“You have your magic, and I have mine.” My legs hummed like I had attached two phones to my thighs, and they were vibrating.
“Do you know what happened between me and Damaes?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
This was a test, and one I had to pass. I opened my eyes.
“There are twelve circles of magic, each requiring progressively greater understanding. The top two ranks are theoretical. Nobody has ever ascended past the tenth circle.”
But every mage in existence spent way too much time speculating about what that might be like. Mages were the ultimate power hounds. No matter how great their achievements were, they always wanted more.
“Two years ago, you were in the seventh circle, while Damaes was in the eighth and on the way to the ninth. The eighth circle is the art of unlocking the mystery of existence through which the mage gains complete control over their body and achieves the Fade, a state of existing without the physical form.”
The Fade wasn’t an astral projection but rather an ability to turn your physical body incorporeal, which rendered you immune to most physical attacks. It could only be maintained for a few moments, and many eighth-circle mages couldn’t hold it for longer than an instant.
“You had been in the seventh circle since you turned twenty-two. Up to that point, your rise was meteoric, and then you got stuck.”
Isadau grimaced.
“For years, you’d refined your magic and discovered new ways to employ it, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t achieve the Fade. You were frustrated, especially because the mage society is filled with jealous, pissy academics who snipe at each other and squabble over petty things. You were exceptional and that chafed at some of them, so once you couldn’t break through to the eighth circle, even the mages who couldn’t dream of ever reaching it started making comments about you hitting your limit.”
She opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind.
“Meanwhile Damaes was relentlessly pursuing the ninth circle. He always paid special attention to you, which you found flattering, and over time, you became his right-hand person. You practically ran the Tower, and he was consulted only on the most important decisions. The Mage Tower possesses the Eye, which is a source of great power. You wanted Damaes to allow you access to the Eye so you could boost your power and ascend. He refused and told you that you needed to think less.”
She clenched her teeth.
“You told him that you had ambitions, that you wanted your own Tower one day, and he said that he didn’t see you as the head of a Tower. Your place was at his side as his subordinate and his woman. Although he had never communicated that kind of interest, in his head the two of you were in a relationship. You simply hadn’t had the opportunity to consummate it, it was glaringly obvious to anyone with half a brain, and he was annoyed that you were being deliberately dense about it.”
She barked a short laugh. “He didn’t even ask me. The thought that I might reject him never crossed his arrogant brain. His woman. Notthe one I love, not a partner, not a wife. His woman.”
“Damaes was born in the Highlands of Grador. His father is a hunter, and his mother is a bow maker. If you took away his magic and dropped him into the mountain wilderness with nothing but a knife, he would find his way back and come out of the woods carrying a delicious mountain goat he had hunted on his shoulders.”
Isadau gave me an odd look.
“While his actions are deeply problematic and criminal in multiple ways, calling you his woman wasn’t an insult,” I told her. “That is how Grador band-men speak. They refer to their loved ones asmy manandmy woman. It is their term of endearment.”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s fair. Do you want me to finish the story?”
“Yes.”
“You had an argument, and then you attacked him. He defended himself. You had a duel. You lost and he shattered your mind and used his own name as the key. He placed a spell that prevented anyone from touching you and turned you loose in Kair Toren. He made sure someone came by to feed you every day and heal your injuries, and he watched you. By now he knows you’re gone. Did I leave anything out?”
“No.”
I shifted my weight in my chair and rubbed my thighs. Ow. Maybe sitting had been a mistake.
“I suppose you want something from me,” Isadau said.
“I could use your help.”
“I can’t teach you to dance. That would take a miracle. I’m a mage, not a saint.”
“It was my first polhe ever. Leave me alone.”
