I smiled. “And how many of them are supposed to be done by you?”
She snapped her fingers at me. “You’re not allowed to talk anymore,” she said. I found my lips sealed together. “Get to work.”
I shrugged. She clearly wasn’t in a very good mood. I watched her stamping about the lab, digging her way through books and notes as she waited for her master. I wondered why she wasn’t doing something more useful with her time. She’d be able to look at a recipe and know why it was useless, something I couldn’t do without a great deal of time and effort. Instead, she was sulking. Perhaps something bad had happened, last night. Or perhaps she was just in a snit. It seemed to be her default mood. I honestly had no idea how I was going to impress her. My idea might not work ...
You don’t have to impress her, I reminded myself as I started to cut up the foul-smelling fruit into tiny chunks. You just have to impress Master Landis.
I sighed, inwardly. Lilith would complain if she had to be partnered with me for much longer, I was sure. And who knew who’d listen to her? I might find myself kicked out just for existing ...
Put your idea into practice, I told myself. And then see if it will work.
Chapter Seven
“I’ll see you in the entrance hall at five,” Lilith said, when working hours had finally come to an end. My lips had unsealed themselves long ago, but we’d worked in silence anyway. “We’re going to the town.”
I gave her a sidelong look. Anyone else would have asked before deciding we were going out. I was fairly sure I knew what she’d say—or do—if I presumed to tell her we were going to the town, let alone go somewhere else. Lilith might be lonely, to the point she was prepared to put up with me rather than be alone, but ... I sighed, inwardly. It wasn’t the right time to pick a fight.
“Sure,” I said. I tried to sound like it was nothing, even though I felt weird being with her and oddly guilty about spending our master’s money. So what if he could afford it? It wasn’t my money. “I’ll see you at five.”
I turned and hurried down the corridor, feeling eyes on my back. Again. Lilith was up to something ... I was sure of it. Or maybe Master Landis thought romance had reared its lovely and terrifying head. That was naïve of him, if he thought so. Lilith and I were from different worlds. She was unlikely to think of me as a possible partner, and I found her personality too grating to tolerate her for any longer than I absolutely had to. I snorted as I made my way further and further into the building, heading down to the workshop. The air smelt faintly of molten iron and oil. It was almost appealing.
A young man stepped out to block my way. “Can I help you?”
I hesitated. “I need to speak to a craftsman,” I said. It struck me, suddenly, that I hadn’t thought my approach through very well. “Someone who can make a decision.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “Come with me.”
I followed him through a set of workshops, each one larger than the library. Craftsmen and their apprentices worked on all sorts of machines, from guns to steam engines and things I couldn’t even begin to understand. The din was deafening. I saw young women working with the men, wearing the same clothes ... I wondered, suddenly, just how well they worked together. Female apprentices were rare, outside the magical community ... I shook my head in irritation. It wasn’t my problem, not now. My companion stopped outside a door, tapped it once and then pushed it open. I found myself stepping into a room that looked like a cross between an office, compete with desks and filing cabinets, and a workshop. Senior Craftswoman Yvonne sat behind the desk, studying a set of blueprints. She looked up as we entered.
“Yes?”
“Senior Craftswoman,” I said. I realised I didn’t know how to address her, either. It was hard not to stare. She was at least a decade older than me, and far from classically pretty, but she had a presence that was hard to ignore. Her bare arms bore the signs of a career spent at a blacksmith’s forge. “I ...”
“Craftswoman is fine,” she said. She nodded to my guide, who left. “What can I do for you?”
“I need something forged for me,” I said, as I dug my notes out of my pocket. “I ... it’s part of my apprenticeship.”
“Runic tiles, made of iron?” Yvonne’s face betrayed nothing of her feelings as she studied the notes. I cringed, inwardly. I was no draftsman. She probably found it hard to read my handwriting. “What do you intend to do with it?”
“Channel magic into a potion,” I said, carefully. I didn’t intend to talk about blood to her. Not yet. “I don’t have magic, you see ...”
