Page 13

The laboratory was a thing out of her schoolgirl daydreams. A wide granite floor for testing high-energy spells, reinforced walls, multiple desks and worktables, enough fine wood shelf space for a library… but with her heart beating in her throat, Sciona couldn’t appreciate it.

With her hand resting on the doorknob, she let out a breath and was ashamed to realize how close she was to crying.

It had only been a few stupid jabs. God knew she had suffered worse in the schoolyard as a child; Renthorn at least hadn’t pulled her hair or slapped her books into the dirt.

What stung was that the High Magistry was supposed to be a place of pure intellect.

If there was anywhere in the world where her sex shouldn’t matter, where her class shouldn’t matter, it should have been here.

But that had been a stupid assumption, hadn’t it?

Bringham had warned her this would happen.

In some na?ve part of her, she just hadn’t been able to accept it.

At the sound of a throat clearing over her shoulder, she turned to Tommy, almost surprised to find him still in the room. But of course, he was still here. She was standing like a fool in front of the door, blocking his only way out.

“Pardon, ma’am, but if you mages are done with your… whatever that was, may I get back to my job?”

“Of course.” Sciona felt bad that the poor cleaning man had been pulled into this—and as the instrument of the joke, no less.

She may have been the one the other mages were insulting, but Tommy was the insult.

She wanted to assume that the cruelty of the gesture had gone over his simple Kwen head, but she could see on his face that it hadn’t. She knew shame when she saw it.

“Ma’am?” His sullen expression shifted slightly, softening. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” and now Sciona was embarrassed twice over that she was making the janitor of all people worry about her. Was the hurt really that visible on her face? “Yes, I’m fine. You may go.” She stood back. “Sorry for keeping you.”

The Kwen eyed her for a moment in inscrutable contemplation, then moved toward the door. But as he reached for the handle, Sciona was struck with a terrible image of the other mages mocking him as he walked down the hall, perhaps even coming back to mock her.

“Actually…” She put a hand on the door just as his fingers touched the knob. “Wait.”

He stopped, apprehensive. “Something more you need, ma’am?”

“Yes. I mean—no. Not really. Just… wait a minute, please.”

“Why, ma’am? Going to hold me here indefinitely, pretending their joke didn’t bother you?”

“Excuse me!” Sciona should have asked where he got the nerve to speak to her that way. What came out of her mouth instead was, “Who says I’m letting it bother me?”

A copper eyebrow lifted in skepticism.

“I just meant…” What had she meant? God, they were standing kind of close, weren’t they?

The Kwen smelled of soap and herbs, which was a bit odd, considering his people’s reputation for never washing.

She supposed he did spend all day cleaning.

Not the most skilled work, but how skilled was the work of a mage’s assistant?

Sciona had interned as one when she was fifteen, and it had consisted mostly of following instructions to the letter. Maybe…

“Maybe you could stay.”

The Kwen tensed, plainly nervous, though Sciona couldn’t imagine why. “Ma’am?” he said very quietly. “Would that be appropriate?”

“It’s never inappropriate to do as a highmage says. Renthorn told you to stay and assist me with my research, so I think that’s what you should do.”

Tommy’s winter eyes flicked upward to study Sciona, his hand still resting on the doorknob, his brow knit in confusion… No… not confusion. Anger. He held it smoothly under that opaque Kwen countenance, but it was there.

“Your colleagues had their laugh. You proved you can take it. What more do you prove by continuing to mock me?”

“I’m not mocking,” Sciona protested, though she immediately realized that she hadn’t given Tommy any reason to believe otherwise.

Kwen didn’t even attend the university—only trade schools.

It did seem rather like a joke to invite one into a highmage’s laboratory.

But if Sciona had overly respected convention, she wouldn’t be here. “I was serious.”

He didn’t seem convinced.

“Serving as a research mage’s assistant isn’t that hard,” she continued. “I would know. I’ve assisted a lot of mages in a lot of labs. It’s mostly following directions. You’re a Kwen, right? You know how to do that?”

