Knowing the recipient of her petty creations now, Seiren felt more justified completing these mundane tasks day in, day out. She passed the latest rune to Myrtin and he passed her the wobbly tray of bread and cold meat â and the promised orange. He also gave her the latest request, bowed his bent back, and shuffled out, closing the door with a click.
Seiren yawned. Kori demanded magic every night and insisted on her doing everything she knew â and beyond that â until he was too sleepy and she had to tuck him in. His swollen legs were the heaviest thing she'd ever lifted into bed, and fluid seeped out of it until sores appeared and he mewed in pain. Even moving across the room to fetch his toys made him breathless, breathing with noises like a whistle through pursed lips. He might be bratty and demanding, but Seiren couldn't bring herself to abscond. Not when his little face lit up like the stars every night when she phased through his door. And so, she waved goodbye to any further substantial sleep; not that it was that great a problem, seeing as it kept the nightmares at bay.
She also managed to dig up some of the professor's old textbooks from the shelves outside. They were tucked far behind some history tomes, impossible to find had Seiren not used a search rune to specifically hunt for it. It was as if someone â she wouldn't dare guess who â didn't want these found again.
He could have just incinerated them all.
The afterlife. The beyond. Through the veil. There were many ways of phrasing death, but they all meant the same: the mysterious yonder from which nobody returned. Experimenting to search for the afterlife was forbidden, but it wasn't against the law to theorise about it. Reading between the lines of the professor's writing, however, it was clear this was not a man passionate about the subject.
No, he was obsessed by it.
Everything he wrote, whether it was about another philosopher's thoughts or the structures and theories behind magic, he linked it somehow to the afterlife. Fernard alleged Wallin Fernsby's 'The Origin of Magic' spoke of the afterlife as the original spark of magic as human lives crossed into the world of death, even though Fernsby actually felt the planets' orbits were the true source, via mages' ability to utilise the celestial energy that fell onto the earth from stars. He claimed Kinroch Gastrell's 'Benevolence and Malevolence: Usage of Magic's chapter on the rise and fall of magic users and misusers depicted those seeking for the afterlife and its significance. Adeline Berrycloth's 'Karma: A History' apparently could be seen as manipulation of their current world by those long dead and gone at the hand of the all-encompassing Being. The citation list was almost ridiculous.
Surely a man can't be happy locking himself away from the world immersed in something almost cultish like that.
Research is valuable stuff, though, mused Madeleine. Anyway. What's today's task?
The quota for toys seemed to have filled. Seiren tossed the book in her hand onto her bed and unfolded the crumpled paper request from yesterday with one hand. Fireworks.
"Huh." Her eyebrows rose. "He wants... burst magic?"
Surely not. Not if he wants to carry on the illusion that he's the mage behind it all.
I can't rune sparks of light. That'll take a crazy amount of yellow and violet mixed runes. Seiren stuffed the sheet into the front pocket of her dress and slapped a piece of cold meat with too much force onto her slice of bread. The wet splat didn't make her feel any better. She stuffed it in her mouth and chewed loudly, her mouth opening and shutting with exaggeration. The runes I've been making this week are advanced enough.
In the back of her mind, she wondered if Rowan would be proud of her. Not that he would ever say it, nor even look at her. Their relationship had gone up in smoke.
Maybe he wants to fire you, so he's giving you an impossible challenge.
Ha! I won't give him that satisfaction. Seiren scowled and swallowed. Midday drew close; Myrtin would be knocking on her door soon, expecting results, and to give her a new request. Dusting the crumbs off her dress, she stuffed chalk and paper into the other pocket and made to stomp out of her room when a tap-tap-tap caught her attention. She whirled around. Behind the dirt-streaked weathered glass sat a fat grey pigeon, its round eyes trained on her. She crossed the room in five long strides and threw the window open. The pigeon cooed and flapped its wings.
With trembling fingers, she undid the sealed paper around its leg, and the fat thing fluttered off, wobbling in the air. She waved a hand over the violet rune, which dissipated, and the paper unfurled. She recognised the neat cursive immediately and cursed under her breath.
'Dear Seirenâ'
Dear my ass, she thought, tempted to ignite the paper, but bit back the thought and carried on reading.
'Dear Seiren,
'I hope I find you and Madeleine wellâ
Ooh, he asked after me?
'âand that you are both settling in at Hartley. I write in hopes you will excuse my recent behaviour; apologies are not my best suitâ'
Seiren rolled her eyes so hard she felt the muscles in her eye sockets straining.
