Chapter 22
~22~
F ortified by one of Cillian’s homemade cinnamon rolls, on top of a full breakfast, Alise nearly rolled her way through the busy halls on her way to Professor Morghana Seraphiel’s office. She wisely restrained any complaints about her overly full belly, lest she elicit another lecture from him on the necessity of blah blah blah .
He was so adorable. And her body sang from her toes to her giddy heart from his devoted attention, in bed and out. She wouldn’t want to have to swear to it, but she suspected this effervescent sensation was actual happiness. Maybe even love.
They didn’t hold hands, of course. They still hadn’t discussed how to handle their new affair, not in so many words. Over breakfast, Alise had tiptoed around bringing up the topic, meeting with Cillian’s cheerfully steadfast refusal to take up the conversational bait. She’d been left with no choice but to broach the question baldly. Call her a coward, she’d been too at peace eating his delicious food and enjoying the casual affection he showered upon on her at every opportunity. She didn’t want to ruin things, especially since that seemed to be one of her particular talents.
So, they walked along, occasionally brushing against each other when more boisterous students or determined faculty crowded them. The bottle of spirits bumped against her thigh and several more scouted ahead, making sure no one lurked, watching for her. She’d thought Cillian might be annoyed when she suggested that having a couple of scouts to spy out her path might be helpful, since he seemed so bent on protecting her personally, but he’d happily agreed. He still insisted on escorting her, in part to make sure she had backup—and as a witness—should anything occur, but also to show Alise the way to the dark arts wing, as she’d never had occasion to go there in the vast labyrinth that was Convocation Academy.
She’d rather imagined a gothic tower or a dismal dungeon. Instead, Cillian guided her to a glass-ceilinged hall with earth instead of stones for the floor. At her puzzled look, he gestured to the view of the heavily overcast sky. The glass must have been enchanted to shed snow, as none lay piled on that part of the roof as it did on the other crenellations. “The dark arts wizards need access to earth and sky,” he said, as if that explained anything.
Alise nodded sagely, having no clue why that would be the case. They reached Professor Seraphiel’s office, Cillian knocking with the back of his knuckles on the half-ajar door.
“Come in,” Professor Seraphiel called in a silky voice, the first time Alise had heard her speak in all the times she’d glimpsed the woman in the archives. “Archivist Harahel,” she commented as they stepped in, surveying them both with interest. “We missed you on your usual shift last night.”
Alise started guiltily, having been so absorbed in her own woes that she’d clean forgotten that the rest day would have ended at the onset of Cillian’s night shift. He gave her a half-smile and a slight head-shake. “I had other duties,” he said to Professor Seraphiel. “I trust you received notice of our visit?”
“I wouldn’t be here in my office, still awake, instead of in my bed, would I, if not?” She turned wizard-black eyes on Alise. Morghana Seraphiel looked the quintessential dark arts master, with her corpse-pale skin, skeletal frame, and sleek cap of iron-gray hair. Incongruously, her feet were bare and dirt-encrusted, her long, bone-white toes digging into the soil beneath her chair. Snowy light poured in from the wall of windows and arched atrium-style roof. An enchanted waterfall sheeted down one of the interior walls, while the other was occupied by a large fireplace with a real fire burning wood, not an elemental.
“I don’t recall having you in any of my classes, Alise Elal,” Professor Seraphiel said.
“My father wished otherwise,” Alise replied politely, not correcting the professor on her preferred house affiliation.
The steely wizard-woman snorted indelicately. “Piers Elal can kiss my narrow ass. He always was jealous of House Seraphiel—and acquisitive. We know about his espionage and the attempts to steal some of our proprietary techniques. Ah, I see you’re genuinely surprised by that. I can easily read that in your thoughts. You’ll want to work on both your transparent expressions and your psychic shielding if you want to be Lady Elal.”
“With all due respect, Professor, I don’t want that.”
“No? Then you’re either a fool or smarter than you look. Which is it?”
Alise opened her mouth to answer and realized she’d been trapped into picking one of two unwelcome and untrue, options. “Bitter,” she replied instead.
“Interesting. Bitter I can work with. Archivist Harahel, why are you still standing here? I won’t eat the girl and surely you have better things to do.”
“Nothing better to do, by any stretch, but duty calls,” Cillian agreed cheerfully, giving the wizard a little bow. He cast a quick look at Alise, something in his expression telling her he’d like to kiss her goodbye, along with his deliberate step back, as if he didn’t trust himself not to. “Be good for the nice professor,” he told her with a wink. “And be careful.”
“Also interesting,” Professor Seraphiel said, watching Cillian leave. “The famously unattainable beautiful librarian boy falls at last. About time he got over Szarina, but does Tandiya know?”
It took Alise a moment to put together that Tandiya was Provost Uriel’s given name. She had no idea who Szarina might be, except that perhaps that was the name of the person Cillian hadn’t wanted to allow into their bed by discussing her. “It’s not the provost’s business. I’m an adult,” she answered stiffly, “and doing nothing wrong.”
The wizard snorted again, tapping blunt, gray-enameled nails on her desk. “Correction: you’re a student at this academy and not a very good one at that.”
