Chapter 21
Third class of the day: Introduction to Incramancy.
After introducing himself to the class, Scholar Khari turned an expansive, muscular back toward the initiates and began to write on the large slate affixed to the wall with chalk: What is an incra? His motions were sharp and jagged, his letters cramped and scrawled without care.
“Can anyone enlighten us?” he inquired, his gaze sweeping over the room above the rim of his glasses.
The silence was thick, broken only by a nervous cough and the scraping of a chair leg against the stone floor, which was shockingly loud in the lecture hall.
Already, this class was starting differently from their back-to-back lectures with Scholar Haile.
She’d all but forbidden the initiates to participate, preferring to lecture to them, doling out information on her time.
All thoughts or ideas the students possessed were irrelevant to her; any questions were deemed unnecessary, as she would teach them what they needed to know according to her infallible syllabus and not a moment before.
But Scholar Khari waited patiently for someone to speak up, to be an active participant.
Audra did so. “While perusing the texts in the Arcane residence hall this morning, I encountered the term. Incras are magical symbols used to facilitate magical workings, also known as spells. I believe I observed one yesterday when the test proctor inscribed a design on the board, which then seemed to translate the exam into Ruscali, my native tongue.”
“State your name for the class.”
“Audra Evers, Scholar.”
“Initiate Evers is correct,” said Scholar Khari with an approving nod.
Audra tried to ignore the zip of pride. “Wet your quills, initiates; you’ll want to write this down.
” Scholar Khari’s tone shifted, becoming more didactic.
“Incras are the symbolic language of magic, integral to virtually every facet of Zenaidan society—and the entire Veridian Realm. Woven into our art, etched upon our fabrics, powering our machinery, incorporated into our weaponry, they even adorn our jewelry.” He paused for effect, raising a brow.
“Take a look at the timepieces on your wrists.”
Sure enough, they were right there, symbols carved into the gold chain links. Audra had noticed them, but she’d thought them simply decorative designs.
Scholar Khari continued. “Now, do the incras you’ll soon begin to see everywhere, now that you know what to look for, work? Or are they simply there for decoration? That depends on the scribe, the purpose—whether for decoration or use—and how long ago they were inscribed.”
He waited a moment while the initiates’ quills caught up with his lesson, and to allow his words to resonate.
“There are four primary categories of incras: Enhancement, which amplifies the properties of an object or act. The correct incra may render a shield unbreakable or a being more fertile. Divination, which unveils truths of the past, present, or future, and alternatively, conceals the truth. Personification, which imbues inanimate objects with sentience: a lock may be spelled to recognize when it is being picked by thieves, or if it’s the owner of the house who lost their key.
And Motion, which grants autonomous movement: a mill wheel will turn without the aid of a donkey, a pottery wheel without needing to be primed by the potter.
And within and around those four are a thousand other ways that incras may be used.
These four categories encompass a vast spectrum of applications, which we will explore in detail this semester. ”
Khari’s gaze intensified. “Now, initiates, can anyone tell me what determines the effectiveness of an incra?” He leaned against his desk, legs crossed at the ankle, a posture that suggested that, again, he was prepared to wait for an answer.
Audra considered several possibilities but refrained from speaking, observing the other initiates, waiting to see if anyone else would answer.
Finally, a hand rose at the back of the room.
Audra narrowed her eyes when she saw who it was.
The noble from the ship. She shared a glance with Wilder, and she seemed to share the same thought: He was in Arcane Guild but not Callum or Cersha? If only they could trade.
“Your name?” Khari prompted.
“Noel Carda. My guess is that scribing an effective incra, like most things, requires innate talent. Without it, you may shape an incra with perfect precision, but it undoubtedly won’t galvanize the incra—or if it does, will not achieve the intended effect or proficiency.”
Audra rolled her eyes. Of course the pompous noble would think that.
She turned to face him. “I imagine you’ve never had to strive for anything in your life.
You assume your ‘talent’ is some inherent gift, while those less fortunate are simply ‘lacking.’ Tell me, did you excel in your studies due to talent, or the privileged access to tutors and resources your family’s wealth afforded you?
Is your equestrian skill innate, or was it that your parents sat you atop a well-trained, impeccable breed at an early age? ”
Noel’s smug face twisted into anger, but before he could retort, Scholar Khari said, “Initiate Evers, since you disagree with Initiate Carda’s assessment, what is your perspective? If not talent, then what determines the effectiveness of an incra?”
“Talent exists, certainly,” Audra conceded a little. “However, I imagine mastering incras requires conceptual clarity, unwavering will, and a fearsomely steady hand. Qualities that can be cultivated, regardless of one’s ‘innate talent’ or social standing.”
“I fail to see the distinction between our views,” Noel retorted.
“The difference, Noel, is that mental clarity, willpower, and manual dexterity can be developed through practice,” Audra countered.
“No need for inherited wealth.” She paused, a subtle challenge in her voice.
“I wonder how you’ll fare now that you’ve been leveled, stripped of your familial advantages—no doting parents to pay off your scholars or hire private tutors. ”
Noel gave a sardonic laugh. “And you presume you’ll surpass me?”
