You cant do this to yourself.
I told you not to bother here, Gilbert muttered so that the other patrons couldnt hear him.
Ysentrud pried his fingers from the handle of a half-full ale mug and took his hand, warm in her grasp. Helen keeps asking where daddy is, but I cant tell her youre here, drinking yourself to death. Would you at least co ho and talk to her? Girls that grow up without their father beco faeries.
Gilbert glared at his wife to make her leave, yet she stared back unflinchingly. Their battle of wills continued as the slurred shouting of drunks and tal cups slamming into stone tables erupted across the old alehouse.
He broke eye contact first. For Ysentrud to see him like this drove in the sha. Gilbert worked from dawn to dusk, sleeping in the barn where his last shift ended, the aches of laying on uneven timber flooring like that of soone hamring his spine. He could only sleep with ale in his belly. The more he worked, the more he drank, and the less he could be around the kids.
I dont want them to see like this, Gilbert said. But dont worry. Should be soon, now.
Ysentruds arm retracted to her roughspun gown. Youve been saying that for eight years.
This ti for sure. When the apostle reclaims the coast, people will need cooks again, and everything will go back to normal. Like before the war.
Head down, Ysentrud fiddled with loose fibers protruding from her sleeves. She wore a familiar expressionthat of a once sweet girl hardened into a cynic after a decade of crushed dreams. But today, despite all the shit theyve been through, hope eked through her eyes. Tell that story again.
About the Holy Thunder?
Thats the one.
Gilbert grinned like the boisterous youth he had been when he t his wife. Saw a whole squad of sorceresses with em on the Night of Repentance. The roars echoed all the way to Smithen Street when they killed that damned carapaced devil. Zeras blessing is back.
A smile took her lips, and for once, Gilbert felt like he might sleep well tonight, but there was only one way to be sure. He glanced into his mug only to discover an empty iron pit. All the ale had gone. Gilbert tapped his pouch, yet he did not hear the jingle of coin. Disappointnt welled within.
Wrapped in disheveled black like a molting crow, a man who sat alone at an adjacent table glanced back at them.
Gilbert pulled his wife closer. Ma had always said that strangers carried more curses than a stray cat, and with the horrific tales of barbarism going around, of kidnappings and village raids, she was righter than ever.
The man tipped his flat cap in greeting and stood up. Madam, another for and a friend in need. He tossed a few coppers to the ale wench rushing closer to fill their mugs.
Ysentrud scowled as if to smite the enabler, but she was never one for confrontation. Her gaze fell to her torn boots.
Gilbert brought the dark orange elixir to his nose and took a big whiff, mildly fruity fent and warmth rushing into his nose. The sweet bitterness was more divine than Olsten and all three matriarchs. Cheers, friend!
Seeing him fall prey to drink, Ysentrud mustered the courage to speak. What do we owe you, friend?
Just an ear for your benefit, madam, the man said.
Her eyes narrowed.
May I have a seat?
Thinking Ysentrud should loosen up a bit, Gilbert laughed. Nothing like a drink in good company!
The rickety chair across the table croaked as the man sat down. He sipped so ale and swiped a finger to clean his frothy mustache. I heard you two talking about the apostle.
Isnt it great? Gilbert said. Finally, sothing goods happening around here. About ti, Id say. Im tired of running around, looking for decent work. Wont be long now.
I used to think the sa.
Used to?
You didnt hear?
Hear what?
The apostles handouts, the man said. They were cursed.
Do you an the at pies? Ysentrud asked.
Oh, that! Gilbert waved his hand. The town criers have been screaming about it all night. People getting sick; a sche of the faithless, they say. Aint the first ti so pricks have tried to ruin it for the rest of us.
Then I suppose you havent heard about his corrupted magic.
The drunks who had shouted all morning fell silent, and the ale wench froze in her tracks.
Corrupted magic? Ysentrud asked the question no one else dared utter.
An enchantnt that burned the flesh, corroded stone, injured the apostles flock. They say it glowed bright white and devoured all. The apostle no longer carries Zeras blessing. His holy magic falters.
That that aint true, Gilbert said, his voice growing louder. The Holy Thunder works! We all heard
Im afraid its true, the man said with regret in his tone.
And what proof do you have?
. A woman with a face like wrinkled leather stood up. I was there. Felt it burn and freeze my skin. Never had I felt anything so cold and devoid of Zeras embrace.
