Page 21 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Twelve

The dean’s office was fit for a king. The room contained the vast collection of books Mavery had come to expect, and—more importantly—cabinets brimming with magical artifacts.

They glowed with faint auras that she was so eager to investigate, she all but forgot about her Sensing-induced headache.

Before she could do more than glimpse those artifacts, Alain steered her toward the pair of leather chairs in front of the desk. Her curiosity would have to wait.

Even if Mavery hadn’t spotted his diploma from the University of Maroba, Kazamin’s sepia complexion and short stature would have made his ethnicity obvious.

Like most Marobans, Kazamin was tiny, not even five feet tall, yet broad-shouldered.

His large ears stuck straight out and made his bald head appear wider than it actually was.

While seated, only his head and shoulders were visible from across the expansive desk.

He was elderly, even by wizard standards.

His face was a web of deep wrinkles, he sported a fully gray beard, and his liver-spotted hands trembled as he spoke.

“First order of business,” he said. He pushed a tall stack of papers across his desk. “Here are some spells and book chapters in need of peer review. This should help you become reacclimated with research. On that note, you mentioned last week you were already exploring some research topics.”

Alain tucked the papers into his magically expanded satchel. He glanced at Mavery, then nodded. “Yes, sir. Well, to begin, my new assistant, Mavery Cul—er, Reynard—has arcane hypersensitivity.”

Mavery examined her nails as she pretended to ignore his slip-up.

“Has a Mystic confirmed this?” Kazamin asked.

“No, but I don’t believe it’s necessary. Based on my observations over the past month, I have no reason to believe she’s lying.”

Mavery looked up. “Why would I lie about that?”

From the way Alain’s face fell and Kazamin startled at the sound of her voice, Mavery realized her mistake. Evidently, assistants were expected to remain silent during these meetings.

“Arcane hypersensitivity is an incredibly rare condition,” Kazamin explained.

“So rare, in fact, there is little scholarship on this topic. Many people have claimed to have this condition to garner influence in a niche field. So, I am certain you can understand why, when an unverified Senser walks into my office—furthermore, one who is not a wizard but a female assistant—I would be more than a bit skeptical.”

She opened her mouth, but Alain’s eyes flashed her a warning to stay quiet. She decided to seethe in silence while Kazamin returned his attention to Alain.

“I will trust your judgment, Aventus. If what you are saying is true, she is no doubt the first Senser since Deventhal, Marya preserve his soul.” He briefly touched his palm to his forehead. “However did you find her?”

“She found me, if you can believe it.” Alain’s voice quavered with a nervous laugh.

Kazamin leaned forward, resting his elbows and steepled fingers on his desk. He peered at Mavery as though he didn’t know what to make of her.

“Hmm,” he said at last, then turned to Alain again. “I remember the High Council requested that you present a new spell. Are you planning to use her Sensing to guide your spellcraft?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Go on.”

Yes, do go on, Mavery thought as dread gnawed at her stomach.

“One of my ideas is to develop a spell that imitates her abilities. She is an innate Gardemancer, and therefore she Senses Gardemancy spells more vividly than the other Schools of Magic.” Alain took out his notebook, flipped to a page in the middle, and pushed it across the desk.

The dean read as he listened, brow furrowing all the while.

“Over the past month, I’ve taken extensive notes on the specific colors, vibrancies, even smells and tastes that she Senses.

The ability to differentiate between the various types of wards, just as she does, would be a tremendous boon for our field. ”

Kazamin offered another noncommittal “hmm” as he pushed the notebook back across the desk.

“If I were you, I would seek out a Mystic to confirm that your assistant is, in fact, a Senser. I’m sure you’re aware that many of our colleagues still treat Sensing as something of a pseudoscience, and would be unlikely to simply take her word for it—or even yours. ”

“But if my spell is successful, I can prove that it’s not pseudoscience.”

Kazamin shrugged. “At any rate, I do think your spell has potential. If I recall correctly, such a spell has been attempted before. Let me see here…”

He swiveled in his chair to the bookshelf behind him, then perused it for a moment before picking out a hefty tome.

From what Mavery could glean from across the desk, it was some sort of encyclopedia filled with wizard names.

