Duggin hissed and lurched back. "No. That's impossible." He snuck a glance at Hatsk who blanched and snarled.
"No more of your sorcery tricks, boy! That's a different one."
Jess gasped, even as Twilight pricked her to silence. "Hush, mistress. Eloquin and Echobart both caught the lapse. Best let our prey know nothing, still off guard, sliding ever further into the trap."
Alex chuckled. "Ah, I understand how it can seem so. Now, if you will just let us pass to the dining hall, I will cast a spell that will assure that our missing artifact immediately aligns with its correct owner."
Hatsk looked about to protest.
"Move, fool!" Eloquin roared, stomping forward, Squires behind them, blades drawn, casually at rest upon their shoulders.
All the proctors blanched and lurched back at that.
"It is all right," Dean Echobart assured. "I am temporarily suspending Jessica's dismissal until we have ascertained the solution to this most interesting puzzle."
Hatsk snarled, shaking his head, grabbing Duggin by the shoulder so hard the boy flinched, and even Jess could hear his furious whisper. "Say nothing, fool. It is a bluff!"
Twilight chuckled softly, and within moments it seemed the entire school had gathered around the very dining table Rens and his fellow mages had sat at what seemed either minutes or hours ago, the wooden disc in the center, puzzling at first glance, at last made its purpose known, Alex carefully placing the blade, as much short sword as dagger, upon it.
He held Jess's gaze for endless seconds, before smiling and turning to Duggin.
Jess swallowed, thinking she understood, hoping she didn't make a mess of things. This was perhaps her only chance to ever be welcome at her school once more.
"So you see, Duggin, I have been working on a spell that is finally able to link the principles of similarity and contagion so as to be compatible with elementalist magics, at least to the degree that when someone loses an object of metal, I can find it for them."
Duggin, Jess couldn't help noting, was trembling, for all that he did his best to hide it, Hatsk squeezing his shoulder so hard the boy winced.
"Impossible," Hatsk snarled. "Elementalist magics don't work like that."
"Ah, so you are a scholar as well as a proctor. How blessed we are to have you!" Alex deadpanned, Hatsk glaring at the titters of laughter to be heard in the crowd gathering behind him. "Fortunately, however, we are at a school that does attempt to push the boundaries of magic with our studies. And it appears we have made a few interesting breakthroughs, not the least of which is the spell I am going to utter now."
With that Alex bowed his head, as if entering a deep trance, fingers flowing through the air with a magician's odd grace, and Jess smiled to see the flickers of light crackling from his fingertips, streaming through the air, even as the sword itself began to rattle.
"What are you doing?" Hatsk demanded.
Alex took a deep breath, the sound and color fading as abruptly as it had come, the blade looking no different than before. "No worries, the spell is complete." He chuckled softly. "Of course, there are a few side effects, but what magic is without risk?"
Duggin swallowed. "What risk?"
Alex shrugged. "Oh, the spell is not entirely stable, I'm afraid. It can point to its owner, but, well, the spell is somewhat... messy. I had to rely on some Velheim arts we barely understand. As long as you just carried the cinquedea about your person and never swung it in anger, it will do naught more than hum at your touch. But if you ever swung it in anger, or worse, attempted to kill with it, well, the side effects are a bit more severe."
Duggin stepped back. "What side effects are these?"
Alex smiled. "Well, once it tastes your flesh it will plunge forward, attempting to pierce your heart, to join with the source of all your passions, all your hate. But no worries there, right? You never swung your fighting dagger in hot anger, did you?"
Duggin froze, speechless.
"He's bluffing!" Hatsk hissed, shaking the boy's shoulders. "It is all a bluff."
Alex smiled. "Archoidoitis!" He shouted, gazing at Jess.
And the cinquedea began to move, the circular pedestal smoothly turning as the point slowly moved like the hand of a priceless clock, everyone gazing at the blade in awe and stepping away as it continued its rotation, before stopping dead, point tip aimed directly for Duggin who yelped and lurched back.
Alex bowed. "As I said, Duggin, I think I found your blade."
"Impossible!" Hatsk roared. "You are bluffing! I know Duggin never touched that blade."
