Sufficiently Advanced Magic Read online

  I didn’t even have a chance to groan before she’d put down her plate and sat down. It was too early for me to interact with the living, and in spite of my general fondness for Sera, she still was another entity and thus a toll on my exhausted mind.

  “Corin.” She gave me a catlike grin, slicing into her own chosen dish with relish. “Good morning, brother.”

  I closed my book, looking up to pin her eyes with mine. They were lighter than my own, more like my father’s.

  “Good morning, my dear sister.” If my reply fazed her in any respect, she didn’t show it.

  Affectionate terminology gamble: unsuccessful.

  We continued our staring contest until I very deliberately smiled, speared a potato with my fork, and turned to bite it. “Mm. The food here is shockingly delicious. Think it’s a trap?”

  “You’ve always been so suspicious of everything.” She raised her own fork, then speared one of my potatoes with it. My eyes flared in indignation, but she paid them no heed. “Even when we were children. Sometimes, you know, a potato is just a potato.”

  I nodded. “Except that one. That’s the one I laced with a deadly toxin. I meant to serve it to one of my enemies later, but alas...”

  She reached up, putting a hand over her chest. “I fear I can feel my heart’s last rapid thrums even now.” She contorted her lips. “Or, wait, they’d probably be slower, not faster, wouldn’t they? Alas, I feel the last glacial pulses of my frozen—”

  “Both glacial and frozen? Seems a little excessive.”

  “Not when your heart is as cold as mine. Frigid with the frost of betrayal, by my own, dear, darling, brother. Who is also my sibling.”

  I stabbed another potato. “On second thought, I think this was the poisoned one. Goddess, thanks for everything.” I popped it into my mouth. “Mm, delicious. Tastes like eternal suffering.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you were a believer in the Punishments.”

  “Oh, I’m not, but it was too good of a line for me not to say it.”

  “That’s your idea of a good line? Please, Corin. I know you haven’t been to a school in years—”

  “That’s low, ‘sister’—”

  “—but even you should have higher standards for dramatic monologues. You never know when you might need one.”

  I paused, cutting into my chicken. “Okay, that last part actually managed to sound vaguely ominous. I’ll give you credit for that.”

  She gave a mocking bow over the table. “Thank you. It feels so good to be appreciated on occasion.”

  “But I’m confident you had more of a reason to be here than just to engage me with displays of your scintillating intellect.”

  “Scintillating? My, now I almost suspect you want something from me.”

  I took a bite of the chicken. “I thought I was supposed to be the suspicious one.”

  “Touché. Well, as it happens, your ‘confidence’ has at least some degree of merit. I wanted to ask if you’d read what was in the morning paper.”

  I shook my head. “I barely ever follow the news. Rarely anything of interest.”

  “Ah, but if you don’t read the paper, you’ll miss the occasional intriguing bit that’s buried beneath the rumors, gossip, and advertisements.”

  I knew she was baiting me, but the hook sunk. “And this intriguing bit would be...?”

  “Two unconnected pieces that paint an interesting picture, if one imagines they’re connected. One is a report of Edrian troop movements along our southern border.”

  “They’re posturing. They do that all the time. Edria likes to keep us nervous, flex their military muscle.”

  She continued, ignoring my interruption. “The second is a rumor that Tenjin hasn’t attended the last three Council meetings.”

  That caught my attention.

  Tenjin, the visage responsible for overseeing the Serpent Spire, the one in which I’d taken my own trial, and the only tower local to our kingdom. As our local visage, he frequently interacted with the local government, serving as an advisor to the queen and the Council of Lords.

  But it wasn’t Tenjin that I’d seen in the tower; it was Katashi, the visage normally associated with the Tortoise Spire and the Theocracy of Dalenos.

  The visages did travel, of course, but that was supposed to be rare. Missing one Council meeting would have been understandable, but three in a row did strike me as odd. Adding in another visage being inside her tower while foreign troops marched nearby?

  That sounded a lot like a warning flag for an invasion.

  Sera saw something in my expression. “You caught it, too, then. If Tenjin is missing, something may be amiss. Maybe Edria is finally ready to march.”

  “People have been saying that for years.” I spoke the words, but my mind was racing in other directions.

  I might be the only person who knows about Katashi’s presence in our tower — other than Vera, I suppose, and Keras if he survived. Vera said he was a foreigner. Is Keras from Edria, or off the continent entirely? Could he have something to do with Tenjin being missing?

  It was a disconcerting thought. Aside from the visages and the god beasts themselves, I couldn’t think of any entity I’d ever heard of that could pose a threat to a visage. The goddess herself didn’t count, of course. She’d never been known to directly intervene in mortal affairs.

  Of course, Katashi could have been the reason that Tenjin was missing, too. That was a far worse scenario.

  “I know, but their constant troop movements generate complacency, which makes us vulnerable for when they do finally decide to strike.”

  I nodded, too wrapped in my own thoughts to give her a coherent reply. “Hm.”

  We ate quietly for another minute.

