Robin held out a hand. “Of course.”
I looked up at him. “But you have to do as I say.”
“As long as you are careful,” Robin said. He was still holding out a hand. “Deal?”
I shook his hand. I didn't know if any promise I made would be bound by magic, but I certainly intended to keep my word. Besides, there was no point in taking chances. He gave me a final look, an odd glimmer of triumph in his eyes, then led the way down to the potions labs. I expected him to go into Lab Thirteen, but instead he took me to Lab Seven.
“This is the one we upperclassmen get to use,” he said. He waved a hand at me. I went deaf, just long enough for him to say a number of words. “They’d do something unspeakable to me if you heard the passwords to lock the doors and unlock the stores.”
I scowled at him. I was so sick of people treating me like an object.
Robin smirked. “Where would you like me to sit?”
I surveyed the room, silently measuring distances. Lab Seven was large enough to pass for a classroom. If Robin sat by the door, he would be over four metres from the workbench. I wasn't sure what was on the other side of the far wall, but I didn't think anyone apart from me would be closer than four metres. That should be enough, I hoped. It was a guess, an educated guess. I just hoped I’d guessed right.
“Sit by the door,” I ordered. “Do not come any closer.”
Robin’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”
“Wait and see,” I said.
I stepped into the storeroom before he could answer. I’d been worried that Magistra Loanda would have confiscated the dragon scales, but there was a large jar of them on the topmost shelf. I dragged a ladder over and scrambled up to get them, then collected the rest of the ingredients and a couple of caldrons. Piling them up on the workbench, I lit the flame under the caldrons and settled back to wait for them to boil.
And if this goes wrong, I thought ...
I felt cold. Rose had sensed something wrong, a moment before the explosion. If Robin was too far away to sense the surge in magic, I wouldn't have any warning before the blast. And while Rose wouldn't be blamed for this experiment, Robin certainly would be. It was possible he might be expelled, although they couldn't strip his academic qualifications. He shouldn't have any trouble finding a job.
I’m being selfish, I thought. I felt a pang of bitter guilt. But I have to know.
The formula seemed to sparkle with potential as I brewed it, then moved to the second caldron and started brewing the potion. I’d deliberately picked the simplest recipe I knew, one nearly everyone mastered on their first attempt. I didn't know if it would minimise the explosion - if there was an explosion - but it was worth a try.
“It looks like a very simple brew,” Robin called. “Care to enlighten me?”
“Not yet,” I called back. “Are you sitting comfortably?”
“I haven’t sat so comfortably in ... oh, the last thirty minutes,” Robin said. “I was flirting with Dana when you summoned me.”
“Sorry,” I said, unapologetically. The liquid was starting to bubble. I hoped that was a good sign. “I would have tried to call you earlier, but I was busy.”
“Cleaning corridors,” Robin said. He snickered. “The Castellan must be really mad at you.”
“He was,” I confirmed. “And we have to keep cleaning corridors for the next few months.”
“Look on the bright side,” Robin advised. “Magister Grayson once threatened to give me so many detentions that my grandchildren would still be serving them.”
I snorted, rudely. “I don’t think he could actually do that.”
“I’m sure he’d have a lot of fun trying,” Robin said, gloomily. “The old bat has always disliked me, ever since I set that firework off in his class. I thought he was going to strangle me on the spot.”
“He’s a genius,” I protested.
“He’s also a very strict teacher,” Robin said.
I looked down at the potion, then checked my watch. It needed to boil for five minutes, unstirred. I wondered, as I counted the seconds, if that was deliberate. Mum had worked with potions for so long that she had to keep herself from infusing magic into the brew while stirring. In hindsight, perhaps that was why she’d let me help her so often.
“I just wish I wasn't so bad at the practicals,” I said, finally. “The theory is great - the practicals are awful.”
“Everyone else thinks it’s the other way round,” Robin pointed out. “I bet you’re the only person in the school that thinks theory is more fun than practical.”
I didn't bother to dispute it as the last of the seconds ticked away. It was time.
“Stay there,” I warned, as I splashed a little of the formula into the caldron. “Don’t come any closer.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Robin said.
I ignored him as I stirred the liquid. The colour changed from brown to green, a pearly light that seemed to float above the potion. I felt my heart jump in my chest. It had worked. It had worked! I’d made it work ...
Carefully, very carefully, I took the caldron off the heat, then bottled up the rest of the formula. Rose had been able to handle the bottle safely, although I wasn't sure what would happen if she touched the liquid with her bare hands. The bottles were crafted to prevent outside influence from harming their contents. I’d have to think - carefully - about how to use it in class. Rose sat too close to me ...
And how close, I asked myself, is too close?
A dozen ideas ran through my mind. I could experiment - I could do a dozen experiments, with a little effort. And then ... I pocketed the formula, thinking hard. What made me special? What made the formula work - for me - when it didn't for everyone else? How did my lack of magic allow me to use the formula ...?
