He looked up at me and grunted a welcome, then pointed to a stool. I sat down and watched as he returned to his experiment, studying his face with great interest. No one would ever call him handsome. His face was covered in scars - so were his hands and legs - and his eyes had a distinctly piggish look, as if someone had botched a transfiguration and been unable to undo the damage. I knew a number of students, particularly firsties, were scared of him, something I had always found a little unfair. Magister Tallyman was a perfectionist, an intensely demanding teacher ... but I had never doubted his commitment to teaching - or to student safety. No one had died in his class.
“Akin,” he said. His voice had grown gruffer, I thought. “Tell me what you make of this.”
I nodded, then studied the device on the table. It was ... odd, to say the least. A collection of lenses, held together by gold wire ... I couldn’t see what it was designed to do. A Device of Power? I couldn’t sense any knot of magic surrounding it either. Beside it, a pair of makeshift Objects of Power sat on the table. I didn’t need to ask to know that Cat hadn’t made them. The Objects of Power were already coming apart. Magister Tallyman must have made them himself.
And he didn’t put any real effort into it either, I noted. The forging had worked - the slow disintegration was proof that something magical had happened - but there was no elegance to it. He didn’t intend for them to last.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, finally. Magister Tallyman wasn’t the sort of teacher who’d mock a student for ignorance. Better to admit ignorance than try to make up an answer. “What is it?”
“A microscope,” Magister Tallyman said. “Lawrence suggested it, damn the man.”
I blinked. Lawrence? It took me a moment to realise he meant Magister Niven. I only knew his first name through reading one of his books. The average Magister wouldn’t share his name - or anything personal - with his students. I didn’t even know Magister Tallyman’s first name.
“That is a microscope?” I leaned closer, puzzling it out. “There are no magnifying spells ...”
“No.” Magister Tallyman sounded more irritated than amused, although it didn’t sound as though he was irritated with me. “There are no spells involved, just carefully carved and placed lenses. Lawrence was quite determined on that point. The less magic, the better.”
“It works?” I found it hard to believe that anything as complex as a microscope could work without magic. “What do you see?”
“There are ways to produce lenses that correct eyesight problems,” Magister Tallyman informed me, as if I hadn’t already known it. “They’re rare - eyesight can be easily corrected through magic - but they can be made. And they work. I just had to develop the concept a little further to make a magicless microscope.”
“Impressive,” I said. I didn’t see the point, but it was impressive. “What do you see?”
Magister Tallyman stood. “Come and have a look,” he said. “Close one eye and put the other to the uppermost lens.”
I walked around the desk and did as I was told. The lens seemed to shift oddly as I closed my eyes - it was nowhere near as simple as a magnifying spell - but otherwise it seemed to work perfectly. Magister Tallyman picked up one of the Objects of Power and slid it under the bottom lens. My vision blurred, just for a second. And then ...
I blinked. “What?”
The Object of Power was ... corroding. I stared, trying to make out what I was seeing. The material - the combination of metal and wood - was coming apart at a molecular level, while the gemstone at the top was already dull and lifeless. I peered down at the gem, carefully tracing out the fragmented lines within the rock. It would be invisible to the naked eye, I was sure, but it was there. The Object of Power was already useless.
“It’s coming apart,” I said, in disbelief. I’d seen disintegration spells, but they worked very fast. This process, whatever it was, was happening so slowly that it was practically impossible to perceive. “What’s happening?”
Magister Tallyman let out a short laugh. “I have no idea,” he said. “But I’ve checked and rechecked. Every Object of Power I’ve forged starts to corrode almost immediately. The rate of corrosion varies, but the Object of Power is rendered useless very quickly. And the kicker, the kicker, is that the process accelerates when I try using magnification spells. It sped things up so fast, the Object practically exploded in my face.”
I glanced at him, concerned. Were those new scars?
“Don’t worry about it.” Magister Tallyman dismissed my concern with a wave of his scarred hand. “There’s always danger in research, as you know as well as I.”
I nodded. Cat had nearly killed herself - and Rose - back in first year. I’d nearly blown off my own hands twice, the second coming very close to giving me a set of scars to match my teacher’s. And there were forgers - and alchemists - who set out to make a whole new breakthrough, only to accidentally blow themselves up instead. There were a handful of places where the grass would never grow again, thanks to their experiments. No one knew what they’d been messing with - or why. No one had ever found their bodies either.
“I’m still studying it,” Magister Tallyman said. “But it’s curious. Your betrothed doesn’t seem to have the same problem.”
“No,” I said. “Cat’s Objects of Power work.”
“Yes.” Magister Tallyman studied the microscope for a moment, his eyes contemplative. “And she appears to be unique.”
“She cannot be unique,” I said. Father had argued as much, when he’d been convincing the family council to support the betrothal. There would be others and, given time, they would be found. “Once others are found ...”
