Page 25 of Reluctant Wizard

“Ah, I wondered who did that. Very nice of her.” His pleased expression faded as he searched her face. “Or was it?”

Alise waved that off, not at all about to explain. She couldn’t quite predict what he’d make of the bargain, but she didn’t want to hear his opinion, either way. “Irrelevant.”

He nodded slowly, unconvinced, studying her—then pointed to the hovering entities. “Impressive trick, with the cloaking. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Not terribly effective if any wizard can smell or see my magic anyway,” she noted. How did the others handle that aspect?

“Probably not just any wizard,” he reassured her, leaning a hip on the corner of the desk and crossing his arms, gentle black eyes earnest. “I’m attuned to you. That is…” He uncrossed his arms and rubbed his palms on his thighs, gaze shifting away. “From being around you. Nothing untoward. And Nic!” He clapped his hands together and joined them. “Your magic feels the same. I just, ah, happened to notice it at House Phel. Interesting phenomenon, really, that Elal magic is so distinctive. Lord Phel’s is too, for that matter. And House Chur—you may have noticed, with Brinda—they have a distinctive scent/feel to their magic. Not every house does. That would be an interesting study. Of course, many houses are built around a particular business area that requires wizards and familiars of a variety of magic specialties, so they wouldn’t have a homogenous feel to the magic. Still, most houses also have a central familial line, sometimes maintained by very tight inbreeding, so they might be more likely to have a distinctive magical vibration that translates as a consistent scent or visual via synesthesia. Not to say that House Elal is inbred! I’m simply observing that—” He broke off with a wince. “I’m simply babbling, is what I’m doing. I apologize.”

Alise, bemused, found herself relaxing, her unfounded irritation with him dispersing like an unbound spirit. “It is an interesting question,” she allowed. “I didn’t know about the synesthesia, but for me it’s visual and sometimes tactile, depending.”

His smile bloomed. “Fascinating stuff. But that’s all beside the point. How are you?”

His assessing, penetrating stare stirred her annoyance again. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me, Cillian.”

“And yet you travel under a cloaking illusion. We’re alone here. No one ever bothers me in this little corner, so you’re safe—but don’t try to tell me you’re not afraid.”

“I’m not trying to tell you anything,” she snapped, abruptly over the edge again. “I have no reason to be afraid, of anyone. I’m only being discreet. There are rumors about us, if you aren’t aware.” She hadn’t really meant to say anything about that, either. Cillian’s tendency to blurt out every thought that crossed his mind was rubbing off on her.

“I’m surprised you care about idle speculation,” he said quietly. Not contradicting her, she noticed. “People love to imagine things. No one with any sense believes there is anything going on between us, other than a collegial relationship. A mentor/mentee association. Totally aboveboard. You may send anyone who questions that to me and I will set them straight.”

He looked so uncharacteristically stern, sounded so impassive, that Alise definitely doubted what Gordon Hanneil had said. Cillian was obviously not in love with her. She had offended his sense of order and academic compliance by trying to discontinue the project with him. She’d confused her own murky feelings about him with… Well, with whatever.

“Understood,” she replied in an equally neutral tone. “And I don’t. Care, that is. I just thought to be discreet.”

“Ah,” he said, clearly not believing her. “Well, I asked you to see me tonight because I have some information for you about Gordon Hanneil.”

The spinning of the world came to halt so abrupt, Alise nearly staggered, the blood palpably draining from her face, making her cold all over. “Uh, ah…” she stammered, her tongue thick. “Who?”

The look he gave her was all disappointed supervisor. “Let’s have honesty between us, please. I found out the name of the proctor who frightened you yesterday, the one who’d disguised himself from me. I discovered something else, too. Gordon Hanneil isn’t his real name.”

~13~

Alise couldn’t breathe. Her ribs closed in hard around her heart, sending it thumping frantically, and she couldn’t seem to force them to expand to draw in air. Sparkling black stars shot in around the corners of her vision and the world lurched into spinning motion again. No that was the room, twirling like a top around her. Fast. Too fast. The black stars burst and dragged her under.

She blinked her eyes open right away.

Or was it right away?

Somehow she’d ended up on the floor, the cavernous ceiling of the archives looming above. The entities she’d harnessed had vanished. Well, fuck.

“Alise,” Cillian said, squeezing her hands. “Can you hear me?”

“Of course I can hear you. I’m not deaf.” She pushed to sit up.

“Don’t move just yet. Are you dizzy still?”

“Why would I be dizzy?” Come to think of it, she was kind of muzzy headed. Probably the power of suggestion. But how had she ended up on the floor? She extracted her hands from his and levered up. She decided against standing just yet.

“Because you fainted.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Her voice sounded just like her maman. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”

“Well now you have,” he informed her. “Did you hit your head? I couldn’t catch you in time. I’ll summon a healer.”

“No!” She couldn’t reel back the too-strident denial, but she could make an effort to be rational and stop any impetuous actions on Cillian’s part. “It’s not necessary,” she added with a weak smile. “People faint, right? First time for everything.”

Cillian, who’d been kneeling beside her, plopped his butt down and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Alise, this has got to stop.”

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