“Make sure you clean up the mess,” Robin warned. “It's almost dinnertime.”
I put the bottles and jars away, then washed up every last trace of my work. The wards would probably record that Robin had entered the lab, ensuring that he would be blamed for any mess. I grinned at him as he showed me out, then surprised myself by giving him a hug.
“Thank you,” I said. “I ... thank you!”
Robin nodded. He looked relieved. “Just remember you owe me a favour,” he said, firmly. “And I will call on it one day.”
“I know,” I said. I didn't blame him for being relieved. No matter what I’d said, he would have been in deep trouble if there had been an explosion. “And I will repay it.”
I would have to pay, I knew. Magic or not, I’d given my word and I intended to keep it. I hoped he wouldn't want something too onerous. It would be dishonourable to ask for something I couldn't reasonably give him. And even if I was wrong ...
The bottle felt warm, in my pocket. Robin didn't know it, but he’d helped me prove my theory. I could make the formula! It hadn't been dumb luck. And now I knew I could do something, I could figure out how to use it.
And something was nagging at the back of my mind. Something important.
But what?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rose hadn't been quite sure what to make of it, when I went back to the library - after hiding the remains of the formula in my trunk - and told her everything. On one hand, the formula worked as long as no active magician came close; on the other hand, it wasn't as if we could use the formula in class. If Rose’s mere presence at the table could cause an explosion, I hated to think what would happen with nineteen student magicians and a full-fledged Master Brewer. There was no way I could risk using the formula. I wasn't even sure what would happen if I carried it into the room.
“At least you know it works,” Rose said. She gave me a worried look. “What will Robin want from you?”
I shrugged. “Nothing in a hurry,” I said. “He’ll wait until the favour is worth calling in.”
Rose didn't look reassured. “What if he asks you to give him an apprenticeship?”
I shook my head.
“He wouldn't want one with me,” I said. “I could urge my father to take him on, but there would be no guarantee my father would agree. Robin will wait until I have something I can reasonably give him, something he actually wants.”
“I hope you’re right,” Rose said. “What happens if you say no?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t have any magic.”
We went for dinner, then straight to bed. I slept well that night, ignoring Isabella’s snide remarks and getting up early enough to read before classes. It felt like a good omen, but it wasn't. Potions class was a disaster, a disaster made worse by my success the previous evening. And even History was surprisingly dull for me, even though Rose seemed surprisingly fascinated. I was relieved beyond measure when we finally lined up to go into Forgery. Maybe, just maybe, I could lose myself in a few hours of craftsmanship.
“So tell me,” Magister Tallyman said, once we were in his classroom and the doors were firmly shut. “What is this?”
He held up a sword in a scabbard. I stared at it, feeling a wave of genuine admiration for the long-dead artisan. A green gemstone had been placed in the pommel of the sword; five more ran down the scabbard, with a sixth clearly missing. The scabbard itself was silver, decorated with gold thread. Magister Tallyman drew the sword in one smooth motion and held it up, allowing the blade to catch the light. Someone had carved runes into the sword, each one a different shape. It was truly magnificent.
“An Object of Power,” Isabella guessed. She was sitting next to Akin, her face pinched. I didn't know what was bothering her and I didn't really care. Maybe she’d expected a more catty response to her spiteful comments. “And one that’s now useless, or you wouldn't be showing it to us.”
Akin elbowed her, hard. Magister Tallyman gave him a sharp look, then nodded.
“Correct,” he said. “According to legend, this sword was made for one of the ruling families of the empire. The sword blade would glow like the sun, cutting through everything it touched, while the scabbard protected its wearer against all curses and even sped up his healing. If this was in working order, it would be literally priceless.
“As it is--” he held up the scabbard to reveal the missing gem “--someone decided that an emerald would be better used elsewhere and accidentally rendered the sword useless.”
I frowned as he put the sword and scabbard down on the table. Why would anyone destroy such a priceless artefact? It was literally irreplaceable, utterly impossible to repair. My father would expend most of his fortune to buy a working model, if one was on the market. The bidding war would probably bankrupt half the kingdom, if not the city. And yet, it looked so easy to repair. A replacement gemstone ...
“We know how they did it,” Magister Tallyman continued. He dropped a book - a copy of a copy - on the table. “The techniques are well understood. And yet, we cannot produce a sword that lasts longer than a few months. The complexities of the magic used to produce them are beyond us. They should not be, but they are.”
He strode around the room. “And there are other sets of instructions in here, ranging from protective charms to weapons,” he added. “Half of them cannot be duplicated at all - and half of them simply don’t work for very long. A basic protective charm amulet needs to be constantly renewed if it is to hold out, even without a real challenge. Something more complex--” he nodded towards an evil-looking manikin in the far corner “--simply won’t last very long at all.”
