Page 16 of Twisted Magic

Alise didn’t bother to point out that their father had any number of choices from the many lateral branches of their enormous family. Sometimes it did more harm than good for a wizard to manifest young. On the flip side, someone like Han had suffered for years, waiting to discover if he’d be a wizard or familiar, manifesting so late that it had caused him all kinds of problems. But for Nander to gain such rank and power before he’d learned much about how the world worked would deform his already weak character. Guiltily, she remembered she was supposed to give him a message, too. She should’ve said so right away, rather than falling into the old pattern of bickering with her bratty little brother.

“Nic asked me to give you her love and good wishes,” Alise said. “She also asked me to tell you that House Phel will cover your education, too, should you wish to separate yourself from our father.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” he said on a sneer of contempt. “As if I’d give up being head of House Elal to go live in the swamps with the outcasts and losers.”

“Be careful around our father,” she advised, knowing Nander wouldn’t listen, but feeling she should say something anyway. That Nic would want her to. “He cares only about himself and maintaining his power in the Convocation. He’s also been up to something nefarious with—”

Nander cut her off with a barked out laugh, that unfortunately broke with his recently changed voice, ending in an ignominious squeak that had him flushing angrily. “Listen, little alley cat, you are the one who should be careful. Papa blames you both for losing his eye, and for Maman’s death, and he’s going to make—”

“Wait,” Alise interrupted, appalled that their father was telling people Maman was dead, “Maman isn’t—”

“Alise Elal,” a voice broke in with calm authority. Both Alise and Nander whirled in habitual guilt at the Hanneil proctor’s sudden appearance. He eyed them sourly, no doubt using his magic to divine their thoughts. “I believe you’re tardy for an appointment with Provost Uriel, Wizard Alise. And you, Wizard Ferdinand, I don’t know where you’re supposed to be, but I highly doubt it’s here.”

“No, Proctor,” Nander muttered. “I—”

The proctor held up a hand to stop him, wizard-black eyes focusing, a buzz of Hanneil psychic magic in the air. “Ah, you are meant to be in your Remedial Wizardry practicum.” The proctor glared owlishly at Nander. “I’m registering a demerit for you, Wizard Ferdinand. I suggest you get yourself to your practicum immediately and attempt to learn something. Now, and with haste,” he added, when Nander hesitated, opening his mouth to say something to Alise.

Nander hastened away as instructed, glancing once over his shoulder at Alise and mouthing something she couldn’t make out and didn’t care to. She would have to find him later and make him listen to the truth about Maman and what their father had done.

“As for you, Alise Elal,” the proctor announced, “I shall escort you to the provost’s office.”

“I know the way, Proctor.”

“That may be true, but you’ve also demonstrated that you cannot be trusted. If Provost Uriel agrees to reinstate you as a student, you’ll find your liberties will be severely restricted. Come along.” He gestured up the stairs, then fell into step beside her.

If Provost Uriel agrees… Alise had thought it was all settled. As little as Alise liked returning to Convocation Academy, she liked the idea of being turned away even less. It gave her a queasy sense of failure, thinking about letting down Nic and Gabriel and everyone else at House Phel. And before she’d even begun.

Despite the scolding over her tardiness, she had to wait outside the provost’s office, literally kicking her heels in an antique chair too high for her to touch her feet to the ground. It made her feel like a little kid, which she suspected was deliberate. At last the provost’s aide and familiar received a tiny Ratsiel courier for interoffice communication and nodded at Alise to go in. “You can leave your bag out here,” he said, not unkindly. “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

Empty handed and wishing she’d had the opportunity to clean up a little from her journey, Alise entered the provost’s office for the first time in her life. High in one of the building turrets, the office was ringed with a semi-circle of windows giving an expansive view of campus. Beautifully furnished, the room reeked of academia and storied tradition. The provost herself sat at a grand desk, her silver hair elaborately piled on her head, her skin dewy from the attention of grooming imps, though a spiderweb of lines fanned out from her wizard-black eyes. Those eyes observed Alise with keen insight, her House Uriel magic assessing and weighing Alise uncomfortably.

Uriel was another high house, like Hanneil, that bred and recruited wizards strongly gifted in psychic magic. Theirs, however, focused entirely on learning, academia, and interpretation of the law. Rumor had it that Hanneil and Uriel, once a single house, fought bitterly behind the scenes over more than young wizards with high MP scores in psychic magic. The original schism had reputedly occurred over the ethical application of their magic. In the current day, Uriel wizards ended up in many administration positions, or served on august bodies like the Convocation judicial council.

“Alise Elal,” the Provost said in a strong voice that belied her ethereal appearance, “you and your sister, both, have managed to give me considerable headaches. What in the dark arts is going on with House Elal?”

