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Matabar. Chapter 94 - Special Demonstration
🕑 Added 2025-04-21 23:01:02 +0000 UTCArdi arrived at the classroom for his practical Star Engineering course (thankfully, the schedule he’d received at the start of the month was still valid) right at the appointed time. And yet, to his surprise, the doors were locked. As far as he could remember, Convel had never once been late for-
“You owe me a biscuit and some lingonberry juice, dear.”
Ardi turned around. Behind him, coming from the direction of the elevators, were Boris and Elena. Given that there was no one else in the corridor, the married couple weren’t bothering to hide their relationship and pretend they were just a nobleman and his maid.
Elena was dressed in a thick, warm gown that fit the chill spring weather. Its jacquard skirt was patterned with snowdrops; her heels tapped lightly against the floor; her gloves lay nonchalantly atop the platinum clasp of a handbag that cost more than Ardi made in half a year — even taking all his bonuses and additional stipends into account. Wait… Had he really started thinking like Yonatan Kornosskiy?
Well, no matter.
With every passing month, Elena seemed less and less inclined to adopt her old, modest servant’s persona. And this shift wasn’t exactly her idea. Boris was working harder and harder to show the world that Elena was his wife. And she was resisting since she wanted to keep their marriage a secret and away from prying eyes for as long as possible.
It wasn’t difficult to guess why.
As for Boris himself, despite the equally-expensive suit of deer wool he was wearing, he looked rather frazzled and exhausted. His face was still flushed, and his breathing kept slipping out of its steady, measured rhythm.
“Uh-”
“Today’s class is in another room, Ardi,” Boris interrupted him.
The young noble came closer and offered him his hand. Ardi gave him a firm handshake, then, as courtesy demanded, gave Elena a quick hug. She smelled of coffee, nutmeg, and lavender — the scent of her favorite perfume, which Boris invariably purchased from the same fashionable shop that brought fragrances from all over the world to the capital.
Needless to say, one little bottle might end up costing three, maybe even four dozen exes.
Every time Ardi saw the Fahtov couple, he remembered that somewhere around the corner from number 23 on Markov Canal, there existed a world of such resounding luxury that you could almost go deaf from the mere echo of its footfalls.
“We had a bet going that you probably weren’t in the loop,” Elena explained after she pulled away from their friendly embrace. “Boris, of course, insisted that you always know everything.”
“I used to think better of you, my friend,” Boris sighed, feigning sorrow. “Now, thanks to you, I’ll have to take my wife out on a date. And I so wanted-”
“And what was it you wanted, exactly?” Elena asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
“You misunderstood me, dear,” Boris said with a grin, secretly winking at Ardi. “I only meant to say, ‘I so wanted to take her out somewhere.’”
Elena Promyslov-Fahtov squinted even harder.
“So that’s how it is, then?” She hissed quietly, like a little snake. “First, you spend nearly an entire semester in the hospital with your beloved, who doesn’t have the sense to avoid getting into fights in the first place. Then you wait a whole week for him to come back from field duty. You cook him dinner. And he-”
“And he worships the ground you walk on,” Boris murmured, leaning in and, after making sure there was indeed nobody else in the corridor, gave Elena a tender kiss.
She tried to protest, but quickly wilted and relaxed against him.
They truly loved each other, deeply and sincerely. Ardi not only saw it — he could feel it. Whenever his friends were nearby, even the air — still damp and clinging to the last vestiges of winter in the Metropolis — seemed to turn warm. It felt as though the sun, forever shy and hiding behind a low, granite sky, would peek out just to see the two of them together.
“Hey… Ardi.”
“Hmm?” The young man mumbled awkwardly.
Boris regarded his friend suspiciously.
“Why are you grinning like an idiot?”
Ardi shrugged. “You two are just wonderful,” he answered honestly.
Boris and Elena exchanged a glance. Both looked worried.
“All right, I guess you were right,” Boris sighed, tapping his steel military staff with his fingers. Such staves were cast from a special lightweight alloy laced with the same additives used in generator fuel. “Ardi, we need to have a serious talk.”
“About how we’re already…” the young man glanced at his father’s watch, “…five minutes late for the lecture?”
“Eternal Angels!” Elena exclaimed. Snatching up her staff and handbag, she dragged… Ardi toward the elevators.
“I might get jealous, you know!” Boris joked, hurrying after them.
Ardi, meanwhile, cast a forlorn look at the stairwell. It was only a few floors, yet these noble folks still preferred that soul-crushing box where only a handful of cables stood between life and death via deadly fall. Best not to dwell on that…
When they passed the attendants — stone-faced operators of levers and buttons for these emotionless machines — and descended into the warm passage, they continued their conversation from earlier.
