"Well… we also decided to do it with the Dark student in Alchemy." Having magical people in non-magical departments was a rare occasion; magic was usually too tempting, too powerful and easy. "It was hard to convince the Dean of Alchemy to allow us to do that. He is quite protective of his students." Whether the Dean of Alchemy was happy about a dark arall student in his school, letting other departments butt in into his schools' management was not something he would do. If schools go around messing each others' students, what's the point of having separate schools at all? "He gave us a year to do it and told us to stop messing with his school after that."
"And what happened?"
"Nothing. Not even shouting. She learnt to avoid me, and even wrote a very polite complaint to the Dean, but never lost control."
Dave chuckled.
"That must be a first for you. Not managing to make a young uninitiated dark arall lose control at all? When was that? Will I have the chance to meet this student?"
"Oh, yes. It was three years ago, so she's a fourth-year student now."
"Fourth-year, you say?" Dave started rhythmically hitting the table with his pen. It was a habit he had when he was trying to remember something. "I think I remember a dark female fourth year… A certain Miss Bedwen."
"Yes, that's the one. Wait a minute — did you know her before? Is she your family member?”
"I met her in class. She was a bit distracted but came to me at the end of the class to ask whether I'll supervise her minor thesis. And no, just because we share a surname, even a rare one, doesn't mean we're related."
"A thesis, eh? This early in the year?"
"Whatever she's trying to do, be sure: she will write this thesis. And minor or no, I won't allow her to half-arse it. I don't let my students take the easy path — you know me."
Dave was indeed very serious about work. His law firm had been one of the best. It probably would become great again, once they sorted all the power struggles after his sudden departure.
Writing a minor thesis on applied law, reading ancient books on Yllamese history — what was that girl trying to do? In the three years he had observed her, after failing in his duty in the first year (finding that girl's pressure points was a point of pride for him — even if he wasn't allowed to use them anymore). Which brought his mind back to the topic.
"Well, she's in my office — reading those books I bought from a private collection — remember those?”
"Yeah, those ancient books you spent a fortune on, but couldn't get anybody to translate since the only people who know ancient Yllamese are palace scribes? I told you not to trust that dealer — nobody sells actually valuable antiques in secret. They weren't even originals, just a copy of a copy. And unreadable at that." Dave had told him several times not to buy those books. Telling his friend I told you so was one of those things he didn't get to do to Craig that frequently, so he tended to enjoy that.
"Well, that unique prodigy is reading them. As if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. For a report for the history club."
He had searched for an expert on ancient Yllamese for years. In the end, he just donated the books to the department library. Maybe somebody could find a use for them one day. It was a surprise when it happened though.
"Didn't an expert tell you that there are only like thirty people in the world that can read ancient Yllamese fluently — and all of them were in the imperial court?" Dave had tried to help him find a translator, despite being against the book purchase from the beginning.
"Makes you wonder where she learned it. With that surname, her father has to be Kalmari. And it's not like they teach women much in Yllam. You know how they are about women. They even manage to keep dark arall women in the harems."
"And how do they do that?" Anybody who'd met a dark arall woman would know — they don't tend to do what they're told. Even the Inquisition, with their penchant for torture, and unexpected visits hadn't stopped them from behaving like they always did. And during the Reformation, when they demanded they were also given full voting rights, it was decided to give them to all women. Nobody liked the idea of giving special rights to dark arall, but with organized battalions of battle-ready females, it's not like they could deny them those rights. Especially considering magic made dark arall females as strong as ordinary men — even without using the magic. "I couldn't even manage my daughter — headstrong that she was — and look at how she ended up." The death of his daughter in a train accident was a particularly sore point for Dave.
"By making them guards, obviously. Don't even need eunuchs or any of that nonsense. But even a harem guard in the imperial court wouldn't know how to read pictograms Why would they? It's impractical, and they have the modernized alphabet." Craig had spent a long time trying to find anybody who could know the subject and had become a subject matter expert.
"You know, instead of speculating, you could actually check out who her parents are. Every student who gets a scholarship submits a form — it should say the family's details. And she doesn't seem rich."
"Right! Thanks — I should check it out." And with that, Craig went back to his office. He couldn't leave the books unattended for too long — or they could get stolen.
4
I dove right into the book, carefully opening it with my gloved hands. After a while, standing became quite uncomfortable, so I took a chair and sat down. The chairs, although upholstered, were quite hard, but it was still better than standing. There were some interesting ideas I could use for the presentation; I took out the notebook I carried to make notes and started scribbling (making sure to use another table and checking the gloves, as to not damage or smudge the book). Seeing how it's going, I'll probably be able to get enough notes in half an hour. Good. I didn't want to spend much more time on that, anyway.