All jollity had left the alehouses second floor. Everyone watched the woman then the man, wide-eyed, praying to Zera and Celeste that their promise of peace wouldnt be ripped from them again.
Gilbert was no different. The fragile hope that he had nurtured so gently, for himself and his family, retreated into a blackening abyss.
Its like the Church all over again, the man said, pressing his hat tighter to his scalp. They help you once, collect your tithes, and leave you in a roadside gutter. We best rid ourselves of this supposed apostle while Malten still stands. He stumbled to the exit. Thingsll only get worse the longer we follow his false guidance.
Gilbert willed himself to retort, to correct the man and take back the future that he had worked hard to earn, but all he could do was glance at Ysentrud. She looked back at him, smile gone without a trace.
He wouldnt sleep well tonight.
Outside the Arboretum of the Mystics, a musty glass-roofed chamber where assorted herbs jutted from a dirt floor and ivy crept through the crevices of sandstone brick walls, a cluster of red-robed won peeked inside from around an archway corner. The younger sorceresses shoved one another, competing to catch a closer glimpse of the ongoing science experint, while their older and wizened coworkers watched with cautious hesitation.
Two dozen stares focused past Dimitry and Mira at a navy glowing condint cup of honey. An iron wire sh suspended the honey cup above a bucket containing only water and a green glass tube with a reservoir of red-dyed ethanol at the bottoma crude alcohol thermoter; the only temperature asuring device Dimitry could conceive that the glassblowers of Malten could craft. It wasnt great. Aside from a scratch two-thirds up the stem, standardized to the freezing point of water, the alcohol thermoter couldnt gage temperature with precision. But the limited functionality would suffice for now.
Dimitry needed to learn what he did wrong. The freezia enchantnts eerie white glow had burned into his mind, and soon, it would torch his reputation. All the way from the cathedral to the arboretum on the top floor of the Sorceresses Guild, civilians watched him with doubt. With fear. Ideally, he would still have been treating his many thanol poisoning victims, but with much fewer patients coming in for treatnt since last nights catastrophe, he was falling further into debt from dwindling revenue streams, people were dying from treatable conditions, and a ssenger from Saphiria warned that the worst was yet to co.
Dimitry and his followers would be struck again.
So he prepared.
While Lukas n struggled to nd Dimitrys reputation by shouting propaganda from podiums and his nurses distributed ethanol doses to his patients, he t with the most knowledgeable thaumaturge in Malten. Dimitry would need modified magic again. If she knew anything that could help him prevent another enchantnt from going berserk and stirring further distrust in the very populace he relied on to advance society, the trip would pay dividends.
What am I ant to be looking for? Mira asked.
To avoid nearing a potentially lethal freezia enchantnt, Dimitry pointed to the thermoters niscus with a rusted and neglected fireplace poker. Were waiting for the ethanol level to move.
Of what consequence is it whether this ethanol moves?
Ethanol is a liquid that expands when its heated and contracts when its cooled. Since I cast a modification of freezia that extracts warmth from its surroundings to decompose the sugar in honey
Sugar? Mira twirled her chestnut hair around a long finger.
You dont know what sugar is?
I assu youll tell .
Its the chemical that makes honey sweet.
Chemical?
Chemical is just another word for a specific type of stuff.
Im afraid I dont understand, she said, her calm tone edging towards frustration.
Faced with a sorceress guildmistress who had never heard of sugar, Dimitry decided against delving into specifics. The experints outco would be self-evident. He programd the freezia enchantnt around the honey cup to decompose glucose with thermal energya reaction visually evident through the expulsion of carbon dioxide and water. Though Dimitry would have preferred to test the freezia enchantnt he used to treat thanol poisoning directly, he lacked not only a concentrated source of formic acid to decompose but also knowledge of its exact reaction chanisms. Gaps in understanding might have been why the original enchantnt failed.
Glucose, however, he knew well. Really well. There wasnt a chemical more ubiquitous in his studies and dical practice than glucose, and this world had tons of it. Hopefully, naked-eye observation and a makeshift caloriter would produce enough data to identify freezias failings. Basically, if the ethanol level goes down, the enchantnt is working.
Then it appears to be working, she said.
The alcohol thermoters readings gradually fell, and a sparse vapor stream escaped the cup. Signs that the enchantnt successfully drained heat from the water bucket to fuel the reaction.
