Marin's Codex

by Benjamin Medrano

  In the end, each of her students had their own strengths and weaknesses, which was both good and bad from Emonael’s perspective. It certainly didn’t make her life boring! With the occasional difficulties, such as when Nia had pinned herself to the ceiling with an overpowered levitation spell, her students were learning, and that was the important thing.

  As the winter progressed to spring, Emonael found herself relaxing slightly as no further attacks on the Association occurred. Her occasional soiree with Valis kept her informed, and the soldiers had reported a handful of tracks in the outlying areas near the beginning of the winter, but those had quickly come to an end, leaving the area relatively peaceful.

  With plenty of prospective partners for feeding, the area secure, and her identity well and truly concealed, Emonael didn’t have much to worry about. Instead, her primary worry was about Marin, as she watched the woman spend half to two-thirds of each day buried in her research, and the demon had to wonder how long the high mage had been doing that for. Even with her students, she never spent more than six hours on lessons, and Emonael worried about the possibility of Marin collapsing or worse.

  That was why Emonael quietly convinced the others to get together at Marin’s home each night. Oft-times, Uthar would sing or play the harp, or they’d play a few hands of a card game or the like. The distraction generally managed to draw Marin out of her library, and the older woman had finally pulled out a game she’d encountered during her travels called Towers.

  Made for up to four players to play at once, the game was something of a logic puzzle, with each piece able to move differently, and the goal to capture both the tower at the center of the board and hold your own tower for a number of turns. Emonael found herself taking to the game easily, and eagerly demolished most of the others after a few attempts. Marin was quite skilled, but in the end the High Mage found herself outmatched by both Emonael and Christoff. The young man was Emonael’s primary opponent, with him playing a more defensive game to Emonael’s manipulative offense.

  In all, the winter progressed well, and Emonael felt more comfortable with how things were going. Even more interesting was the faint sense of . . . pressure on her mantle of power of a demon lord, a sensation she hadn’t felt in some time. She just worried that something was going to happen to shatter the peace and quiet of her current life, and interfere with what she hoped was going to be an expansion of her powers.

  Marin found herself amused, annoyed, and exasperated by Emonael by turns. The demon likely thought that her attempts to distract Marin from spending all of her time in the library were subtle, but after a lifetime mostly alone, they were quite obvious in the end. The idea that a demon was trying to look after her health nearly made Marin giggle at times, as the irony was immense, but she tried to keep her amusement to herself.

  It wasn’t as if the company was bad, after all. While Marin had difficulty relating to the apprentices, their enthusiasm and vitality was welcome in her life. It reminded her of the years with the Caravan of the Golden Moon, and a faint yearning for those times came over her occasionally. She didn’t dance for them again, though. Call it paranoia, or perhaps a premonition, but Marin felt like she shouldn’t perform the dance again, and she’d learned long before not to ignore feelings like that.

  Instead, she strove to broaden their horizons through the occasional story. The reaction of the others the day that Marin had pulled out the map of the southern continent had been truly priceless, with wonder in their eyes as they looked at the immense savannahs of the Golden Plains, at the mountains of the Southern Reaches, and the innumerable icons of cities and nations, many of which had fallen in the years since the map was made.

  For all save Emonael and Uthar, Marin knew that it was likely that the farthest they’d traveled was to come to Maple Lake, and that otherwise they’d probably not traveled farther than twenty miles in their lives. Tales of the far horizons of the world were a fascinating inspiration to them, and one that she found easy to share. Not every story had a specific purpose, but just watching their faces light up made the act worth the time it took.

  The winter went by quickly, but it was one of the most enjoyable ones that Marin had experienced in over a century, which made her treasure the days all the more, even with the hours she spent in research and writing. It was just as the snows were beginning to melt, and as she approached the end of her fourth volume, that Valis came over to speak with both Emonael and herself.

