Page 28 of A Tower of Half-Truths
After multiple failed attempts to contact you at your home address, the High Council of Wizards (hereinafter, “the High Council”) has resorted to contacting your next of kin.
It has come to the High Council’s attention that, for two consecutive terms, you have failed to submit a written request for personal leave. Your actions are in violation ofThe Covenants of Wizarding Decorum (134th Edition). In addition, it has been nearly two years since you last produced research before the High Council.
Your supervisor has granted you leave, with pay, for the Spring 1041 term. The High Council requests that you use this time to demonstrate your commitment to scholarship.
You are hereby ordered to present to the High Council an original Gardemancy spell on Siddisday, the 6th of Verdure, 1041. Failure to do so will result in immediate revocation of all academic ranks and titles.
The High Council once again offers its sincerest condolences for the passing of your assistant, but you would do well to remember that you are still obligated to fulfill your scholarly duties.
Kindest regards,
Archmage Seringoth II
The High Council of Wizards
Montesse, Dauphine
P.S.: It has also come to the High Council’s attention that you have accumulated 627 library books from five wizarding universities. The arcanists have requested the prompt return of any books that are not directly related to your research. For your convenience, an exhaustive list of these titles is enclosed.
This had to be the letter Kazamin had warned Alain about, and the one that had prompted Priscilla to place her newspaper ads. Alain’s presentation was just under six weeks away—forty days, to be precise—which explained why he’d been revisiting his old research. Yet, he’d not mentioned any of this to Mavery.
There was one more letter on the desk. Even if Mavery hadn’t been fully committed to her snooping, she would have still read this one, as it mentioned a very familiar name: her own.
Dear Aventus III,
The former student you inquired about was Mavery Culwich. She began her studies in the Autumn 1021 term and withdrew six weeks later, citing personalreasons. As she failed to complete even a single term, enclosing a copy of her transcript would be superfluous. However, it contained one note of interest: Miss Culwich claimed to have arcane hypersensitivity, but her condition was never verified.
Sincerely,
Garnevar III
Keeper of Academic Records
Atterdell College of the Arcane
The letter was dated over a week ago. Alain had known for a few days that Mavery hadn’t been fully truthful about her education, but he’d made no mention of this, either.
Was he waiting to catch her in another half-truth, or waiting for her to come clean?
In either case, she wouldn’t say a word about it—or anything in these letters. He knew one of her secrets, but she now knewseveralof his.
Nine
“I’m afraid I must be off,” Kazamin said. “I look forward to continuing this conversation next week.”
“As do I, sir,” Alain replied with a shallow nod.
Upon the tablecloth, Alain’s supervisor laid a ten-potin note to cover both the bill and a generous tip—despite Alain’s insistence thathewould pay for lunch—before pushing back his chair. Once the short elderly man exited the restaurant, Alain finally let fall the smile he’d managed to maintain for the past hour. He hoped that his expression had appeared less painful than it had felt.
He reached up to massage his aching jaw, then startled at the prickle of blunt hair beneath his fingertips. This change would take some getting used to—a thought he’d had countless times over these past weeks.
Without Kazamin to focus on, Alain was now starkly aware of how crowded the restaurant had become. Lunch service was booming, and there was hardly an empty table in the dining room. A swell of piano chords sounded from the far corner, interlacing with the tinkling silverware and polite conversations.
Alain knew, logically, that the dozens of patrons were too focused on their own meals to pay him any mind. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel exposed, as if everyone in this room knew that this was the most people Alain had been around in nearly a year.
On impulse, he began chewing on a nail. And then another impulse kicked in: the phantom sting of a rolled-up newspaper, courtesy of his mother, striking his knuckles.
He lowered his hand from his mouth and picked up his fork, though he’d long lost his appetite. As he pushed bits of cold, half-eaten cottage pie around his plate, he considered what he’d just agreed to. Taking on an assistant had been one thing. Delving back into research, another.