“I’ve had extenuating circumstances,” Alise said, wrestling her immediate ire.
“Not interested. Life is an extenuating circumstance. You either handle your shit so you can get done what you need and want to accomplish, or you succumb to every little thing. Which do you plan to do, Alise Elal?”
“I claim House Phel as my affiliation now,” Alise replied, stung enough to say so.
“How whimsical of you. Does Daddy know?”
“Lord Elal and I are not on speaking terms at the moment.”
“I’ll just bet you’re not. Still you’re an Elal whether you wish to claim that particular albatross or not. It seems I am graced with the opportunity to teach you something more useful to do with your wizardry than twiddling about with ghosties. Shall I teach you how to summon a demon? Far more potent than any of your typical non-corporeals.”
Alise wasn’t quite sure what to make of this rather bizarre interview. “I was given to understand that Healer Jonathan Refoel sent a referral for me to learn psychic defenses from you.”
The wizard tapped her nails in a staccato of boredom, making a face as she did. “So dull. Baby steps. It’s a disgrace that Convocation students aren’t taught such elementary techniques as a rule. Why do you suppose that is, Alise Elal?”
Alise wanted to answer that she had zero control over Convocation Academy curriculum or policy, but she caught the canny gleam in the woman’s gaze. A test then? “Because of the potential for abuse.”
“Indeed. The dark arts are regarded with such superstition that all in the Convocation swear by us even as they avoid us. If not for House Seraphiel’s historic place and considerable influence within the Convocation, I and my colleagues would have been eliminated from the academy entirely. As it is, high houses are allowed to excuse their students from coursework in the dark arts, as did your own dear papa.”
“He is hardly dear to me,” Alise pointed out, increasingly intrigued by the cantankerous woman.
“Well, that answers the question of whether you’re a fool. Tell me, why do you need to learn these psychic defenses Healer Jonathan recommends? House Hanneil up to their old tricks, I suppose.”
Alise didn’t know whether to confirm, deny, or plead ignorance. But something about the Seraphiel wizard’s frankness disarmed her. And the compulsion had been removed. She owed Gordon Hanneil nothing. So she told Morghana Seraphiel everything that had occurred with Gordon, grateful that she’d spent enough of her grief and terror in the telling already that she could keep relatively composed during the recitation. The dark arts professor listened with attentive interest, working her bare toes in the loamy soil beneath her chair thoughtfully.
“Take off your boots,” she ordered once Alise had finished her summary. “Don’t look at me like I’m barmy, girl. You’re here to learn; I’m here to teach. Logic implies that you would do as I say, yes?”
All right, though it struck her as a bizarre ask, Alise complied, sitting in a rickety corner chair to pull off her boots and socks, then standing again before the professor. Her feet sank into the soil, which held a surprising amount of warmth and moisture. It felt strange, but also oddly grounding and familiar, as if she’d recaptured a moment from childhood, except that her own childhood had never held such opportunities.
If anyone had asked her to imagine what a lesson in the dark arts would be like, she would not have said anything close to this. She had truly expected considerably more bubbling cauldrons and sulfur, a thought that made her smile.
“Earth and sky,” Professor Seraphiel said, as if answering a question. “Water. Flame.” She pointed in turn to the trickling waterfall and the fireplace. “The dark arts have more in common with ancient forms of witchcraft than modern wizardry likes to acknowledge.”
“I didn’t realize,” Alise murmured.
“Not with a hole in your education, you wouldn’t. But you are experienced with elementals, so you should understand. The numinous is grounded by the elements of our physical world. Psychic manipulation is a magic that relies upon controlling the mental energy of another. Just as you harness the incorporeal to your will, so does an unscrupulous wizard, such as the Hanneils have perfected over centuries, attempt to bind and tame you . You are, after all, simply a sophisticated spirit gifted with a corporeal form.”
Alise had never thought of herself as a spirit with a body, and the idea gave her a sense of dislocation, as if the world had jumped to the left and suddenly presented itself from a different angle. Her head swam woozily.
“Toes. Dirt,” the wizard woman instructed, pointing at Alise’s feet.
Obediently, she dug in her toes, finding that sense of rightness and realness returning.
“Gives you a different perspective, doesn’t it, on all your spirit binding and taming? As you do unto others, so can be done unto you. It’s worth remembering. Sometimes I think those of us in houses that trade in variations of psychic magic—Seraphiel, Uriel, Elal, Sammael, Ariel, and even Refoel—retain our ancient enmity for Hanneil not so much from hatred of the perverted control they’ve attempted over the centuries, but out of envy that they do what we scruple not to.”
Alise gaped at her. Morghana Seraphiel waved that away. “A philosophical discussion for another day. Tell me, given your extensive experience in harnessing spirits to your will—think of the most evolved and complex spirit you’ve bound—what weapons does it possess to resist you co-opting its free will?”
She didn’t like to think of herself as a Gordon-type, terrorizing others and tethering them to her will in the same way she’d been tormented. The dark arts professor watched her knowingly. “Now you begin to understand why everyone is chary of the dark arts. We embrace a different perspective that many find… unsettling. Answer my question if you wish to learn, young Elal.”