“So, what were-”
“We’re worried about your condition,” Boris cut him off. “You look like you’re about to play hide-and-seek professionally with thousands on the line, and your hiding spot is… I don’t know… behind a broomstick.”
“And you often stare off into space during class,” Elena added. “When you even bother to show up at all.”
“We do realize,” Boris raised a hand, stopping Ardi before he could protest, “that we’re prying into your affairs. But you’re our friend, and we can’t stand idly by while you ruin your health. So… here.”
Boris held out a pamphlet. On its cover, which was half the size of the pamphlet itself, shone the emblem of the Tears of the Martyrs hospital. The very same hospital where Boris had spent several rather long months. Months during which none of his family had come to visit him.
Unless you counted the family lawyer, whom Ardi had once glimpsed in passing, of course.
Ardi took the pamphlet and read it:
“Comprehensive Wellness Package
Start Date: ____
Duration: 5 days
Fee: ****
Paid in full.”
Where the cost had once been, someone had carefully and very thoroughly erased it so that the sum was impossible to discern.
“I noticed this when I was recuperating there,” Boris remarked as if he were discussing something trivial, like sharing a sandwich.
Even so, Ardi had lived in the capital long enough to know how costly a stay at the Tears of the Martyrs hospital could be without special insurance.
He leafed through the pamphlet and noticed a few extra pages glued in — a list of all sorts of far-from-cheap procedures specifically designed for Star Mages and Firstborn, whose physiology differed from that of ordinary humans.
“We’d have offered our own help first, of course,” Elena said, making no attempt to hide her concern, “but I’m afraid that would make you stop talking to us altogether. So, think of this as the second part of your belated birthday gift.”
“It was-”
“A bit overdue!” Elena interrupted.
Even if he hadn’t been raised by Shaie, Hector and Aergar, Ardi would’ve still felt awkward accepting such a gift. But…
“If you start spouting nonsense,” Boris added in a tone that was far more serious than before, “then I’ll start doing it, too. Something like, ‘this is the least I can do for the friend who risked his life to save me from-’”
“I get it, I get it,” Ardan pleaded. “You don’t have to continue.”
He gave them a grateful nod, took the pamphlet, and tucked it into his satchel.
“You really hate being thanked, don’t you, Ardi?” Elena asked, allowing herself to smile openly now, relief evident in her expression.
Ardi waved his hand vaguely. By then, they had already returned to the atrium, which worried him a little. He couldn’t recall any instance where a Star Engineering class — especially a practical one — was held anywhere but in the Engineering Faculty building.
“What are we doing here?” He asked, sounding uneasy. “And why are we… going that way?”
He gestured toward the doors leading to those accursed elevators. A third ride in one morning? He recalled something Bazhen had once mentioned about some Kargaam belief. What had Ardi done to offend the universe so badly that it was throwing such harrowing trials at him?
Why couldn’t he just use the stairs in peace and quiet?
“Today’s class is on the thirty-sixth floor,” Boris answered, whispering like he was sharing a secret with Ardan. “And you’d know that if you hadn’t skipped half your lectures. Today, by the way, the entire first year is having joint classes. They’ll last all day.”
Ardi blinked a few times.
A lecture intended for all the students of a year was no small matter. They only organized those for the most significant of events. Usually, if you missed one, nothing good would come of it.
Especially if one of those sessions was a military preparation course.
“Ah…”
“Today is demonstration day,” Elena finally explained.
“For the military course, Colonel Kshtovsky brought along Senior Magister Bogdan Urnosov,” Boris added. “They say he’s training the Heir to the Throne herself! A true machine of a man, that one! You should’ve seen how well he demonstrated multi-contour combat seals of the third and fourth Stars. It was incredible.”
Upon hearing the name Urnosov, Ardi almost tripped on the polished floor of the atrium. Thankfully, Boris was there to catch him before he fell — and to remain blissfully unaware of how serious Ardi’s reaction had actually been.
“And for Star Biology and Alchemy, Professor Kovertsky brought in a famous archaeologist, Senior Magister Mart Borskov,” Elena said dreamily. “He told us about star flora and fauna he’s encountered on his expeditions abroad. He also mentioned how, on his way back to the capital from one such expedition, he ran into the Alcade plant called Dawn Shakhash and… Ardi! Are you tripping over nothing again? You really do need to find time for that hospital visit soon.”
“Yeah, my friend! You’re practically hanging off me,” Boris added.
“Yes… yes, you’re right,” Ardi whispered, breathing heavily and hardly aware of his surroundings. “I’m just a bit-”
“And now we have a lecture with Convel,” Elena went on, too caught up in her own excitement to pay much attention to his reply. “And, you won’t believe this, but none other than Grand Magister Edward Aversky is coming! Remember, that’s the man you joked about a few months ago and… hey. Ardi… Ardi! Boris, why are you just standing there? Get him some water!”
