Trials of Magic

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  Ashley elbowed Pi in the ribs and whispered, "I told you he has a nice body."

  "Thank you, Orson," said Professor Augustus, speaking loudly to be heard over the laughter, "for demonstrating what poor finger work does to a simple transfiguration spell. Please have a seat."

  Pi grinned at Ashley. "Poor finger work?"

  She rolled her eyes in extravagant fashion.

  As Orson waddled back to his table, he asked, "Can I go get a new set of clothes?"

  The corner of the professor's lips crept up in a mischievous smile. "Feel lucky you only lost your clothes. Had you formed your hook-and-claw gesture with any less rigidity, you'd have turned your silk shirt into a blanket of brown recluse spiders rather than a spider's web."

  Orson looked mortified at what his mistake could have caused and took his original spot, pressing himself against the table for covering.

  "He does have a nice ass," whispered Pi, noting the way his cheeks dimpled.

  Professor Augustus clapped his hands at each syllable of the first word he said: "Specificity. Say it with me class. Specificity. Without proper enunciation, without proper gesturing, without proper faez shaping, you will Fuck. It. Up. You are mages, not short-order cooks throwing together a batch of scrambled eggs for a couple of truckers in bibs. Need I remind you that your classmate Bentley is still at the hospital, breathing through his ribcage with his skin turned to slime? Laugh if you want, but there's a good chance we'll never see him again, and I suspect that even if we do, it won't be in Coterie."

  Someone in the back, Pi couldn't tell who, muttered, "It'll be in the sewers."

  The professor, without turning around, said, "Rather than make jokes, Brock DuPont, you might consider relying less on your trinkets and learn how to be more exact, or you might be sharing a sewer with Bentley. Because I've learned over the years that those that rely on their magical devices rather than honing their skills are usually the first ones to go."

  Pi was sneaking a look at Brock's face when she heard her name: "Pythia! Front and center. You're next."

  She strode to the dais. The squeak of her sneakers cut through the silence. She bit her lower lip as she waited for the instruction.

  "Miss Pythia," said Augustus. A few whispers of Hick Pi echoed around the room. "I would like you to transfigure the daisies in that vase to a more extravagant flower."

  As Pi approached the desk, the door wheezed open. Alton Lockwood marched into the room. His expensive shoes clicked against the hardwood. He adjusted the lapel of his white suit with practiced disdain.

  "Sorry I'm late, Professor," he said without a trace of apology in his tone. "I had business with the patron."

  "No need to apologize," said Augustus. "Miss Pythia was about to show us a proper transfiguration, since Orson failed spectacularly in all regards."

  Alton met her gaze, but gave no indication of his enmity. She'd encountered him a few times in the Obelisk. He'd been cordial, which worried Pi more than anything.

  She pushed Alton out of her mind and concentrated on the transfiguration. Changing one thing into another took more than just memorizing a spell and performing it flawlessly. Even similar items were different enough that it created complications. It made it more difficult that the flowers were a living thing.

  Essentially, Pi had to reform the structure of the flower while not destroying the living cells. In this case, knowledge about flowers and their makeup was required. Luckily, last year Aurie had been on a horticulture kick when she heard a rumor about potion mixing during the trials, and had made them both memorize the useful parts of common flowers, so Pi was well versed.

  "We're waiting," said Alton from behind her, making her think back to when she'd misidentified a common paperweight.

  Pi set her hands on either side of the bouquet of daisies and cracked her knuckles by squeezing her hands into fists. The flowers drooped over the edge of the vase, having been sitting in tepid water for days.

  First, she let faez flow into the flowers. They twitched with the added energy. The next part required deft dexterity. She manipulated the spell, pulling and tugging as if she were making dough.

  Pi had an image in her head of what kind of flower she wanted to create, but she noticed the other students yawning with boredom or checking their cell phones and thought about what Ashley had said after the Amber & Smoke about making friends. These kids understood the politics of power. To get them on her side, she had to prove that she was a force to be reckoned with.