Alise bent her mind to the riddle. How did spirits attempt to resist her? “Any number of ways,” she answered slowly, as she thought it through. “Evasion, first. If they can’t be found, they can’t be caught.”
“Good. What else?”
“I’m not sure how to describe it, but a kind of… slipperiness? They wriggle through my mental grasp like water through my fingers.”
“Excellent. Remember that. And if they cannot evade or elude?”
“They fight. They use strength, matching their power against mine. Depending on what I have available, they sometimes succeed. I don’t always have enough magic to outlast them or quickly overpower them.”
Professor Seraphiel nodded. “You’re not a complete idiot, so that’s helpful. Which of these weapons do you think you could employ to resist a similar attempt to control your thoughts?”
Trick question. “All of them, depending.”
“It’s too late for evasion. House Hanneil knows who and where you are. Can you elude the next attempt?”
Alise considered that, aware she’d furrowed her brow, thinking of that second encounter with odious Gordon. “I might. I could be like water, like air, like sand through a sieve, though it would take practice.”
“And practice we will,” the professor replied with satisfaction. “That is your first and best line of defense. To outlast and outpower—well, that would take more resources than you possess at this time. So we will focus on teaching you to be elusive.”
“I thought I’d be learning shields,” Alise admitted, “but I understand now how this approach makes more sense.”
“Shields are a martial metaphor. They imply a static defense that can be circumnavigated or broken. You will learn to be like the spirits you tame, like the spirit you are , everywhere and nowhere. You cannot be broken because you cannot be fixed into place.”
Alise found herself smiling. “I like the sound of that.”
Morghana snorted, but a hint of a mirroring smile softened her stern face. “Of course you do. All Elals are slippery. You shall learn to be more so than most.”
They drilled for several hours until Alise satisfied the dark arts professor that she could successfully elude any number of attempts at psychic control—including several truly terrifying attacks from the Seraphiel wizard herself.
Soaked in sweat, Alise found herself on hands and knees, digging all fingers and toes into the grounding soil.
“Barely escaped me on that one,” Professor Seraphiel informed her, “but the good news for you is that was an extremely difficult attack to handle. There are full Seraphiel wizards who couldn’t have done so well. You have a real talent. Are you sure you don’t want to study the dark arts?”
“At this point,” Alise panted, then found it within herself to climb to her feet again, particularly bolstered by the rare words of praise from the wizard, “I’m wondering why everyone doesn’t study the dark arts.”
Morghana Seraphiel laughed softly. “Now you know why everyone fears and avoids us.”
Giving the professor a rueful smile, Alise nodded, accepting the towel Morghana handed her, using real water to wash the dirt from her hands and feet as instructed, returning both to the soil floor before neatly folding the towel. Considering whether this was wise and also that it could be her only opportunity, she said, “May I ask a question, Professor Seraphiel?”
“You might as well take advantage of my undivided attention to make up for the years of education in the dark arts you missed.” She raised her steely brows into forks at Alise’s hesitation. “Well?” She prompted. “Ask. If I am able, I will answer.”
“Have you ever heard of someone being able to sever the wizard–familiar bond?” Alise asked, in more of a rush than she’d intended, or that was probably wise.
The forks inverted into a frown, the Seraphiel wizard gazing at her with baleful interest. “That would be a revolutionary feat of wizardry,” she said slowly, displaying the caution Alise had failed to. “Why do you ask?”
Alise shrugged, trying to be nonchalant and no doubt failing miserably. “Just rumors. You know how students gossip.”
“Indeed, I do.” She studied Alise a long moment. “Tell me something, Alise Elal. Why is House Hanneil so interested in you?”
Alise widened her eyes in false innocence. “I have no idea.”
“You really must become a better dissembler,” the professor noted in disgust. “Lying is an art like any other.”
“A dark art?” Alise retorted impudently, more confident now that she saw through Morghana’s brusque manner.
“Quite the opposite. The dark arts are about uncomfortable truths. There’s no room for denial or self-deception when dealing with demons. Are you going to answer my question?”
“Is it important that you have that answer?”
“Cagily handled. You will do well as Lady Elal.”
“As I said previously, I have no interest in heading House Elal.”
“Would you leave that role to your idiot of a brother? I must say your honest look of surprise serves you better than your attempts to feign ignorance. Of course I know of Fernando Elal. There are many of us who make it our business to anticipate who might next head influential Convocation houses and affect our lives and businesses. A fool can do far more damage than the most malicious intellect. You can bargain with evil. Speaking of which, my regards to Lord Phel in appreciation for him removing that nitwit Sammael heir from existence.”
Alise could only process that with considerable astonishment, unsure where to begin.
“Never mind,” Morghana Seraphiel waved a hand. “I’ve flummoxed your beliefs and expectations enough for one day. To answer your question, I could say yes, it’s important for me to know why Hanneil is so interested in you, but it would be a lie to no purpose. I have my own suspicions and it will be entertaining to see if I prove to be correct. Still, tell your people at House Phel that House Seraphiel stands ready to assist. Now away with you. I’m excessively wearied.”
With that dismissal, Alise didn’t feel she could ask what Morghana meant by that tantalizing message.