  “I received a message from the capital yesterday; one from my father,” Valis told them, the other High Mage looking faintly troubled as he stood up straight, a frown on his face. “It was mostly private information regarding the House, but there was one piece of information that he said needed to be shared with the High Magi, but which I determined needed to be shared with the two of you in specific.”

  “What might that be, Valis?” Emonael asked calmly, leaning against the side of a bookcase without a sign of concern on her face. “Neither of us has much to do with politics, after all.”

  “We may not have much to do with politics on a personal basis, but politics rarely cares whether or not you want anything to do with them,” Marin told her student, letting out a breath of frustration. “If I’m being honest, that’s an enormous part of why I wanted my research done before sharing any of it. I suspect I’m not going to like what’s coming.”

  “I’m not certain on that. While apparently there have been discussions about the security of your research so far from the center of Pharos, the handful of suggestions that you be asked to move to a safer location haven’t gone anywhere as of yet. None of the nobles like the idea of one of their rivals hosting you, for some strange reason,” Valis explained, a slight smile of amusement flickering across his face. “I also explained to my father early on that such would be difficult at best. You’re a High Mage, and you’ve chosen to remain loyal to the country of your birth, despite a lack of any blood ties.”

  “I do think I’d object rather strongly to being relocated, yes,” Marin replied, glowering slightly at the thought. “I’ve put far too much work into my tower and getting comfortable here to move on the whims of some antsy nobles.”

  “Not to mention the risks of getting dragged into a pile of politics if we were moved closer to the capital. They do want Marin to finish her research, yes?” Emonael added, shaking her head in obvious disbelief.

  “His Majesty certainly does, yet he has to give the nobles of the Court some modicum of recognition as well. That being said, a few of the members of the Noble Houses have expressed certain . . . doubts on whether or not my reports are fully truthful.” Valis grimaced, shaking his head and sighing. “I’ve tried to be more conservative in speaking of the possibilities, but they feel that the claims I’ve made are almost outlandishly expansive. Without going there and showing them my expanded magic, I feel that the only way to make them understand what you’ve offered us is to actually share the methods you’ve researched, and I explained that wasn’t going to happen. Besides, even if I went there, they might reason that I’ve simply been working on learning earth magic for a few decades, not that it’s your methods at work.”

  “What are they thinking to do, then?” Marin asked, sighing as she felt the first hints of a headache beginning to form. “I don’t much like politics, Valis, so please don’t take forever to come to the point.”

  “With the swirl of concerns going around, as well as the expense of the garrison, His Majesty has decided that there’s only one solution, and that’s for him to come out to see what we’ve managed for himself,” Valis explained gravely.

  “That seems like it’s a reasonable choice . . .” Emonael murmured thoughtfully. “All of the High Magi can show him what they’ve managed to learn.”

  “That doesn’t explain why he wanted you here, Emonael,” Marin said, shaking her head.

  “She’s correct, Emonael. His Majesty considered things carefully, and while he’s going to speak with all of the High
Magi, especially Marin herself, he’s decided the best proof is actually someone else,” Valis confirmed. “He wants to see what your students have learned, and to see the full breadth of magic which they’ve mastered. In his view, they don’t have the long experience that would allow a full magister to mislead his inquiries, and thus allowing him to head off the objections of the Court.”

  “Oh.” Emonael’s smile faded, and she slowly frowned more, worry in her voice as she asked. “How soon is he going to be coming here?”

  “We have three weeks before he’ll be here, assuming the roads aren’t utterly impassible,” Valis replied.

  “Well, shit. That’s not much time to drill manners into their heads,” Emonael muttered, and Marin couldn’t help a laugh at her comment, and even Valis chuckled in amusement.

  Chapter 24

  “Is this really necessary, Emonael?” Uthar asked, the bard looking somewhat amused as she took his measurements. He wasn’t nearly as muscular as most of the elves she knew, but Uthar still was fit, with toned muscle from frequent traveling. It didn’t keep him from developing a little pudge around his waist, but that was inevitable when he wasn’t exercising nearly as much anymore.

