67
Milo sat alone at a table in the Academy Library.
He closed the book he was looking at with a grunt and slapped it down onto the growing pile to his right. Then he took another from the larger pile to his left.
Mila had helped him select them before rushing off to her class with Master Haddrow.
She was doing her best to seem to be a slightly better than average student there.
So, there was no way the teacher could relate her to her former self.
Fulka had been a thrill for him to teach, and it was clear he felt her loss.
Mila said she felt sorry for him.
He looked more grumpy lately, and she felt a bit guilty. So, she tried her best to be a student worth his time so it gave the man a bit more of a distraction.
Milo pondered that as he opened his next book.
Clocks don’t think about the feelings of those who glance at them to get the time. Yet, the care Mila felt for the teacher was real. She genuinely seemed bothered by having fooled him before.
“Not human,” he muttered, turning to the book.
It was a history of the Dwarven Fortress, which was now called the Mage Academy.
It told the story of some of the main incursions which caused the deaths of many talented mages until they found a way to mostly subdue the murderous structure.
At first, they used it as the home of the Mage Court.
But then they shifted to the Mage Tower in the capital to be closer to the heart of the Republic. For more than a century, they’d studied the fortress. Then they decided to start using it as a training ground.
The traps were helpful for teaching students to be aware of their surroundings and quick to respond to threats. This was an important survival technique mages relied on, especially in the early centuries of the Republic when small rebellions were common.
Now, though, it was less important.
But the fortress still worked to instill caution into every mage’s step. Something the Mage Court valued.
Milo flipped through the book, but couldn’t find any mention on how they’d subdued the fortress. By all accounts, the traps were much more common back then. Almost every door was trapped.
Had the Tinkers removed the traps?
He wasn’t sure they could have done that. The dwarves didn’t seem the type to make traps a secondary mechanism. He felt they would be part of the mechanism of any door to the point that removing it would make the door unlikely to function.
Which left only two options to consider.
One, that the mages had discovered a control room of sorts. Or some other device, such as the pad Milo used for the Workshop.
Or, the fortress itself had changed.
He didn’t think the traps would have been active when the dwarves were moving around the fortress like grumpy ants. He suspected they’d turned the defenses on when they were dying. Or when they left the fortress.
It was meant to protect their creation method from discovery.
Or, if the Prime’s attitude was anything to judge them by, to test the worthiness of those who tried to enter.
Had the mages passed some kind of first test?
He’d tried asking the Prime Core, but it hadn’t been very helpful. His golems knew nothing. And Fed could only tell him about the Workshop.
“Ugh.” He tossed that book aside and reached for another.
“Mister Mooney,” a sly voice said from behind. “We’d appreciate if you would come with us, please.”
He didn’t look over his shoulder.
He already knew who he would see.
“I’m busy,” he grumbled. “Come back later.”
“Miss Farringham would like to speak to you now.”
“I don’t care.” He opened the book and squinted down at it. “Tell her to wait.”
“She is not used to waiting.”
“Then she might learn something.”
He flipped a few pages while the two mages in shadowy black outfits seemed uncertain whether to drag him out or blow a hole through his head with whatever magical tricks they knew.
He had no doubt they could do either and there’d be nothing he could do to stop them.
He was only rated 1. A measly little level 1 mage with less mana than the cores in their wands.
He’d bet their little hearts were blazing in frustration.
With another grunt as the book turned out to be mostly a failed attempt to map the fortress, he tossed it aside and spun in his chair. He glanced up at the two men. One looked quite old.
Both didn’t look particularly happy.
“Alright,” Milo said. “Seeing as I won’t get anything done with you two hovering behind me. Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out when we get there,” the younger said sourly.
Surprisingly, they took him down to the lower levels.
That, he thought, was a bit brave of them.
Then he realized the danger. And the threat. If this discussion went poorly, they would threaten to kill him. They could do whatever they wanted to him in the lower levels and it would be easily blamed on the traps which were more common down there.
He felt a nervous trickle of sweat down his back and rolled his shoulders uncomfortably.
“You do know how dangerous it is down here, right?”
“I think that’s something you should worry about, Mister Mooney,” the older mage said. “Don’t you?”
Milo shrugged. “If you say so.”
They led him to a room which looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. There were two chairs in it. Facing each other. Vesna was already sitting in one.
She was leaning back in her chair with her legs crossed.
She was looking very casual and relaxed.
Milo had no doubt she’d been practicing her pose.