Alex raised a curious eyebrow. Short and slender as he was, he possessed a certain presence and potency, as did most scholars of the arcane, Jess thought. "And how would you know that? Did you not even want to ask where I found it?"
Hatsk paled. "This is a trick. There is no way you could know!"
Duggin's gaze turned desperate.
Echobart smiled and stepped forward. "You will find, lad, that I am the forgiving sort. I do not wish to end promising careers for a single tragic mistake, and I am far more inclined to show leniency for a lad led astray than I am for the puppet master so willing to use such a boy, only to later throw him away."
Duggin swallowed, breaths now short and rapid.
"Hold yourself together, fool," Hatsk hissed, squeezing his shoulder so hard the boy whimpered. "It is all a bluff. Do not let these jesters play you for an imbecile!"
Alex shook his head. "Are you sure you don't want to ask where I found it, Hatsk? You are the head proctor. Surely you are interested in the truth?"
"I will have no more of your lip, boy!" Hatsk roared.
Alex smiled, turning to Duggin, even as the boy trembled and slowly slid to the side, the dagger point following him unerringly. The murmurs of the crowd grew, Duggin looking more and more like a trapped animal, and for the first time in ages, Jess actually found herself feeling pity for the boy.
"All you have to do is touch it. But, if you did use it in anger... it's best if you put on a chain-mail shirt. It will protect your heart. Should protect your heart. You might still break a few ribs." Alex turned to the assembled Squires. "Does anyone have a mail hauberk our friend Duggin can borrow? A couple links might be broken when he hands it back or we pull it off his corpse, just like it would if a charger's lance pierced you. But I'm sure the blacksmith can rivet in a few fresh ones, no problem."
Duggin whimpered.
Alex smiled. "Duggin? Do you want me to tell you where I found the cinquedea?"
Eyes clenched tight, he swallowed and nodded.
"It was some distance away, actually. You know the lake south of us some two miles? Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to toss it in the deepest part of the lake."
Alex turned to a furious looking Hatsk. "The strange thing is, the culprit deliberately wrapped it in your clothes, Duggin, with strands of your hair tied to it. It's almost like they wanted you to get caught."
Duggin gasped, glaring at Hatsk. "We're you going to stab me in the back, when you needed a scapegoat?"
Hatsk lurched and stepped back. "I did no such thing. there was no trace of you left on that blade. It was tied in burlap, he's lying!"
The room was deathly still.
A speechless Hatsk, eyes glittering with fury, only realizing what he had said when it was too late. His mouth opened, no words came. He snarled, hand on his baton.
"That is correct," Alex said into the silence. "And a test. It was indeed tied up in burlap. A fact only the culprit would know. I kept it, in case anyone wants proof." He turned to Duggin. "I can tell the tale, Duggin, but I think it would be better if you did, don't you?" He gave Dean Echobart a meaningful glance.
Dean Echobart nodded. "A boy looking for redemption is one I deem worth saving. Honesty and candor are your watchwords, boy. You have two hundred witnesses. If you want to be remembered as a man who had the courage to face his own humiliation and redeem himself, that starts now." He gave a sad shake of his head
. "Or you can deny it, and if proven guilty, walk out that door, forever scorned by the school you had struggled so dearly to enter, so long ago."
"Sir?" Duggin trembled, gazing at the dagger, the point still unerringly following his every move.
"Yes, lad?"
"I made a terrible mistake. I... I would like to make a confession."
"By all means, lad."
"You will do no such thing!" Hatsk roared, eyes glittering with madness. "You will not accept this trickery! All of this, blatant entrapment, a score of wizards using vile magics to confuse and beguile us. You and I will leave at once, straight of the capital, and we will report this madness, and see justice done!"
Eloquin's smile was bleak as death. "You're not going anywhere, worm."
"How dare you talk to me that way!" Hatsk hissed, lurching back as Squires closed, blades sheathed, Jess was relieved to see, with hundreds of innocents crowding in on them.
Hatsk lurched back, hissing with surprise as two of his own under-proctors grabbed his arms. "What are you fools doing? Release me at once!"