  Making a mental note to add physical training to the regimen, Emonael glanced up at him and spoke sarcastically. “Oh, I’m certain that meeting the King of Pharos in clothing that hasn’t been new in two years would go over well. Why, it’d show him exactly how important we see him as, and leave him assured that our success will be good for the nation. He might even be impressed by the skill with which you’ve patched the rips and tears in your good tunic.”

  “Ow, you could’ve been a bit gentler,” Uthar complained, wincing slightly, but holding quite still as Emonael finished up. “I wasn’t thinking about it that way. The only nobles I’ve ever performed for were a couple of human lords, and they weren’t particular about how I looked, just that I could perform well.”

  “As a general rule of thumb, the bigger the kingdom, the more stuck-up they are, especially when it comes to appearances. This is accentuated by how long the kingdom has survived, which means that Pharos is fairly bad, but hardly the worst.” Emonael spoke much more calmly this time, pulling away and noting down the measurements. She honestly didn’t need them, but if she fitted the clothing to anyone but Marin without taking measurements, there would doubtless be questions that she didn’t want to answer. “You can get dressed again. I’m just glad we got warning in time that we’ll be able to get proper clothing for all of you. Thank goodness that we don’t have to teach all of you proper dinner etiquette as well!”

  “How did you learn all of this, anyway?” Uthar asked curiously, quickly grabbing his trousers and tunic to start getting dressed. “I didn’t think you were a seamstress, but you seem quite accomplished.”

  “I was the . . . companion of a cloistered noblewoman before my magical talent was discovered. As she couldn’t go out, she tended to obsess over other things. One of those was clothing, so I learned to be very good with a needle and thread,” Emonael told him, spinning the story she’d come up with effortlessly. “I’m glad, under the circumstances. Finding a local seamstress up to the task wouldn’t have been easy.”

  “I suppose so.” Uthar hesitated, securing his belt before asking. “What about the fabric itself? I know we have a stipend and the like, but paying for the fabric won’t be pleasant if we’re going to be charged for it.”

  “What? Oh, don’t worry about that. While we’ve many uncertainties ahead of us, that’s the least of our concerns,” Emonael told him, shaking her head. “No, High Mage Valis immediately offered to pay for updating your wardrobe for His Majesty’s visit, as he wants this to go as well as possible. Acquiring the fabric was going to be a touch more difficult, but Marin will be taking me on a trip to pick that up tomorrow. We’ll be back by the evening, with fabric fit even for His Majesty’s attendance. Your task is to get your spells down better, so that you don’t embarrass me in front of him!”

  “All right, I was just a bit concerned,” Uthar admitted, and filed out as Emonael shooed him from the workroom and into the living room of Marin’s home. The others were all waiting, and Emonael took a certain satisfaction that Andrew’s face was still somewhat crimson after having to mostly strip in front of her. It made her feel better, and that was important under the circumstances.

  “There, I’m done with measurements, but the next few days are going to be a bit frantic for me as I try to get ready for our unexpected guest. Don’t expect Marin to be in any state to help you, either, as she’s been buried in her work and has better things to do,” Emonael told them briskly, putting her hands on her hips. “You all have your tasks, but you also have your training to complete. Nia, what’s the training regimen for the rest of the week?”

  “Shadow manipulation. We’re supposed to work on reshaping our shadows into a variety of forms, then turning the shadows of trees into copies of our own shadows,” the young woman replied quickly, looking amused, then adding. “I must say I’m not entirely sure what the point of it is, though.”

  “It’s to get you used to using basic darkness magic. Manipulating a shadow is easy enough, but keeping it solid when you let it stray into full light is a lot harder,” Emonael told her, nodding approvingly. “Eventually, if you can master it, some of the spells that we have recorded allow you to coalesce shadows into solid forms, which is quite interesting in its own right. I’ve heard of other uses, like speaking to the dead, seeing in utter darkness, and other spells of the like, but the most notorious use for it is the art of necromancy. You will not be taught anything about necromancy, however. That’s going too far.”

