Currently he was sitting in his last class for the day, Advanced Spell Theory. Most of his fellow students in the class were working on fifth- and sixth-order spells, while Will was working hard to manage eighth-order. In terms of difficulty, he was already well ahead of where he needed to be for the next semester’s class, but being able to master eighth-order was a personal goal for him. He wanted to be able to cast Selene’s Solution, the cleaning spell created by his wife.
Wife? It still seemed unbelievable to him when the word ran through his mind. Am I really married? He supposed that most newlyweds had trouble adjusting to the new labels, but he felt it was even more difficult in his situation. Most newlyweds get to live together.
“Do you have someplace better to be, Mister Cartwright?”
Will’s eyes snapped back into focus. Professor Dulaney had gone quiet and was now staring intently at him. Most of the class was looking back at him, but rather than show his embarrassment, Will grinned. “Yes, Professor, but I can wait until you’re done before I go.”
“Since you’re bored, perhaps you can explain to your classmates the primary use of transducers in artifice.”
Will groaned under his breath and began getting to his feet. Dulaney preferred the students stand when answering. “Sir, we covered that last semester…”
“Some of us need a refresher, if you would be so kind,” said Dulaney, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Transducers are used to modify turyn, to convert it from one type or mixture of types to another. They’re required for any enchantment or magical item, since they must operate without a human to provide the proper turyn needed for them to function.”
The professor nodded. “The transducer is modeled on a fundamental spell construct that performs the same function. What would happen if we used them in everyday spells and why don’t we?”
Because it would be a damned waste of time—for me, thought Will sourly. He couldn’t say that, of course, so instead he answered, “A transducing spell construct would improve the turyn efficiency of any spell to nearly one hundred percent, but it would drastically increase the complexity to a degree that any spell that included a full transducer would be unworkable.”
“And yet most transducers are relatively simple. Explain why they create such a problem in spell casting.”
Will sighed. “Because every person has a unique mixture of turyn, so every spell would have to be personalized for the transducer to be of any benefit.”
One of the other students, Phillip Wakefield, raised his hand. Professor Dulaney pointed at the young man. “You have a question?”
“Yes, Professor. This occurred to me during the reading. Even though everyone has a different turyn signature, once the proper transducer was calculated for that person, they could memorize it and apply it to—”
“I see where you’re going Mister Wakefield,” interrupted Dulaney. “It won’t help. Not only is each person unique, but every spell requires a different mix of turyn. Your hypothetical wizard would still have to create a unique transducer construct to interface with every spell.” He nodded at Will. “Thank you, Mister Cartwright. You can sit back down now.
“This brings me to the next topic. As you know, and as some of you have begun to see in your Artifice classes, the things we create fall into several broad categories. Many engineering tools are simple and general-use. The transducers built into those enchantments tend to be simple, standardized, and users are chosen according to their affinity for the implement. Efficiency is rarely greater than seventy percent. On the opposite end of the spectrum we have personalized items created for wealthy individuals. Such items are built with transducers tailored to the owner, so their efficiency is as close to perfect as can be achieved, usually in the ninety-seven to ninety-eight-percent range.
“Most such items are made for the nobility, due to the cost, though some wizards craft such items for themselves. The benefit of such efficiency is even more important to wizards, naturally.”
Will raised his hand, then stood and cleared his throat when Dulaney recognized him. “Professor Salsbury told us that the oldest examples of powerful enchanted items didn’t include a transducer component at all, but he didn’t say why. Could you shed some light on the reasons for that difference between the work of artificers back then and that of modern craftsmen?”
A flicker of disgruntlement flashed across the professor’s features, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I should have known you’d bring up the topic of relics, Mister Cartwright.” Then his gaze swept the room as he addressed the question for the class. “What William has brought up is a subject of some debate, because we don’t really know how most of the enchanted items of the past were meant to function. We call them relics simply to denote the fact that they are of considerable age, but there’s nothing fundamentally different about them aside from age and the lack of a transducer.
“One theory is that relics were paired with a second item that included a transducer and that these transducers simply haven’t been found or they didn’t survive the passage of time. Another theory is that the items were used by individuals who happened to have exactly the right sort of turyn to make them function, although the odds of that are extremely unlikely.
“What we do know, is that because of the lack of a transducer most relics are able to house more complex enchantments. The Rod of Breven, for example, has three separate functions, each requiring a different mixture of turyn. To my mind, that makes the idea of a secondary transducer even more likely. The original owner of the rod probably had three different customized transducers that could be switched out depending on how he intended to use the item—”
“Or Lord Breven was able to modulate his own turyn,” interjected Will.
Dulaney sighed. “I would have dismissed that idea out of hand, but you are living proof that such a thing is possible, though I still believe that your hypothesis is highly improbable.”