"Head Proctor Hatsk? I am officially relieving you of all duty," declared the larger man holding him tight. "Tack, grab his baton and the damned whip he's always carrying."
"At once," nodded the other, a howling Hatsk quickly led away, to the laughter and jeers of what seemed the school entire.
Malek grinned. "It looks like those proctors didn't want to be associated with that bastard, after all."
Neal nodded. "The former head proctor who everyone got along with died under mysterious circumstances, and the man who replaces him is a sadistic, treacherous worm who is all too eager to whip students under any pretext, might be responsible for missing servants, and we now see clear as day was involved in a conspiracy that could only have resulted in Jess's expulsion or death. He's slime, and I wouldn't bat an eye if he accidentally fell down the cellar stairs, repeatedly, 'til his neck broke."
Jacob sighed, giving his friend a sympathetic clap on the back. "They're proctors, Neal, not Squires. I have no doubt he'll find himself locked up tight, with no more than a kidney punch or two for making fools of them. My question is what do you think is going to happen to Duggin?"
Jess turned to see a shaking Duggin approaching her, tears in his eyes. He seemed almost to lean into the dean's gentle hand upon his shoulder, turning to face the crowd as the roaring Hatsk was led off.
"It's all true," he said, bowing his head. "The knife... is mine. Jess is innocent." Jess's eyes widened to see how badly he was trembling. Jess could only imagine what it was like, to confess even that much, in front of two hundred fellows who would forever remember the shame of his folly. Duggin would always see in their gazes his own abject failure, and would forever have to face the bitter monster he had become.
But to have the courage to face one's own failure, being willing to endure that pain, not to hide in one's own delusion of self-righteousness... that took courage. And humility. As awful as Duggin might feel, cringing at his own folly in the months to come, with that one step he began his journey upon a path of redemption. Bitter as the bile in his throat, as all such beginnings were. Yet he had begun a journey of worth.
Jess saw him then being gently led off by Dean Echobart, his gaze that of a stern father disappointed in a promising lad, but willing to let amends be made, Rens and several other professors following behind.
"I think Echobart will be kind enough to let him make his confession in relative privacy," Malek said. "It will vindicate you, and most importantly as far as the dean is concerned, condemn that bastard of a proctor."
Jess, however, had already darted ahead, almost as surprised as Echobart was, to see her hand on Duggin's shoulder.
The boy turned and flinched, his gaze one of terror. "Jess..."
"Thank you," Jess said, loud enough for all assembled to hear. "That took courage. I just wanted to say, thank you for saying it aloud, so no one would later doubt. And if you do end up wearing the penitent's white..." Duggin trembled, his worst fear realized. "I will not mock you. I know what it means to make a mistake, and to make amends. Because we are better than our mistakes. As you have proven just now. So again, Duggin, thank you."
Jess bowed her head and walked away, the hushed murmur of scores of voices following in her wake.
"What an interesting tale this is turning out to be," said Sparrow, favoring Jess with a nod and a wink, as if she were a favorite character in a play.
"Indeed," commended the other bard. "Lady Calenbry, Slayer of Winter, it has been both a pleasure and an honor, and you may rest assured that we will transcribe your story in full to the Guild, where it will be recorded and stand proudly beside all the true tales told by Delvers and dutifully recorded by the Guild, so that their adventures shall never be forgotten."
Sparrow then presented to Jess a copy of her transcript upon a plate lined with gold, and where he had hidden such a precious impractical thing upon his person Jess had no idea, before handing her a fine quill pen radiating all sorts of interesting magical energies with a flourish. "And if you would be so gracious as to sign your account? We would be doubly honored."
Jess solemnly nodded, carefully reading her account aloud, smiling at a couple of embellished entries, carefully crossing and correcting them before the bards' bemused gaze, only then signing the document. "It sounds correct to me."
Sparrow raised his eyebrows. "Sounds, my lady?"
Jess nodded. "Letters are tricky beasts. They tend to twist around and not make much sense, unless you sound them out. That's why I like to read in private. It's more fun to read aloud than whisper, and no one frowns and stares at me in my quarters."