“Where am I supposed to get water around here?!”
Barely hearing his friends, Ardi desperately tried to steady himself against a wall that seemed to be sliding out of reach.
Sleeping Spirits… Aversky had mentioned something about a surprise… Damn it!
He really should’ve skipped today as well. Maybe he didn’t know the Grand Magister all that well, but he had no doubts about one thing: after what Milar had pulled at the “Heron,” the man was definitely going to take it out on both of them. And considering the Colonel’s recent orders…
Oh, Sleeping Spirits…
“Ardi, where are you going? The elevators are this way, and you are heading toward the exit!” Elena grabbed him by the elbow with renewed vigor, dragging him back toward those infernal contraptions. “Can you imagine — Grand Magister Aversky himself! What incredible luck! Oh, Face of Light, I’m so happy we managed to enroll here! The Grand is truly an amazing place.”
Could Ardan imagine Grand Magister Edward Aversky? Unlike the rest of them, yes, yes he could.
And that was precisely why he felt no great sense of awe.
“At least we’re not late,” Boris said, acting as though he were oblivious to Ard’s distress. “They doubled the breaks between lectures today.”
Of course they did. Luck was nowhere to be found today…
***
The lecture hall slowly filled with students. Their voices mingled in a noisy hum. Everyone was chatting excitedly about something, drifting around in clusters across the room. It was an amphitheater of sorts, where rows of curved tables rose from floor to ceiling, the lofty ceiling itself spanning three floors.
Normally, you needed a special permit just to set foot on this level of the Grand’s main building, since this floor marked the beginning of the Magisterium’s domain. If the Grand was the sacred heart of Star Magic in the Empire — and arguably the entire world — then the Magisterium was something akin to its holiest altar.
It was a place where Star Mages probed the deepest mysteries, where ideas beyond the grasp of most were discussed, where the sheer number of stars on people’s epaulettes could make you dizzy, and where… it smelled just a bit off.
Ardi had picked up on the sharp scent of pine. It was commonly used in carpet cleaners. Evidently, they’d tried to spruce the place up for the demonstration, but to no great effect.
The carpets were so worn down that they had become slick, and the cleaning solutions just made them even more slippery.
Otherwise, it looked like any other floor. If you didn’t know any better, you might even mistake it for the floor of a regular office.
On the far wall, opposite the amphitheater seating, loomed huge blackboards covered in formulas and calculations. Most of it was advanced Star Science that Ardi barely recognized, aside from the numbers themselves and some standard notations. Where the equations started, or how anyone was meant to make sense of them, Ardi couldn’t begin to guess.
Then Professor Convel entered, pulled a hidden lever by the lectern, and the boards rotated on their axis inside the wall, revealing fresh, clean surfaces. The complex equations were gone, replaced by blank slates, pristine and unmarked.
That left only the walls to look at — walls adorned with portraits of notable Magisters and scholars of the past, and, of course, a portrait of the Emperor. Below it hung the portrait of another man.
Ardi could hardly believe his eyes at first.
There, beneath the Emperor’s portrait, hung the likeness of… Jacob Agrov. The very same man who was widely believed to have heroically perished at Fort Pashar in a fight against the Dark Lord — though in truth, he had been the Dark Lord.
Below, on the amphitheater’s honors board, the same as beneath every other portrait, was a line that read:
“Title of Grand Magister awarded for achievements in calculating embedded arrays of the free type.”
Yes, Jacob Agrov hadn’t turned into the Dark Lord overnight…
“He was the one who created them, actually.”
“Created what?” Ardi twitched, startled.
Elena pointed to Jacob’s portrait, having clearly followed Ardi’s line of sight. Meanwhile, Boris was busy having a staring contest with Iolai Agrov and his entourage, which was still missing Kerimov.
“Jacob Agrov got his Grand Magister title for developing free-type arrays,” Elena explained. “Thanks to his research, we can now produce seals that can change their properties under certain conditions. It’s widely believed that this invention was the turning point where Star Magic definitively surpassed the art of the Aean’Hane.”
Ardi looked at the portrait again.
The work of Jacob Agrov surpassed the art of the Aean’Hane? How poetic that was, especially considering the fact that Jacob himself had been a powerful Aean’Hane — likely the first of the human race in many hundreds, if not thousands, of years to become one.
More and more students continued pouring in. The last time Ardi had seen such a crowd had been during their very first joint lecture with Colonel Kshtovsky.
Not even Ardi’s duel with Kerimov had drawn this many people.
Of course, that also reminded him of how some of those who’d started in the first year had already been expelled for poor performance, exactly as Mart had warned him.