He took the chair without waiting to be invited. “What do you want?”
“Milo,” she said, trying a smile. “There’s no need to be angry, is there?”
“You interrupted my study. You dragged me down here, where no one will know where I am. You threaten me with death if I don’t give you what you want. So, tell me. What is it you want?”
“Threaten?” She glanced at the two men, who looked a little sheepish. She sighed. “That wasn’t the intention.”
“No?” He waved an arm around the room. “So, why drag me down here? You and I both know these areas are trapped. They can kill me and you can blame the traps. That is the threat. You don’t need to say it, Vesna. But I can hear it well enough.”
“Actually, I just thought it’d be private,” she said, awkwardly shifting on her chair.
“It wasn’t meant as a threat at all. I’ve always been curious about the fortress.
And the lower levels. My family has always been interested in dwarven ruins and their constructs.
I hope to explore down here some more while I am here. ”
“Really?” He wasn’t very convinced, but it sounded plausible.
“Honestly,” she said, emphasizing the word. “That’s why I have bodyguards. You don’t think I need them against you, do you? They’re here to help me to explore.”
He leaned back in the chair, tapping the arm with an impatient finger.
“Let’s say I accept that,” he said. “That still doesn’t explain your obsession with me.”
“It’s not you I’m obsessed with,” she said, though her cheeks did flush a little. She took a deep breath. “Someone sold a core at auction. My family bought it. I am trying to find out where it came from.”
“A core,” he repeated. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Mister Spragg was the seller. But it was clear that he sold it as an agent.” Vesna put her hands together. “I need to know who sold that core. And I have a feeling you know who it was.”
He felt his mind clicking through options.
He really didn’t want to make another enemy. If the Farringham and Paddstone families joined forces to pressure the Mage Court, he had no doubt that something would give.
He might find himself in chains.
Or hunted.
Neither of which he was ready for.
His golems were frighteningly strong. But they weren’t strong enough to fight the world.
“I already told you,” he said slowly. “I don’t go to his shop that often. So I have no idea who might be responsible. Also, I don’t see what’s so special about a core.”
“It was full,” she said.
“So?”
“A full core is unheard of.” She gripped her hands tightly together.
“My family has discovered some in the past, but no one else has managed to do so. We want to know who sold it. And find out where they got it from. They haven’t sold any more, so we don’t think there’s a cache. But we would like to be sure.”
“This core. Was it powerful?”
“Yes.”
“If I, as a level one mage were to use it, would it help me?”
“It’d be more use to Tania, I think,” Vesna said. “But it most likely would give you the mana of someone who was rated two or three. I’m basing that on what I know of you, which is that your mana is… small.”
“Nonexistent,” he said cheerfully, earning a snort from the younger mage standing by the door. “I can’t cast a single spell.”
“With that core, you could.”
“Then that should give you your answer,” Milo said. “If such a core had fallen into my hands, wouldn’t I use it? And I know if I didn’t use it, I’d give it to Tania. I’d want my team to be as protected and as strong as they could be. I wouldn’t sell it.”
“Unless you thought you could buy more gear for all of you.” Vesna gave him a slightly smug smile. “You did go shopping for new armor and other small items shortly after the sale completed. I’ve confirmed that.”
“Tania had some money,” he said with a shrug. Inwardly, he cursed himself.
He should’ve been more careful.
He’d need to keep that in mind for the future.
“I think you’re lying.”
He lifted his gaze and stared lazily at her. “So?”
“So, maybe you should remember you were brought here alone,” the younger mage hissed.
Vesna snapped a scowl in his direction.
Only to see the young man drop unconscious to the ground.
The older mage made to move, but froze as a dagger whipped out of the shadows behind him and pressed against his throat.
Tania’s camouflage dropped to reveal her cold grin as she glared at Vesna over the mage’s shoulder.
Vesna’s hand covered her mouth in shock and when she turned to Milo, she found him smiling at her with a similar cold glint in his eyes.
“I am never alone,” he said, getting to his feet.
Tania smacked the old mage across the back of his head. He groaned and slid to the ground at her feet. Tucking the knife into a sheath on her hip, she nodded at him. “Not even in the bath. Which we’re late for. Milo, it’s time to go.”
He walked calmly towards the door.
Then he paused in the doorway to look at where Vesna was staring darkly at the two unconscious bodyguards.
“You should be careful down here, Miss Farringham,” he said evenly. “There’s lots of things which can kill you on the lower levels.”