  “Valis said that mental magics are often considered to be part of darkness as well, is that true?” Damiya piped up, looking curious. “You haven’t taught us any of those, after all. Or divinations, for that matter.”

  “Marin considers mental magic to be one of the most dangerous forms of magic to meddle with. Illusions are a form of light magic, but mental magic . . . yes, it’s an aspect of darkness, just like necromancy. There’s a reason that dark magi are often shunned and feared,” Emonael told her student, her smile fading as she looked at them. She didn’t have much objection to mind magic herself, but she could understand Marin’s reasons, so she continued on the subject. “While a spell to make someone your friend doesn’t have the obvious repercussions of, oh, blowing them up with a fire bolt, it’s something that takes away their ability to choose for themselves. It’s a violation of their mind, and that is dangerous. Worse, if you control someone, that’s far more difficult to detect than a legion of zombies, and there’s a reason why it’s feared.”

  “That makes a lot of sense,” Christoff replied, swallowing hard. “What about divinations?”

  “We haven’t gotten to them yet, in part because divinations are far more complicated than anything you’ve come across so far. The only exception is the spell to see magic, which might be more accurately explained as granting the ability to see mana,” Emonael explained, then considered for a moment how to explain further. “Other forms of divination are more an aspect of ritual magic, and they seem oddly unaligned with the usual elements of other spells. They’re also exceedingly long, when you consider the casting time of them, taking dozens to hundreds of times as long to actually perform.”

  “I see. Well, we’ll get to it soon, from what you’ve said. I promise to try to pick it up, even if playing with my shadow doesn’t seem terribly exciting,” Damiya promised, sighing as she murmured. “I wish I had a talent with sewing, but I’m nowhere near good enough to help out.”

  “The desire to help is more than enough, at least for me,” Emonael assured her. She took a deep breath, then nodded, continuing. “That said, let’s go outside and get started. I can at least be there for the first day to help you get used to the spells.”

  Andrew laughed and stood up, nodding happily. “Thank you, Emonael. It’s appreciated, as hard as some of these
are to get just right.”

  The group slowly shuffled out of the building, even as Emonael fretted internally. She didn’t like the interruption of the King’s visit at all, but there was little she could do about it, not without completely blowing her cover.

  “Teacher, why are you carrying four jugs of maple syrup? I thought we were going to be shopping for fabric,” Emonael asked, and Marin looked away from the door with a slight smile.

  “You should know better than to ask, Emonael. We’re going all the way to Port Tarth, and that’s a good four hundred miles away. After the entire winter, this will be a dear trade good,” Marin replied, tapping the small box holding the ceramic jugs. “While I appreciate Valis’s offer to fund the production of your students’ clothing, there’s no reason we can’t defray the cost, is there? I know your own desire for items of particular quality, Emonael; the fabric you pick out won’t be cheap.”

  “You have a point, those will trade well,” Emonael admitted, her tone almost grudging as she glared at the box. “But in that case, why didn’t you bring more? I’ll bet that we can get enough cloth with just one more jug.”

  “Because I already had two, and the townsfolk traded most of their stock last fall. If I bought any more, they might have inflated the price, or I might’ve been forcing them to do without. Defraying our expenses is more than enough as it stands,” Marin said, making certain that her tone brooked no argument. “I don’t need to get the best possible deal, Emonael. If it’s convenient, like this is, I have no objections, but there’s no need to do more than that.”

  “I suppose so . . . I just wish that I’d thought of that before,” Emonael murmured, but her eyes brightened as she continued. “On the other hand, this gives me an idea for next winter.”

  “You’re beginning to enjoy your time among mortals, aren’t you?” Marin asked, carrying the box to the center of the tower. “I didn’t think that you would be so . . . enamored, in the end. I thought you might leave once you had what you came for.”