“Dear colleagues,” Professor Convel said, tapping the board with his ever-present pointer to command the room’s attention. “On this traditional day of demonstrative lectures, I am delighted to introduce the man with whom I had the honor of working for several years in the Magisterium. Please welcome Grand Magister Edward Aversky.”
Convel extended his pointer toward the door and… the auditorium fell silent. It was so quiet that Ardi could hear not only the breathing of each student within ten meters, but also the faint buzzing of a lone fly that had somehow gotten lost in the labyrinth of the main building. It flew in over Aversky’s head as he walked in.
The truth was that to most people in the country, the name Edward Aversky meant very little. Perhaps they’d heard of him; maybe they even knew he was a notable researcher. Nothing more.
For the academic community, however, Grand Magister Aversky was akin to a beacon. A lodestar in the endlessly turbulent realm where new ideas popped up as frequently as lampposts flared to life, only to fade away just as quickly. In this realm, Aversky was the symbol that represented a hope that even now, someone might still make a revolutionary breakthrough that would bring them fame, fortune and accolades… at the small cost of looking like a living corpse.
But that last bit either went unnoticed or didn’t concern most of the students, who gazed at him with rapt, almost reverent eyes. They failed to see his unnatural pallor. They missed the dryness of his skin, which cracked at the slightest movement. They didn’t even notice his sunken cheeks — nearly revealing the outline of his skull — or the heavy, dark bags under his eyes. Nor did they spot his oily, unwashed hair, which had been trimmed neatly and tucked away under a stylish felt hat.
Perhaps they were blinded by the gleaming polish on his shoes, or his impeccably-tailored suit, which was so expensive that only people like Boris Fahtov could’ve guessed its real price. Or by the gleaming grimoire at Aversky’s belt, or indeed, by the massive, spotless crystal set into the head of his staff.
“I hope you’re not planning on ending up in the same condition, Ardi,” Elena whispered in his ear.
Ardi glanced at her in mild surprise. She, it seemed, was one of the few who’d remained unbewitched by the mystique of the Grand Magister’s towering reputation…
Maybe the others would change their minds once they discovered what kind of man had just stepped into the room. After all, Aversky hadn’t opened his mouth yet.
“Grand Magister, I-”
“Convel, right?” Aversky interrupted casually, offering the man not so much a handshake as a brief chance for Convel to hold his gloved hand. “I do recall you. Weren’t you the one who insisted my research was a dead end and that I was wasting our funding? Even though it was, in fact, my own inheritance I was spending.”
“Excuse-”
Aversky strode behind the lectern without giving the professor a single chance to speak, removing only the glove covering his uninjured hand. None of the students so much as twitched at such a blatant display of discourtesy.Although… perhaps they simply didn’t perceive it as such. They probably thought their idol could do no wrong.
Ardi, who was sprawled across his desk, tried his best to appear as though he wasn’t really there. Whatever Aversky intended to do to get back at Milar and the Colonel, Ardi had no desire to become a target. Especially since he still remembered Aversky’s promise concerning their work on strategic magic.
Propping his staff against the lectern, Aversky turned to Convel and... simply jerked his right eyebrow. The professor, who was clearly wrestling with his desire to yell at the younger man for his rudeness, forced an unnaturally sweet smile onto his face and approached the Grand Magister.
“Sleeping Spirits...” Ardi understood exactly how Convel felt at that moment. Convel was at least fifteen years older than Aversky, and yet the Grand Magister was treating him as though he were a brainless schoolboy.
“Thank you for agreeing-” Convel began.“I was invited here by the rector,” Aversky interrupted casually. “Alas, I had no chance to refuse. So, let’s get straight to the point, colleague.” He pronounced that last word with a carefully disguised sarcasm — though after months of lessons with the man, Ardi could still pick up on it. “What exactly do you want my demonstration for these green minds to focus on?”
Ardi let out a sigh and buried his face in his hands. Why was Aversky speaking, and yet it was Ardi who felt embarrassed?
Sleeping Spirits. It was as though two personalities coexisted inside the Grand Magister’s head. One was a stalwart military mage serving in the Second Chancery, guided by outdated notions of honor and dignity that would only draw indulgent smiles from most people if they heard about them.
The other was the Grand Magister himself: ornery, arrogant, and someone who regarded everyone around him as little more than mindless dolls. A man completely devoid of empathy who refused to speak with anyone who hadn’t been able to perform nested recursion since they were in diapers.
“He didn’t even prepare a lecture plan?” Elena muttered, sounding indignant.
“Oh, give it a rest — it’s Aversky!” Boris whispered back, glancing furtively at the Grand Magister. “He simply doesn’t need one.”
Ardan remembered the chaos of their first few lessons — and not only those first ones, either.Yes, Boris was right. He really didn’t need one.
Because Aversky was utterly lacking in teaching ability.
