by Rick Field
The bathtub vanished the water when she touched a few control runes, and she stepped up to a washbasin. The mirror was completely steamed over, which didn't matter too much. She had no particular desire to see her bath-induced wrinkles.
She did hold the washcloth under an icy stream of cold water, used it to wipe down her face, then dried herself off. Her body still held a lot of residual heat from the hot water, so she was not cold at all.
Grabbing a fresh set of underwear and some indoor robes, she dressed herself in comfortable clothes. It was time to go work on her magic.
Descending all the stairs down to the deepest basement took almost no effort, the relaxed state of her bath staying with her. Finally, she descended into her final destination, the deepest basement of her home. Support columns held up the rest of the house, while two large cubes reached from the floor to the ceiling, completely covered with magical writing.
Those two cubes were the anchors of her house, holding up her powerful enchantments. They were both placed about a third of the home away from each other and the walls, and Liane walked to the spot in between them, where a large and comfortable pillow was present on the otherwise empty floor. The entire lower basement was devoid of any furniture or storage, except for that one pillow, and a small rack carrying an assortment of wooden weapons right next to the only entrance.
She sat down on the pillow and crossed her legs. She relaxed for a while, letting her mind drift on the waves of her consciousness. She wasn't sinking into a meditative state, she was waiting for something.
It took only five minutes, but to Liane's meditation-distorted sense of time, it could have taken a moment or an hour. Dominique entered, carrying a serving tray. Without interrupting the Noble's concentration, he set up a small heater and placed the cast-iron tea pot on top of it. He set a small, empty cup on a saucer next to the heater, then placed the bowl with sugar on the floor as well.
Still without speaking, he left. Liane noticed all of it without being aware of it, and hardly spared a thought to how well he had learned not to disturb her when she was in here. Her hand reached out of its own accord and poured her a cup of the freshly-brewed Iron Belly tea.
The liquid glowed rust-red in the magical lights of the basement. The MagicWarper placed the pot back on the heater, the magical device making sure the water would be kept at the right temperature. Dominique knew better then to leave the tea leaves in the pot. He would have brought her tea that had been steeped enough and could sit.
She emptied her cup, not even tasting the heavy flavor, instead she felt it go down to sit heavily on her empty stomach. It would suffice for now. She would drink the rest after she was done.
Her eyes closed, and her relaxed state gave way to a trance. No longer could she feel her crossed legs or the constant cave-like temperature of the deep basement. Her body didn't exist; her mind was free of mortal bonds. All that existed was her, Liane, the MagicWarper, her sense of self, her mind; her awareness… her magic.
As it had been when she had last seen it in New York, her magic was encompassed by thread upon thread of magic, each strand carefully placed to ensure the stability of her fractured and unstable magical core. Except for the part she had needed to patch, and that part would be where she would focus her attention now.
The patch came off without effort, the very fact that it was removed so easily demonstrating how unsuitable it was for an extended period of time. With the patch removed, she looked at the damage. The threads had unraveled, torn under stress. There would be no repairing them, they would have to be completely replaced.
Deep inside her trance, Liane didn't feel annoyance or pressure, she simply existed. Her mind knew what had to be done, so she did it.
She looked at the first frayed thread, tracing one part through the entire fabric of her reinforcements. She started working on it, digging, pulling, pushing, and wiggling it out from the other threads that bound it in place. It was time-consuming and would have been mind-numbingly boring had she been able to feel anything.
However, as she was without sensation of anything beyond the task at hand, she just worked on the thread, removing it from the other threads, one at a time. After it was completely removed, she was able to vanish it, now that it was no longer locked by its perpendicularly weaved colleagues. She focused on the other side of the thread she had just removed, the part that existed beyond the break.
She removed that one as well. Then she focused on the second broken thread, removing those two strands as well. And then the third.
Finally she was done. She had removed the three broken threads, not broken any others, and could finally get on with her task of patching her protective weave.
Liane's consciousness paused, looking incredulously at the white glowing power of her magic pushing at the weak spot that now existed within her woven protective shield. She did not feel a sense of urgency as such, yet consciously realized that she would have to hurry. With no time to lose, she shifted her focus from the weakness in her magical fabric to weaving in the replacement threads.
Her lips formed words, sounds she did not consciously hear. With perfectionist attention to detail, she weaved a new thread into the fabric surrounding her core, anchoring it to the north-south central axis, weaving it completely around her core, above and below, above and below, each of the perpendicular threads that had been anchored to the east-west axis.
After finally threading completely around, she anchored the thread back to the north-south axis. The first thread was done.
She weaved the second one, just as meticulously as the first, ignoring her unstable magic straining against the weakness, pushing and clamoring to destroy her hard work, to gain freedom.
She knew she could not allow it. The moment her protection failed, the results would be catastrophic. She would gain unimaginable power for a few moments, before her magic would vanish in the wind, lost forever.