“So I heard.” Yvonne gave me a sharp look. “What do you think you could achieve?”
I swallowed a pair of nasty answers. She was a woman in a male-dominated field. She should understand how hard it could be to make one’s way when everyone else was different. And had power ... I put the thought aside. Yvonne was a craftsman. She wouldn’t appreciate an argument based on raw emotion, let alone emotional blackmail. And she’d probably clobber me if I tried. Her fists looked big enough to knock me into next week.
“I can’t muster the magic to turn a cauldron of ingredients into an actual potion,” I said, curtly. She’d be familiar with the problem, I was sure. “But this should let me charge the potion without magic.”
“I see.” Yvonne’s expression didn’t change. I couldn’t tell if she thought I was right, if she thought I was wasting my time—and hers, too, probably a mortal sin—or if she thought I was hiding something. “We could stamp out the tiles for you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“You’ll have to pay for this, somehow,” Yvonne added. “Am I correct in assuming you haven’t told your master about this?”
“... Yes,” I said. I didn’t dare lie. “I want to prove it works first.”
“Understandable,” Yvonne said. I had the feeling she wanted to say something else, but refrained. “We can have these ready for you tomorrow. If they work, we’ll discuss payment with your master. If they don’t” —she smiled— “I’m sure we can find a way to make you pay for it.”
I bowed. “Thank you, Craftswoman.”
“An interesting thought,” Yvonne said. “We have worked with runes before, but nothing quite like this. We’ll discuss it further if you succeed.”
Her tone made it clear she was dismissing me. I bowed again, then left the room and walked back through the workshop. It was fascinating—I stared at a young man carefully fiddling with a piece of clockwork—but, at the same time, it wasn’t me. I wanted to be there, to be one of them, and yet I didn’t. I felt cold, despite the heat, as I made my way back up to my room to change before dinner. Lilith had made it clear I had to look presentable, when we hung out. I was tempted to point out, more than once, that we weren’t friends. I didn’t want to know what was going through her mind.
“You still haven’t impressed me,” she said, when we met. “What have you done that I couldn’t do?”
“What have you done that no one else could do?” I turned the question around and tossed it back at her. “Why are you so special?”
Lilith looked, just for a moment, as though I’d slapped her. I was surprised. Lilith was a magician, and a powerful one, but she was hardly unique. There were hundreds of other magicians, including some her age who were far more powerful than she was. Lady Emily had battled a dozen necromancers in single combat and torn them to shreds. Lilith wasn’t anything like that powerful. I certainly hadn’t seen people crawling over broken glass and potion spills to be her friend. It was depressing to realise that I might be the closest thing she had to a friend.
She said nothing as we walked down the road and into the town. It never seemed to sleep. There were buildings, clearly visible, that I was sure hadn’t been there the last time we’d visited. Lilith led me to another fancy diner, despite my suggestion we went somewhere cheaper, and ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. I tried not to point out it would probably be cheaper to use
the portals so we could eat out somewhere on the other side of the world. The diner was probably teetering constantly on the edge of bankruptcy.
It was an awkward dinner, even by our normal standards, and I was quietly relieved when we made our way back to the university and parted in the entrance hall. Lilith had been quiet, unusually so. She hadn’t even made snide remarks about drunken apprentices singing in the streets, something that was almost always the precursor to a brawl back home. I eyed her, worriedly, as she headed back to her room. I’d never visited. I had no idea where she slept.
She probably has an entire suite to herself, I thought. I couldn’t see her sharing a dorm, even with her fellow magicians. Or she might even sleep somewhere outside the castle.
I dismissed the thought as I went back to my own rooms, slept the sleep of the exhausted and headed back down to the lab in the morning. Master Landis, looking disgustingly bright and cheerful, directed me to spend the entire day preparing ingredients for his latest experiment. I did my best to ignore his cheer, and Lilith’s silent glower, as I worked, pausing only for a quick bite to eat at lunchtime. It was a relief, when working hours finally came to an end, that Lilith left without speaking to me. I was torn between being worried about her and being grateful she hadn’t hexed me on her way out.