The book smelled of chemicals used in conservation. Although that part of alchemy was not very interesting to me, I had some practice with the few books father had brought from Yllam. He said they were family heirlooms, and insisted I should get to keep them, as the eldest child (why my brothers couldn't get them, I don't know; it's not like I wanted that antiquated garbage). So he asked me to preserve them after I came back for my first year's summer vacation.
Professor Derwen was paging through his notebook. The usually boisterous and noisy corridors were empty, and I could hear everything. It's one of those things; I can work on a report in the noisiest of pubs, and nothing bothers me, but when I'm in the library, and somebody pages through a book too loudly, I can't really concentrate. Which is why I was quite relieved when he left somewhere. With him gone, I could fully concentrate on the book.
I worked through the whole book and finished reading it before he came back (it was not very long). So, after I wrapped up the notes, I waited for Prof. Derwen to come back to the office (it's not like I could leave the office unattended, even on a Saturday; leaving valuable ancient books unattended is asking for trouble). None of my alchemy courses would accept a one-source literature review, especially one based on such an ancient book. But history is not an exact science (even calling it a science is an insult to alchemy).
Prof. Derwen was taking quite a while to come back from the toilet (why he left me alone in his office in the first place is beyond me). So I went around the office, checking it out. The view from the window, to the park, was quite boring. No trains, no lamps, no people. What's the point of living in a city if all you get to see are trees and flowers? When I got my dorm room, I made sure to get it on the lower floor, to hear the traffic and the drunkards. Nothing puts me to sleep as well as the purr of cars (or in their absence, the screams of drunkards hit during a fight).
As there was nothing else to do, I went to the beginning and started paging through the book again. Something was nagging at me. I went back a few pages, this time paying close attention. After a page or so, I read through an absolutely inane passage on the virtues of bureaucracy and went back again. What did my mind see in that paragraph? I wen
t through it again, symbol by symbol.
And then I realized. The symbol I had seen in that button Captain Greggs showed me was quite similar to this one — or at least my vague recollection of that symbol was. It had been changed, the lines were straighter, less round, simplified. The civilization Captain Greggs told me about was probably a bit older than these books. There was also no mention of how it was used for magic. But there could be other things, maybe in the other books that were under lock and key right now, that would give me more clues.
By the time Prof. Derwen came back, I was going again through the book, trying to find a clue, any small detail, about superior alchemy, or the north of Yllam, or Forg island. Any place name I didn't recognize, I copied down. I would write a letter to father; he would be really glad I was interested in the family legacy.
"Oh, Miss Bedwen. I see that the report for the historical society is going well?" he said, glancing at my notes. His hand seemed to go towards the notebook, but he stopped himself. That's right, we dark arall don't like anybody touching our stuff.
"Oh, yes, Professor. It will be next Friday, as always, at five. I'll be making my presentation then." If he came, there would be an audience of eleven people. Although I was only making this presentation as an excuse to get to the books, it would be nice if it would at least impress some people.
"Looking forward to it, Miss Bedwen. I might even bring a couple of guests."
"Oh, as long as they fit in the hall room." The hall room the history club gets for their meeting is huge. It's probably because nobody has much use for a classroom after five on a Friday (at least non-alcohol related use, that is). So yeah, that was a joke. No way will the hall room get even a quarter full.
"So, are you done with that book? I can get you the next one."
"Thank you."
I dove in straight into the next book. It was newer than the first one I read and didn't seem to contain anything about ancient civilizations. None of the other books did, either. But I did find lots of materials for my presentation.
On Friday, I came slightly late to the history club. I spent a stupid amount of time in the library to find other literature by Yllamese history experts, ancient Kalmari sources (ancient Kalmari is quite unreadable, let me tell you; they may not have pictograms, but they don't have spelling rules, either), and quite a lot of time with the dictionary, reading modern Yllamese historians. I justified that in my mind by thinking of this presentation as the basis of a chapter my minor thesis. Cultural reasons for different laws for alchemy, something like that. When I talked to Prof. Bedwen again after the lecture on Monday, he was quite interested in the topic. I invited him too.
I always tend to create work for myself by making everything way bigger than I intend it to, but this time it went far beyond my usual. When I came to the lecture hall on Friday, the history club geeks (and Joe) were nervously standing outside the classroom. I had arrived barely on time, as I had to haul the posters I made for the presentation (big maps, big pictures; details can't be seen from a few feet away anyway).
"What's the issue? And what are you doing here?" I asked Joe.
"Well, I heard you were making this groundbreaking presentation about ancient Yllam. I had to come to see it." To see me fail, probably. Joe was sometimes too dark, despite being from a completely non-magical family (I checked).
"So what are you guys doing standing here?" I asked, handing Joe all the placards and posters.
When I opened the door, it seemed like the whole light magic department was here. And the dark magic department's dean, too. I spotted Prof. Derwen and Prof. Bedwen sitting, so I approached them.
"Are you here for the history club presentation? Because we've booked the classroom at administration, I checked today. I even have the keys."