She could not and would not allow it to happen. The second thread was complete, and her magic settled, as if recognizing its moment of opportunity had passed and now docilely allowing her to weave her third thread to once more complete its woven capsule. Her magic couldn't think for itself, of course. It merely reacted to various stimuli, settling down only when her protections sealed it off from the outside world.
The young Noble blinked her eyes open, feeling the stiffness pervading her body. She stretched inelegantly for a few moments, reveling in the discomfort of her body. After an extended time in trance, it felt good just to be able to feel, even if that sensation was one of pain.
The tea was still as warm as when she had left it, and she eagerly poured herself a cup. This time, she was generous with sugar, and drank it in one gulp. The warmth and strength of the tea revived her, the sugar gave her a much-needed boost of energy. She finished the pot in short order. Picking up the tea set with a spoken word of magic, she left the basement, eager for some food. After repairing her magic, food sounded just fine.
Chapter Two
Liane sat at the back of the room, her staff of office leaning against her right shoulder. Dressed in her usual crystal-blue robes with animated fire decorations, she watched the proceedings with a small smile. She remembered when she had been the one in the spotlight, and remembered it fondly.
Paying only partial attention to the proceedings, the Pillar fondly recalled her past before her thoughts eventually turned to the future. Just yesterday her plans had been derailed; she had worked hard to finish her latest assignment to be able to slip away for a few hours to watch this event. Those 'few hours' became a two week enforced vacation when she went to turn in her report to her Overseer.
What would she do now? She had few things scheduled, magical research still held her interest but she had been working so hard lately that she hadn't been able to start a new project in quite some time. Maybe a trip to the library was in order.
The Lord Master was speaking, and his voice thrummed in her chest. Even after all these years, th
e Lord Master's power resonated deep within her magic. “After careful deliberation, this panel has accepted the masterpiece submitted by the Lady Amy Ice-mistress to be of sufficient stature and complexity to be recognized as such, and to grant her the title of Master Mage. Congratulations, Master Mage Amy Ice-mistress.”
She applauded politely along with the other people in the room. Although the Rules of Equality were still officially in place, the presence of parents was tolerated at the final graduation ceremony. It was, after all, one of the last days of the new masters at the Academy, one way or the other. Should they fail, they would be normal mages and warlocks. If they succeeded, they became masters.
The Pillar resisted the urge to widen her smile. She may be proud of her former Assistant, but that did not mean she could break Decorum. The new master had left the room, and the panel of masters prepared for the next graduation ceremony. Liane stood up to leave, along with a few other Nobles that she assumed were her former Assistant's parents.
The MagicWarper nodded politely to the older couple, then made her way to the Academy's library. The silver fountain, Magic to the Wielder, showed her some incredibly strange contraption that made no sense to her. She hadn't gotten many chances to visit the Academy since becoming Pillar, and she rather missed the opportunity to play with the fountain.
She studied the fountain's reflection for a few minutes, thinking nothing and feeling empty, before giving up. Breaking her minor trance, she felt rather disappointed at her magic's resistance. It probably was in one of its moods, it had done so on a few occasions while she was a student. On those days, she could stare at the fountain for hours and not make any progress.
Or maybe it was because of the way she had it bound in an effort to keep it stable. Liane resisted the urge to sigh. She loved Magic to the Wielder, and wished her magic was in a cooperative mood. For a few more minutes, she simply looked at it, looking but not playing or working. The strange contraption hadn't changed since she got here, but now she simply studied it, rather than what it was supposed to represent – the core of her magic. Once again, like so many times in the past, she pondered what other Nobles saw when they looked at the fountain.
Finally, drawing a deep breath, Liane blinked twice to break eye-contact and turned to walk to the laboratory building. The library was waiting for her.
Instead of walking, she stopped when she noticed a young Mage standing in her path. A young Mage that she had just witnessed being promoted to Master, a Mage who now had a small boy with her. A Mage that had been waiting patiently while she looked at the fountain, with the ease and familiarity of someone who was used to not interrupting her while she was doing strange and unusual things. For a moment, a spike of gratitude when through Liane, grateful that she had been allowed her few moments, and grateful that the mage that was now in front of her hadn't forgotten her.
“My Lady Liane, the MagicWarper,” Amy said. “It was an honor to see you witness my graduation ceremony.” The new Master seemed to glow, her eyes sparking, a slightly-wider-than-normal smile on her lips, but otherwise quite composed under Decorum.
Liane's lips tugged into a wider smile as well. “Lady Amy Ice-mistress,” she replied in greeting, for a moment needing to consciously think about not using the 'Assistant' moniker. “It was my pleasure. I had the availability, how could I not witness the graduation of my former Assistant?”
Amy dipped her head. “May I ask whether you have a few moments for your old Assistant?”