Will was almost certain he was right, but he didn’t have to guess. He resolved to ask Arrogan later and find out the truth. He rolled his shoulder, stretching it to relieve the tightness in it. It was a leftover side effect from his sparring the previous evening with Blake. As he expected, the former special agent for the king had had a lot to teach. The veteran was well acquainted with standard military practices and tactics as well as more formalized fighting styles like the rapier, but Blake’s focus had been on more practical techniques.
The older man’s teaching had focused on two goals, killing and survival. Blake had been emphatic that Will needed to be very aware of which of the two things he was trying to achieve in any given encounter. “For a civilian, survival is almost always the only goal,” the manservant had explained. “But given the life you lead, there may also be times when you are actively trying to end your opponent. In those cases, you need to make sure that your own survival remains the top priority. The only time it might not be is if you’re on a suicide mission.”
The sparring, if it could properly be called that, had been unorthodox to say the least. Apparently, the older man intended to cover everything from ground fighting to dirty tricks and escape tactics. As the class let out and Will rose from his seat, he could feel several additional sore muscles complaining. It reminded him of something Arrogan had once said when he had been complaining. “If it hurts that just means you’re learning something.”
Since Advanced Spell Theory was his last class for the day, Will let his feet head in the direction of home, but a voice caught his attention before he could get away. “Will! Hey, over here!” It was Rob. His friend appeared to have been waiting for him to get out of class.
He walked over, noting the enthusiastic expression on his friend’s face. “What’s on your mind?” Will asked cautiously.
Rob grinned. “Funny you should ask—”
“You called me over. Of course, I’d ask,” he quipped.
Rob rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha. You remember Veronica Wellings?�
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Veronica was a third-year student who had helped Will the previous semester when he had needed to learn a bit of quick and dirty enchanting for his plan to disrupt Selene’s wedding to Count Spry. Will hadn’t actually spoken to Veronica himself, but apparently the question had given Rob an opening to get to know her.
“Yes…?”
“The ladies of Primrose House are planning an evening social on Friday and given your newfound fame I’m sure you’ll get an invitation since Stephanie is organizing the affair. Veronica would love to go, and I’d love to take her, but—hey!” Rob chased after him as Will turned and walked away. “Don’t be like that!”
“I’m not interested,” said Will flatly. It wasn’t that he was inherently antisocial—well, perhaps a little—the main problem was his absent wife. Everyone would be expecting the royal princess, and any explanation of her absence would likely create more problems than it solved, especially given how little she had been in the public eye since their unexpected wedding. Tailtiu’s impersonations had been able to keep the curiosity to a minimum, but Will loathed taking her out in public. Each time he worried they would encounter someone who knew Selene personally, someone who would begin to unravel the truth. Someone like Laina, thought Will.
“At least ask Selene,” insisted Rob. “She’s bound to be bored. She’s barely left the house since you two tied the knot. People are starting to think you keep her under lock and key and other silly—”
He rounded on his friend, his face serious. “Don’t even suggest such a thing! Rumors are bad enough, but I don’t expect you to be repeating them.”
Rob blanched for a moment, then his cheeks flushed as his temper rose. “I have ears, Will. I’m not spreading rumors. I’m trying to help you keep them from getting worse. I’d have thought you would understand me better by now, but then again, it isn’t as if I ever see you. You still haven’t invited me over to see your new home.”
Will felt bad for snapping. He tried to apologize. “I didn’t mean it like that, and it isn’t you. I haven’t invited anyone over—”
“And that isn’t normal,” interrupted Rob. “For some people perhaps, maybe even for you, but not for political figures.”
“It’s complicated,” began Will.
“But you won’t explain. You won’t talk to me; you won’t talk to Janice. Who do you talk to? Do you have any real friends? I’m starting to wonder, since I don’t really feel like I’m one.” Rob turned his back and began walking away.
Damn, I really pissed him off. He watched Rob go, wondering if he should chase after him or leave him alone. I should probably go after him, but what would I say? Rob’s complaints were completely valid. Ever since the wedding he had kept his friends, along with everyone else, at arm’s length. Even worse, he still hadn’t been home to see his family. He had sent a letter, which hopefully had outpaced the news, but he hadn’t faced his mother in person yet.
There would be a reckoning for that. Although it was several weeks’ travel via traditional means, his mother already knew he could make the journey safely in less than a day. He could get there in a matter of just hours if he was willing to take some of the more dangerous shortcuts through Faerie.
But he couldn’t do it. It’s bad enough that we eloped without warning her, but I can’t show up alone, he told himself silently. He kept walking, his feet following the path home by force of long habit while his head was filled with morose thoughts.
Blake met him at the door, taking his coat. The man waited afterward, expecting Will to remove his overtunic so he could get out of the brigandine as he usually did. “I’m keeping it on,” said Will. “I’ll be going to watch the Nerrow house after, um, after Selene gets back.” Once again, he stumbled over his words. Keeping up a long-term lie was beginning to tax his reserves.
“Then you’ve recovered your magic?” asked Blake.