“If,” Magister Tallyman corrected. “Lawrence had a theory about that, but ... it isn’t one I can share.”
Cat can probably get it out of him, I thought mulishly. And why wouldn’t he share it with me?
“I’ve been fiddling, trying to see if I can determine something useful about the corrosion effect,” Magister Tallyman said. “But, so far, I cannot even determine why it exists. All I can say for certain is that it does.”
“Cat has no magic,” I reminded him. “And she has no problems with ... corrosion. That cannot be a coincidence.”
“Quite.” Magister Tallyman nodded in agreement. “But I’ve been experimenting with working from a distance, both through magic and remote devices. Neither one has succeeded in producing an Object of Power. It may be a question of delicacy, as my remote hands lack the delicacy of my real hands, but it may also have something to do with the magic involved in their creation. If magic is required for potions brewing, forging may require a certain absence of power.”
I frowned. It was hard to believe, but Cat was living proof there was some truth to it.
“What about Devices of Power?” I took another look through the microscope. “Do they have the same problem?”
“They might.” Magister Tallyman seemed unsure. “Objects of Power last indefinitely, as long as they’re not destroyed or purposely damaged. Devices of Power, on the other hand, do not. They can be repaired, but they can also be worn down through overuse. I’ve looked” - he shrugged heavily - “and I haven’t been able to see any proof they are corroding. But they do decay, so something may be at work.”
I tried to sound reassuring. “We’ll figure it out.”
“I certainly hope so.” Magister Tallyman stood, brushing pieces of sawdust and metal filings off his apron. “Anyway, I assume you came here for a reason?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “First, I was wondering if I could continue to use the workshops ...?”
Magister Tallyman stroked his misshapen chin. “For the Challenge, I assume?”
“Yes.” There was no point in trying to deny it. “It would be very useful.”
“Perhaps.” Magister Tallyman made a show of thinking about it. “Yes, you can. And you can draw on the supplies, as you did before. Same rules and regs. But I would also have to give the same faciliti
es to anyone else who thought to ask. Better to have them forging in here, where it’s relatively safe, than have them do it in their bedroom.”
“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t disagree. “I wasn’t asking for exclusive rights.”
“A good thing too,” Magister Tallyman said. He shook his head. “Complete waste of time, you know. You should be proving yourself in other ways.”
I wished I didn’t agree. “It has to be done,” I said. “Do you know what we have to do?”
“I’ve been sworn to secrecy.” Magister Tallyman grinned, toothily. “I don’t know why they bothered. There isn’t a student alive who could force me to talk.”
“No, sir,” I said. “Did you take the Challenge yourself?”
“I was too busy learning my trade,” Magister Tallyman said. He smiled in happy memory. “You know, I don’t even remember who was crowned Wizard Regnant that year. But I do remember the first time I crafted a warding base for my master.”
“Oh,” I said. A thought struck me. Magister Tallyman was old enough to be my father. “Do you remember my father? As a student?”
Magister Tallyman shook his head, slowly. “He and his brother weren’t in my year. I knew who they were, of course, but they didn’t really impinge on me. They just weren’t important.”
Father wouldn’t like to hear that, I thought, amused. Father was one of the most powerful men in the city. To be dismissed so casually ... it was a little surprising. Father knew quite a bit about forging. Magister Tallyman should have known him better if they’d shared an interest in common. But then, Father couldn’t take up an apprenticeship either.
I shrugged. “I don’t suppose you know what happened when Father took the Challenge?”
“I didn’t care enough to take note, at the time,” Magister Tallyman said. “You’d be better off asking him. Or Hugh. He’s been here since before the Fall.”
“Hugh?”
“Magister Von Rupert,” Magister Tallyman explained. “He was a teacher here when I was a lad.”
Back in the days of the terrible lizards, I thought. I wasn’t fool enough to say that out loud. Magister Tallyman liked me, as far as I could tell, but there were limits. But if the old gent is that old, will he even remember?
Magister Tallyman cleared his throat. “Was there anything else? Or do you want to help me forge another Device of Power?”
“I wish I had time,” I said, honestly. “But yes, there was something else. I met a younger student” - I described Markus, quickly - “who wants to be your TA.”
“Does he now?” Magister Tallyman seemed amused. “He does have potential, I’ll give him that. But why do you care?”
I frowned. I honestly wasn’t sure. There was a bit of me that felt a certain ... kinship with Markus. We weren’t related, as far as I knew, but we had something in common. And it wasn't as if we were competing. There was nothing to be gained by sabotaging Markus’s schooling. Magister Tallyman couldn’t make me his apprentice when I had to study under Father instead.
“I want to make sure that students have the best support,” I said, carefully. It wasn’t a lie, not really. “And a fourth-year might be more helpful than I.”
