“You are sure there is one?” Kadka asked. She sat across from him in the flimsy chair he kept for clients—not that he had many of those—with her feet up on his desk. There wasn’t much else in the room, just a few cabinets, a single magelight lamp casting silver light from the corner of the desk, and a folding screen at the back that hid his mattress from sight. Being a ‘magical consultant’ without any magic or University honors hadn’t proven particularly profitable.
“Like I told you before: the flaw in all magic is the mage. They always miss something. Sometimes it’s minor enough not to matter, or obscure enough that it will never come up, but it’s always there. And there has to be a hole in these portal wards, or he couldn’t have done it. I just can’t find it.”
Kadka pulled the diagram to the edge of the desk with one foot and blinked at the glyphs for a moment. “Nonsense to me. Why not write with letters?” Leaning back, she took far too large a swallow of her own whiskey, and didn’t so much as flinch as it went down.
“To avoid the kind of problem I’m looking for. Most languages are a clumsy patchwork, thrown together by necessity. You could use them for spells—the Astra doesn’t care—but you risk all manner of problems with connotations and identical spellings for entirely different things. The lingua magica was designed to be precise. A unique word for everything, a unique glyph for every word. Perfect for casting, in theory, except the person choosing the words can still be an idiot. Nothing can fix that. There’s always a flaw.”
“How do you find, usually?”
“Most of the time it’s easy. Find the flaw in the mage and you’ll find the flaw in the spell. Are they lazy, arrogant, prejudiced? Figure that out and you know what mistakes they’ll make. Those old folktales about some ward that ‘no man shall pass’ and then a woman does? In real life that’s not some epic destiny. It’s because someone with a low opinion of the opposite sex just entirely forgot to consider them. The thing is, though, as far as I can see, this ward is too simple to break.” He traced a line under the glyphs with his finger. “This essentially says ‘no portals into or out of the University campus unless made by the chancellor or one of the deans’. That’s fairly absolute.” Tane took another sip and winced against the burning in his throat. “But there has to be something. And I’m going to find it.”
“You are so sure only you can? Why not your Inspector Indree? Or University mage? They must know magic same as you, yes? Could tell them what we find. Too late for them to take scrollcaster away now.”
“No one born with magic is ever going to see through a spell like I can," Tane said. "That kind of power, you start to forget it’s not perfect. You stop seeing the flaws even when you’re looking for them. Even Indree. She’s always been brilliant, but she’s not going to solve this. She’s a mage. It has to be me.”
Kadka cocked her head at him, curiosity glinting in her yellow eyes. “And you don’t think to quit? Some men would, after mage throws fire at them.”
“If he wants to stop me, it just means I’m close to something. All the more reason to keep looking.”
Kadka laughed. “This is why I like you, Carver. But there is more, I think.”
“Of course there is. Allaea was my—”
She shook her head. “Vengeance for friend I understand, but is not all. You spend four years lying to University to prove you are better than mages, and still you talk about spell like enemy to fight. Is personal for you. Why?”
That was more insightful than he’d expected. Maybe it’s the whiskey. Speaking of which… He took another gulp, and waggled a finger at her. “No, no, no. Everyone we meet has had something to tell you about me, but all I get to know about you is ‘came from Sverna for magic’? I know a dodge when I hear it. No one is that willing to jump in front of spellfire without some reason. You don’t get my story until I get yours. Fair is fair.”
Kadka shifted her heavy lower jaw from side to side for a moment, considering, and then nodded. “Fine. I tell you, you tell me. But you try to get out of this, I find other way to make you pay. Yes?”
Tane raised a solemn hand. “I swear by the Astra, I’ll keep my end.” He probably owed her that much for saving his life, and at least this way he’d be considerably drunker when his turn came.
Kadka took her legs off the desk and sat forward in her chair. “Is not such a long story. When she is young, my mother leaves Sverna, like I do. Goes to Rhien, Audland, Belgrier. Sees many things. In Belgrier, she meets my father. He makes her pregnant with me. But he is human from wealthy family, and this is not so good in Belgrier.”
