by J. B. Markes
The entrance was far from the end of the tunnel, so I reached into my satchel for something to mark the location of the doorway. I settled on one of the blank wands I had purchased for Gustobald before we left the magic city. It was an expensive trail marker, and my heart sank a bit as I stabbed it into the clay wall near the tunnel's ceiling and entered the lab.
The musty smell of the outside tunnel was gone, replaced by the dryness of the bright chamber. I canceled my darksight to block out the clutter of stimuli that assaulted me the moment I entered. Despite its humble locale, the lab was well-furnished, with enough space that each apparatus had its own table or counter. There was room left over in the main chamber for a storage area at the back with a dozen rows of standing shelves.
"Isabel." Airlea looked up from her lens as Chalke took a seat by the door. Her work apron was plain and practical, though obviously the product of a master craftsman. "You didn't have to make the trip all the way down here, but I'm glad you did. The lab can get lonely at times."
"Is Master Xavier here?"
"Not at the moment. Did you need to see him?"
"The opposite," I said. I walked around the outer edge of the room, taking in the sights. I passed by an alchemist's booth with apparatuses organized in tight formation, dusty in their state of disuse. It brought to mind my friend Harper Lazrus; the genius alchemist-in-training would never allow his equipment to go unmaintained.
I passed a few writing stations in better condition than the one in my dimly lit quarters. There was a stack of scrolls bound with black velvet ribbons, as well as singed parchments from failed scribing attempts. My heart went out to the apprentice, and I shook my head at Gustobald's careless interruption of my own scribing session.
There was a stack of multicolored crystal shards piled in the corner. Whereas Gustobald's light crystals were base quartz, these appeared to be precious and semi-precious stones. It was clearly for the sake of luxury, as the ambient lighting was maintained by huge glass orbs hovering at regular intervals overhead, all carefully positioned so as not to cast one's shadow across workspaces.
Next came the shelves with preserved reagents, in conspicuous quantities considering the idle state of the alembics. Farther still was a line of bookcases claiming five yards of wall space. There were tomes written by wizards and researchers I had never even heard of. Part of me was still tempted to linger over the manifester lore, despite my inability to cast the more powerful spells.
"You can borrow whatever you like," Airlea said, watching me with a patient smile. "As long as you bring it back before you leave. Father would notice if anything went permanently missing."
"I don't suppose you have anything on necromancy?" I asked, but she shook her head. "I still have trouble with the verbals."
"Necromancy is forbidden," she replied, growing pale as she glanced at Sentinel Chalke. "At least, it is in the capital."
"No books on sacrificing children to demon lords, either, I suppose?"
Finally her posture softened and she offered a smile. "We're not as progressive as the magic school, I guess."
"Oh, believe me. They're not so accepting there either." I flipped my thumb along the spines until a name jumped out at me. I jerked the book from the shelf and stared at the worn cover. It was exhilarating just to hold it in my hands. I flipped through the pages looking for secrets. "You have Jaironys!"
"If you say so," she said. "We have many texts, some having nothing to do with spellcraft at all. But I don't have much use for anything outside of divination or the occasional potion recipe."
"Orinaster refers to Jaironys often in his writings," I said. "He's considered the father of modern manifestation, but not even the Tower of Hands has a copy. Do you have any idea how much this is worth?"
She shook her head and gave me a welcome-to-it wave, so I slipped the priceless volume into my satchel. Once again I marveled at her nonchalance in the face of her own wealth. Gold was nothing to her. I weaved through the tables and stands on my way to Airlea. Many displayed garishly exotic curios that I'm certain had never seen use in a diviner's lab.
"I promise I'll return it soon," I said. "But I'm actually here on behalf of Gustobald."
"I assumed you were," she said. "You're here to set the terms?"
"Master Xavier already did that. To the death, remember?"