  Pi decided she needed to do something even more spectacular than she'd first planned, but she didn't have enough living material to create what she wanted. While keeping the daisies in a malleable state, she searched the room with her eyes. Once she had identified the additional living material, she performed a one-handed levitating spell on the creeping philodendron on the back wall, drawing it towards her.

  A few in-breaths signaled an increased interest, but Pi wasn't done yet. With the philodendron draped over the daisies like a bad wig, Pi added even more faez, softening up the plant material to be transformed.

  Shaping was more artistry than engineering. Once she had broken down the material, she had to rearrange it into the desired shape. As she worked, the other initiates leaned forward against their desks.

  Feeling ambitious, she levitated a chicken bone from the reagents tray and added it to the transfiguration. She tried to ignore the whispers as her classmates tried to figure out what she was trying to do. She was coming to the most delicate part—she had to get the parts to fuse together.

  Pi was moving through her fingerings, dancing the faez around the plant material like a master seamstress stitching a dress in midair. The new plant was beginning to take shape: it had a bulbous body with a parted mouth lined with bone teeth and cowl of leaves. She was at the most difficult part—she had to convince the whole structure to meld together—when something hit the floor, making a loud noise and breaking her concentration.

  The delicate lattice of magic and plant material snapped. The plant-flower-bone hybrid collapsed on the desk in a sludge of green muck. It hissed and bubbled. Captured faez dissipated into the air.

  She spun around expecting to find that Alton had dropped a tome on the floor, ready to skewer him with a vicious insult, only to realize that the book was lying at Professor Augustus' feet.

  His gaze was a mixture of disappointment and something else she couldn't decipher.

  "Thank you, Miss Pythia, for demonstrating the next most common failure point for mages: unearned ambition," he said. "While the buildup was impressive, you have to be capable of carrying through or pay the price. I thought Orson was a shoo-in for worst performance today, but you won today's lowest grade, and have earned an evening cleaning out the alchemical vat. Thank you, class, you are dismissed."

  Pi stood stunned while green goo dripped on her sneakers. A hiss of noxious fumes escaped the mixture. She felt her face grow bright crimson.

  Ashley squeezed her shoulder as she went by. "That was shitty of the professor. Whatever it was you were making looked like it was going to be spectacular."

  "Thanks, Ash," said Pi, staring at the green slime dripping from the table.

  She caught an amused snicker from Alton before he left the room.

  The professor was tidying up his materials when Pi approached him.

  "Professor Augustus, may I ask a question?"

  His right eye twitched as he adjusted his thin-rimmed glasses with pinched fingers. He cleared his throat. Standing so close reminded her of how young he was, maybe not even into his thirties.

  "You may," he said.

  "Why did you interrupt my spell?" she asked.

  His gaze went to the floor, then he glanced at the door before returning to her. "Are you asking for special treatment?"

  "No," she said forcefully. "I wouldn't do that. I just want to know why you did that to me and not any of the other initiates."

  She wanted to ask if the patron didn't want her ther
e, but wisely.

  "Why do you want to be in Coterie?" he asked, chin raised.

  "I want to learn magic, and Coterie had the best reputation," she told him confidently.

  His eye twitched again. She couldn't figure out why he seemed disappointed.

  "You would probably be the only one of your class who is here for those reasons," he said.

  She opened her mouth to refute him, but wondered if he wasn't right. Even Ashley was only in Coterie because she had no other choice if she wanted to be a mage.

  "Why did you join Coterie?" she asked.

  His eyes creased with mirth. "For the same reason as you."

  "I don't understand," she said. "You've done very well in Coterie. You're Master of Initiates."

  "Ahh, yes. That's true," he said, but he didn't seem to believe his own words.

  His ambivalence made her uneasy.

  "Where does your last name come from? I've never heard Silverthorne before," he said, his brow furrowing.

  "It's made up, kinda. My mother didn't want to take my father's last name, so they compromised by taking an amalgamation of each of their last names. We're the first, you could say," explained Pi.

  "And how many generations of DuPonts, or Bishops, or Lockwoods do you think there are?" he asked.