He nodded solemnly. "I see. If it's any consolation, one of our most stalwart members reads in a similar style. Alacabar is his name, and as fierce and proud an adventurer as you ever did see, so powerfully built he is, and larger than life in everything but height, such that you'd think him a character straight from your favorite tales." He grinned. "And unlike the romantic adventures penned by the more literary nobles for their friends, our tales are true, and made available to all, at a very reasonable price."
Malek frowned, giving Jess a comradely hug. "Most freemen read aloud. 'Tis only after years of practice or a noble's upbringing that reading silently becomes the norm, and it's just not a knack everyone has."
Sparrow nodded. "And unlikely to handicap one at all, so long as one doesn't seek the life of a bookkeeper or wizard, though a merchant will need a trusted partner to maintain his records, unless his business is so small or the profits so large that he can balance the most important bits in his head."
"Oh, arcane tomes are fine," Jess said. "At least, magical glyphs. I can taste the magic, so the symbols don't squiggle out of place." She grinned. "I guess you could say the magic pins them down."
Sparrow blinked. "Ah yes, I did note the sigils covering young Josie. An amazing feat of inspiration, was that."
Jess shrugged. "It made sense at the time, and she made it out of dream, so that's all that matters, I guess."
The bard politely nodded. “Indeed. And never have I seen a suit of mail sparkle and shine so brightly as the hauberk you wear. May I touch it, Lady Jess?”
Jess gave a bemused nod, and the bard whistled at its feel. “Steel doesn’t nick it. I tried.” Jess said, raising her own dagger to demonstrate. “But if anyone thinks to steal it from me, well, let’s just say they may get more than they bargained for.” Her grin was brilliant and fierce. Enough to give even the bard pause.
“Right. I have no doubt, my lady. I would fear not, however. For few would be so foolish as to attempt to steal from a Delver. The poor fool would have the whole Guild after his throat. To say nothing of your noble status.”
Jess nodded happily, so relieved to be vindicated at last that she couldn't help but close her eyes, imagining herself floating away on clouds of peace.
"Jess!" Malek. Sounding strangely worried, for all that she could sense his
exhaustion as well.
"We are done here." Eloquin's words, curt and cold.
"Of course," Sparrow said. "They have Delved deep and hard, an expedition few Spring Delvers would dare. I will leave them in your care."
And before she knew it, Jess felt herself all but floating down the hallways, Malek and Jacob by her side, Eloquin as well, and then she was before the door to her quarters, the fine hardwood opening to her touch.
"And you have no idea how hard that bastard tried to break in, even before we left." Malek smirked, no doubt speaking of Hatsk.
Jess felt like she would fall asleep on her feet, but she had to know. She raised her eyes to meet Eloquin's icy blue gaze.
"Is it true?"
Eloquin's features gave away nothing. She blinked to feel a sword hilt pressed into her hand. "Get some sleep, Calenbry. Your rest is well earned." Other things were said, but her focus was locked upon the blade Eloquin had handed her, a masterwork longsword from his personal armory. She swallowed and looked up, but Eloquin had already left.
She turned to Malek, himself blushing at whatever Jacob had whispered in his ears. There was so much Jess wanted to say, but exhaustion had claimed her, and she was at an utter loss for words.
Malek laughed, turning to Jacob. "I will see you soon. Let me see Jess to bed first."
Jacob frowned for a moment before wryly shaking his head. "You always did come first, Jess." He flashed a teasing smile. "Still, you two did fight back to back, and I suppose the whole school does owe you both. Sleep well, Jess." And with a parting wave, he too was gone.
"Come on, Jess, let's get you to bed," Malek said, Jess still too dazed to say a word. "Nice shiny mail on your chair, boots and bronze breastplate off, and there we are. Here's a mead flask if you wake up thirsty as the dickens, and I will see you on the other side."
Jess frowned, fingers gently tracing her friend's handsome features, delighting in his smile. Playfully, he kissed her palm, tucking her in with a wink. "Get some sleep, shieldsister. I wouldn't be surprised if we both found ourselves back under Eloquin's tutelage with first light, him gazing at us like idiots if we dare say a word in confusion or protest.
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