I glanced at Rose. She looked tired, dark circles clearly visible around her eyes. It had been a long day.
“The runic diagrams that you are going to use to make the swords are very simple,” Magister Tallyman informed us. He waved a hand at the blackboard, causing the runes to appear in front of us. “You will note that the first rune corresponds to sharpness, the second to solidity, the third to weight ... put together, working in unison, they ensure that the sword will cut through almost anything - easily. It is important, vitally important, that you line them up and link them properly. The results of making a mistake will be shattering, literally.”
I nodded. Runic magic was simple, as long as everything was perfect. A mistake, even a tiny misalignment, could be disastrous. Getting one rune wrong was irritating enough, but getting it wrong when all three runes were linked together would ruin the entire network. It was why Magister Von Rupert and his partner drilled us so extensively. A mistake in the wrong place could lead to outright disaster.
“Check and recheck everything,” Magister Tallyman continued. “Do not attempt to insert the silver - or the gold - before you are sure that everything is perfect. If you make a serious mistake that cannot be corrected, put your work in the bin and start again. There are no prizes for something that is almost perfect. I’ve known bladesmen who lost limbs - or worse - because they didn't take care of their runes.”
Sir Griffons keeps complaining about it, I thought. His swords keep breaking in combat.
I kept my expression blank. Dad had said - when he thought we couldn't hear - that Sir Griffons didn't bother to take care of his swords. He didn't seem to understand that there was no such thing as a sigil that kept the other three runes intact, not if he wanted to take advantage of their magic. Or that carving his name on the sword would speed up the runic decay. I supposed it didn't matter that much, really, as long as the kingdom didn't go to war. A bunch of burly knights crashing around on the jousting field - and losing, because their swords and armour didn't last - wasn't that much of a problem. Very few people were actually killed ...
Of course not, I thought. The protective spells see to that.
Rose nudged me. Magister Tallyman was still speaking.
“We’ll be spending the afternoon working on swords,” Magister Tallyman said. “Follow the instructions precisely. I want you to see what you make of the instructions. My assistants--” he looked at Akin and me “--will provide advice, if you need it.”
I would have preferred to craft my own sword, or work on a Device of Power, but I didn't really have a choice. Magister Tallyman hadn't banned me from the workroom - with or without supervision - and I really didn't want to annoy him. Rose hurried to a workbench to collect her supplies while I reread the instructions. They didn't look to have changed since the last edition of the book, the one I’d used back home. Forge the sword out of iron, carve a number of runes into the blade and it would last for a few weeks. An experienced forger might just be able to make one that would last a year.
Akin and I moved from table to table, watching as the swords were carefully hammered into shape. Thankfully, most blacksmiths preferred to use a proper forge rather than use magic to melt the iron and mould it into shape. Rose was doing well, for someone who had never worked with metal less than two months ago, but Isabella was having problems. I dreaded trying to help her and was silently relieved when Akin moved in to assist.
“You can try a sword later,” Magister Tallyman told us. “I’m going to need some complex help on Saturday.”
I swallowed. “I have detention.”
Magister Tallyman looked displeased, although not with me. “I shall discuss the matter with the Castellan,” he said. “I require assistants to help with my project.”
I groaned, inwardly, as he headed off to assist one of the boys. The Castellan would not be pleased, I was sure. Nor would the janitor. Maybe they’d just give me double detention on Sunday. Or maybe Magister Tallyman would be told to forget having me as an assistant. His work was important, but so was school discipline.
The hour passed slowly, very slowly. None of the swords looked very good. A couple of the boys started a mock swordfight, only to have their blades shatter on impact. Magister Tallyman gave them both a sharp lecture, then assigned detention. I did my best to ignore the racket, instead thumbing through the textbook while Rose cleaned up her work. There were a lot of Objects of Power listed, magical tools we’d long since forgotten how to make. One of them even promised to store magic and release it on command. I
could use it ...
“You will all be making more swords as we proceed through the next four years,” Magister Tallyman informed us, when class finally came to an end. “By then--” he shot a nasty look at the two swordsmen “--I expect you to actually know what you’re doing. There are skills that you need to master before you can go to join the upperclassmen.”
Rose caught my arm. “Are you going to the library?”
“I want to use the workroom,” I said. It felt like I was abandoning her, but I needed some devices for my experiments. “Is that okay?”
“Just make sure you don't do anything stupid,” Rose said. She looked downcast. I couldn't help another stab of guilt. “I’ll be in the library.”
I nodded, then turned to study the sword. The pommel felt cold to the touch, while the handle felt oddly uneven. I’d expected it to feel like the family sword, but that felt perfect when I drew it from the stone. The blade itself looked ... saggy, although I wasn't quite sure where I got that impression. I touched it and frowned. It didn't feel very solid. I couldn't help feeling that a single hard poke would be enough to shatter it.
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