  "Many generations, I would imagine," she said, and when the professor frowned, she added, "probably further, I guess. To the founding of the country."

  "My last name is much like yours," he said, his eyes taking on a sympathetic cast. "Trebleton is a new name, or at least new by their standards. My five years as an initiate with that name was a living hell. So if you think they're going to allow you to show them up in their own Hall, you're either a fool or blind."

  "But if I keep getting low scores, I won't make it to second year," she said.

  His face took on a hard mask. "Then maybe I will have saved your life."

  He swept out of the room before she could say anything else, leaving her to clean up the mess and ponder his warning.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Aurie spun a twenty-sided die on the counter at Freeport Games while she waited. The plastic piece whisked and jumped across the glass surface. Her dark hair hung over her face. She just didn't care enough to move it back behind her ear. Inside the glass case were bowls of dice and counters, and at the end, sitting on a velvet holder, a swirling indigo glass ball.

  "Aurie!" cried her sister.

  She barely turned before Pi tackled her in a hug. Her sister made purring noises as she buried her face in her shoulder. The grin on Aurie's face almost hurt, she was smiling so hard.

  "Oh god, Pi. I missed you," she said, squeezing her sister in a smothering hug. Pi was a little shorter, so her head tucked neatly beneath her chin.

  "I'm not letting go, like ever," said Pi.

  Aurie feigned a choke. "I'm dying, I'm dying."

  "You're not dead yet," said Pi in an English accent.

  Eventually Aurie pulled away. They sighed at the same time, which released a couple of giggles. Pi's ensemble of designer jeans, polka-dot silk shirt, and form-fitted black jacket surprised Aurie. Her hair was missing its indigo streak.

  "Does Coterie give you a fashion stipend or something?" she asked.

  "Ash got them for me. Said they were her younger sister's," she said.

  Aurie raised an eyebrow. "It's not like you to try and fit in."

  A bit of darkness passed across Pi's gaze.

  "It's hard to explain. Coterie is...well, it's Coterie," said Pi, sort of shrugging her shoulders. "How's Arcanium? Top of the class as expected?"

  Aurie wanted to spill the truth, that she was performing terribly. All the years of studying, expecting Arcanium to be about books and knowledge—which it was, there were plenty of wonderful, musty, old tomes—but it was more than that, it was different. But if she started talking, then she'd have to bring up the truth room, and their parents' death, and she didn't want to ruin their reunion.

  "I'm doing okay," said Aurie.

  Pi punched her sister in the arm. "You're so modest."

  Further discussion was cut short when Hemistad shuffled into the room. He jingled faintly as if he were hiding bells in his pockets. His eyebrows wagged on their own like two bushy caterpillars trying to escape.

  "The Silverthorne sisters. What a joyful day that you're both under my roof at the same time. I was beginning to wonder if you were just one person, maybe a doppelgänger or a fetch. I was preparing a ward to protect myself," he said, the mirth coming through his voice in warm tones. "Are we ready for a little task?"

  Pi glanced to Aurie, deferring. "What do you need us to do?"

  He frowned a little when he noticed Pi's clothing. He hooked a finger in their direction. "Come with me."

  He led them into the back. Aurie thought she knew the store layout well, but he took them through an unfamiliar hallway into a room with a well in it. The diameter of the stone ring was at least ten feet. A stainless steel mechanical winch was fastened to the ceiling. A steel wire went into the hole.

  Aurie shared a glance with her sister, who made an I-have-no-idea face. Hemistad grabbed a yellow pendant with black buttons on it. His discolored thick nails clicked against the hard plastic. He pressed the bottom button, and the winch whirled into life. After about thirty seconds, steel grating appeared. Hemistad stopped the platform right below the edge of the stone.

  He climbed onto the platform with the remote in his hand, looking at them expectantly.

  "What are we doing?" she asked.

  Hemistad blinked hard as if he didn't understand the question. "You needed help and I provided it. Now I would like your assistance in some matter of importance to me. Are you unwilling?"

