Page 58 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“Really!” Selemin’s eyes widened. “What did she say?”
“I only caught a few words, but it was the first I’d heard him raise his voice inages.”
Selemin cackled. “Oh, what I would’ve given to see the look on that miser’s face!” They turned to Mavery. “I owe you a pint sometime. Maybe then we can get back to discussing that theory.”
“What theory?” Nezima asked.
“Oh,” Mavery said, “just one Al—Aventus,has about the Innominate Temple.”
Behind Nezima, papers scattered to the floor. The black-haired assistant yelped, then dropped to her knees.
“Gods above, girl,” Nezima sighed. “Look at the mess you’ve made!”
As the assistant scrambled to gather up the papers—neither Nezima nor the other two assistants made any effort to help her—students began to fill the classroom. Selemin took this as their cue to leave.
“Nice meeting you, Mavery,” they said. “And I’m serious about that pint.”
“Likewise, and thanks.”
“I must begin my preparations,” Nezima said. “I do hope you’ll stay and watch, Mavery. Perhaps you can relay to Aventus some advice on how to manage his classroom more effectively.” Her lips curled into a wicked smile.
The professor snatched the papers from her assistant, who shot Mavery a glance as she received Nezima’s hushed bout of criticism. Mavery, meanwhile, returned to her seat by the door.
Though Nezima had saidsheneeded to prepare, her threeassistants did the majority of the work. They walked the perimeter of the room, reciting incantations that Mavery assumed were for protective wards. Though the spells were complex, she saw not a single aura and felt not even a hint of cold. Once their spellcasting was complete, the assistants sat in the back row, in the seats farthest from the door.
Nezima began her lecture immediately after the second chime, not wasting a second. She paced about the front of the room, delivering her lecture with the same intensity Mavery had once seen her use with Alain and Declan.
From what Mavery could gather, this was an upper-level course on advanced spellcraft. Some of the jargon Nezima spouted was familiar—the bits and pieces Mavery had absorbed from cataloging Alain’s books. But it was still too technical for her to grasp, as were the spells Nezima demonstrated. At least Nezima’s authoritative tone discouraged any nodding off.
“Taking into account Velimar’s Principle of Arcana Conservancy, it follows that—”
In the front row, a pair of students exchanged whispers. Nezima stopped mid-sentence and turned to them with an icy glare. She continued to stare at them, completely silent, until the whispering subsided. The room grew so quiet, Mavery could hear nothing but her own heartbeat. Inside her pocket, her bloodstone warmed. She’d left Alain’s office not even two hours ago. How could he be back this soon?
“Is there something you wish to share with the class, Mr. Pitchard?” Nezima said.
“N-no, ma’am.”
“How about you, Ms. Apton?”
“Nothing, ma’am.”
“Are you certain?” Nezima crossed her arms. “For you to interrupt my lecture, it must be ofworld-shatteringimportance.”
While Nezima harangued her students on the importance of classroom decorum, Mavery slipped out of the lecture hall. She took a few steps down the corridor, then stopped and turned toward the lift.
She couldn’t keep Alain waiting too long. And if she wantedto make an honest living, going back upstairs was the last thing she ought to do.
But some habits were difficult to break.
Taking off at a slight jog, she headed for the lift.
Her heart skipped a beat upon finding the common room empty and every door closed—including the one to Kazamin’s office. The potion had worn off, and so she could see that Kazamin hadn’t warded his door. She hurried across the room, the plush carpet dampening her footfalls.
Kazamin’s door was locked, and her soft knock received no response. She removed Alain’s letter opener from her pocket, then jammed it into the slit between the door and its frame. It wasn’t the most sophisticated break-in method—she wasn’t skilled enough at Faisancy to manipulate a mundane lock—but it was the best she could do with the tools at her disposal. She shimmied the blade against the latch.
Behind her, another door opened. She stifled a curse as she tucked the letter opener inside her left sleeve.
“Old Kaz is out to lunch.” The voice was familiar, as was the chuckle that followed. “This time, only literally.”
