Page 85 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“Not in the way I’d hoped. First, Kazamin wasn’t joking when he said this was a niche field. The library has hardly any books about Sensing.”
Alain nodded. “I should have warned you I already own every book that’s worth the paper it’s printed on.”
“At least I got to see that for myself,” she said with a shrug. “I then asked one of the arcanists about that word I found in your copy of Enodus’s spell tome. He said there’s no such thing as ‘kay-tonic’ magic, ‘kuh-tone-ick’ magic, however the hells you’re supposed to say it.”
“But you don’t believe him.”
She shook her head. “He didn’t even bother looking into it. He turned defensive—hostile, even—like he was hiding something.”
“Which arcanist did you speak to?”
“The Head Arcanist. Tristan, I think his name was.”
Alain nodded. “I can only recall him acting in a similar manner once—when I inquired about Aganast—though I always assumed his disgruntlement had more to do with the stockpile of books I’d kept past their due date.”
“But he still helped you with your research.”
“He did.” Alain considered this for a moment, scratching his chin. “Well, I doubt our understanding of that word will affect our progress with our spellcraft. Let’s revisit it after the presentation.”
Though he seemed unconcerned about Tristan, dread gnawed at Mavery’s stomach. Before she could persuade him to reconsider, Alain spoke again.
“While we’re on the topic of spellcraft, I’d say you’re overdue for another Etherean lesson.”
That lifted her spirits enough to put the matter to rest, at least for now.
For what felt like the thousandth time, Mavery repeated the incantation. A tendril of Ether manifested in the air, hovering a few inches above the iron coin on her palm. As she recited the words, the tendril slowly floated downward, wrapped around the coin and the single strand of dark hair lying atop it. Bolstered by her Etherean, the metal glowed. But then the Ether evaporated almost as quickly as she’d conjured it, and the metal dulled once more.
“I almost had it,” she groaned. She placed the coin on the floor, then blew on her clasped hands. Outside, it was a pleasant spring day. Inside, she sat on the floor, back to the fire and shivering as if it were still the dead of winter.
Conjuring an orb of Ether had been as natural as breathing. Turning the coin into a basic compass had been more challenging,but she’d succeeded after half an hour of practice. After three hours of recitingthisspell, however, the only thing she’d achieved was feeling like an icicle.
Alain had shown her an augmentation that, using a strand of his hair, would modify the compass. Instead of indicating north, the coin would glow when pointed in his direction. He’d made it sound so simple.
“You stumbled over the last two runes,” he said. He stood a few paces away, holding his lecture notes, though he’d rarely referenced them at all that morning. It seemed Mavery had convinced him that the “practical” approach to learning Etherean was superior to his “tried-and-true” method. That was, until now.
“It’s hard to enunciate when my teeth are chattering,” she said, rubbing her arms as she continued to shiver.
Alain frowned. “Wait here.”
He went to the bedroom and returned with the fur-lined faculty robe he’d put away until next winter. He crouched in front of her and wrapped the plum-colored fabric around her shoulders. While the robe didn’t relieve the arcane chill coursing through her body, it took the edge off.
“Thanks.”
She pulled the robe until she was completely shrouded in it. But she still continued to shiver; so, too, did Alain’s frown persist.
“Are you sure you don’t want the potion?” he asked.
“I told you, I won’t always have it handy. I need to get used to spellcasting without it.”
“I understand, but it’s sweltering in here and you’re half-frozen to death.”
Though Mavery felt nowhere near warm, Alain’s forehead glistened with sweat. He’d removed his vest and undone the top buttons of his shirt. He remained crouched in front of her, close enough for her to catch a glimpse of his bruise—now a deep brown—raise her fingers, place them against the hollow of his collarbone, and complete the healing process with a simple transfer of arcana. But she knew he’d never agree to it; he was still committed to letting his injury heal naturally.
You’re just looking for an excuse to touch him…
She silenced that thought as Alain stood up.
“If half my students had half your talent, my job would be infinitely more enjoyable. You’ve made extraordinary progress considering you learned your first incantation just last week. You’ve earned yourself a break.”
