Page 63 of A Tower of Half-Truths

Thirty-Seven

Their presentation was the day after final exams, and so the University of Leyport’s campus was warded off to everyone but faculty.

Mavery waited for Alain by the gate, feeling a bit anxious.

The presentation had nothing to do with it; she and Alain had run through it countless times over the past five days.

Nor did her new dress; it fit her like a glove.

Rather, her discomfort came from the strong magic thrumming against her skin.

The gate was enshrouded with hundreds of thin silver ley lines threaded around the blue cords of the protective ward.

Never had she seen so many augmentations tied to a single spell; she assumed each ley line corresponded with a faculty member who was allowed passage.

Beyond the warding magic was a scarlet aura—a fabrication spell that Mavery assumed powered the gate itself.

The air was thick with a scent she could only describe as burning metal.

Footsteps approached. She turned to find a well-dressed man walking down the sidewalk.

When he came a few steps closer, her breath hitched upon realizing that well-dressed man was Alain.

For once, he was wearing clothes that fit him properly: a black dinner jacket with an ivory cravat tucked into a matching waistcoat.

The style was a little old-fashioned, and the satchel over his left shoulder certainly clashed with it, but this was the most put-together she’d ever seen him.

Tucked under one arm, he carried the leatherbound spell tome he’d picked up from the bookbinder’s while Mavery was at the boutique, picking up her dress.

He stopped a few paces from her and froze as he took her in from head to toe.

As his gaze lingered where the bodice accentuated her hips and waist, he also seemed to momentarily forget how to breathe.

“Gods, you’re stunning,” he sighed.

“You can thank your mother for that,” Mavery said as warmth flooded through her.

“It’s not just the dress,” he said. “I thought you were stunning from the moment we first met.”

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “Even when I was covered in dirt and bloodstains?”

“Yes, even when you were…” He blinked. “That was blood?”

“I’d been shot only a few days prior, remember?”

“Right, of course,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Well, dirt and blood aside, my initial thought was that Declan had played some sort of prank on me, that he’d sent you to lure me out of my cave after his own attempts had failed.”

Mavery smiled as she wondered what antics he and Declan had gotten into before his long sabbatical. She assumed most of those had been one-sided.

“You look quite dashing yourself,” she said.

He returned her smile. “It’s a shame we’ll have to cover all this up.” He opened his transmutated satchel and pulled out a bundle of black cloth: her assistant’s robe. “The University’s dress code still applies.”

She frowned. “Then why bother with the formal attire in the first place, if we’re just going to wear these sacks?”

“Some archaic tradition, no doubt. Here, hold this for a moment.”

He passed her the spell tome, then pulled out his own robe.

The tome’s cover was black leather with silver filigree; it could have been mistaken for a mundane book.

But when she opened it, seeing her own name on the title page made it more precious to her than even the rarest tomes in the University’s collection.

“An Incantation to Simulate the Aura Detection Effects of Arcane Hypersensitivity on Basic Gardemancy Spells,” she read. “The name doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.”

“It’s only a placeholder. Once our spell goes through peer review and the High Council approves it for public use, I’ll give it something snappier. Perhaps I’ll name it after you: ‘Culwich’s Aura Illuminator’…or something to that effect.”

“I think ‘Sensing Spell’ will do just fine,” she said, though the idea made her heart race.

She donned her own robe while Alain passed through the magical barrier.

Hinges creaked as the front gate swung open autonomously.

He turned around and, with a slight bow, extended his hand to her as if inviting her to dance.

She laughed as she took his hand, and he pulled her through the warding magic.

It left her with a slight chill running down her spine and a sharp pang in the center of her forehead.

This magic was much more powerful than the spells that protected Alain’s apartment.

Their apartment, she reminded herself. Another shiver passed through her—and this time it had nothing to do with magic.

The portal room’s magic was as prominent as it had been the first time Mavery stepped foot in this place.

The air pulsated with arcana and brushed against the back of her hand like a gentle breeze.

They stopped in front of the largest portal; The High Council of Wizards was engraved in the silver frame.