  “You know something.”

  I frowned, looking up at her. “What makes you say that?”

  “I know you, Corin. The years haven’t changed us that much.”

  Or, at least, you don’t want to admit they have. That’s why you keep teasing me, prodding me, testing me.

  You’re not going to like what you find.

  But she was right on one count, of course. I did know something. “Later. I can’t talk about it here.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “You’re always so careful. Just tell me!”

  I shook my head. “Not about this. It’s serious, Sera, and I’m serious.”

  Sera paused her eating, tilting her head to the side. “Hm.” After a few moments, she nodded. “All right, but we’re going to talk about this again later.”

  “I can’t make any promises.” I could have just lied to her, but it didn’t feel appropriate. I didn’t like the idea of deceiving someone who was sincerely seeking knowledge.

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. So, what’s your first class?”

  ***

  My first class, fortunately, was not with Sera. As much as I liked her, I knew she wasn’t going to stop bothering me about my “secret” until I gave her hints, and I’d put together enough to know that it could put her — and me — in actual danger.

  It only occurred to me while I walked that Sera might have been in danger regardless of whether or not I told her what I knew. If anyone knew we were related, they could easily assume she knew whatever I did, or simply try to take her for leverage.

  I put “find a way to convince Sera to protect herself” as a high importance item on my mental checklist. I’d need to do it discretely, in a way that didn’t draw too much extra attention toward her.

  We both had General Magic Theory as our first class of the day, but we were assigned to different lecture halls; there were about two dozen of them across the campus.

  The teacher was an unfamiliar one. She was a young, black-skinned woman with the distinctive poise of a combat mage. She walked with the assistance of a cane, which helped to conceal a limp. A dueling wound, or a war wound, maybe? It took me a moment to realize that the cane she used was a dueling cane. A normal dueling cane might
barely reach from elbow to wrist in length; the longer style that could double as a walking cane had fallen out of fashion a century earlier. I’d never trained with one, but I’d seen my great-grandfather’s on display at home.

  She took her place at the podium, grinning and revealing a perfect set of teeth. “Good morning, class. I’m Professor Meltlake.”

  That line drew a murmur from the class. Her surname was a local legend. She’d earned it by literally setting a lake on fire during a magical duel. I still had no idea how she’d done it.

  I was very eager to find out.

  “This class will go over the basic principles of magic that are applicable to all users of attunements. As this is the first class, I’ll be taking some time to cover the structure of the course, some basic terminology, and the reading material you’ll need to get started on. But first, we’ll take attendance.”

  She read student names from a list, and I answered at the appropriate time. I recognized a few names of people from my dorm, but none of the ones who had strongly interested me. Patrick Wayland was there, though, and I looked at him when he responded to his name. He caught my look, gave a startled expression, and then gave me a subdued wave. I waved back.

  I regretted it almost immediately and began to worry that he would want to socialize with me later. This was followed by a few moments of self-recrimination — after all, why wouldn’t I want to reunite with a childhood friend — and a longer stretch of crushing self-doubt.

  The professor tapped her cane against the desk, which snapped me back into attention. “Now that we’ve handled attendance, let’s discuss this class, shall we? Magic Theory will be your primary class this year, and in spite of the generic name, it contains the most important things you’ll be studying. Consequently, Magic Theory will also be the class where you are tested on the sum total of what you’ve learned in other classes.”

  She gestured with her cane toward the right wall. “On the other side of the campus, you’ll find the testing grounds. You will be tested three times during the semester on those grounds, typically with a group. These tests will determine if you’ve managed to pick up enough to apply the teachings of all of your classes. Think of each of these tests as being similar to your Judgment, but with a team and more difficult challenges.”

  I nodded along with the rest of the class. I’d heard of simulated Judgments before; my brother had taken one. Apparently, it had been insufficient.

  “These tests are important for allowing your teachers to evaluate if you’re ready for more dangerous tests such as reentering the tower through the Climber’s Gate. If you make it far enough, you’ll go in through that gate at the end of the semester.”

  I heard a series of murmurs from the class on that. I’d already heard about the tower excursion, but apparently it wasn’t common knowledge. Professor Meltlake tapped on the podium again, signaling for silence.

  “Of course, that requires a degree of success with the previous tests. Historically, only about sixty percent of our students make it to the final test. Those who fail early in the year will be dismissed and sent directly to military service, without the benefits of being a fully-trained attuned. If you fail toward the end of the year, you’ll be forced to repeat this year’s classes and try again. That will not count as your second year at the academy, and thus, you would still have to complete an additional year of classes before beginning your mandatory service.”

  I can’t let either of those happen. If I get sent off to the military without learning to use my attunement, I could die without ever getting another chance at the tower. Even being sent back to restart the year could lower my total score to a point where the military would never allow me to be a climber.

  “I’m certain most of you will want to avoid those unseemly fates, and thus, it behooves you to study to the best of your ability. For this class, your primary text will be Elementary Concepts of Magic by Steven Bryer. There are three optional texts, and you’ll find those listed in your papers. I encourage you to read the optional texts, but only if you are keeping pace with your reading for your other classes.”