How odd, Mira said. The honey doesnt bubble, nor does it radiate heat, so why does it produce steam?
Her question wasnt one Dimitry could answer with certainty. Though the decomposition of glucose required an input of activation energy, the overall reaction was exothermic, aning the honey should have grown hotter. But how much hotter? Since glucose was just one of several sugars present in honey, perhaps its degradation alone couldnt raise the solutions temperature.
His hypothesis was swiftly proven wrong.
The water buckets temperature fell further, and the honey roiled, turning golden brown. A savory, nutty aroma fused with the scent of dozens of fresh herbs growing throughout the arboretum.
Four buzzing sorceressesno older than Angelikabarged into the room despite Dimitrys earlier warnings. The shortest licked her lips.
Its caralizing, Mira announced with the conviction of soone who had uncovered the origins of the universe.
Dimitry stroked his chin. Now the solution was too hot. Why the sudden change? Did modified enchantnts intensify with ti, or did the heat released by decomposing glucose hasten the reaction?
The navy blue enchantnt flashed green.
His heart skipped a beat. That again. Back!
The niscus on the thermoter plumted. A thick layer of ice spread across the water buckets surface and grew thicker as the caralized honey burned into a black slurry.
Though her sorceresses retreated, Mira stayed put. Ive seen nothing like it
As if to thwart Dimitrys understanding further, the ice layering the bucket lted and the ethanol in the thermoter boiled, bursting from its encasent and shooting jagged green glass shards at seedlings and bricks and people.
Protectia! the more alert sorceresses chanted, defending those who were too enraptured to react.
Mira held her palm out. The glass shards hurling in her and Dimitrys direction clinked against an unseen barrier and fell to their feet.
Dispel it now, Dimitry warned. Itll only get worse!
The sorceresses reached into their vol pockets, but they froze at Miras behest. None will act without my command!
While the iron buckets handle took turns lting into a red hot slurry and solidifying, the ceramic cup that held the enchantnt liquefied, its corrosive glow flickering between colors like an ominous rainbow.
Thats enough, Dimitry said. The experints over. Its a failure. Kill the enchantnt before soone dies!
An enchantnt of this strength will not reach that far, Mira said.
How can you know that for sure?
Decades of experience and a ladys intuition.
Running a hand through his hair, Dimitry stepped back. This woman was nuts.
The liquid enchantnt warped through the experint table and seeped into the arboretums dirt flooring, churning and wilting a helpless plant along the way. When the magic began to disfigure the sandstone bricks beneath, Mira flicked her wrist, and the lethal glow extinguished.
The chamber went silent.
Dimitry struggled to piece together what he saw. Based on his observations, the enchantnt progressed in three phases: the initial stage where the magic functioned within expected paraters, the second stage where the original effect amplified exponentially, and lastly the batshit insane stage where the enchantnt shifted between incendia, ltia, and countless other unknown spells before deteriorating into an ungodly catastrophe. He even saw the gold of reflectia and the silver of dispelia. Were those glows simply visual defects?
Unsure of how to analyze the data, Dimitry looked to Mira for clues, yet she watched him as if passing judgnt.
What if the magic really is corrupted? a sorceress whispered to another.
Cant be. It rid my father of the plague.
Maybe Zera changed her mind?
Dimitry glanced back. Corrupted?
Like nurses hesitating to inform a widow of his wifes passing, the sorceresses avoided his gaze, looking at everything except him.
Could it be true? Mira mumbled to herself.
Id prefer if you talked with instead of around , he said.
Very well. Watching her boots as if lost in thought, she strutted past him. A ssage ca from my sisters estate this morning. I was told to be wary of the apostle abandoned by Zera. They say your healing magic has beco corrupted, killing anyone who places their faith in you. Given the stack of letters that have arrived today and the hushed murmurs in my halls since, I have no doubt my girls have received the sa warning.
A sorceress with a scarred cheek nodded.
Dimitrys mouth hung ajar, grasping for a retort that never ca. The freezia incident occurred last night. It was noon now. While spreading rumors explained why his patient count had dwindled, how could commoners gossip reach won from exalted lineages like Mira and her sorceresses so soon? An unnatural developnt. Most nobles kept the common man a longswords distance away.
This was another organized attackthe kind Saphiria warned him about.
He rushed to defend himself. Without my magic, thered be a hundred new corpses in the ditch by the river and another hundred by nightfall. Does that sound corrupted to you?