“I can imagine.” None of the nations on the Continent allowed mages or non-humans to live entirely free. Belgrier was neither the best nor the worst, but they were strict about segregation. For a wealthy Belgrian family, a son having a child by an orc would be an enormous scandal.
“His family has my mother put out of country. Never sees my father again. She does not want to raise me alone, so she comes home to clan. I grow up in Sverna. Is law to serve as soldier there for time when young, so I learn to fight, and to hunt food for clan.” That explained some things—from what little information made it out of their borders, the Svernan army was said to train exceptionally skilled fighters. “But they think human blood is weak. Is… not always good life for me.” Kadka took another long swallow of whiskey to finish her glass, and slid it across the desk to Tane. He refilled it and pushed it back.
“When things are bad, my mother teaches me tongues she has learned, tells of all the things she sees when she travels. Boats and carriages that move by magic, people with wings and dragon scales, cities lit after dark by silver light. One day, she says, I will see all of this myself. For a long time, closest I get is when I am hunting by border of Rhien and one of your ancryst trains goes by, far away over plains. But always I dream of lands where magic is real.
“Then my mother gets sick. She does not get better.” Kadka dipped her head between her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” said Tane. “I… know what that’s like.” Absently, he touched the watch casing in his pocket.
“Thank you.” Her mouth turned up at one side, revealing her teeth. “But is not your turn yet.” She took another long drink, and then, “Without her, nothing is left to keep me there. So I go, like she did. Think I will travel world, see magic everywhere. Get away from place where they look at me and only see human.”
“Did you ever try to find your father?”
“No,” she said firmly. “He had chance. Could have fought for us, left with my mother. He is nothing to me. I leave for me, not for him. But… is not like I dreamed. Not so magical. Everywhere I go, they look at me like I don’t belong. People say Protectorate welcomes all kinds, so I come across channel. It is… better, but still I see how people look at me. Even at University, they only let me join guard because I fight better than the rest. Beat them all, sparring. There is law here, I think?”
“There is,” said Tane. “If you beat the other applicants, they’d have to take you. Can’t turn you down for race—that’s why the Protectorate exists. Although, ask any goblin, they’ll tell you that people find ways around it.”
Kadka nodded. “They are not so sad to see me go, I think. But they do take me, first. Is good to have work, and some in guard are friendly enough. And there is magic here, but not like dreams when I was little. There are discs, and people like I never see before, but mostly I just stand outside doors while they do magic on other side. And then you come, and steal my badge.” She smiled—not her usual toothy grin, but something more wistful. “Today, I see more real magic than my whole life before. Portals and spells and silver fire. Like my dreams.”
“Mages throwing spellfire aren’t exactly the stuff dreams are made of. Nightmares maybe. My friend is dead, Kadka.”
“I know. And I am sorry. I don’t mean that it is good this happens. But today I feel like I have… purpose. Like this is what I am looking for. I want to find this man who kills your
friend. See what he can do, with all his magic. And maybe next fight, I win.” She shrugged. “Does this make sense?”
“Not really,” Tane said. “But… I suppose I understand. If I’m being honest, it’s… not just about Allaea for me, either.” He sighed and took a sip. It burned all the way down. “I wish it was. She deserves that much. But it’s not.”
Kadka rolled her hand in the air. “Keep going, Carver. I tell mine. Your turn.”
“I suppose I have to now.” Another long pull drained his drink, and he poured another. It was keeping his headache at bay, and he was going to need it for this. “First thing, you need to know about my father. He’s gone now, and my mother, but when I was younger, he was a conductor on the ancryst rail.”
Kadka’s eyes widened. “This means he drives it, yes? He must have been great mage.”
