Page 44 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Alain nodded. “Yes, almost any contribution to scholarship counts. The High Council keeps it open-ended on purpose.”

“Then why did you become a professor?”

“It was the first opportunity presented to me, and I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

Mavery furrowed her brow. “What makes you say that?”

“Because Seringoth personally recommended me to the High Council. He might have been difficult to work for, to put it lightly, but he argued my case when the rest of the Elder Wizards thought I was too young for the job. I very well couldn’t decline after that.

“Being young and not knowing any better, I thought professors spent most of their time in the classroom. Little did I know there was more to it than that: reading essays, administering exams, managing assistants, writing books, conducting research, crafting spells… Up until my sabbatical, I had little time for anything else—mundane hobbies, least of all.” He gazed at his notebook again with a sigh.

“We should start on the potion. At least alchemy is considered a ‘respectable’ hobby.”

He showed her his latest version of the recipe. For a potion with such a profound impact on Mavery’s Senses, it was relatively simple. It required only six ingredients, the most exotic of which were the powdered kutauss claws.

The first step was to create a sort of herbal tea to serve as the base.

Alain’s recipe required two herbs that even the most novice alchemist would recognize: fallowroot and feygrass.

Bundles of them hung from the rafters. Mavery plucked off violet fallowroot petals and sapphire feygrass sprigs, shredded them into smaller pieces, then began to grind them with a mortar and pestle.

Meanwhile, Alain set up a fireproofing ward—its aura was soft pink—around the perimeter of the kitchen.

“Let me guess,” she said. “Fallowroot is to treat my headaches, feygrass is to treat my cold chills.”

“Exactly. My first attempts included persilweed, but fallowroot is far more potent.”

Persilweed was, as the name implied, a weed that grew rampant in the wilderness.

Though it was most effective when brewed into a tea, chewing a few leaves would treat minor aches in a pinch.

In large enough quantities, it was brewed into a contraceptive tea that was as effective as it was bitter.

Mavery hadn’t brewed it in over two months; it was difficult to say when she would need it again.

As she perished that thought, she drove the pestle into the bowl of the mortar with more force than was necessary.

In what must have been record time, the fallowroot and feygrass became a fine indigo-hued powder.

She tipped it into a saucepan, added a measure of water, brought the mixture to a boil, then removed it from the burner to steep.

With that settled, she went to see what Alain was doing on the other side of the kitchen. He was weighing out an ash-like substance on a set of brass scales.

“Powdered kutauss claws,” he said. “We’ll need to heat these with a torch.”

Mavery peered into the container that stored the rest of the claws. It was almost empty.

“What are you going to do when you run out?” she asked. “Are you still avoiding Enid’s shop?”

He stiffened. “I suppose I’ll either need to find an alternative that’s available through more…legitimate channels, or I’ll need to make an exception. But that’s a bridge to cross at a later date. Rest assured, I have enough to last through the spell presentation.”

He swept the powder onto a piece of cloth, then tipped it into a calcinator—a shallow cast-iron bowl whose tall legs allowed for heating either from above with a torch, or from below with a candle. The powdered claws required the former method.

“Ever use one of these?” Alain asked, showing her the torch.

“No,” Mavery said, “but I’ll give it a go.”

The main part of the torch was a brass chamber slightly larger than her fist. Embedded in the metal were gemstones with pink and black stripes. She attempted to feed a bit of her arcana into the chamber, but nothing came out of the torch’s long, thin nozzle.

“Make sure your skin is in direct contact with the rhodonite,” Alain said. “Here, wrap your fingers around it like this.”

He stood behind her with his chest to her back.

His hand covered hers, then guided her fingers to the smooth stone.

But once her hand was in the proper place, he didn’t pull his own away.

Mavery became acutely aware of his breath against her neck, the warmth of his body behind her, the gentle pressure of his fingers slipping into the gaps between her own.

Heart racing, she slowly turned her head to the side; with his cheek mere inches away, meeting his eye took no effort at all.

His body froze with a sharp inhale, as though he’d suddenly realized what he’d done. They both spoke at once:

“Sorry,” he said. “I, er, think—”

“Maybe you should handle this—”

“—you get the idea.”

“—while I strain the herbs.”

“Y-yes, that’s probably for the best.”

Alain removed his hand and took a half-step back.

Mavery turned to her left at the same time Alain reached for the torch, and she walked straight into his outstretched arm.

She tried moving in the other direction, only to bump into his shoulder.

They exchanged nervous laughter as, no matter which direction they moved, they seemed destined to collide into each other.

Alain took a full step back and remained still, allowing Mavery to finally slip past him.

Face burning, she did so while lowering her gaze.

She returned to the stove, where the tea had cooled enough to touch.