A bit startled by the question, Alise allowed herself to take a breath and order her thoughts. “Begging your pardon, Provost Uriel, but my sister, Lady Phel, had already graduated from Convocation Academy before her…difficulties.”

“Do you imply that her behavior is thus not my problem?” She sniffed delicately. “Quite the contrary. Convocation Academy prides itself on educating familiars as well as wizards. For a Convocation Academy graduate, especially a familiar of Lady Phel’s birth rank and MP scores to run off, in blatant disobedience to her house, her wizard, and Convocation proctor, violating all the ethics taught to her, reflects poorly on all of us. And, as amply demonstrated by ensuing events, in which another Elal, one of our outstanding wizard students, also runs off, this time abducting an additional two familiars, Lady Phel created a plague that must be disinfected decisively, lest utter chaos come down upon us all.”

Had Nic and Gabriel realized what Alise would be facing in coming back here? She rather doubted it. She also had no idea what to say. She dearly wanted to argue that she’d hardly abducted Han and Iliana, but the Convocation wouldn’t see it that way. Familiars weren’t considered to have much autonomy. In Nic’s case, she’d “run off” on her own, so there was no wizard to blame, but Alise had been the responsible party in the escape of Han and Iliana. They couldn’t have done it without her. She supposed that was the best route to take: accept responsibility. Especially since Provost Uriel waited expectantly, clearly holding out for some sort of reply from Alise.

“I regret my role in casting a shadow on the reputation of Convocation Academy,” she said, with perfect honesty. “I know there is no justification for my actions, but I am committed to mending my ways. I’ve returned to school to learn to be an upstanding citizen of the Convocation and to be the best wizard I can be.”

The provost eyed her, no doubt mentally testing the truth of Alise’s words, the depth of her commitment. Alise concentrated on her sincere desire to do just that. After all, if Alise had to be here, she might as well do her very best. And graduate as quickly as possible, so she could return to House Phel.

“Why should we take the risk?” Provost Uriel asked bluntly. “You’ve demonstrated that you’re hardly a grateful or worthy recipient of the education here. Why should I believe you won’t revert to your ill-considered behavior the moment some lovelorn familiar appeals to your soft heart and softer head?”

Insulted, irritated, Alise nearly pointed out that the provost’s Uriel magic ought to tell her, but she managed to restrain herself. The wizard watched Alise cannily, awaiting an explanation, or a guarantee, which the provost would then assess for veracity. Why indeed? Alise wondered. She could hardly say because her clandestine mission to ferret out information for House Phel mattered to her more than helping out anyone else, nor would it be convincing to point out that the specific set of circumstances that had led to her assisting Han and Iliana in their escape was highly unlikely to recur.

“Because I’ve learned from this experience,” she answered, knowing that much to be absolutely true. “Both my heart and head are harder now. I’ve witnessed the results of both Nic’s actions and Han and Iliana’s, how much they’ve suffered. And I have something that matters to me now more than any other considerations. I have a home at House Phel—if I graduate properly and do them honor with it. Lord Phel has agreed to pay my way, for which I’m immensely grateful. I’d die before I’d do anything to disappoint him and House Phel.”

The provost studied Alise a long moment more, then let out a soft sigh. “How is Nic doing?” Catching Alise’s startled reaction, the provost chuckled. “I’m not a monster, young Elal. Nic was one of our best and brightest. I was among those truly startled when she manifested as a familiar, rather than a wizard. And her difficulties, as you so delicately phrase it, came as a sorrow to me. I do wish that… Well, water under the bridge. She’s Lady Phel now and, while I understand there are a number of legal questions yet to be settled, she’s not my problem anymore.”

“She is doing well,” Alise ventured, not at all sure of her footing in this wildly altered conversation. “Happy. She and Lord Phel are working hard to rebuild House Phel.”

Provost Uriel dropped her gaze to the mirror-polished surface of her desk, tapping one finger idly. “They won’t have an easy go of it, with the forces arrayed against them,” she commented, as if noting the season. “You might remind her that House Uriel, at least, still falls on the side of ethics and the rule of law.” Before Alise could reply to that rather astonishing statement, one that sounded like a warning, the provost pinned Alise with a sharp, obsidian stare. “You are re-admitted to Convocation Academy on a probationary basis. You will have a strict curfew, numerous social restrictions, and a heavy course load that should ensure you won’t have time or inclination for any shenanigans.”

The provost withdrew two sheets of paper from a drawer in the desk and passed them to Alise. One, a long list of the rules and restrictions, made Alise’s heart sink. How could she sneak about and do research under these strictures? The other, her courseload, was intimidatingly long. She’d be lucky to find time to eat most days and, with the amount of studying she’d have to do to keep up with them all, sleep would become a luxury. And to think Nic had sent Alise back to school in part because she’d become exhausted at House Phel.

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