Magister Tallyman looked as if he wanted to lift his eyebrows, if indeed he had any eyebrows left. “And is that true?”
“Sort of,” I admitted.
It was true. It was rare - almost unknown - for a firstie to serve as a TA. I’d had problems with my own year, let alone older students. If I hadn’t had the family name, I might have had as many ... issues ... as Louise. It was bad enough being lectured by another student without that student being two or three years younger than me. Markus, at least, wouldn’t have that problem.
“And how much of your request comes from concern for me,” Magister Tallyman asked, “and how much of it comes from a desire to build up a collection of favours owed to you?”
“A little of both.” There was no point in trying to deny it, either. Father was right. I’d wasted the time I could have spent building up a patronage network for myself. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
“True,” Magister Tallyman agreed. “Tell you what. I’ll test Markus. If he has the potential - enough potential - I’ll give him the chance. If he doesn’t, I’ll take it out on you. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Good.” Magister Tallyman gave me a toothy smile. It was far too easy to see that half of his teeth were missing. “Now go away, unless you wish to help.”
I bowed, then hurried through the door. I’d gambled on impulse ... Father had always told me to trust my instincts, but this could easily blow up in my face. Magister Tallyman hadn’t been joking, when he said he’d take it out on me. A failure this early in my career as a patron would throw my entire future into doubt. And Father would be furious.
My legs carried me slowly up towards my suite. Someone had pinned a list of team leaders and members on the noticeboard at the top of the stairs. I stopped and scanned it thoughtfully. Alana had five listed team members already, while Ayesha and Zeya McDonald had three. I reminded myself that was still five. The McDonald twins were close, so close they were practically a single entity. Neither Cat nor I had ever had that sort of relationship with our siblings. Below them, Hamish Bolingbroke and I both had four team members each. Adam Mortimer was still on his own.
Four teams, I mused. Five, if you count Adam.
I shook my head slowly, then made my way down to the suite. If we had no way to know what was coming, we’d just have to try to prepare for everything. And we’d have to do our best to cover all the bases. But how could we? Did we need to bring food and drink as well as weapons and tools? Medical supplies? Or could we count on the spectators coming to our aid?
My blood ran cold. People have died during the Challenge ...
I pushed open the door. Alana was sitting at her desk, working her way through some paperwork. The hall monitors list, from what I could see. I rubbed my eyes. I was going to have to patrol the halls myself, at some point. Tuesday, probably. I didn’t have any classes until the afternoon, so I could sleep in afterwards ... she looked up at me and smiled, tiredly.
“I hear you put Puce and her suitors in detention,” she said. “What happened?”
“I caught them being bullies.” Puce ... Puce Harkness. A minor house, without much influence, but strong ties to Bolingbroke. I wondered if Hamish or Clarian were going to give me a hard time over it. I found it hard to care. “They can flirt while writing lines.”
Alana’s smile widened, just for a second. “Well put.”
I shrugged. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Ask any question you like,” Alana said. “I don’t promise an answer.”
“Hah,” I said. “Is it just me ... or is the Challenge really silly?”
“An easy question.” Alana grinned. “It’s just you.”
“We could die on the field,” I reminded her. “Our bodies might never be found.”
Alana considered it for a moment. “If you didn’t want to take the risk, you shouldn’t have signed up in the first place.”
I glared. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” Alana said. “Dad taught me that, after ... everything.”
She shrugged. “Take the Challenge. Do everything in your power to try to win. Or choose to back out, now, and deal with the consequences. There comes a point where there is nothing to be gained from whining. Either you up and play the game ...”
“Or get called a coward by all and sundry,” I said. “If it was just me ...”
“Then ditch the jock, the smartass and the dumbo,” Alana said. “Go alone, if you must.”
“I can’t do that,” I objected.
“Then stop moaning,” Alana told me.
“Really,” I said, as I headed for my bedroom. “You can talk.”
She gave me a sweet smile. “And do. Frequently.”
Chapter Fourteen
“This ... this ... is where you want to practice spells?” Louise sounded as if I’d made an indecent suggestion. “This dusty old tomb?”
“It’s a classroom, not a tomb,” I pointed out.
“Practically identical, I would say.” Francis laughed. “Do you have a better idea?”
I looked around, trying to see it through their eyes. The classroom had been abandoned decades - perhaps centuries - ago, the bookshelves and cupboards long since stripped of anything useful. Thirty desks sat in neat rows, their tops open to reveal that the compartments underneath were as empty as their matching chairs. I was surprised someone hadn’t removed the desks and put them somewhere else. They might be decades out of fashion, but they were still usable. They didn’t seem to have soaked up enough magic to make them dangerous. The room itself was perfectly usable.
(The Zero Enigma Book 6) The Family Pride Page 14