Will still hadn’t tested it yet, but he cast a simple spell and conjured a small sphere of visible light, then smiled. His head hadn’t given him even a faint twinge. “It appears so.” Feeling good about the return of his magic, he headed for the kitchen. He wasn’t sure how long he would be out that night, so if he wanted something good to eat, he needed to prepare supper before Tailtiu returned.
Blake accompanied him and graciously accepted Will’s instruction as he coached the older man through the simple process of putting together pottage of peas and ham. It was dark by the time they finished, and Tailtiu still hadn’t returned.
“Should we eat without her?” asked Will.
“That’s entirely up to you, sir.”
He was hungry, so they ate. Unspoken was the fact that if Blake actually believed that the woman returning was Selene, he would almost certainly have had something to say on the matter. I know he knows, but I can’t say it because then he’d have to tell the king. My life is so weird, thought Will.
Stomachs full, the two men leaned back in their chairs. After a few minutes, Will sighed and got to his feet. He’d waited long enough. Something had happened, otherwise Tailtiu would have returned by then. Blake rose to stand as well, his intention clear.
“You can’t come with me, Blake.”
“If you meet that assassin you might not be able to handle him on your own.”
“I’ve got my magic back,” countered Will. “I also have a much better idea how dangerous he is. If I’m going to remain unseen, I can’t have you with me. You should stay here in case Selene returns while I’m gone.”
Blake ground his teeth. “Fine.”
“Help me put my brigandine back on?” asked Will. It wasn’t so much a question as a polite order.
“Are you going to be silencing yourself with magic?”
He nodded.
“Then you’d be better with the mail and breastplate.”
“I might as well wear my greaves and helm too,” said Will sarcastically. “Who wears full armor to sneak around?”
“That chameleon spell hides you better than you could manage on your own. With the silence you don’t really have to worry about the armor.”
The man had a point. “What about flexibility? I may have to crawl around.”
“Crawling might be a chore, but you can handle it, and climbing isn’t a problem for you if it comes to that. Magic, right?”
Will finally agreed. “I bow before your superior wisdom, but no breastplate.”
“A compromise then,” said Blake with a grim smile.
Half an hour later Will left the house clad in mail, helm, and greaves, but he carried no weapons. He had gotten so used to using the limnthal that he kept such things stored within it now. With barely more than a thought he could summon his crossbow, shield, spear, and any of a variety of knives and swords. If he was spotted somehow, his opponent would likely underestimate how well he was armed.
With a chameleon spell masking his appearance and a silence spell on his attire, he would be nearly impossible to see or hear. He just needed to be sure he moved slowly when he might be observed. He still could only manage to keep one spell prepared at a time, so he debated whether he should have a wind-wall or a force-lance ready.
If he chose the wind-wall, he would still require several seconds to invest it with enough power for it to be deadly, but he could use a weaker version defensively to clear the ground around him if he got into trouble. The force-lance he could almost reflex cast. He had been practicing the simple spell almost daily, but it wasn’t quite there yet. If he needed one to attack with, it would take him a second to prepare on the fly, whereas if he kept it ready ahead of time it didn’t need the turyn that a wind-wall would. He could unleash it with just a thought.
But the force-lance is sure to kill anyone it hits, he reminded himself. He chose the wind-wall. He could use it defensively in an instant, or offensively if he took a few seconds to charge it up.
He wondered what had happened to Tailtiu as he slowly made his way from the campus to the city streets and on toward the Nerrow house
. It was unusual for her not to return promptly, but the fae woman was too formidable for anything bad to have happened to her.
“Tailtiu, Tailtiu, Tailtiu,” he whispered to himself. “Thrice called, I summon thee.” Ordinarily saying her name three times would establish a channel between them. Not enough for true communication, it would allow her to let him know if she would answer the call or not at a minimum.
He felt nothing. There was no response at all.
Chapter 8
He stood still on one side of the street for several long minutes, trying to figure out what Tailtiu’s lack of response meant. No, it was more than being ignored, he told himself. It was as if her name didn’t connect at all. Could she be dead? Will shook his head. His aunt was immortal, and while it was possible to kill her, he couldn’t imagine a situation that would lead to her dying.
“She was just watching the Nerrow home,” he muttered to himself. “Surely the assassin couldn’t have killed her.” Anyone that wanted to kill one of the fae would have to be both skilled and knowledgeable. Will wasn’t even entirely certain what it would take. His grandfather had once mentioned the subject while discussing his enemy Elthas. At the time he had mentioned that trapping a fae in the mortal world and keeping it prisoner long enough would cause them to wither away.
But it’s only been a matter of hours, he reminded himself. He began walking again, forcing himself to maintain his painfully slow pace. He wanted nothing more than to run, but ruining his chance at arriving unseen would be foolhardy, especially if whatever had ambushed Tailtiu was still waiting there.
“Stop it, Will,” he admonished himself. “You don’t know she was ambushed. She’s probably fine.” Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself and paid close attention to his surroundings. When he got within two blocks of his father’s city house, he slowed further, until he was taking steps in slow motion.
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