Page 56 of A Tower of Half-Truths
Alain held out his palm, revealing a pair of stones that were roughly the size of hen’s eggs. They were identical, from their deep scarlet backing, to their bands of rose-tinted quartz.
“Bloodstones,” she said.
“I assume if you recognize them, you’re also familiar with how they work.”
She nodded as she took one of the bloodstones. It was cool to the touch. Stones cut from the same vein, like this pair, were perfect mirrors of each other. She channeled a small amount of arcana into it, and the bloodstone warmed her skin as the quartz glowed. Alain’s stone glowed simultaneously. Together, they bathed his office in pink-hued light. When she cut off her magic, the stones dulled, and the room darkened again.
“I’ll send you a signal once I’ve returned to campus. Let’s meet at the fountain,” he said. Mavery slipped the stone in her pocket. As she grasped the doorknob, Alain added in a low voice, “I know it’ll only be for a few hours, but…I’ll miss having your company.”
From the opposite side of the desk, he was too obscured in shadow for her to see his face, but she could feel his gaze on her. A tightness in her throat made it impossible to speak; even if she could, she wasn’t sure what she would say. All she could manage was a brief nod before opening the door.
As she rode the lift back to the ground floor, her thoughts cycled between losing her temper at Kazamin, crying in the bathroom, bringing about a magic surge,embracingAlain…
Stop letting your emotions get the better of you.
Yet, was that really such a bad thing?
Being a career criminal meant being constantly on her guard; a single slip-up stood between pulling off a successful scheme and getting caught, thrown in prison, or worse. Compared to that life, being a wizard’s assistant was akin to living in the lap of luxury. She could afford to let her guard down, even if that meant risking the occasional magic surge. And she couldn’t think of anyone better equipped to handle those than a wizard.
If she wanted to make an honest living and become a legitimate wizard’s assistant, she needed to be honest abouteverything. Coming clean about her past would be the first step.
Or, it could very well be the last.
“Gods damn it,” she groaned as the lift opened. The student who’d been waiting outside the door gawked at Mavery as she trudged past.
The potion was still working. The corridor appeared as it had on the way up to the common room: completely devoid of magic. She passed by a classroom where a score of students practiced incantations, and she didn’t Sense a thing. She continued past a few more rooms as she tried to gather her thoughts.
“—members of the Order of Asphodel—”
Mavery stopped. Where did she know that name? She carded through her memories, then recalled when Alain had shared his theories about the Innominate Temple. Or, at least, he’dbegunto share his theories.
If her life as a wizard’s assistant was on borrowed time, she wouldn’t squander an opportunity to use one of its perks. She doubled back and approached the lecture hall.
The room had seating for at least fifty, but there were only eight students scattered between the two front rows. Mavery slipped into a chair in the back row. The professor glanced at her and, exactly as Alain had implied, continued on as if nothing had happened.
Around their neck, the professor wore a pendant depicting an hourglass. It marked them as a follower of Chroniclus, the Deity of Time and Records. Chroniclers, believing themselves tobe observers of the world rather than participants, eschewed many societal norms: marriage, bearing children, owning property. And, like the deity they followed, they eschewed the concept of gender.
The professor was tall and willowy, with a light olive complexion. Their wrinkles suggested they were middle-aged, though their waist-length brown hair didn’t have a single streak of gray.
“The Order was tried together, all twelve of them, on the eighth of Fervidor, 533,” the professor said. “Does anyone remember from the reading what made this trial so significant?” Half the students raised their hands. The professor pointed at a blonde girl in the front row. “Yes, Ms. Harrow?”
“It was the shortest one in history.”
“Exactly! From the opening statement to the final verdict, the trial took only two hours. It was presided over by Guiscard Pomeroy. Thatname should ring a bell or two, yes?”
Only Harrow and one other student nodded. Mavery vaguely recognized the name, though Dauphinian history had no shortage of Pomeroys. The professor sighed, then wrote the name on the blackboard.
“Do pay attention, as thiswillbe on the final exam.” At that, the students bowed their heads and readied their pens. “Guiscard Pomeroy was born in 466 to one of Dauphine’s five Great Houses, he was the first Chancellor of the College of Mystics, and he was one of Tanarim’s leading experts on Mysticism at the time of the Great Demonic Cleansing.
“Despite Pomeroy’s lack of a legal background, the Church of the Dyad and the High Council of Wizards appointed him to preside over all Cleansing-related proceedings. There were no juries, no evidence presented during his trials. Pomeroy’s rulings were based solely on his memory-reading spells.”
That was a detail Mavery’s history lessons had failed to mention. Now that she knew Mysticism had been involved, she would take those rulings with an ocean’s worth of salt.
“He found all twelve members of the Order of Asphodel guilty of illegal uses of Necromancy, possession of demons, and conspiring to hide their founder’s whereabouts. Can you guess what the punishment was for those crimes?” The professor raised theirhands like an orchestra conductor. “Say it with me…”
“Hanged by the neck until dead,” the class chanted in unison.
The professor chuckled. “Of course, you have no problem remembering the Church of the Dyad’s execution method of choice. Yes, the members of the Order of Asphodel were hanged—all except for their founder, Aganast, who went missing a few weeks before the trial.