“I checked your notes,” Master Landis said. “You did well.”
I blinked, caught by surprise. “My potion notes?”
“Yes. The recipes you copied for me.” Master Landis held out the papers. “There are a few minor additions, but I think your improvements are solid.”
“But not solid enough to let me brew them,” I said, regretfully.
“You’ve helped a great many people,” Master Landis said. “They can’t take that from you.”
If they ever gave it to me in the first place, I thought, as I bowed to him. I knew I was acting like Lilith, but ... it was hard to feel anything, save for bitter resentment. I’d done well —his praise made me swell with pride— yet hardly anyone would know what I’d done. Lilith and her ilk would use my work and take the credit. Is it really worth it?
I sighed, inwardly, as I made my way back to the workshop. I wanted fame and fortune, although I’d settle for fortune. It was unlikely I was going to get it. I’d lost my chance to be a craftsman, I’d probably lost my chance to make my mark in the magical world ... what did that leave? Go sailing, in hopes of discovering unknown lands rich in treasure? Sign up with a mercenary band? My parents would disown me. They’d probably prefer I worked in a brothel. There weren’t many occupations less reputable than being a mercenary ...
“Welcome back,” Yvonne said, when I reached her office. “What do you think?”
I took the box and looked down at the runic tiles. One of them quivered slightly when I ran my fingers over it. It was designed to detect magic. I felt a flicker of hope, quashed by cold reality. The university was practically glowing with magic. The remaining runes were dead and cold. I had no way to know if they were doing their job or not. It was hard to tell how well they actually worked. I’d checked and rechecked my calculations, but it was quite possible I’d missed something so fundamental no one had bothered to write it down.
“I discussed the matter with Praxis,” Yvonne said. It took me a moment to connect the name with her lover, the enchanter. “It was his considered opinion that the magic charge wouldn’t last long enough to do more than warm the tiles, if that. It won’t trigger off a potions cascade.”
“I know,” I said. I still didn’t want to talk about the blood. “I have an idea.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Yvonne said. “Good luck.”
I took the tiles and headed back to my room. I hoped I knew what I was doing, too. The risk of causing an explosion was very low, unless my calculations were so off they were on the other side of the globe, but the chances of making a complete and total fool out of myself were a great deal higher. If I was wrong, nothing would happen. I would almost prefer an explosion. It would be proof I’d stumbled onto something, even if it claimed my life. I wondered, as I closed and locked the door behind me, if I should leave a note for Master Landis. If I died ...
Don’t be an idiot, I told myself. The worst thing that can reasonably happen is nothing.
I put the box on the table and carefully unpacked the tiles. Yvonne and her apprentices had done a very good job. The runes were perfect. I hoped. It was hard to be entirely sure without magic. And who could I ask to test them? Lilith? I snorted as I dug through the small collection of tools I’d brought with me. Master Pittwater had given me the traditional set, back when I’d hoped I’d turn my time at the shop into a career. In hindsight, I wondered why he’d bothered. Perhaps he’d had hopes, too.
Or perhaps it cost him very little, I thought. The silver knife was worth its weight in gold, literally, but I knew how much money the shop had taken in every week. For all I know, it cost him only a tiny sliver of his fortune.
I felt my heart starting to pound as I placed a glass dish in the centre of the table, then carefully pressed the knife against my bare skin. The pain stabbed through me. It was all I could do not to scream. I reminded myself, sharply, that Lilith had done the same and shown no sign of pain. Perhaps she’d used magic. Her blood was magic, as she’d reminded me. It was hard to believe a little more would hurt. I let the blood drip into the dish, then kicked myself mentally as I looked around for a cloth. I’d forgotten to have a bandage within reach. Master Pittwater would have beaten me for such an oversight. It would have been hard to blame him.