Kazamin muttered to himself as he turned to the index, then ran a knobbly finger down the page.

While he was distracted, Mavery glared at Alain.

“A Sensing spell?” she hissed. “You could have warned me.”

“I did try to warn you,” he whispered back. He glanced at Kazamin, whose focus was solely on the book.

“You could have been more specific!”

“Can we talk about this later?”

“Depends. When were you planning to tell me?”

“I didn’t know if—”

“Ah, here we are!” Kazamin said, and the two of them snapped to attention in unison.

“Enodus the Second of Fenutia attempted a similar spell over two hundred years ago. He died before he could complete it—may Marya keep him—but his unfinished tome resides in the University of North Fenutia’s archives.

That would be a good place to start. I will request they loan it to us. ”

“Thank you, sir,” Alain said. “I appreciate it.”

As Kazamin closed the book, a chime pealed from outside. It was a louder version of the resonating ward that had announced Priscilla’s visit.

“Is it really thirteen o’clock already?” Kazamin asked, glancing at his pocket watch. “I have a class next period. I must go prepare the room.”

“I apologize again for forcing you to cover my teaching duties for me.”

“Oh, it’s no bother at all, Aventus. I hadn’t taught a class in almost thirty years. It’s been a refreshing change.” He chuckled. “That being said, you will hear no complaints from me when you return this autumn!”

As he rose from his chair with a groan, Alain stood automatically.

Alain was not a tall man, but he was gigantic compared to Kazamin.

Dwarven ancestry and old age had so compacted the dean’s body, the top of his head barely reached Alain’s chest. While the two wizards exchanged their farewells, Mavery took the opportunity to examine the nearest curio cabinet.

Her pulse quickened. This one alone contained dozens of pendants, rings, daggers, and the like.

Their blue protective wards were anchored to the precious gems and metals they were crafted from.

Though Alain didn’t seem to own any artifacts, he’d just given her access to a wizard with a treasure trove.

And if she was wrong about Alain, maybe she could pilfer something from both of them…

“Mavery,” Alain called, “are you coming?”

With a pang of longing, she turned away from the cabinet. At the door, she shook Kazamin’s unnervingly cold and bony hand; she worried it would shatter if she gripped it too firmly.

“Welcome to the University of Leyport, Marion,” he said.

“Mavery,” she replied stiffly. Normally, she would abhor the idea of robbing the elderly. But robbing this old codger wouldn’t weigh on her conscience one bit.

He closed his office door and hobbled through the empty common room toward the lift.

Mavery would figure out how to get her hands on Kazamin’s curios some other time.

First, she had another matter to address.

She folded her arms—partially for dramatic effect, partially to warm herself—and rounded on Alain. He raised his hands.

“Look, keeping you in the dark was never my intent—”

“Oh, I think it was exactly your intention.”

“The Sensing spell was only an idea—one of several, in fact. I didn’t know Kazamin would latch onto the first one I suggested.”

Mavery snorted. “Please, you saw how those assistants treated me like I was some sort of specimen the second they found out I was a Senser. And what did Kazamin mean about having a Mystic confirm my abilities? Because if you think I’m going to let one of them poke around in my head—”

“Mysticism is perfectly safe when practiced by professionals.”

“Sure, when they’re not torturing confessions out of people.”

“Torture?” Alain scoffed. “That’s a rather narrow view of an entire School of Magic.

While I agree that some of the uses of Mysticism are a bit morally questionable, that’s not true for all of them.

In this case, the Mystic would simply ask you a few questions and detect whether you were lying.

It’s a five-minute interview, quick and painless. ”

“And you’ve experienced this yourself?”

“Well, no, but—”

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“—it doesn’t matter,” Alain continued. “I’m not calling upon any Mystics because I don’t need to, no matter what Kazamin says. You’ve given me no reason to doubt your abilities, especially after what I’ve witnessed today.”

Mavery studied his expression: earnest, with a hint of that odd look he’d given her before. Though she had no reason to doubt him, nothing about this sat right with her.

She sighed. “Look, I was fine with all your note-taking when I thought it was for a book, maybe for your own amusement. But a spell? I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.”

“Why not? Think of how it could benefit the study of magic!”