She strained the liquid through a cheesecloth, using her bare hands to extract every bit of liquid from the clump of wet herbs.

Each squeeze relieved a bit of her embarrassment, but plenty remained even after the herbs had yielded their final drop.

As she wiped her indigo-stained hands on a tea towel, Alain brought over the powdered claws.

He sidled next to her and tipped the white powder into the herb-infused base.

Once again, Mavery became acutely aware of how closely they were standing: their shoulders were barely an inch apart.

Her Ether-induced chill was no longer a concern; the kitchen felt like an inferno.

“I should, er, go work on my translation,” she muttered.

“All right,” Alain said, nodding. “I’ll finish up and bring you the potion in a few minutes.”

Back in the sitting room, Mavery threw herself onto Alain’s desk chair and allowed herself a single self-pitying groan before deciding she was being ridiculous.

Yes, she’d not only grown to enjoy Alain’s company, she was drawn to this man like a moth to a flame.

But she couldn’t let his mere presence reduce her to a smitten schoolgirl.

Now that she was an assistant in earnest, she had more important matters to worry about: the translation, the presentation, the strange word…

She was determined to take her job seriously, and that included not letting some condescending arcanist derail her research. And she was equally determined to not let some silly rules get between her and—

“Are you all right?”

She flinched at the sound of Alain’s voice. She’d been so lost in thought, she hadn’t heard him return from the kitchen.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just…thinking.”

He placed a potion-filled teacup on the desk. “About the translation?”

He leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest in a way that suggested he was attempting to act casual in light of what had happened in the kitchen.

Though Mavery’s most recent behavior spoke otherwise, she was thirty-seven years old and had enough experience to recognize in Alain the same internal struggle she felt within herself.

“The Covenants, actually,” she said. “I read nothing about how the High Council enforces those rules. When you become a wizard, do you swear a blood oath or—”

Alain laughed. “Blood oaths? Oh, those are just fairy tales.”

“And how am I supposed to know that?” she scoffed. “Everything about wizards, the High Council… It’s all so godsdamned cryptic.”

“Sorry, I often take for granted what’s common knowledge for wizards.

To answer your question, when it comes to following the Covenants, we’re completely on the honor system.

If someone were to break a covenant, the High Council would only know if it’s blatantly obvious, or if another wizard were to report a violation.

“As for the punishment…” He shifted uneasily. “Well, that depends. For something as banal as a dress code violation, the High Council will send you a sternly worded letter. Damaging a library book will earn you a small fine.”

“And what about a more serious violation?” Her mouth began to dry, but she pushed ahead, forced herself to speak the words. “For example, if a wizard were to become romantically involved with an assistant, what would happen then?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

She met his gaze and held it. “Just humor me, Alain. What would happen if something like that came to light?”

“That would depend entirely upon the whims of the High Council—”

“Tell me the worst-case scenario.”

He sighed. “The assistant would face no formal punishment, save for the damage to her reputation following a scandal like that. As for the wizard, he would certainly lose his job at the University. And he would likely be stripped of his rank. That would mean no more research stipends, no more access to the universities’ libraries, no more resurrections.

The wizard would become, for all intents and purposes, an ordinary mage. ”

She laughed flatly. “You speak as though being an ‘ordinary mage’ would be a terrible thing.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be, but losing one’s rank is still a risk I wouldn’t want to take. Er, hypothetically speaking, of course.”

He looked away as color rose in his cheeks. Mavery couldn’t recall ever knowing anyone who blushed as much as he did. It was one of the many things she found endearing about him.

“While we’re engaging in hypotheticals…” She chewed her lip. “What if the Covenants didn’t exist?”

Alain laughed nervously as he waved a hand. “Having romantic relations with any wizard is a recipe for disaster. Doubly so when it comes to the wizard standing before you. I can assure you, that’s an idea not worth entertaining, even in hypotheticals.”

Mavery frowned. “What do you m—?”

“I ought to go bottle up the rest of the potion.” He nudged the teacup across the desk. “Drink up. We’ve plenty of work to do.”

With that, he escaped into the kitchen. Though she wanted to follow him and press him further on what he’d said, she found herself unable to move. A heavy weight had settled on her shoulders, anchoring her to the desk chair.

He was right, much as it pained her to admit it. He couldn’t risk his entire career for someone he’d known for not even two months. And now that she was committed to being his assistant—a job that was enjoyable, comfortable, stable—she wasn’t about to risk losing that, either.

But what of the man in the paintings? Had Alain risked everything for him?

Mavery grabbed the cup of anti-Sensing potion. She tossed the black liquid down her throat, winced at its bitterness. Within seconds, the auras emanating from the front door faded. The potion had once again succeeded at dulling those Senses. If only everything else could be dulled just as easily.