Page 133 of A Tower of Half-Truths
Yuriva narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth at the same time the door opened.
“Elder Yuriva,” said the assistant from earlier, “the Archmage wants to know if you’ve finished your evaluation.”
“Yes, Darvis.” Yuriva’s joints creaked as she rose from her chair. “I’m ready to report my findings to the rest of the Council.”
She left the room without asking Mavery to follow.
“You may return whenever you are ready, Madam Culwich,” the assistant said. He began to close the door, but Mavery hoisted herself off her own chair. Her tailbone ached almost as much as her head.
“I’m ready now.” Not only to leave this room, but to put all of this—the presentation, the Elder Wizards, and their tower—behind her.
Back in the main chamber, the podium was no longer imbued with warding magic. Upon seeing her approach, Alain sighed, his relief apparent even from a distance. He began to extend a hand toward her, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he formed a tight fist that he held to his side. Seringoth’s voice rang through the chamber.
“Well, Elder Yuriva, what is your verdict?”
“Aventus’s claims are true,” she replied without a shred of enthusiasm. “What I witnessed just now was what I witnessed when I evaluated Deventhal over sixty years ago. Ms. Culwich does, indeed, have arcane hypersensitivity.”
Seringoth looked to Alain. “It seems you are most fortunate. Leave your spell tome on the podium and follow Darvis into the waiting room. He will collect you when the High Council’s deliberations are complete.”
According to the clock in the waiting area, only half an hour had passed, but it felt as though they’d spent half a day in that chamber. Darvis closed the door, leaving Alain and Mavery alone.
“I can’t thank you enough for stepping in,” Alain said. “I think you impressed the High Council enough to overlook what they normally would have considered an outburst.”
“I had a feeling assistants don’t typically speak at these things.”
“Not unless an Elder Wizard addresses them directly, and that rarely happens. Also, I’m sorry again for that spur-of-the-moment evaluation with Elder Yuriva.”
“I can’t say it’s something I ever want to repeat, but it wasn’t so bad.”
“Oh, you must tell meeverything!”
As he dug out his notebook and pen, he explained how Mysticism was an esoteric subject, even for wizards. Innate Mystics were exceedingly rare—though nowhere near as rare as Sensers—and only those who’d been trained at the College of Mystics were allowed to practice this School.
So, Mavery spared not a single detail as she recounted Yuriva’s questioning. He only stopped recording notes when she told him how she’d veered Yuriva away from a memory.
“You don’t suppose she suspects anything about us, do you?” he asked, somehow looking even paler than he’d appeared during the presentation.
Mavery shook her head. “More than anything, she seemed annoyed that I was able to derail her procedure.”
The doors to the presentation chamber opened. As Darvis reentered the room, Alain rose from the bench.
“Is the High Council finished already?” he asked.
Darvis hurried past without a word, clutching a roll of parchment. His footsteps echoed down the main corridor as he jogged out of sight.
“I suppose not.” Alain shrugged, then sat down again. “Iwould have been surprised if they were. Spell tomes usually take a bit longer to review.”
Darvis returned fifteen minutes later, now with a second roll of parchment. He again said nothing as he crossed the room and returned to the presentation chamber. The soundproofing ward prevented any sound from escaping, and the chamber was too dim for Mavery to glimpse the Elder Wizards.
She and Alain continued to wait. Kindling crackled in the fireplace, the wall clock ticked as the minutes dragged on. Mavery lost track of how many times Alain paced the room. Eventually, her muscles began to stiffen and she joined him, though she quickly regretted it. The eyes of Seringoth’s portrait seemed to follow her no matter where she wandered.
When an hour had passed, Alain stopped by the hearth and stared into the flames. He chewed on a fingernail.
“This is the fourth spell I’ve presented to the High Council.” His voice quavered as he spoke. “Deliberations havenevertaken this long.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine,” Mavery said, though she doubted her own words. Her stomach groaned. “You didn’t happen to pack any food?”
Alain shook his head. “No, but I know a spell for that.”