“He wasn’t. Or my mother. No magic at all. Mages cast the spells that make the trains run—other people do the everyday work of operating them. That’s the problem. But that… that comes later.” Tane reached into his pocket and took out his watch casing, a battered brass circle covered in old dents and scratches. “This was his. My father’s, I mean. It doesn’t work now, but he used it to keep the time on his route. He’d let me play with it, pretend I was a conductor myself. Sometimes my mother would take me to the station when he was due home, and we’d watch the trains come in. I loved it.” For a moment, the memory made him smile, but it curdled just as quickly. He took another drink.
“When I was thirteen, he took us on a trip. His route went north into the country, and we were going to stay out there for a few days. I’d been on his train before, but this was the first time I was old enough to really take an interest in how it all worked. So the day we left, he took me up to the engine while they were still checking all the parts.
“I still remember everything. An aquamarine array for power, brand new without a hint of clouding. Steel pistons with ancryst cores. Everything polished to a shine inside a brass engine casing. He showed me all of it, every rod and bolt. All those men working on it, and my father in charge of all of them. That stays with me, more than anything.” Another drink, longer this time. “He was looking right at it. All of them were. And they didn’t see anything wrong.
“After, the artificers found that the spells pushing the pistons had been misaligned. Off balance. The train jumped the track at exactly the wrong place, crossing a ravine. Not many people came out alive.” His hands shook as he pulled down the neck of his shirt, enough to show her the beginning of the scars that ran from his collarbone to his navel. “I had to be put together again by mage-surgeons. My parents weren’t so lucky.”
Kadka took in the scars with a solemn frown. “Awful. Carver, if telling is too hard…”
“No, we had a deal. And this was… a long time ago. It’s fine.” But he poured a third glass and took another long sip. The warm whiskey haze made it easier.
“This accident… this is why you don’t like riding discs?”
Tane gestured wide with one hand. “It’s why everything. My father and a dozen other men checked that engine piece by piece, and didn’t see the problem. They knew everything about the mechanics of it. Nothing about the spells. And it was such a simple thing. There’s nothing to it, just basic magic fields. The ancryst does all the work. I don’t know if the mage was lazy, or stupid, or…” He sloshed the whiskey around in his cup. “Or drunk. But if anyone else had known what to look for, it wouldn’t have happened. My parents didn’t have to die. And it didn’t even change anything. They died, and all anyone did was put a new mage in charge of maintaining the engine spells.” He drained half his new glass in a single gulp. It didn’t seem to burn so much anymore.
“So you go to University. Try to show them this.”
He bobbed his head emphatically. “Except it wasn’t that easy. I had no place to go, and no money to pay tuition. I was living in an orphan’s home. Just fooling the University wasn’t good enough—I had to place high enough on the entrance exams to earn a scholarship with room and board. So I worked out every detail. Studied for years, figured out exactly how I would do it. Found ways to get my hands on the books and charms and artifacts I needed, legal or not. Practiced my sleight of hand until I knew every trick by heart. And as soon as I turned eighteen, I took the entrance exams.
“Before the written tests, they make you move a piece of ancryst, just to prove you can. I snuck in a charm to do it for me. Got it past all their detections. Not so hard—they don’t know mundane tricks as well as magical ones.” Tane flipped open his father’s watch case. A coin-sized piece of cloudy green ancryst was anchored inside. No longer shielded by brass, it slid very slowly away from the magelight in the corner. “Palmed the stone as a momento. And it worked. I got the scholarship. Top marks on every test. I thought that would be enough. I was in, and when I graduated without magic, they’d have to listen. But you know how that ended.” He snapped the watch case shut, shoved it back in his pocket, and took another drink.
“And this is why so many are angry with you? You lie about magic?”
“Like Dean Greymond, you mean? Absolutely. And she’s not alone. When word got out, it was an embarrassment to the University, and a lot of people think that was the point. But Indree?” Tane rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s different. When I was expelled, I didn’t exactly tell her about it. We were… close, and I more or less vanished on her. And on Allaea, too.”