  Aurie's thoughts went back to a previous visit, when Hemistad had momentarily let her see his true self. Was he luring them into a basement to murder them? Pi seemed to have the same reservations.

  "No. Not unwilling. Just curious to what we're doing," said Aurie.

  Pi spread her hands out. "Come on, Hemistad. Don't you think it's fair that we ask?"

  The momentary confusion on his hunched brow broke like a wave crashing in understanding. "Ahh, yes. I thought you had intuited where we were headed. We're going into the Undercity."

  "But we're initiates, we're not allowed in the Undercity," said Aurie.

  Pi added her agreement. "It's one of the first things they tell us. Even the older students are warned about the dangers and to only go in large groups, or with experienced mages."

  "Rules? I'd hardly call it a rule. I think they're just trying to keep from losing too many foolish initiates. But you'll be fine. You're with me," he said. "Come, quickly. I'm on a schedule."

  Aurie shrugged and joined Pi on the platform. The winch clicked into reverse, and they lurched downward. The shadows from the well quickly overtook them. Aurie touched her earrings, and light bloomed into the space. Pi added a wisp moments later.

  The platform went down for a good minute. Aurie was beginning to wonder if they'd ever reach the bottom when the walls disappeared and they were plunged into a vast space. Pi's exclamation was quickly swallowed by the emptiness.

  The platform hit the bottom with a solid thunk. Hemistad tucked the remote into a holder on the side and mumbled something about needing to change the batteries. Then he headed off directly as if he knew exactly where he was going. Aurie and Pi fell in behind him.

  The ground was rocky, but relatively flat. It felt like they were in a large cave, but she hadn't seen any walls. Their wisps bobbed along with them. Aurie glanced back at the platform, realizing that if they lost Hemistad, they'd have no way to get back.

  Later, rocky walls appeared out of the gloom. They entered a wide brick-lined tunnel that turned their footsteps to echoes. Brown seepage dripped down the walls. Aurie had an itchy feeling between her shoulder blades, but shook it off as her imagination.

  Side tunnels went off into the darkness, but Hemistad stayed on the wider pat
h. Sometimes they heard sounds from those openings: human voices, water dripping, other uncategorizable noises, including one that sounded like a chainsaw on helium.

  They took turns occasionally. Aurie kept a mental map just in case, though she doubted she could get them across the cave back to the platform.

  Hemistad led them out of the tunnels and into another wide space. It was colder here. The ground traveled deeper into the Undercity. They'd been underground for at least an hour.

  Aurie thought she saw a faint glow in the distance, but when she turned to look, it was gone. Hemistad hadn't noticed, or at least gave no visible sign, so she stayed alert.

  A deep growl reached out through the darkness, putting a shiver into Aurie's back. It wasn't nearby, but it was close enough.

  Hemistad stopped and grumbled. "Consarn it."

  His black eyes glistened in the darkness. They took on an otherworldly quality. He seemed uncertain of what to do next, looking in different directions.

  When they heard the growl a second time, he mumbled, "Horse cocks," before turning to them.

  The veneer of the old man had disappeared. He seemed stronger, more alert, hardier.

  "We've encountered an unexpected complication. You must stay here while I go and deal with this. Do not try to help. Do not come after me. In fact, do not leave this spot no matter what. Your life depends on it."

  He gave them no time to respond and marched off into the darkness like a man about to deal with his unruly hound, fists held at his sides.

  The growl reverberated through the darkness from a different direction than before.

  "What the hell is that?" whispered Pi. "Nothing normal can make that noise. It sounds like the belly of a dragon rumbling in hunger."

  "Like that, but worse," said Aurie. "I think I would be relieved to find out it was a dragon."

  "Any ideas?" asked Pi.

  She shook her head. "Nothing that I've ever studied. It could be something unique to the Undercity. All the unused faez leaks down here, creating strange and terrible things."

  They stood close together. Even when she couldn't hear anything, Aurie had the impression of a smothering darkness somewhere beyond the edge of the light. She thought about quenching her earrings, but standing in darkness seemed much worse than being a beacon.