Oh, Ardi had indeed learned a lot from the Grand Magister. He’d likely discovered things that would never be revealed to most of his peers and even others beyond them — but only thanks to his own, quite frankly, colossal effort. No false modesty there.
“Creating portable, multifunctional delayed seals,” Convel said through clenched teeth while smoothing his gray mane down with that same strained smile.
All the students, along with Boris, gasped in unison.
“What…” Elena choked out, “that’s the topic for the entrance exams to the Magisterium! How can anyone discuss it without any preliminary groundwork?”
Ardan fully agreed with his friend. Multifunctional delayed seals were far beyond the scope of his Water Shroud or Orlovsky’s Shield.
On the surface, it might seem like they had a similar concept. But in reality…
In reality, both the Water Shroud and Orlovsky’s Shield didn’t contain a multitude of functions. Each simply absorbed energy in one way or another. Yes, Ardi’s Water Shroud could redirect energy back, but achieving that wasn’t so difficult — Ardan had just overloaded the seal with an extra contour containing a free array that introduced a new property to the seal.
And, to be honest, he suspected that this came easily to him only because of the peculiarities of his Aean’Hane path. Even Elena, who had already mastered half the elements, was incapable of properly replicating the Water Shroud. Two functions at once were already more than she could handle with her current Star and overall power, at least when it came to Ardi’s invention.
And Orlovsky’s Shield likewise only had a few functions. Meanwhile, Convel was specifically referring to multifunctional seals, ones that might include five, seven, or even ten distinct functions — and on top of that, they were also delayed-action seals.
That meant a seal had to be able to shift from a passive state to an active one, like Orlovsky’s Shield. Except if you took Orlovsky’s Shield and translated Convel’s words into a practical application, this hypothetical shield would not only create several discs to absorb kinetic energy, but also redirect that energy back at the shooter, or even give those discs a material form and turn them into projectiles themselves. Perhaps it might even transform the shields… into vases. Simple flower vases whose aroma would flow out like hot asphalt, which in turn, upon contact with a certain surface, would turn into butterflies.
Yes, if one had Ley-cables or several accumulators wired to the seal, you could add additional contours and arrays to your heart’s content. But Convel was talking about something else.He was talking about the portability of these seals.
A true mage had to be capable of creating such a seal without the use of external energy sources.
Which made this topic so massive and complex that a run-of-the-mill — or even a pretty successful — graduate of the Grand University would struggle not only to craft a working prototype, but to even grasp the theory. That was precisely why it served as one of the admission exam topics for the Magisterium.
“Wonderful. That would be useful to discuss,” Aversky said, arming himself with a piece of chalk and turning his back to the lecture hall. “First, we should address the basic principle of how a contour interacts, not so much with arrays, but with the runic links attached to it. Indeed, given our limited natural capabilities, we perceive this as a drawn schematic, but the schematic is no more than the flow of energy through given parameters and conditions. Thus, runic links, which we tend to associate only with arrays, share this very same property of interacting with the contours. However, they do so on such a microscopic level that one cannot detect it experimentally without the aid of complex apparatuses. And yet, we have the mathematics and the necessary formulas on our side, so let’s begin there.”
Chalk danced across the blackboard under Aversky’s hand, sketching out formulas and explanations.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Boris and most of the auditorium seemed deflated. A few began whispering and exchanging glances. “The big demonstration lecture from none other than Aversky… is just going to be a standard lecture on boring calculations?”
Only about twenty students instantly opened their notebooks and dipped their pens in ink. Elena and Ardi were among them. The latter, out of habit, used a pencil.
Two and a half hours and four boxes of chalk later
Aversky dusted off his cuffs and, returning to the lectern, continued:
“Thus, we can treat any vector in a seal as something akin to a Ley Line. Yes, in principle, the entire seal is akin to the Ley Lines, but the vector is the very quintessence of that statement. As you might have observed in my computations, vectors in a seal represent, effectively, how the seal embeds itself into the echo of the actual Ley Lines, ensuring the flow of Ley energy through space. Again, as you should’ve noticed from my calculations, vectors don’t possess fixed properties or types. Or at least they haven’t been strictly classified and studied yet.”
He went on after a contemplative pause. “For now, every time we create a seal with a load above two Stars, we have to separately calculate the direction of each vector, because without them, any complex construct will simply collapse before ever merging with reality. At present, we use the term ‘angle of incidence.’ Ascending, descending, parallel vectors — these are just colloquial terms. In reality, each vector and its angle of incidence must be calculated down to the last second. Otherwise, when a seal manifests, it may lose energy. This effect grows especially strong at loads above the Green Star. So, now that we’ve clarified what a vector is — namely, the rule of how Ley energy moves within a seal in conjunction with external Ley energy — we can proceed to the topic-”
“Ahem…”
Ardan was pulled away from Aversky’s speech and glanced at Convel. The professor, looking as though he had grown even more gaunt — he kind of resembled a disgruntled meerkat — was glaring at the Grand Magister with obvious disapproval.