  She smiled, raising her cane. “Now that we’ve gotten through the boring part...”

  Meltlake’s cane sprouted a stream of fire into the sky. I heard murmurs of awe from a good number of the students. They apparently hadn’t seen as many demonstrations of magic as I had. That barely rated as a parlor trick.

  “Let’s talk about mana calling, shall we?” She grinned, lowering her cane.

  “Mana calling is the foundation of all magic. All humans have mana in our bodies, and that mana can take several distinct forms. For non-attuned humans and most weak monsters, the majority of this mana is generic. In academics, we refer to this as gray mana.

  “Non-attuned can generally only utilize their mana through devices, such as a dueling cane. As an attuned, however, you will be learning to utilize your mana for a broad variety of different purposes. An individual application of mana for a specific purpose is generally called a spell, and the use of spells is referred to as magic.”

  I could already see a few people frowning, and I could guess at one of the reasons why: some attunements weren’t overtly “magical” in nature. The Guardian Attunement, for example, was focused on unarmed physical combat. I knew they could do things that were beyond normal human capabilities — like breaking a wall with a punch — but I hadn’t thought of that as being magic.

  “The most important thing to learn is that magic, as a general concept, is easy. Learning specific spells and getting them right, however, can be quite difficult. To properly cast a spell, you must remember the exact amounts of mana you need, and then draw that mana from the appropriate parts of your body.”

  Meltlake twirled her cane like a baton, creating a trail of flame that emitted from the tip and followed her motions. I heard a murmur of awe as she drew a burning attunement symbol, which lingered in the air until she waved her other hand and dispersed the flames. “I am an Elementalist. My attunement gives me access to fire and air mana at the location of the mark — in my case, my right hand. So, what would I do if I ran out of mana in my right hand?”

  One of the students stood up to indicate he had a question. Belatedly, I realized it was Patrick. “Um, we’d need to convert the mana from somewhere else in our body?”

  The professor nodded. “Very good. Patrick, was it? You may sit down.”

  She tapped her forehead with two fingers. “Let’s take the mind, for example. As one might expect, the mind primarily generates mental mana. As an Elementalist, I can’t actually use this to cast mental spells, but I can convert it into air mana or fire mana through the use of my attunement. This is less efficient than using the appropriate type of mana, and I would not recommend attempting it until you have more experience. That said, it is an essential technique for attuned to learn.”

  She gave more examples, explaining that an inappropriate mixture of mana could cause spells to change in function or fail catastrophically.

  Hrm, maybe I can deliberately create new spells by mixing different types of mana. I probably shouldn’t experiment with that until I understand this much better, though.

  “It’s also important not to draw too much mana from any specific part of your body. Using too much of your heart’s mana will kill you. Using too much of your mind’s mana will also kill you. Other mana pools are less likely to cause immediate death, but nevertheless, overuse is a significant danger and often can cause permanent damage.”

  Oh, good, all I have to worry about is brain damage or killing myself when I use my attunement.

  Of the two costs, it was the former that made me shudder.

  I was willing to sacrifice a great deal in the pursuit of the power I needed, but my mind...

  Well, everyone had something they were afraid of losing.

  “Your first assignment will be to head to the Divinatory before our next class on Tensday. There, you will be tested to learn your current mana
values in your main mana pool locations: mind; heart; right hand; left hand; right leg; left leg; and lungs. You will also be tested to learn safe mana capacities for each location. If you are discovered exceeding your safe limits without explicit permission you will face severe punishments, potentially including expulsion.”

  She gave another toothy grin after that line. “Class is dismissed.”

  ***

  I escaped the lecture hall as swiftly as I could. I wasn’t quite ready for a reunion with Patrick or any other old friends that might have seen me.

  It turns out that spending three years away from school made me less eager to socialize. Who would have guessed?

  I figured I’d probably catch up with Patrick eventually and make some excuses; I couldn’t run away from old acquaintances forever. Not if I wanted to succeed, anyway.

  Getting to graduation was one of my highest priorities. I needed to graduate and get a high enough score to ensure I could spend my years of military service as a climber rather than in some other branch of the service. To ensure that, I’d need to make sure I took my classes extremely seriously.

  I needed allies if I was going to succeed in group tests, and I’d need people I could trust for when I eventually started climbing the tower. No sane person tried to climb one of the towers alone.

  Once I’d gotten clear of sight from the lecture hall, my next objective was to figure out which elective I was going to pick. Five of my classes for the year were mandatory, but I had a single elective slot to choose. I should have picked it much sooner — possibly with some advice for the teacher responsible for overseeing Phoenix Division — but it hadn’t felt like a pressing concern. With some of the electives starting that day, though, I had to make a choice.

  The most obvious options were the ones that were directly applicable to my attunement. I saw three of those: Introduction to Ritual Magic; The Art of Artifice: Permanent Enchantments; and Introductory Potion Enchantments.