Kadka narrowed her eyes. “This is poskan thing to do, Carver.”
He didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he knew it wasn’t good. He raised his hands defensively. “I know. But Greymond and the chancellor asked a lot of questions before they threw me out. About who else knew. Being close to me was going to be a liability, and I didn’t want anyone else dragged down. Thought it would be best if I just… left. Went as far as using divination masking artifacts the first few weeks, in case anyone came looking. It wasn’t my best moment.”
“No,” Kadka agreed, still scowling. He couldn’t blame her—she’d just explained how her father had abandoned his family.
Probably shouldn’t have told her that part. “Indree really wasn’t wrong when she told you I’m not the best person to be around.” He sighed, took another drink. “All of this, with Allaea… I want to find whoever killed her, I really do. To make some kind of amends, even if it’s too late. But it’s more than just that. If I can help solve it…”
“Maybe people see worth of mages with no magic.”
“Yes. Something like that. Spellfire, that’s miserable, isn’t it? She’s dead and I’m worried about proving a point.”
Kadka’s face softened. “Not so bad. You still try to find her killer, just want to honor your mother and father at same time. Is not insult to your friend to want both.” She smiled, surprisingly gentle. “Tell me what she is like, this Allaea. Is good to remember, maybe.”
It might have been the whiskey, but that felt right, just then. Tane didn’t fight it. “I met Indree first. We were fighting it out for top spot in most of our classes. At each other’s throats most of the time, until… until we were at each other’s throats in a different way, I suppose. Allaea was her closest friend. We spent a lot of time together, the three of us. Long nights studying, debating big ideas in their room in the dormitories. And it wasn’t just ‘any friend of hers’ with us. Allaea and I got along right from the start. Which, if you knew her, didn’t happen often.
“She could have been friends with anyone on campus, if she’d wanted. She was funny, pretty, an absolute genius at artifice. Elven, which… it shouldn’t matter, but for some people it does. But she didn’t have the patience. She expected the best from people and she wasn’t shy about letting them know it. And she could be mean.” He smiled fondly. “You know that way that some people can say the worst things, but it feels like a compliment?”
Kadka grinned. “I know this, yes.”
“She was like that. Except if you got o
n her bad side… it could be brutal. The funny thing is, she was also as soft-hearted as anyone I’ve ever known. The kind of person who couldn’t turn a blind eye when someone needed help. Spellfire, the things she’d say to chase off a bully. You wouldn’t believe it. I once heard her call someone a ‘quivering mound of putrid kraken pus’.”
Kadka cackled long and loud. “I like her.”
“So did I,” said Tane. “So did everyone, even with the sharp tongue. People were always making advances, trying to get her attention. She hated it. An elf who looked like she did, they assumed she came from money or power. She didn’t. But if they were decent about it, she’d let them down easy. If they weren’t…” He laughed, remembering. “Well, you get the idea.”
“Sends them away limping on broken pride?”
“Exactly,” said Tane. “And she was good at it. I was on the wrong side of it more than once. Maybe you’ve noticed, but I’m told I can be a tiny bit arrogant, sometimes.”
“Man who thinks he can best any mage in city?” Kadka put a hand to her chest in feigned shock. “No.”
“Well, she never let me get away with it. But when I needed help, she was always there, too. When me and Indree argued—and we would argue—Allaea would usually tell me how to fix it. She knew Indree long before I did, and she always had the answer. She liked us together. ‘There are a lot of idiots she could be with, and you’re probably not the worst,’ was how she put it. From her, it meant a lot.” Tane ducked his head to wipe away the sudden moisture in his eyes. “I miss her. I… don’t think I knew how much until…” He couldn’t finish past the thickness in his throat.
Kadka raised her glass. “To Allaea.”
Tane just clinked his glass against hers, unable to speak. He drained the rest of his drink in a single pull, and Kadka did the same.
The Flaw in All Magic (Magebreakers Book 1) Page 9