"Ah, Miss Bedwen. Don't worry, we just came to see your presentation. And all these gentlemen, too."
Right. This is the moment when an ordinary person would panic. But dark arall don't panic, we get filled with unhealthy enthusiasm. They want to make fun of me? I will make fun of them! I mentally rewrote my whole talk.
The talk I wrote was flying out of the window. When Joe came in carrying all the placards, I just scattered them around the stage in random order. It didn't matter too much anyway. I would improvise.
"Good afternoon," it's better to start on a polite note. "Now that everybody's seated, let me introduce myself. I am Dana Bedwen, student of fourth-year Alchemy. This presentation is an introduction to my minor thesis topic, the comparative analysis of the legal system in relation to alchemy in ancient and modern Yllam, and the recent overtaking in alchemical technologies by the Kalmar's Republic thanks to our modern legal system. I am doing this work together with Prof. Bedwen, who graciously agreed to be my supervisor. As I am just starting, I will only talk about ancient Yllam. We have few sources available in Kalmar, but thanks to the gracious help of Prof. Derwen, I could get hold of and translate some original sources…"
This talk was going to be full of references, boring analysis, and little conjecture. That's right, I am not letting these people humiliate me. My literature search was solid, and I would not let them criticize me for the form of my work. I was going to cross all the t's and dot all the i's. And I also put Prof. Bedwen in the awkward position of having to deny whether he was supervising me (he hadn’t agreed yet, so I hoped this would cement it).
I recited translated passages from memory (try to spend half an hour reading a phrase with a dictionary, and you better memorize it). The citations and the quotes came straight from the sources. I didn't say my opinion on them, as the selection of which data to present made sure I was getting my point across. I sometimes went back to my notebook to read aloud whole sections of the translation I made.
The history club students weren't very interested. Joe seemed to be dozing off. Most of the professors spent the first part of my talk darting annoyed looks at Prof. Derwen (so he was the one who dragged them here), and the second part dozing off. Even I was bored listening to myself.
But here comes the kicker. I hope I buried the lede enough.
"So, despite ample evidence of the existence of dark magicals, and their influence in the development of alchemy, there is no evidence of the existence of light magicals in ancient Yllam. Light magicals gaining power in modern Yllam may be one of the factors stifling alchemical development. But, as I said, this theory needs further research, and I am going to work on this topic this year. Thank you very much. I hope you enjoyed the presentation. Any questions?"
The last phrase seemed to shake the stupor off. I glanced at the room. Only a few people had realized what I'd said. The dean of dark magic smiled at me. She had been aware of what I was doing.
I am just a student. I don't have the status or the knowledge to get away with going against the status quo. And the status quo theory of the duality of magic was that light magic was necessary to counterbalance dark magic, that both needed each other. To suggest that dark magic could exist on its own — that a society could function without light magic — was heresy.
My grandfather was looking at me. He'd looked at me through the whole talk, never glancing away or checking his pocket watch. I guess I could never have fooled him. Lawyers are probably used to sneaky opponents trying to bore them to death. He leaned back, after sitting upright through the whole talk. It seems he was going to let this play out.
Prof. Derwen, who spent the whole talk taking notes, especially when I pointed at posters with some phrases from his books, was now copying the posters. I don't get why he's doing it, considering he has the originals. Trying to catch me on an error? I might have resisted my father's attempts at teaching me calligraphy, but my writing was acceptable. He wouldn't find a significant mistake — I didn't make the extra effort to make it beautiful, but my work was solid. For me, writing had always been about conveying information — not for decoration.
"Any questions?" I repeated, after a minute of awkward silence. Nobody had clap
ped at the end of my talk. They wouldn't — even as a token of politeness. They all sensed that I had just made fun of them, but most of them didn't see how, and those among them who did, were too dignified to respond to an upstart student.
One of them — I don't know his name, but he had been seating next to the dean of light magic (who did realize what I said but wanted his subordinates to crush me rather than doing it himself) spoke first.
"Miss Bedwen. I noticed you quoted the History of the Third Kingdom, but you didn't talk about the refutation made by a respected modern scholar, in Magic through the Kingdoms. Could you explain why you didn't provide contradictory evidence to your thesis?"
Ah, so he was trying to accuse me of bias. I had read Magic through the Kingdoms. Quite a mediocre attempt at debunking previous scholars, let me tell you.
"The author of the book you mention didn't use any additional sources than the History of the Third Kingdom, but he seemed to interpret them differently. However, considering his more modern translation of the sources, you can clearly see he doesn't seem to have understood context properly. As you know, Yllamese is a context-driven language and changing the symbols that surround a word change its meaning. The writer didn't seem to know the meaning of some words, as he guessed them from context. But the writer of the History seemed to have a better understanding of ancient texts. If you look at this poster…"
The Apprentice's Path: The Alchemist #1 Page 4