'âand although our last meeting ended on less than desirable terms, I wish we can start anew. There is much you can learn to become a fully-rounded state mage and I believe I have much to offer.'
"Even now, he sounds so far up his arâ"
He's trying to apologise, more eloquently than before, said Madeleine. Give him a chance. Loren trusts him.
Loren also trusts that old hag.
For good reason, if what Kommora Haigh says is true!
Seiren scanned the rest of his letter. Rowan wanted to meet again at the end of that week. It'd been two weeks since their bust-up. So much had happened since.
Are you going to go? Madeleine asked as Seiren got up to go to Kori's room again. She'd rather scoop out her own eyeballs than see Rowan Woodbead again, much less speak to him. On an unpleasantness scale, she'd rank it at a Hannan demon. A festering one. She swung the door open.
"Oh, good mage..."
Seiren whipped around, her heart jumping to her throat. She hadn't heard Myrtin. He bowed; his back cracked.
"I apologise for startling you. I just wish to pass to you that Professor Fernard has rescinded his previous request. This new one overrides that." His throat closed and he struggled to get the next words out. "And after this, he will give you what was promised and you m-may leave."
He turned away, but Seiren caught the glistening unshed tears. He sniffed and straightened his back as much as he could.
"Wait, Myrtin." He paused, not turning around.
"Yes, good mage?" His voice was thick.
"What's going on? Why the sudden finality?"
His shoulders shook beneath the smart black jacket that swamped his skinny frame.
"Should I maybe make something? Herbal tea?"
Madeleine snorted. You've never made food in your life. You'll end up killing him.
"Is he unwell? Shall I call a doctor? I know a good one." Seiren thought of Loren, glamorous blonde curls and all.
"No, that won't be n-necessary." His voice grew more nasally. Seiren frowned, puzzled.
"Well, if he can do green runes, then he can heal whatever injuries he's got, surely. But he can't, can he?" Seiren reached forward and grabbed the old man's elbow. He jumped and spun around, his eyes and nose now pink. "Tell me, Myrtin, why does Ebanon Fernard feel like a mage to me when he can't do magic?"
"I c-can't say." A light flush appeared on his cheeks, enough to bring some life back to his skeletal pale form. "P-please let me go."
"I know he's pretending those runes I made are his. I know about Kori."
His eyes widened and his face drained of blood. He swayed. For a moment, Seiren thought he was going to topple in a faint, he looked so clammy.
"H-how? Oh, blessed Karma, the professor will be so displeased..."
"I thought he was unwell? He's hardly in a state to be angry with you." She caught his darting eyes and tightened her grip before he could flee. "I've seen Kori. Tell me, Myrtin."
"The professor, he..." Myrtin sighed, looking all of a sudden ten years older, if that were possible. "He loves Kori very much. So much so when Kori's mother, Lady Kaia, died, he vouched to be father and mother. Kori was only three. He didn't remember very much of Lady Kaia. The professor was there day and night for Kori, who was always such a sickly child, but nobody was there for the professor. He sank further and further into the darkness of his mind. Where Lady Kaia used to support him through his labour, he had just the house to himself. The servants left soon after; the atmosphere in the house was too negative and he regressed from a stern but benevolent master to one consumed by grief."
Well that explains his obsession with death. He wanted to bring his wife back.
"What does this have to do with his magic?" said Seiren.
Myrtin turned around, his back to her. His hands curled into fists. His shoulders shook, but not out of sadness this time.
"The Lady Fernard's spirit might have moved on, but at that point her body... hadn't."
"He didn't," breathed Seiren, her blood turning to ice. "He used necromancy?"
But that's forbidden! Madeleine was equally horrified.
Myrtin froze, aware he had spoken too much. "I am sorry, good mage. I must go. The master will be most displeased I spoke about his secretsâ"
"He failed, didn't he?" said Seiren. "Did it backfire? Is that why his magic doesn't work any more?"
There must be a price to toying with the human life. What would it have been? It was such taboo, nobody spoke about it. It was only ever warned against with the most severe punishment for those caught attempting it. Seiren remembered there was a boy in the year above who tried to bring his dog back to life when it got hit by a runaway cart and he was expelled from King's, any future with magic use gone. It was only a damn dog.
"I can't say any more. I'm sorry." Myrtin hobbled away, his breathing ragged, leaving Seiren gaping after him.
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