Raina said the sa.
Then how could you believe those rumors?
If I believed them, Mira said, I would never have permitted you inside my guild nor allowed you to channel your enchantnt here. I did not forget what youve done for my girls. How many live now because of you? Im grateful I do not know the number. She stopped near an herb with magically disfigured petals. Yet I would be remiss to ignore what I saw. If Zera gifted us magic for our benefit, why would Celeste guide you to conjure a spell so caustic?
Celeste does not guide to cast modified spells, he said. Aside from scant visions and a goal, Ive been given the sa tools as everyone else.
Do you speak of science? Youve ntioned it before, when my darlings enchanted your greenhouse.
No. Science is simply the ans of attaining understanding through experintation. Knowing how a spell might enact its effectthats what is needed to modify magic. Or so I thought. Im missing sothing.
Have you tried channeling a plague curing preservia enchantnt recently?
Yes, and it functions well. So does this. Dimitry plucked a vol pellet off the experint table. Illumina.
The violet fluorescence of atmospheric nitrogen expelling electrons flashed around a central pillar, the scattered specks of light reflecting from the pupils of a wide-eyed sorceress.
Hmm Despite a clinical disposition, Miras curiosity was apparent in her longing gaze. And youve tried casting the caustic freezia as a spell?
With my poor control over magic, I fear trying without a controlled test environnt.
So youve co to . To use my facilities.
That and to get your thoughts. Mostly the latter.
Conflicted like a surgeon weighing the risks of an intraoperative decision that might save or kill her patient, the guildmistress leaned back against an uneven brick wall and folded her arms over her chest, the gold trim of her cuffs gleaming with ceremonial torchlight. Mira stared at the ceiling with glazed-over eyes while tapping her arm. You know, Ive always believed that theres nothing of higher import than unearthing the truth. Like my master before , I devoted my life to pursuing knowledge. Soday, we will map the arcane, Laura told . Not I, and perhaps not you, but these girls we raise in our halls, they will. She has since died fighting heathens, and I remain to fulfill her will. For so long, I have yearned to make a discovery like that of modified magic. To make her proud. I used to think that was all I cared for.
Mira paused. Thats why it pains to say that I cant help you.
As in, you know nothing that can help ?
She shook her head. As in, I will not get involved any further.
Dimitrys heart dropped, and injustice rose in its place, clambering up his throat. Let guess, you dont want to risk your reputation for ?
My reputation? Mira said. Though I am noble in na, a lady of the distinguished Bright house, I have lived in the dormitories of this guild since I was eight, save the abandoned manor house I retreat to to study scrolls. I do not recall the last ti my sister consulted on family matters. Perhaps she forgets I exist.
No, I fear for them. She glanced across the onlooking sorceresses. While many of my girls have placed their faith in you, Your Holiness, their households may not be so pious. The recent rumors have only stoked their fears. If I involve my guild in the study of your allegedly corrupt magic, the lords and ladies who have entrusted their daughters to wont hesitate to take them back. I will not see my darlings torn from ; not for all the arcane knowledge in the Churchs vaults. They are my family.
Dimitry fumbled, struggling to understand how a rumor could cause him so much grief. A week ago, he had knelt at the queens throne, applauded from all sides for slaughtering heathens with miraculous ti magic, and now, Mira hesitated to cooperate with him. Though Precious revealed that much of the praise was disingenuous, a sche to get in Dimitrys good graces, that was fine. He cared only for securing his new ho. Opportunistic alliances with nobles were preferable to bloody wars.
However, if a thaumaturgical mishap was all it took to sway their opinion of Dimitry, they did not consider him much of an asset at all. A passing fancy prey to fleeting whims. He had to nd his reputation before he crossed a lord he couldnt ignore, before he lost all clout with the public. The obvious solution was to uproot whoever was spreading those ill rumors, but if Saphiria and her knights couldnt find them, and if Lukas n struggled to undo the damage with propaganda, Dimitry couldnt strike at the problem directly, either.
His options were limited to only one: to remove all doubt of his holiness.
Fine, Dimitry said. I get it. But you can still kill heathens for , right?
Kill heathens?
I need two dozen combat sorceresses. Today. Now, if possible. For a few weeks.
Mira pressed a long finger to her lip, spending a mont in thought. Your ambitions elude , but I know that look. None would make a fuss over dead heathens. Draft the contract, and well see to the terms.
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