Page 49

“My apologies. I didn’t see you,” she said stiffly.

She glanced down; the book in his hands was a slim volume on Sumbra venoms. Fern thought of the attack on Vittoria, Vasili Drei’s warning that the wound should be purged before being stitched. Surely Lautric was too late—Vittoria seemed to have recovered already. Perhaps she appeared to fare better than she did?

“I didn’t know you were researching Sumbra,” Fern added, glancing away from the book.

“Ah,” he said, tapping his fingers on the book’s cover. His sleeves were so long his hands were covered to the knuckles. “I am not.”

Fern narrowed her eyes, scrutinising him. He did not look as though he were trying to hide anything from her; he simply looked exhausted and a little awkward, disarmingly boyish.

Before Fern could say anything else, Lautric volunteered, “My area of research is Wild Magic.”

Fern hesitated. She had not expected him to tell her about his research, and certainly she had not expected him to be researching Wild Magic.

It was a notoriously difficult subject, because of its unknowable, unpredictable nature. Wild Magic was simply a form of energy, omnipresent and almost impossible to control, even when using formal spellcraft and incantations.

Anyone could call upon Wild Magic as their source of energy, only the source was too wild, with a will of its own, and most who tried using it died trying.

As a result, hands-on research was nigh impossible, and theoretical research was often nothing more than just that.

It still failed to explain what Lautric was doing in this particular part of the library, but Fern did not dare press him too openly for answers. Especially since he seemed so willing to volunteer information, perhaps as a result of her attempt to reset the boundaries of their relationship the previous night.

“You’ve set yourself up for quite the challenge, then,” Fern said finally, smiling politely.

He laughed, a gentle, molten sound.

“You’re right. But it’s worthwhile work. Wild Magic is the future.”

Fern frowned, taken aback. “Not spellcraft?”

“Spellcraft?” Lautric’s tone was earnest. “Knowledge wheedled from trans-dimensional entities who humour us for reasons we are blind to, kept under the control of librarians that wish to keep it secret and politicians that wish to abuse it? At least Wild Magic is free.”

He had drawn closer, stepping out of the dim ray of daylight and into the shadows that pressed in around Fern. She read sincerity in his mien, and although she agreed with the first part of what he said, she couldn’t help but scoff at his proposed solution.

“Wild Magic is free, yes, and easy to use,” she said, “and impossible to control, and deadly.”

“Not impossible,” said Lautric.

Fern suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “Almostimpossible.”

“If scholars spent half as much time studying Wild Magic as they did concerning themselves with Gatewaysand bartering with Sumbral creatures, we might have already discovered a way to control it.”

Fern opened her mouth to make a reply but stopped herself. She stared into Lautric’s face, his eyes. His gaze was direct; his expression was open, unemotional, almost sincere. He appeared to mean what he was saying.

But of course, he was lying. The Lautrics relied heavily on spellcraft. Like all born with powers, theirs was only ever a source of energy for them to draw upon. They could do nothing with that power without spellcraft and incantations.

It was the reason they were so obsessed with gaining control of libraries, the reason they were so deeply involved in the illegal trade of stolen books. The very reason Fern had never recovered a single missing or stolen book without having the Lautrics send men to intercept her.

So why was he lying, this young scion of the most powerful arcane house?

Was he trying to get a reaction out of her? If so, to what end? Was he trying to draw her out? To manipulate her into endangering herself by using Wild Magic? Perhaps even insult her? His implications seemed to make clear his disdain for Sumbra scholars—and yet he was standing here, in the Sumbra Wing, in the heart of Carthane itself.

“Perhaps you will be the one to usher in a new era,” Fern said with a cold smile. “A herald to a new dawn of free magic: powers for all. A hero to the arcane population of the world.”

Lautric tilted his head. “You mock me.” There was a softening in his eyes, something akin to disappointment. “I did not take you for a cynic.”

It stung Fern more than she wanted it to.

“It’s not cynicism to view the world exactly as it is,” she said.