"It's in the stars," she replied. "This duel will take place one way or another." She must have seen the last ounce of hope drain out of me, because she placed her hand on my shoulder and shook me lightly. "Let me show you something." She relinquished her place at the lens of the spy apparatus and motioned with her head for me to try.
Lying flat on the table was a canvas painting depicting rolling hills under a night sky. Barely visible in the distance was an unfamiliar city, a stone shadow nearly swallowed by the void above. I mustered my patience and peered through the glass. The brush strokes were difficult to make out even under magnification.
"It's not a painting," I said. "It's a magical reproduction. Still, the quality suggests a skilled artificer."
"You're right," she said with a frown. "The image was captured from a stone wall mural not far south of here, in a cave at the foot of the Cloudspires. Some of it was embellished—the coloring and intensity—but the underlying framework is an exact copy."
"Are you interested in cave paintings?"
"Not particularly. But this star is not where it should be," she said, tapping the canvas irreverently. "Not for today, that is."
"The original artist probably made a mistake," I said. "It's just a painting."
"It's the Boreal Torch." Her glower reminded me to be more sensitive to her field of study, but I didn't even have enough knowledge to feel ashamed of my ignorance. "There is no mistaking it."
"Okay. So?"
"Understanding the art of astrology relies entirely on where the stars are and where they will be. The heavens don't follow a repeated cycle, whatever our mortal eyes might see. We must know the exact location of the stars and wanderers to make accurate predictions—easy enough to plot out for the immediate future, but less so in deep time."
"What does it mean?" I took a second look at the stars in the painting, now mysterious and foreboding as they safeguarded their message across millennia.
"For one, it seems the stars cannot be trusted to keep their course any more than we can. But the more information we have, the better off we are."
"Do you know the outcome of the duel?" I asked, tired of the diversion. "Can it be altered?"
"There would be little use for astrologists if it couldn't." Her devilish grin put me at ease.
"What do we do?"
"We do our jobs as seconds. Let's set the terms."
"Not to the death, then," I said. "To first blow."
"Unacceptable. My master will never allow it."
"Then I don't understand."
"No natural casting of spells," she said, the same tricky smile reappearing. "Wands only. And, of course, we make the wands ourselves. But what spell to choose for the wands?"
"Training wands." I said, finally understanding her optimism. "Minor force evocations."
"Let them fight to the death, if they can manage it. It's all about saving face. They'll bluster about, recover their honor, and blame us for giving them non-lethal wands. They blame us, and that's where it ends. Unless, of course, you're interested in their duel passing to us."
"No thanks."
"Custom would have you supply my master's wand," Airlea said. "And vice versa. Let's set the charge at only ten casts. How are you feeling? I know you've been under the weather the past few days."
"I think I can manage a training wand," I said. Until that moment, I had imagined Airlea knew nothing of my condition, but her tone said otherwise. It was unreasonable to think my latest episode would go unnoticed around the palace. Secrets among Sentinels, indeed. "Ten charges it is."
"Please stick to the code. If you don't supply the wand by the night befor
e the duel, I will be forced to craft Pitch's wand for you at the last minute."
"I said I can handle it."
"Good. Now that I've chosen the weapon, you choose the time and place."
"Dusk. On the east road, just out of sight from the city walls."
"Just to be clear," she said, pulling a wand from her pocket. "There is every possibility they will turn to natural casting once they've discovered the wands are proofed. It would be against the terms, but who can control the masters or the stars? It would still be best to end this before the day of the duel."
"I'll do what I can to get an apology before then." I twisted my wrist and brought out my own wand, placing it over my heart. "But I doubt it will help. Gustobald is so stubborn."
"Very well. The terms are set," she replied, covering her own heart with her rosewood stalk.
"Don't worry," Sentinel Chalke said, throwing me off the moment. I so often forgot his lurking. "I'll be there as well. If they violate the terms, I'll strike them both down."
I waited for Airlea to say something, but she was caught off guard, as well. "We don't want to see anyone hurt," I said. "That's the whole point."