Liane felt her smile go from genuine to rueful at the blatant attempt of working her heart-strings. For a moment, the Pillar debated whether or not to call the younger woman on it. It had been five years since they had seen each other face-to-face. The only contact had been the exchange of letters; did she really want to start this with teasing the younger woman?
“I was planning on visiting the library, as my superiors have decided to grant me some paid leave yesterday. I have not had an opportunity to do so in some time,” Liane said. “So I am sure I can spare the time. How can I be of assistance?” No, she didn't want to start with teasing her former Assistant.
Amy stepped back and motioned to the laboratory building. “Perhaps we can find an empty chamber we can seal off while we talk, My Lady,” the younger mage suggested, seeming both eager to talk to her, and steadfast in her notion they needed privacy.
Liane felt intrigued by the offer. Why would Amy request privacy? Perhaps it had something to do with the development of magic. Liane stepped forward in agreement. “Perhaps,” she allowed. “Lead the way, My Lady.” She wasn't going to oppose anything that gave her an excuse to spend some time with the new Master Mage, and if sealing off a room was what she wanted, then Liane felt only too happy to oblige.
As they walked inside, Amy looked at her former Proctor. “In the meantime, allow me to introduce my Assistant, Arno Woodcrafter. Assistant, this is My Lady Liane, the MagicWarper, Pillar of Kiria, and my former Proctor.”
Liane glanced at the young boy she had been ignoring up until now. A male mage. How interesting. “Assistant,” she said, agreeably. Inwardly, the MagicWarper felt rather happy, happy that her former Assistant had taken an Assistant of her own, and had thought to look beyond the surface.
“It is an honor to meet you, My Lady. Proctor spoke of you often,” the boy replied, succeeding pretty well in hiding the nervousness from his voice. He looked rather skittish, and Liane hoped it was just nerves and not intimidation on her part that was causing the boy to be anxious.
“The good things are true. The bad things are not, Assistant,” Liane replied levelly, attempting to lighten his mood with some humor. The boy blinked, not expecting that for an answer. It would have worked on Afraim, she was sure of it. Men confused her often, even men as young as this Assistant.
“Your levity will confuse the poor Assistant, My Lady,” Amy said, interrupting Liane's train of thought. “I have him convinced you can walk on water and breathe fire, you will ruin your own reputation.”
“Walking on water merely requires a small spell to change the surface tension of the liquid. Breathing fire is a bit trickier but is good for scaring small children, My Lady,” Liane replied, calmly. “Neither is especially difficult, although one should take precautions when doing fire-breathing to prevent setting fire to surrounding objects or burning one's mouth.” She carefully schooled her face into neutrality, not wanting to give away that she had developed those spells after reading a fantasy novel.
Amy looked slowly at her former Proctor, as if wondering whether she was telling the truth or not. Liane ignored her, and looked at the stunned-looking boy. “Your Proctor made an excellent Assistant, but she always had a bit of a problem with her imagination. I have often surprised her with what was possible and what was not.” She puckered her lips and spat a small blob of fire at the wall. It dissipated harmlessly against the school's protections. “Like breathing fire, for example.”
For a moment, Liane felt uncomfortable with the look of adoration and worship that appeared on the young Assistant's face. She had her answer now, he was nervous because of her, probably her station in life, and the reputation that Amy had bestowed on her. She was sure that, had she asked, the boy would have gone out and built a shrine for her. Liane didn't want adoration or adulation, she preferred working where people didn't know of her or her reputation.
“You always were the most surprising Mage at the Academy, My Lady,” Amy said, shaking her head, once more breaking Liane's train of thought. The senior Mage was glad for it.
“Not as surprising as it is to find you with a unique Assistant,” Liane replied easily, without thinking about it. It was a bit disconcerting to see how easily she slipped back into the easy rapport she had with Amy. The awed boy looked away when his status was mentioned.
“I have learnt from my own Proctor not to look at the first appearance of a Mage,” Amy said, glancing at Arno, who maintained the correct position behind his Proctor's right shoulder. “It took a
lot of courage on his part to defy society's rules, and even more so to aim for the highest point.”
Plenty of questions welled up within Liane's mind, and she had to forcefully remind herself that this was not an interrogation. “I am pleased you found yourself a worthy Assistant, My Lady,” she said as they reached the top floor of the laboratory building. They stepped into the nearest empty room, and the Pillar vanished the door. She had always liked that spell. Lifting her staff, she intoned an added privacy barrier.
“I can guarantee that we are now in private, My Lady. What was on your mind?” the senior mage asked, turning to face her former Assistant. She was rather curious about what the younger Mage wanted, and was looking forward to hearing it. Whatever it was, it should be something good, or Amy wouldn't have requested the private room.
“I wished to ask your help, My Lady,” Amy answered, sounding a bit self-conscious all of a sudden. “I wish to know how one goes about making a work of legend.”