“Are you ready?” Mavery asked.

“Not in the slightest,” Alain said, “but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

She gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. The vaporous substance rippled, and his body flickered for a moment before vanishing entirely. Once the portal stilled again, Mavery followed him.

And then the world ripped in two.

Arcana pounded against every bone in her body, blackened her vision, wrenched the air from her lungs.

White-hot pain ripped through her head as though it were being cleaved in half.

She hadn’t taken the anti-Sensing potion today; she’d seen no need for it, as their spell worked as intended and their trip would be brief.

But she doubted it would have made any difference.

Never had she felt such a powerful concentration of magic all at once.

She could barely breathe, her thoughts could focus on nothing but pain.

And then the sensation passed. Her non-magical senses returned one by one, beginning with her vision.

The lighting in this room was warmer, its walls even taller than the room she’d just left.

She had no memory of falling, but she was now on all fours.

Her fingers gripped the fibers of a plush cobalt blue rug.

She gasped, and her lungs ached as they refilled with air.

“Are you all right?” Alain asked. He was kneeling beside her, rubbing her back.

“That was…unpleasant,” she gasped.

“Stepping through a rift in the Ether always is,” he said gravely.

She attempted to stand up, but her head reeled and she promptly found herself on all fours again. Alain offered her a hand and helped her to her feet. Her bad knee buckled beneath her, and she swayed on the spot, using Alain’s shoulder for support as she regained her balance.

“Hold still,” he said.

He produced a handkerchief and delicately blotted it beneath her nose, across her lip.

When he pulled the fabric away, it was stained with blood.

She’d been so overwhelmed by the portal magic, she hadn’t noticed she was bleeding.

Luckily, nothing had soiled her new dress or, more importantly, the spell tome. Alain retrieved it from the floor.

“Are you certain you don’t want the anti-Sensing potion?” he asked.

“A bit late for that, isn’t it?”

“I mean for the trip back.” He handed her the spell tome, then retrieved a vial of dark liquid from the outer pocket of his satchel. “I came prepared.”

“Gods, I could kiss you right now,” she sighed.

He smiled. “There will be plenty of time for that later—and more.”

Mavery’s eyes widened at his boldness. But she then noticed they were completely alone. Unlike the room they’d just left, this one had no attendant. Alain offered his arm. She slipped her hand in the crook of his bent elbow, and they left the portal room together.

They proceeded down a long curved corridor lit with arcana-infused sconces.

The walls and floors were gray stone, though the carpet runner dampened their footsteps.

The only decorations were portraits of former Archmages.

Aside from their differing skin tones and beard lengths, the subjects of these paintings were largely interchangeable: elderly men wearing dark blue robes.

They approached an arched window. Mavery stopped and gasped at the view of Montesse, the capital of Dauphine.

Here, the sun was lower than it had been only moments ago; dusk was approaching.

Once she’d recovered from the shock of crossing half the continent instantaneously, she was awestruck by the sheer scope of the largest city she’d ever seen.

Montesse had to be at least ten times larger than Leyport.

It seemed to stretch on forever, with rooftops sprawling beyond the horizon.

The High Council’s tower loomed so high above the city, the people milling about on the streets were mere pinpricks.

The sight of it made Mavery’s head reel again—along with her stomach.

She took a step back from the window before she became sick.

“Why do wizards insist on having such absurdly tall towers?” she asked, rubbing her temples.

“It harkens back to the classical understanding of magic, when the Ether was believed to be not an intangible force but a physical layer of the atmosphere. Wizards thought that properly attuning oneself to the Ether required being as physically close to it as—”

“One of these days, I’m going to introduce you to the concept of a rhetorical question.” She rolled her eyes. She risked another glance out the window and winced.

“You’re not partial to heights, I take it.”

She shook her head.

Alain leaned his back against the window, crossed his arms, and smiled. “And yet, you still sought out a wizard.”

She smiled back, appreciating the distraction from the unsettling view. “If you think I would’ve let a silly little fear of heights stop me, you don’t know me at all.”

“Oh, I’d never think that for a second.”