Over the past two and a half hours, Aversky hadn’t so much as accidentally touched on the declared topic of the demonstration lesson. Instead, he had delivered a handful of theorems, then proven them, had refuted one incorrect assumption, and finally, he’d showed them a couple of theoretical experiments involving seal constructions… and all of it had been about vectors.
And all of this because, according to Aversky’s own words:
“I need a little introduction before I get to that topic.”
And if you didn’t know the Grand Magister, you might think that, like the professor of Magic History, he had gotten lost in his own musings.
But Ardi was pretty sure he understood Aversky a bit better than he had at the start of the year.The Grand Magister had done this on purpose.
He had even indicated why.
He’d done this because, a couple of decades ago, Convel had failed to believe in his research. And Aversky still remembered that. He remembered it, and had exacted revenge in his usual, venomous way: he’d simply sabotaged the lesson.
Damn it… He could’ve just not shown up in the first place.
“Thank you for your very thorough explanation on vectors, Grand Magister,” Convel said. Over the course of the lecture, his face had gone through all the colors of the rainbow, and for the first time, Ardi realized that this typically kind, perpetually-positive professor was capable of genuine anger. “Unfortunately, we never got around to the originally stated topic, but thank you nonetheless for explaining something from the fifth-year curriculum.”
Convel surveyed the lecture hall with a weary, somewhat angry and irritated expression in his green eyes. The discordant snoring of several hundred slumbering students greeted him. Even a few of the most resilient among them had surrendered.
Elena, her chin propped up by her fist, was still scribbling down the statements Aversky had written on the board, but she was doing it numbly, no longer fully grasping what she was writing.
Vectors were no small thing: they belonged firmly in the domain of the second-to-last year of the Grand University, mainly because you needed a huge foundation of knowledge to handle them properly.
What was the point, then, of announcing that demonstration lesson about the previously mentioned topic? It had likely been intended as something that Elena and Boris had hinted at: a show.A magic show for those preparing for their first end-of-year exam at the Grand University, meant to inspire them and boost morale.
Atta’nha had done something similar for Ardi once. Before a difficult trial, she had revealed the wondrous potential of the Aean’Hane art to him.
“On that note, Grand Magister, I believe we’ll just-”
“Well now!” Aversky stood up and cast his gaze about the auditorium… with an unpleasant expression. Then again, when he wasn’t on assignment for the Second Chancery or hidden away in his lab, every look from the Grand Magister was unpleasant. “Surely a demonstration class should show something, shouldn’t it, my dear colleague?”
“And what exactly are you propos-”
“Oh, nothing vulgar, of course,” Aversky cut him off again. “You see, my latest research gave me an idea about how to conduct this lesson and what finale we could offer the students. And so…”
He struck the floor with his staff, and a massive, intricate seal formed beneath his feet. It was only slightly simpler than the one he’d used to defeat the Aean’Hane elf about six months prior.
In front of the lectern, between the podium and the rows of students, six spheres appeared in midair. These were transparent globes filled with a colorless, swirling gas. And on the floor beneath them, six perplexing seals glinted ominously. Ardi studied a few of the nodes and realized that those seals mirrored the essence of the spheres above.
Convel, who’d also read the lines of the seals, understood far more.
“Grand Magister, what are you doing?!” For a man who was usually so calm, his near shouting was worrisome.
“These are six time-delayed bombs,” Aversky responded evenly.
The audience immediately came alive — very much so. Even Boris, whose face had been resting in a puddle of drool on the table, snapped awake with renewed vigor.
“Finally, something interesting!” Boris exclaimed, his eyes sparkling.
“What do we do with them?” Convel gasped.
“We?” Aversky repeated. “My dear colleague, we will, of course, do nothing. I would suggest letting your students demonstrate how effectively you’re using your funding and instructing the future officers of the Empire.” He turned to face the lecture hall and, utterly ignoring Convel, announced, “The six students who manage to figure out the seal within the next fifteen minutes and disarm the bomb will receive a personal sponsorship of three hundred and fifty exes from me.”
To say the lecture hall erupted would be an understatement. The majority of the Grand University’s students weren’t from wealthy or noble families, so such sums weren’t exactly peanuts to them.
However, Ardi alone noticed how Convel’s face was twitching as his jaw flexed.There was no way that Aversky had picked that total at random. 350 multiplied by 6 was 2100.
When reading Senior Magister Paarlax’s records, Ardi had run across that figure. Usually, that was the exact amount allocated from the national treasury for the least promising research proposals.
