Page 128 of A Tower of Half-Truths
Nezima was referring to the spell tome, she realized with relief. Alain nodded, and Mavery handed Nezima the tome. In exchange, she handed Alain a scroll of parchment. As his eyes scanned the page, a small contemptuous noise sounded from the back of his throat. Mavery peered over his shoulder.
Where Ethereal Meets Practical:
A New Pedagogy for the Modern Age
?
As mundane technological advancements such as the locomotive engine continue to see exponential growth, it is critical for arcane scholarship to avoid rendering itself obsolete. The traditional pedagogical standard relies on a theoretical approach to magic.However, this—
Before she could read any further, the double doors burst open. Out came a dark-skinned man in rust-colored robes, trailed by his young assistant. The wizard ranted in a language Mavery didn’t understand—Zakarzan, she assumed—and chucked his spell tome into the fireplace as he stormed out of the chamber. The assistant uttered an incantation, plucked the singed tome from the fire, and ran after the wizard.
The bald man who now stood in the doorway looked old enough to be a wizard himself, though his black robes indicated he was an assistant. He turned to Nezima and Corenta, then spoke to them in Dauphinian. From what Mavery could gather, the High Council was ready to see them.
Alain rolled up the parchment. His expression was flat, and he said nothing to Nezima as he handed it back to her.
“Good luck,” Mavery said, hoping that would allay some of the awkwardness.
Nezima nodded. “Thank you, though I believe we will have little need for it.”
The High Council’s assistant guided the two women into the presentation chamber, then closed the door behind them.
“What did she mean by ‘we missed seeing you’?” Alain asked.
“Oh, that. She has a club that meets at the Lettered Gentleman.”
“I know of it. Don’t tell me you were drinking withthemlast week. I know for a fact you failed to mention that little detail.”
She scoffed. “WhoI was with didn’t seem relevant. But yes, I was with them—Wren invited me—though I can’t say I enjoyed myself. Not with Nezima prying about our relationship, thanks to your mother’s slippery tongue.”
“I never mentioned your name.”
“But anyone with a lick of common sense could put two and two together. Your mother knows we’re more than colleagues, and Nezima is definitely suspicious.”
Showing up together just now, arms linked as though Alain were escorting her to a ball, likely had done little to quell those suspicions. But she didn’t mention this to Alain, who was looking a bit green in the face. He rushed over to the bench and sat withhis hands clenched into fists, knees bouncing.
Mavery sighed, then sat next to him. She placed her hand on his knee, knowing that she was taking yet another risk, and that he would likely mention something about decorum. Yet, he took her hand with a tight, almost painful grip.
“After today, you won’t have to worry about Nezima or anyone else from the University ever again.”
“I’m not worried about them,” Alain said in a quiet voice. “I’m—”
The door opened again—slowly this time. In one swift movement, Mavery and Alain released each other’s hands, then shifted in their seats to put a few more inches of space between them. Mavery folded her hands in her lap, atop the spell tome.
Nezima and Corenta’s presentation had lasted not even five minutes, but judging by their satisfied expressions, theirs had gone much more favorably than the Zakarzan wizard’s.
“Best of luck toyou,” Nezima said. As she honed her gaze on Alain, her lips formed a sly smile. “When we reconvene this autumn, I suspect our department meetings will include someindustriousdiscourse.”
Without another word, she and Corenta left the room together, then disappeared down the corridor.
“Well, that wasn’t the least bit cryptic,” Mavery muttered.
Before Alain could respond, the Council’s assistant addressed them in heavily accented Osperlandish.
“Aventus the Third and Madam Culwich, the High Council will see you now. Please follow me.”
The High Council of Wizards’ bench was so high off the ground, Mavery had to crane her neck to spot the wizards looming silently from above. Archmage Seringoth was seated at the center, flanked by the eight Elder Wizards who each represented one of the Schools of Magic. All but Seringoth wore hooded robes that completely obscured their faces. Mavery was reminded of judgespresiding over a courtroom. But this windowless round chamber had no seats for a jury, nor an audience. There was only a marble podium in the center of the room. Apart from a few Ethereal orbs hanging overhead, the room was shrouded in darkness. To Mavery’s eyes, the only hint of color was a flicker of violet over the soundproofed walls.
Footsteps echoed as she and Alain crossed the stone floor. Once they reached the podium, Mavery handed him the spell tome, then took his satchel and retreated a few steps. He wouldn’t need her for the first part of his presentation.