“I’m confident my will and focus exceed yours. I’ve had more practice, not having everything handed to me. Besting you won’t be an issue.” Audra turned back around.
Wilder caught her eye as if to say you alright?
Audra offered a slight, reassuring nod, though she wasn’t sure if she was or even why exactly she felt such animosity toward this Noel Carda.
Was it just that he’d been an asshole on the ship?
The entire time, the noble had refused to help a soul.
Some were too distraught to do more than just survive the crossing …
but most worked as a team, took turns helping, while he had remained cavalier, completely individualistic.
Or maybe she just needed someone to lash out at …
and it couldn’t be the Zenaidan captors.
They were untouchable. Almost godlike with their grace and power, so otherworldly.
“You are both right, in your own way,” Scholar Khari interjected before Noel could respond.
“Scribes undergo years of rigorous training to hone their mental discipline and to memorize thousands of incras. Possessing natural talent, while not necessary, can be beneficial. But relying on talent alone, well, a flawed incra can have catastrophic consequences.” Scholar Khari walked behind his desk.
“Consider a mediscribe treating a sick child. After careful examination, the scribe diagnoses a common illness that has plagued Zenaidan households for generations. If left untreated, the child will likely die, and if they do recover, they may be left with debilitating effects that will plague them for the rest of their shortened life. The scribe then inscribes an incra.” Scholar Khari drew a symbol on the board.
“Discovered seven hundred years ago, this incra has saved countless lives by aiding the body’s natural ability to fight off illness, especially effective in childhood illnesses. ”
He then drew a second, nearly identical incra beside the first. Audra’s eyes jumped from incra to incra—it took her a moment to realize what the difference even was.
His voice took on a solemn tone. “This, however, is the incra for ‘wholeness,’ used primarily to repair inanimate objects. If the scribe mistakenly uses this incra, the child’s body will fuse.
Organs, bones, tissues, all melded into a single, unrecognizable mass. ”
Quills stilled as a hush fell over the room.
“This is why mediscribes are so rare,” Scholar Khari continued, his voice grave.
“The risk of causing irreparable harm is immense. It requires decades of dedicated study and an indomitable will. Many aspiring mediscribes are simply too afraid to practice, their fear crippling their ability to even form the incras.”
Someone raised their hand. Lottie. When Scholar Khari called on her, she glanced around nervously before speaking.
“Hello, Scholar Khari. My name is Lottie Nafre. I’m just wondering … Why must the same symbols be used? Can’t a skilled enough scribe just create their own and impose their will upon it?”
Scholar Khari winked. “Great question, Initiate Nafre. Incras are a language—they evolve over time, but rarely does just one person create a new word. Well, many may try, but creating one that lasts? Fashionable enough that people actually want to use it?” Spattering laughter from the initiates around the room.
“That’s the tricky part. In this day and age, it is rare that more than a few new incras superior enough to replace an existing one are discovered per season.
And when they are, nations often consider them state secrets, coveting them. ”
Scholar Khari cupped his chin, an amused smile playing on his features.
“However, one specific individual can create or even alter incras at will, regardless of their original or specific purpose. They, who appear every five hundred years, are the arbiters of incraic language.” He paused, setting the chalk on his desk.
“The Heir,” breathed Lottie, her voice reverent.
A smile. “Precisely, Initiate Nafre.”
Wilder spoke for the first time. “Wilder Demrah. Can anyone use the Heir’s incras once they have been created?”
The scholar thought for a beat before answering.
“Yes … and no. The Heir possesses a unique magic; it’s as though their mind functions differently from the rest of us; their level of magic is so convoluted, so extreme, that not just anyone can replicate their incras and make them work.
That being said, some have managed to. It is not impossible … just rare.”
“When can we begin to scribe incras?” Lottie inquired, voicing the question every initiate yearned to ask.
“In time, Initiate Nafre. It’s Desolate Winter, the crown has graciously allotted Holyvere Academy initiates permission to use magic, to practice, but before we allow you to use up Zenaidan reserves, it’s important to memorize incras. Practice drawing them with chalk until each incra is flawless.”
Lottie bit her lip and glanced down at her desk, her shoulders hunched with disappointment that Audra felt too. How long would he make them wait before they were permitted to cast magic?
“And that’s where this comes in.” Scholar Khari continued the lesson, raising a thin stick of chalk into the air.
“When practicing, one must always use chalk—it is the only substance that cannot evoke incras. Those with enough skill can use anything—ink, a knife, mud, a finger to trace the patterns in the air … except for chalk. And that is why, for now, we will only be using chalk to practice our incras …”
What would it feel like to capture magic?
To impart her will onto the very world itself?
Audra wondered. She’d been powerless so many times …
forced to bend to the will of her parents, Fernwell patrons, and some days, when things were particularly dark …
it felt as if a forgotten deity came out of retirement just to hammer Audra down down down until she felt small, flattened, helpless to be her own person, to make her own decisions.
For once, Audra wanted to be the one in command.