Yes, it would seem that Edward Aversky — operative of the Second Chancery, inventor of truly revolutionary creations that had reshaped the entire world, and a man wealthy enough to buy a town outright — was an extremely vindictive, egotistical man with a bizarre sense of reverence for one living corpse named Cassara.
And this was the man Ardi was spending every evening of the fourth day with.
Maybe it really was time to get himself admitted to a hospital.
“Since our time is limited, Grand Magister,” Convel said, still speaking in a courteous tone despite everything, “allow me to select which students will participate. I believe it’s only fair that those who have given it their all throughout the year be given a chance to demonstrate their skills.”
“As you wish, my dear colleague.”
Ardi wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole. Perhaps Milar had known about this aspect of Aversky’s personality, which was why he’d spoken so unflatteringly about him despite admitting that he was one of the best when it came to military magic.
“Then I would ask the following to come forward: Mister Elnaal Likraashi.”
From the first row rose an elf Ardi recognized. He was tall, even by elven standards, at over two meters and fifteen centimeters, if not more. He also had hair down to his waist and such androgynous features that you could almost mistake him for a woman, along with piercing blue eyes. They were entirely blue, lacking pupils, as was customary for elves.
Apparently, he was the best student from the Faculty of Star Engineering.
“Great Prince Iolai Agrov.”
No introduction needed for that one…
“Miss Elena Promyslov.”
Boris discreetly squeezed his wife’s hand under the table just before the young woman stood up, adjusting her hat.
“Miss Tanti Zaridi.”
She wasn’t beautiful, but she wasn’t unattractive, either. The young woman was a short brunette with a slightly wonky left eye, and she was admittedly a tad pigeon-toed, but she had a warm, gentle smile and a very kind and comforting air about her. Ardi had chatted with her only a handful of times — something about the principles of array classification — and each time, he’d felt as though he’d had a week’s rest rather than a brief conversation with an intelligent, empathetic person.
Adjusting the silly, brown-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, she descended to the front as well.
“Miss Tina Eveless.”
Eveless, who, as always, was dressed like she was about to step onto a runway for some outrageously luxurious fashion house, began gliding down the steps, evoking sighs of admiration not just from the men, but from more than a few women in the lecture hall as well.
“And now I’d also like to invite Lady Polin-”
Ardi had just allowed himself a relieved exhale when things went sideways.
“Let’s liven things up a little,” Aversky interjected, casually running his hand through the air and weaving a simple seal by using a single Red Star ray. “Allow the last participant to be chosen at random.”
A tiny, red spark started drifting above the students’ heads, truly moving erratically — but Ardi already suspected whose head it would hover over in the end. And so, he wasn’t at all surprised when it flared a bright scarlet right above him and then vanished.
“Ard Egobar,” Convel said, making a beckoning gesture. He seemed entirely satisfied and calm about the spark’s “random” choice.
Ardan sighed, grabbed his staff, his grimoire, tucked a pencil behind his ear out of habit, and started down the steps.
He tried to look at the bright side. Three hundred and fifty exes was nothing to sneeze at (he had cracked the seal’s solution even as Convel had been calling the third name). It would be enough for a good number of textbooks, for renting a practice ground at the Spell Market, for-
“You must make sure that none of the other students manage to unlock the seal, Ard,” Aversky’s voice sounded as if it were coming from within an enclosed chamber, although his lips never moved — only a faint light shimmered along a seal on his staff. “If even one of them succeeds, forget everything we discussed regarding strategic magic.”
Ardan looked up at Aversky. The Grand Magister hadn’t taken his venomous gaze off Convel.Ardi felt his chest tighten.
The others were already bent over their papers, furiously taking notes and tapping their fingers on abacus rods, while Eveless and Iolai had taken out compact arithmetic devices.
Ardi glanced at the seal again and noticed a tiny detail that had surely slipped right past Convel — he wouldn’t have spotted the extra runic link embedded within a typical nested array that defined a basic property: the ability to preserve the primary structure even during environmental changes. That type of array was used to keep the seal from collapsing when external conditions shifted and was pretty standard, found in almost any diagram.
And if Aversky hadn’t hinted at it, Ardi might not have noticed it at all.
But now he could see that he would only need to add a tiny bit of ice into the inner space of the spell for it to unravel as soon as the students tried to apply any practical effects to the structure. In other words, if he did that, the moment they tried to neutralize the bomb, all their efforts would fail.
This was exactly what Aversky wanted to see: Convel’s defeat, public and undeniable.
Ardi shifted his gaze to Eveless and Iolai. He’d be lying if he said that the thought of paying them back for eight months of harassment in such a twisted and slightly nasty, but oddly satisfying way didn’t appeal to him.
Then...