Gritting my teeth, I wrapped a cloth around my palm and clenched my fist as I started to put the tiles into place. They would not only gather the magic in the room and channel it towards the blood, but also—if my calculations were correct—keep it in place long enough for the blood to absorb the magic. If my calculations were correct ... I sat back on my bed, clenching my fist tightly until the blood stopped flowing. I didn’t dare go to a healer. There would be questions I didn’t want to have to answer.
And if I leave the blood here, I asked myself, will anyone notice?
I didn’t know. Lilith had told me that magical students regarded breaking and entering as a harmless prank. She’d even insisted she’d broken into the headmistress’s office, although I wasn’t sure I believed her. Here ... I sat up and stared at the blood, unsure what would happen if someone sneaked into my room. Lilith never had, as far as I knew. Why would she? I supposed the fact I hadn’t found myself zapped into a frog the moment I sat on the bed was proof she hadn’t. It was just the sort of puerile joke that magicians considered the height of humour and everyone else considered utterly horrifying.
If someone asks, I decided, I’ll tell them the truth.
I went for dinner, ate alone—Lilith was nowhere in sight—and returned to my room to sleep until the following day. It was my off-day, but Master Landis had given me permission to use the lab as I saw fit ... as long as I was careful. I took the blood— the magic-sensing rune vibrated when I held it over the dish—and hurried downstairs, trying to make sure I didn’t bump into anyone who might ask awkward questions. It was a great deal easier to ask forgiveness than permission. I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped into the lab, the lights coming on automatically. Lilith wasn’t there. I hadn’t been looking forward to trying to explain to her what I was doing.
Muttering a quiet prayer under my breath, I started to gather the ingredients to brew a basic potion. It wasn’t anything like as complex as some of the potions I’d seen Master Landis make, but it needed magic. Real magic. I could do everything as perfectly as possible and yet fail because I couldn’t ... I looked at the blood as I put the mixture together, resting everything within the cauldron. I needed a magic surge ...
Bracing myself, I dipped a spoon into the blood and let a droplet dribble into the cauldron.
The liquid glowed with light. I jumped back, torn between delight and fear. The light was clear proof that something
was happening. I’d made magic. It might not be my magic, but ... it was mine. I’d done something no one, not even Lilith, could take away from me. The light grew brighter, then faded. I inched towards the cauldron and peered inside. The potion was ready.
“I did it!” I jumped in the air, nearly knocking over the cauldron. “I did it!”
I laughed. Lilith would have to admit I’d impressed her now. Wouldn’t she? I’d made magic! Well, I’d tapped into the background magic, but ... I’d made it work! Master Pittwater had spent hours complaining about how hard it was to convince brewers to focus on the simple potions. I’d just solved that problem for him. And yet ...
My heart sank. What if she isn’t impressed?
I looked at the cauldron, and then at the vast collection of ingredients, and then back at the cauldron. Steam was pouring out of the mixture, slowly reducing as it cooled down. Steam ... something nagged at my mind. I knew how to make steam and ...
... And I had a very good idea.
Chapter Eight
It took me longer than it should have to work up the nerve to brew the next potion.
I was no coward. I knew that for a fact. I’d grown up in a rough area, where turning the other cheek meant getting slapped twice, and I’d been an apprentice since I grew into adulthood. I’d taken part in my fair share of drunken brawls, when apprentices would go out on the town and start fights with the other apprentices; I’d done plenty of stupid things that, as I matured, I’d probably look back at and groan. And yet ...
It wasn’t easy to check my calculations. I honestly wasn’t sure if I wanted the idea to be workable. Perversely, it wouldn’t have worked at all if Master Landis hadn’t made me look at the old recipes. The newer ones would have been quite beyond me, with or without the charged blood. I concentrated on working out the details, then prepared the ingredients and started to brew. The stench was almost unbearable. I was fairly sure I knew why so many alchemists wanted apprentices—and why so few apprentices stayed. Someone had to prepare the ingredients. Why not someone who couldn’t reasonably object?
Fantastic Schools, Volume 3 Page 36