Page 7 of Reluctant Wizard

“With all due respect, Provost,” he’d replied with dignity, and deciding to discuss the cards, since she’d already laid them on the table, “I am a scholar, a devotee of the rational mind. Have I ever given any indication of being the sort of person to capitulate to wild and inadvisable feelings?”

“No,” she said musingly. “Your intentions are pure—admirably so—but you would not be the first to find their better judgment and convictions eroding beneath the constant twin pressures of proximity and unrequited yearning. Don’t underestimate the pressure you will be under.”

He flushed, embarrassed by her too-accurate assessment of his mental and emotional state. “I will govern myself impeccably.”

“See that you do,” she replied, not unkindly, but with an authoritative mental tap of reinforcement. “None of us needs another Szarina incident,” she added meaningfully. “Least of all you.”

The flush burned. “I am well aware of the mistakes I made there.”

“I would hope so. Therefore I shall not caution you further. Alise Phel’s independent study is of great personal interest to me. You will do everything in your power to assist her and protect the project from… interference.”

The way she said “interference” had him frowning. “Is there something I should know, Provost?”

“Nothing you don’t already know, Wizard Harahel, if you’ve been paying attention to the politics of the last several centuries. If you haven’t, then you don’t deserve to be employed at my academy.”

He absorbed that with a nod of acknowledgment. “If I may, Provost—I do believe the aborted excursion to House Harahel will still be necessary to successfully complete this project. I’ll need Alise to accompany me for an official petition.”

“I do wish,” the provost replied acerbically, “that you would have considered that prioritization before you allowed your student charge to hare off on a dangerous jaunt instead of continuing on that approved mission. Had you remained firm, we might already be in possession of the information we need.”

Cillian had nothing to say to that. Nothing relevant, anyway. He could explain that Alise—a far more powerful wizard than he—had threatened to use a warrior spirit to remove him from the carriage while she reprogrammed the air elemental driving it to take her to her new destination. The choice for him had been to go with her or be left by the side of the road.

“I understand,” the provost said on a sigh, reading into him more than he liked, “that it can be difficult to handle our young wizards when their abilities so outstrip our own. But that is the sacred charge of the staff and faculty at Convocation Academy. We are here not only to educate our students in their magical abilities, but also to teach them restraint, to guide them away from their worst impulses during these formative years.”

Cillian bit back two replies—an annoyed one that this teaching of restraint clearly didn’t have a lasting effect, given the behavior of most wizards in the Convocation, and a somewhat desperate explanation that he was only a librarian who wasn’t supposed to be guiding students anywhere except to the appropriate shelves for the books they sought. Provost Uriel fixed her black gaze on him, as if daring him to speak his thoughts. If he did, he knew she would assign someone else to assist Alise. And that he wouldn’t be able to bear.

“I understand, Provost.”

“You are her friend, Cillian,” Tandiya said, dropping some of her stern formality. “I don’t expect you to out-magic a wizard of Alise’s nascent ability. I don’t expect you to govern her, as we both know that probably nobody can. There are few wizards in the entire Convocation with the ability to contain her should she truly wield her magic to its fullest potential. What I do expect is that you will be there for her and show her the way. She respects you and has affection for you, however you managed that. I don’t know of anyone else at Convocation Academy that she trusts like she trusts you.”

That was news to him. “Did she say that?” he blurted in his flattered surprise.

Fully Provost Uriel again, she frowned at him sternly and tapped her temple. “Of course not. She is reticent and wary of confidences, our young and reluctant wizard. But she does trust that you will not betray her, as she rather expects everyone else to do. It’s a powerful tool, that regard for you.”

“I won’t abuse that trust,” he replied stiffly, horrified at the thought of that implicit betrayal.

“Exactly,” the provost answered with a smile. “Therefore, yes, you may arrange a second expedition to House Harahel as soon as Alise’s coursework allows. Need I specify that you will journey only to House Harahel and nowhere else?”

“No, Provost. Thank you. I won’t let you down this time.”

“See that you don’t. I leave our young wizard in your hands. Don’t make me sorry.”

The provost’s words echoed in Cillian’s head as he studied the note he’d written to Alise. He needed to strike the right balance, to be her mentor as in the tales, not the romantic lead. That wasn’t a new thought for him. Cillian had never been leading man material. He was the secondary character, at best, there to point the way, to open the right book, perhaps be the best friend. Well then, he would accept his fate and be the best friend and mentor for Alise that he could. And, when the time came for her to move along, he’d let her go with a smile.

Perhaps there could be a place for him in her life, in that minor role. He imagined a future where he’d visit her at the famously spectacular House Elal, where she would receive him as Lady Elal, enthusiastically squeezing his hands, perhaps exclaiming in delight over some rare tome he’d discovered and brought to her. They would sit in the library by the fire, or outdoors on a warm summer evening, and discuss philosophy and Convocation politics. She would ask his advice and he would give her thoughtful answers. People would take note and nod knowingly, commenting on their longstanding friendship. There could be a joy in that.

Reviewing the note he’d penned a third time, he decided it sounded appropriately professional. He added what should be welcome news that the provost had approved a new excursion to House Harahel. Smiling to himself, he anticipated seeing Alise in the library that evening to discuss their strategy. She’d been concerned about the coursework she’d missed, fretting about the backlog on their journey back to Convocation Academy. He could play mentor there, too, helping her prioritize her workload, perhaps even assisting with some of the more academic assignments. He could be her tutor on some subjects. Lay the groundwork for that lifelong friendship and advisory position he envisioned.

Satisfied that he could sublimate his feelings for Alise into that role, Cillian finished the note and gave it to a small Ratsiel courier to deliver to her when she emerged from her practicum.

Taking the copy of The Saga of Sylus and Lyndella, Cillian removed his bookmark and set it on the small table in the hall by the front door. He’d return it to the shelves when he reported for his shift in the archives that evening. And he’d concentrate on being his best self. No more dreaming about romance for him.

With that resolve, Cillian explored his kitchen stores, wondering what he could bake to bring to Alise that evening, to tempt her sweet tooth. Nothing untoward about that. He liked to bake, which Alise knew, and friends shared such things with one another. Perhaps in that future visit, he would bring Lady Alise Elal something he’d baked, as well, and they’d laugh and reminisce over her days at academy when he kept her fed.

~5~

Alise’s Advanced Practicum in Manipulation and Control of Noncorporeal Entities, more commonly known by the students as Bossing the Bodiless, went terribly.

Because Alise was so late for the five-hour practicum, the other students had long since warmed up, completed the initial exercises, and were tackling the advanced application. And, of course, just to continue the trend of her horrendous luck, the day’s assignment involved binding and releasing more complex spirits.

---