The slightest tightening in his jaw. “Yes, ma’am. I can follow directions.”

“Then you’re hired.”

The anger had left Tommy’s expression; now, he was just looking at her like she’d lost her mind. “I’m not qualified.”

Well, neither is Jerrin Mordra, Sciona was tempted to point out, and get a load of him strutting his white robes around this floor.

“You speak Tiranish well,” she said. “Can you read it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then that’s all the qualification you need.” Maybe not to assist just any mage, but Sciona was not just any mage. She had always done heavier lifting than her peers—quite literally when it had come to the exam. Why should this be any different?

“The other mages’ assistants are all top students at the University,” Tommy said. “Isn’t that the level of qualification I need?”

“Only if you’re assisting a mage who wants half his work done for him.”

“When I say I can read Tiranish, I mean only very slowly. I learned from a supervisor at a previous job because he wanted me to handle inventory, but I’ve never attended a day of school. I doubt I’ll meet your standards.”

“You’ll be fine.” Sciona’s confidence was, perhaps, misplaced.

But increasingly, she liked this idea of turning a joke at her expense to her advantage.

That would show Renthorn that he couldn’t upset her.

More than that, it would show all these mages that she didn’t need any special accommodations to succeed.

“If you say so, ma’am, then I’m at your disposal,” Tommy said. “Only…”

“What?”

“I do already have a job in this building.”

“Oh.” Sciona hadn’t thought of that. She chewed her lip for a moment before an utterly delightful thought occurred to her. “Well, I think that’s Cleon Renthorn’s problem now.”

Tommy tilted his head in question.

“He has charge of this floor. That means staffing, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. That is, the office manager usually handles staffing, but Highmage Renthorn has the final say.”

“Well, everyone heard him promote you to my assistant, so congratulations.” She held out her hand. “I look forward to working with you.”

Tommy’s gray eyes flicked to her hand and rested there for a moment before he accepted the handshake.

And Feryn, Sciona had thought she knew rough hands!

Aunt Winny’s had always been weathered from laundry, and Alba had calloused fingertips from her mechanical work.

Gripping Tommy’s hand was like gripping warm stone.

“Right.” Sciona realized that she had held on a moment longer than was strictly appropriate.

“Um…” Pulling her hand from his, she turned to the boxes she’d had transferred from her old office in Trethellyn Hall.

Most of the books in Sciona’s personal collection were available in the library just next door to these mapping laboratories, but the library copies wouldn’t have Sciona’s years of notes in the margins.

“These boxes are all I brought with me. I need the contents shelved in alphabetical order.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kneeling, Tommy opened a box, pulled out a book, and ran his thumb down the spine. After considering the lettering for a moment, he glanced back up at Sciona, and she was embarrassed to realize that she had been staring, wondering if he was telling the truth about being able to read.

It was too late to pretend she hadn’t been watching him, so she crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Problem?”

“Just a question, ma’am.”

“What?”

“Alphabetical order by title or author?”

“Author, please. Oh, but before you get to that, here.” Sciona set the pastry basket on the nearest empty table. “Have a muffin. Or four.”

“You don’t think your colleagues might like some?”

“I’m sure they would. That’s why they’re all for you.”

Not keen to interact with the other highmages any further, Sciona waited as long as she could without a lavatory break.

It was only when she finally stepped out of her office and wondered where the restroom was that she realized there wasn’t one.

Not for her. Only men had ever worked on this floor.

Maybe she should have been annoyed, but it was almost a relief to descend to the third floor, where she didn’t risk running into a new colleague around each corner.

When she had done her business, she avoided the main stairs to her laboratory and cut through the library instead.

The library was the only chamber in the Main Magistry building that exceeded Leon’s Hall in size—a decadent layer cake of mezzanines, each floor requiring a different level of clearance.

Having worked as a research mage for years, Sciona knew the lower ninety percent of the library better than her own apartment complex.

Now, she got to walk up the stairs she had eyed with longing for all those years to the final level.

The security gates clicked open upon registering her highmage’s clasp, letting her in among the stacks.