"It's the risk they've chosen to take, especially since they know that dueling is forbidden."
"Only within the boundaries of the city," I said, angry at myself for defending Gustobald's foolishness.
"And frowned upon outside." Sentinel Chalke left his chair and moved back to the doorway. "So long as they use proofed wands to subdue one another—and only subdue—we'll have no trouble. But give me one reason to step in and I will end it permanently. I'm through with these kids' games. Now, you've relayed your message and set your terms. It's time you returned to your room. I have important matters to attend."
"Don't worry about it," Airlea said. "We'll talk later. Let me know if you need help with the wand."
I tried to disguise my contempt, but for all I knew she was right. Chalke took me by the arm as he would a child and escorted me back to the earthen corridor. The walk back to the castle proper seemed shorter this time, mainly due to the sentinel's quickened pace.
"Why are you so upset?" I asked as we approached my room.
"I like you, Miss Ives, but your master has caused me no end of trouble. You were invited to find Prince Jasper, not to engage in this madness. You should remain in your quarters until you remember why you were brought here."
"Who do you think you are?" I asked, but he just opened the door to my room and shoved me inside as if tossing me into a dungeon cell. I heard the door lock behind me and looked to Gustobald for support, but as usual he was nowhere to be found.
Chapter 13
I made the most of my captivity, lighting an arcane fire on the hearth to keep the room bathed in steady orange light. I removed the spent scrolls off the table from days before, tossed them on the fire, and resituated the table to better bask in the warmth and light. I only had one blank wand left, but it was all I would need. I spent the next few hours preparing the workspace.
Wand-crafting, like scroll-scribing, is not difficult so much as it is time-consuming. More powerful wands can take days to imbue, depending on the spell or whether it can cast more than one type of magic. Like most tasks, the process can be completed faster with the aid of an assistant, which is the reason apprenticeship was invented in the first place. Fortunately, a training wand has but a fraction of the charge of a proper wand, and thus takes little effort to complete in one sitting—for a healthy wizard, that is.
I was just completing the cantrip to neutralize the table when I heard Regina Abernathy call my name. It was startling to hear her voice ring out so clearly in my mind. I fished through the bags and found the small box containing the jadeshell earring she had gifted me. Once the bracket was clasped around the upper lobe of my left ear, I rubbed its smooth curves and closed my eyes.
"Can you hear me?" I asked as I felt the pinprick on my forehead.
Izzy! Tell me all about the capital.
"It's a big place, but nowhere near as beautiful as the magic school. You're not missing anything. The palace is stifling."
I resumed the cleansing ritual, laying the wand in the middle of the table and waving my hands over the entire area. The wand had lost its polish being pushed around in the bottom of my satchel, but its luster steadily returned with each pass of my fanned fingers.
I would give anything to visit. I think you're forgetting how drab the Tower of Hands can be. Did you say the palace? Was someone killed at the palace?
Her words shook me from my casting and my heart stopped. "Oh gods, Regina. Forget I said anything, please. Don't get me in trouble."
Me get you into trouble? That would be a nice change. And you know I can't forget, so tell me more. Did you meet the king?
"I can't say."
That means yes.
"Can we please change the subject?"
Fine. Harper Lazrus sends his regards.
I sighed, unsure if my frustration would be translated by telepathy. "Is he there with you now?" Too late I realized I had abandoned the enchantment ritual, so I started over. It was faster going the second time. Within seconds the wand was as shiny as new and ready for charging.
No. But I met with him a few days ago to let him know you left. He was heartbroken.
"How's my cat?" I removed the tri-legged imbuing stand from the duffel bag and put it in the middle of the table, repeating the purification spell. Once it was ready, I levitated the chestnut stalk upright into the stacked brass rings so that its tip was pointed at the ceiling directly above. I paused to rub my forehead; the earring was already giving me a headache.
She's the fattest cat I've ever seen. Are you busy? You seem more distracted than usual.
