“Thank you, I feel so much better knowing that they’re all-powerful.” She slapped the sink’s rim in frustration. “Gods, I feel like I’m going mad. Do we let these religious fearmongers spew their drivel, pollute minds, and build toward another uprising in twenty years? Or do we fine the lot of them and have them yell about freedom of speech?”
Telmar raised an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you something that’s never helped a government. Wallowing. You’ve endured much, you’ll have to endure more, and your training isn’t going to complete itself.”
“You’re a right spot of sunshine,” she said wryly. “Ever considered becoming a Cleric?”
“I’m sure the gods are grateful not to have me.”
Afternoon veered into evening as Telmar steered her through magical history and practical application.
Each of the thirteen lands had an element of nature that its people could wield offensively and defensively, though the nature of that symbiosis remained elusive. Whether Ur Dinyé’s storms had begotten its people’scontrol over lightning or vice versa remained a matter of theological and archeological debate, but there was no denying the pervasive, evolving connection, like there was with Usten and ice. Unions of magi from different nations resulted in intriguing powers, such as her own, or the odd Illusionist—a magic that had originated in the neighboring land of Errigal—but Ur Dinyé’s magical hegemony remained lightning magi. Even most Guildsmen who manned supply wagons to the north were at least a Fifth- or Sixth-Tier.
She’d also discovered that she’d been quite inefficient with her use of power. Not having learned about Thresholds, she’d brute-forced her magic. Rather like kicking down doors instead of unlocking them, Telmar had remarked at her first lesson. Magic was a meditative process. One rune to release the Threshold matching the Tier of the rune she intended to use, then came the rune itself.
Nihumb, the rune for “Concealment” that she used to hide the full-body scarring she’d sustained from the Fall, was a Second-Tier illusion rune, requiring a steady trickle of power. She’d been feeding it a deluge and constantly draining herself of magic by the end of a workday. Limiting herself to only release the Second Threshold felt incredibly strange.
Her brow furrowed as she made her scars disappear once more. “It’s easier but quieter.”
“Because you aren’t wasting magic.” Telmar touched a bloodied finger to two runes on his armilla and spun a tiny sphere of lightning over his palm, weaving the delicate strands until the little ball pulsed fiercely but didn’t explode outward. “Control is a magus’s strongest weapon. Take your Magus Supreme. He’s the strongest in the land,certo, but he’s also a master at control. If it ever comes down to two contenders for the position, the one with greater mastery of their Thresholds always gets it.”
Good.A powerful man without control was a danger to everyone.
“Speaking of which,” Telmar eyed her speculatively, “how’s he holding up after his trip to the afterlife?”
She froze, her control slipping enough for scars to crawl back over her hands. She shoved them in her pockets.Distract him.“He’s alive and well as you can well see! Just buried in parchment what with having to be Tetrarch, Magus Supreme, and consequently…” She winced. “Headmaster.”
Every Magus Supreme held the position of Headmaster to pass on their knowledge to the next generation of magi. Unfortunately, most noble families whose scions attended the school weren’t fond of Kadra.
Telmar blew out a breath in commiseration. “I hear parents are complaining that his behavior is unseemly for an educator.”
“They didn’t mind when it was Aelius.”
He offered a tepid shrug and switched tacks. “Nevertheless, you can’t put me off that easily! Has the Magus Supreme saidnothingof the afterlife? There’s no record of anyone returning from the dead in Ur Dinyé. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Order fixates on him now that they failed to get you. Can you imagine if he wasGodstouched?”
Her heart plummeted like a stone, tongue freezing to the roof of her mouth.
Mistaking her stillness for confusion, Telmar went on, “Sometimes the Elsar take a shine to those they encounter, you know? Offer them all kinds of gifts in return for service or whatever else gods want of humans. Always a caveat, though. Take Wrath: According to the Codices, he offers men great power, which usually drives them mad.”
She forced out a laugh. “I’d rather take the ability to mass persuade enemies.”
Telmar snapped his fingers. “Coercion. A magic from the land of Ilohe.”
“It’s real?”
“Rare and dangerous for obvious reasons. There have been campaigns in Ilohe to eradicate all those with the magic. No one wants to be sapped of free will.”
“Still, to kill them for existing?”
“That’s life.” He didn’t sound too upset. “The Elsar are fair. Almost every magic has an equal and opposite in some land. Ice in Usten, andthen, fire in Oriti, for example. A Coercer might be your opposite. Both magics have the same root—sound. Only difference is that you read people through their words, and a Coercer controls them through words. Could turn you into a puppet in a heartbeat.”
“Wisdom’s breath, don’t speak one into existence. The land is in enough trouble.”
“You’ll have to deal with all sorts, barmaid.” Telmar’s tone had the taste of sympathy. “Magi who warp ice, shadow, and even themselves. Many lands use True Illusionists of Urd and Errigalese parentage. They can alter their faces in a heartbeat and mimic everything down to the placement of your scars. Your Magus Supreme was careful for a reason. Now, he could die at the hand of someone with your face.” He took in her stricken look, and another sliver of compassion chipped at his customary indifference. “This is your life now.”
“I know.” The void in her yawned wider. She tracked the sun’s slow progression outside the office’s narrow window. In a few hours, the graduation would begin.
Telmar cleared his throat. “But rest assured, I’d be quite concerned about anyone who could take you on, Summoner of Death.”
The words prompted a startling heave of her stomach, fear snaking around her limbs until she went stock-still. Another voice reached through the past to whisper in her ear.
