Page 91 of A Tower of Half-Truths
“Regardless, that was months ago!”
“Kazamin’s memory these days may be faultier than a cracked bloodstone, but not when it comes to his precious Marya.”
“I believe it,” said a white-haired woman. “A decade ago, he denied an interdepartmental trip to a burial site along the southern border, on the off-chance any Maryans had been buried there. And that was merely an anthropological study; we had no intentions of exhuming any graves.”
“He’s always had difficulty separating his religion from his profession,” Nezima said, shaking her head.
“You would know better than anyone,” Selemin said. “Is it true that he’s never been resurrected?”
“Yes, like all Maryans, he doesn’t believe in interfering with death.”
Selemin scoffed. “How the High Council considers him worthy of leading our department, when he’s never even experienced all the perils of research—”
“If I remember correctly,youhave never been resurrected,” the dark-haired professor said with a smirk.
Selemin waved a hand. “Sure, but he’s a Gardemancer, I’m a historian. What lethal dangers am I going to expose myself to? Paper cuts?”
Nezima laughed, and it took all of Mavery’s resolve not to gape at her. Granted, Nezima’s version of it was far frommirthful—it was no more than flat, clipped chuckles—but it was laughter all the same.
“How much do you need for your trip?” she asked Selemin. “Perhaps we can pool our resources.”
“Much appreciated, but as I’ve done for the last three, I’ll fund this one from my own pocket.” Selemin took another swig from their tankard, then groaned. “Why can’t he retire already? He’s been dean for, what, a hundred years?”
“Forty-seven,” the white-haired woman said. “Not that anyone is counting.”
The professors laughed in unison.
Something prodded Mavery in the arm. She looked to her side and found Wren watching her with unfocused eyes. The scent of ale emanating from her was stronger than before.
“I said, ‘How have things been with Aventus since we last spoke?’ ” Wren’s speech was so slurred, Mavery barely understood her.
She chewed the inside of her cheek as she considered her answer.
“Complicated,” she said at last.
“That’s him to the letter!” Wren cackled, then her eyes widened. “Oh, no, I grabbed you before you had a chance to order a drink, didn’t I?”
“Don’t worry about—”
“Nonsense! What would you like?”
Wren attempted to stand, but her knees buckled. She clung to the back of her chair, which was the only thing preventing her from colliding with the floor.
Mavery stifled a laugh. “I would likeyouto stay put. I’ll order my own drink.”
As she rose from the table, Nezima called out, “Whatever you’re ordering, put it on my tab.”
“Er, thanks.”
Nezima replied with a tip of her wineglass. Mavery continued to feel the professor’s eyes follow her out of the room.
The pub had become much livelier, filled with even more patrons in University robes. Mavery had to shoulder through a small crowd to approach the bar. The cigar smoke had also grown thicker than ever; it lingered in the air like a dense fog, and the smell was so intense, it had lost all its pleasantness. Mavery peered in the mirror behind the bar and quickly identified the culprits: a group of male professors playing cards.
She caught the bartender’s eye. He asked her for her order, much to the dismay of the men who’d been waiting in the queue. She assumed Nezima had accumulated an impressive bar tab, which was why the bartender was giving her preferential treatment. Not to mention she was the only woman presently at the bar.
As she waited for a glass of red wine, a chillingly familiar scent cut through the smoke: arcana-infused ash.
Her heart raced as she subtly glanced around the room. To her left, halfway down the bar, a man had just extinguished his cigarette that now smoldered in an ashtray. Mavery sighed, then chided herself for being so paranoid. Even if shehadSensed shadow magic, this room was filled with wizards. It could have come from any number of them.