"I'm making a wand," I replied, leaving the apparatus temporarily in order to catch my breath.
Did you lose your wand again?
"No. It's a long story." I could already feel the intoxicating effects of the magic in my blood. There was an empty basin in the corner, so I manifested some clean water to dab the sweat from my face. "I really don't know what we're doing here, Regina. I don't think Gustobald's going to solve this one. His mind is elsewhere. Most of the time, they keep me locked up like a prisoner. And neither of us can walk around without an escort watching our every move."
Doesn't sound like the Izzy I know. My Izzy would walk right up to the king and tell him what she thought of the situation.
"And be promptly tossed in the dungeon for the rest of her short life."
You've no allies at all?
Looking back, I was clearly spelldrunk at the time, but a dangerous idea took hold in the back of my mind. Regina was right. If I was to get anywhere at all in this investigation, I would need help. I would need freedom of movement. I would need to stop this duel. Problem after problem crept up like a hydra rearing its heads, but I suddenly realized a scenario where I could fell the beast in one swing.
"What time is it?" I asked. "I lost track again since I don't have a window."
It's just afternoon. Are you okay?
"I'm fine. I need to remove the earring so it doesn't interfere with my charge, but thanks for the chat. I mean it."
Keep in touch. Let me know if you need me to come break you out of there.
I tossed the shell back into its box and buried it under the crumpled travel clothes in my duffel, then returned to work. I repeated the words of power in my mind until the wand accepted the spell. My work was done. The charging stand would keep the wand stable until the enchantment took hold. I grabbed my personal wand before putting my ear against the door. I couldn't hear anything.
I whispered the basic divination to enhance my hearing. It dulled my other senses as it took effect, but I could tell there was no one on the other side. It was a useful spell but once I was on the move, the thick stone walls could hide any number of guards or sentinels. I needed something stronger; I needed Gustobald's necromancy.
"Sangkhar—Hakra." I stumbled a
cross the necrospeech, knowing the words were wrong before they even came out. I made another clumsy attempt that had no greater effect than making me angry. I kicked the bedpost on the way back to the duffel to retrieve my scroll case, which contained many spells I was yet unable to cast on my own. I sifted through the pages until I found the one with 'life-sight' scrawled across the upper margin in Gustobald's plain script. I couldn't find any illusions that would help me along the way, so I dipped into Gustobald's potion stash for the clear one labeled 'invisibility'.
I read the necromancy scroll four times to no effect. The writing was as difficult as the pronunciation. But then I remembered. I went back to my duffel and searched the pockets of my travel robes until I found the prince's reading glasses. Luckily they weren't damaged from being stuffed into the bag. When I put them on, the indecipherable parts of the necrospeech cleared instantly.
"Thank you," I said, reading the scroll and giving a silent cheer as the script finally burned away, leaving a useless charred parchment behind. I tossed it into the fireplace and marveled at the sight of my glowing hands, which were bright with my pulsing life flow. I could see straight through the skin to the shimmering veins beneath. The sight of my blood quickening knocked me off my nerve, so I turned back to the door and searched the outer hall. It was devoid of life.
Every initiate wizard learns the transmutation to break a lock, so the door gave me no trouble. I heard the latch give and pushed into the hallway. Through the stone, I could see two shining circulatory systems around the corner to the left, so I closed the door as quietly as possible and hurried right.
Before long I came to what I hoped to be the only door between me and my destination. Of course it was closed tight, and I could see its guard's life essence just beyond the wooden barrier. For lack of better options I decided on destruction of the king's property. I pointed two fingers at the top door hinge and scorched the surrounding wood.
It only took a few seconds and a couple ounces of ash for the door to collapse under its own weight. The banded wood landed with a crunch, but the door clung faithfully to its bottom hinge. The guard was in motion, so I yanked the stopper from the potion vial and quaffed it in one go. I looked down at my body but couldn't tell if the potion had taken effect.