. And you should see this ...”
He tapped his face. “Forgers are rarely pretty people,” he warned. “I was lucky to survive the string of accidents that damaged my face and nearly crippled me. I think nearly two-thirds of my body has been replaced, by now. Forging the more complex Devices--” he pointed towards a metallic ... thing ... at the rear of t
he room “--is a very difficult and dangerous task. Still want to work for me?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“It should be fun,” Akin said.
“Oh, it is,” Magister Tallyman said. He made a show of thinking. “What else do you need to know? Let's see ...”
“Payment,” Akin said.
“I knew I’d forgotten something,” Magister Tallyman said, mischievously. His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Payment is three gold crowns per Friday, five gold crowns per Saturday. I’ll put the money in your account unless you want me to pay you directly. If so, clear it with your parents first. You’ll have to get their permission for this anyway.”
I nodded. Dad wouldn't object, I was sure. Mum might write me long letters, warning me to be careful, but she wouldn't insist I decline the chance to work for Magister Tallyman. Or so I hoped ...
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