Then he looked at Tanti Zaridi. At her slightly worn skirt, her old staff etched with the marks from a pawnbroker — shops did that when reselling a staff that had already served someone else. He saw how diligently and steadily she was writing out calculations, oblivious to everyone around her.
And then he looked to Likraashi, whose pinky ring surely cost more than the combined outfits of Zaridi and Ardi both. And yet, that elf… Well, Ardi had barely exchanged a word with him all year, though they encountered each other a couple of times a week in joint lectures. Likraashi just studied, earnestly and consistently, without stooping to petty gossip or meddling behind people’s backs.
And, of course, there was Elena.
Even if Ardi could somehow rationalize betraying Zaridi or Likraashi, betraying Elena…
He remembered the prairies and the orc — the one who had killed his father, only to then turn his back on Ardi.Yes, he was no longer the same Ardan Egobar who’d left his native mountains in the company of the Cloaks. But he still wasn’t the sort of person to stab someone in the back. He simply couldn’t live with that. The guilt would tear him apart from the inside.
Maybe it was foolish.Maybe it was naive.People could say what they wanted, but…
Ardi said nothing. And he did nothing. He just stood there silently for fifteen minutes, staring at the sphere before him. He never cracked the seal, even though he could have done it in a split second — the calculations were child’s play, easily done in his head without pencil or paper.
All those months ago, after everything that had happened in Baliero, Ardi hadn’t been lying to Arkar. And even after living in the Metropolis for so long, after Peter Oglanov, Indgar, Lorlov, Ildar — all the things that had happened over the course of the year — money still didn’t rule him…
It still smelled…
All five of them succeeded in disarming their bombs, to great applause from Convel and the audience. All five received checks for the previously-stated amount from Aversky. He said a few parting words and, paying no attention to Convel, left the lecture hall.
The professor and Elena were staring at Ardi, clearly surprised and confused. Eveless and Iolai were looking at him with undisguised satisfaction and smugness. Ardan, meanwhile… He just sighed and touched his pants pocket. Milar’s medallion was already heating up in there.
***
“Hope you’re ready for a rendezvous with some ghosts, partner.” Milar was standing by his rickety car, smoking as usual.
“Ghosts don’t exist, Milar,” Ardi reminded him for the umpteenth time. “Whatever we run into tonight, it’s not going to be ghosts.”
“Well, you’re the mage here, so I guess you’d know. By the way, Aversky’s driver left this note for you.” Milar reached into his coat and produced a slip of paper. “What was he doing at the Grand today, anyway?”
“It’s a long story,” Ardi said with a grimace, taking the note. “Why isn’t he with us tonight?”
“Because out of the three of us, he’s got the best chance of uncovering something we might’ve missed about the artifacts we seized from Lorlov,” Milar said. “Maybe he can shed light on the Spiders’ plan that way. Time’s running out, you know.”
“Right…” Ardi muttered. “But the ghosts?”
“You said yourself that there aren’t any,” Milar retorted.
Ardan’s grimace deepened. He unfolded Aversky’s note, which would presumably inform him that…
“Ard, since you’ll be joining me in this work, you’ll have to adjust to my schedule. We’ll begin at three o’clock on the fourth day, so we can coordinate with our main studies.P.S. I sincerely apologize for doubting you and for testing you in this way. I suspect it has something to do with the Vulture mask and the professional quirks that come with it.”
“Partner?” The captain was looking at him curiously. “Are we heading out or what?”
“Milar.”
“What?”
“How well do you really know Aversky?”
“Well enough, though I wish I didn’t. Ideally, I’d like to not know him at all.” Milar laughed briefly, then coughed when the smoke caught in his throat.
“Is he a vindictive person?”
“He’s a real jerk, no question about it, but he’s not the vindictive type. Heck, he doesn’t care about anyone except the Empire. Edward would sooner forget someone he despises after a minute than go out of his way to cause them trouble. Why do you ask?”
Ardan glanced back at the Grand University building and tapped the note against his palm.
“Oh… He gave us a kind of special demonstration lesson today… Let’s just say it was private tutoring, tailored specifically for me…”
“What?”
“I’ve been wanting to dive deeper into the topic of vectors for a while now — you can’t create your own high-load constructs without them, but I’ve failed every time I’ve tried to solve them.”
“Not a single word of that made sense to me,” Milar muttered.
Ardi just shrugged, opened the car door, and slid into the passenger seat. The captain, after stubbing out his cigarette on his shoe, grumbled something about insane mages and took the driver’s seat.
Comments
John
Thanks!
Austin
It's the mask he wears as part of the 2nd chancery. Pretty sure he was wearing it when he killed the elf who blew up the bank. And when are went on trial the next chapter.
Xonian
Can someone remind of what the “vulture mask” is?
