The Power-Saver
Chapter Eight
THE POWER-SAVER
Alison
“H e’s cursed,” said Idris. “No doubt about it.”
He stood over Leo while Keir attended him on the ground.
“He’s lucky is what he is,” said Keir. “Lucky he’s an elf. That would have killed a human.”
Leo stirred on the floor, coming to in a daze. “What happened?” he said. “Ceri?”
“What did you just say?” asked Idris, his eyes narrowing.
“Are you alright?” asked Ceri. Alison turned to see that the young princess had entered the workshop without anyone noticing. “I heard screaming. What happened?”
“Of course my sister is somehow involved. I’ve never met anyone more attracted to trouble,” said Idris as they watched Ceri bend down to help Leo up. She shot Idris a rude gesture.
“I like your hair,” Rinka mouthed to Ceri when Idris’s back was turned.
Ceri smiled.
“Was it the power-saver?” Lady Sibba asked Professor Marin.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like that in our lab. We’re careful with the shielding and connections.”
“What did you say about him being cursed, Idris?” Alison asked.
“Oh, he’s clearly cursed. Can’t you feel it? There’s magic all over him. Strange magic, definitely none of ours.”
Alison couldn’t feel it at all. She looked around, but even Ceri seemed mystified by this revelation.
“None of yours?” asked Leo. “Can you all do magic?” Whatever impact the ‘lectrocution had made was clearly fading. Leo was excited as Gwenla got when she was scheming.
“Why do you want to know?” asked Rinka.
“It’s related to my research. Ceri has been kind enough to help me, but if all of you can—”
“Oh she has, has she?” asked Idris, looking at her sternly. “You’ve been here one day—”
“Don’t you dare lecture me. I’ve seen what you get up to—”
“It’s about your safety. You don’t even know him—”
Alison interjected, addressing Leo. “Not all of us. I can, though not consistently. Keir here also has some sort of ability, though we’re stronger together.” She looked at Rinka for help. Leo was an assistant of Professor Marin’s, and she was the only one who could help them with their solar machine. If she trusted him, why should they doubt him? Maybe his inquiry would lead them to an answer.
Rinka nodded, understanding. “I also can do something with the powers of others. I’m not really sure how it works.”
“Ah, you must be a conduit,” said Leo.
“A what?” asked Rinka.
“A conduit. It’s what I call people who can channel the magical power of other people. It’s a rare gift, from what I’ve seen, and a particularly useful one because magic used by a conduit generally can’t be detected.” He turned to Idris. “To your point, you are correct about the magic you sense around me. But it’s not on me. It’s on the objects that I’m studying.”
From his pocket, he pulled an ordinary lighter made from dwarven steel. “I was just preparing to take some measurements when you arrived. This is just one of several objects—”
“This is cursed,” interrupted Idris. “It’s a powerful curse at that. Highly malevolent. What in the name of the Gods are you doing carrying around a cursed object? Did you say, ‘several objects’?”
“Idris, stop it,” said Ceri. “He’s just doing research.”
“ I do research on curses and cursed objects,” said Idris. “And do you know where I keep them? Safely locked away in specially designed storage devices to ensure the curse cannot escape. It’s basic dark magic handling. Really, a graduate researcher carrying cursed objects around like children’s toys. I’ve a mind to speak with Dean Whittaker.”
Ceri was furious. Even Alison thought Idris was going a little too far. She highly doubted that Leo had intended to do anything wrong.
“You’re being unfair,” said Rinka. Idris frowned at her but said nothing. “Half the country doesn’t believe magic exists. You didn’t even know the conduit thing Leo just mentioned. I’m sure now that he knows, he’ll want to handle the objects correctly. Right, Leo?”
Leo nodded. “Of course. I didn’t mean to—that is to say, I didn’t think they were harmful. They register on my magimeter. They may not all be cursed. But even if they are, that poses another interesting research question: is there a difference in the magic storage based on the nature of the enchantment? If I could take a look at those cursed objects of yours…”
Idris glared at him, and Leo shrunk back in response. But then Idris looked from Ceri to Rinka, who both looked ready to throttle him, and sighed in resignation. “Fine. After you’ve had proper training on their handling and not a moment before it.”
Leo reluctantly handed the lighter to Idris.
“Isn’t it dangerous to you as well?” asked Alison. “If it’s cursed, after all.”
“I’m already cursed,” said Idris. “If it gets me between here and my office, I probably deserved it.” He gave half a smile—half an apology—to Leo.
“I’ll go with you, just in case,” said Rinka.
“We’ll be back for the others with the proper storage,” said Idris, putting his arm around Rinka. “Do not touch them while we’re gone. Don’t even go near them.”
With the pair of them gone, Ceri relaxed. “Ignore my brother,” she said to Leo. “He’s insufferable when he thinks he knows better than you.”
“No, he was right,” said Leo. “Truly, it explains a lot. I thought I was just unlucky. I’m sorry I put you in danger last night.”
Last night? Alison shot a look to Keir. It was a good thing Idris wasn’t here to hear that.
“Well, I’m relieved it wasn’t the solar machine at least,” said Professor Marin. She had taken a wise step back while they argued, tinkering with the machine rather than participating. “I want to run a few more tests to be sure.”
Ceri led Leo away, asking him something about egg tarts, and Professor Marin took the opportunity to talk to Alison, who likely seemed the most level-headed of the bunch.
“Keep an eye on him during the day for me, will you? Leo is a kind young man, but I worry about him. I’m glad Professor Idris is here to knock some sense into him, but I imagine it’ll take more than one lecture to persuade him. I’ve never met someone so singularly focused. It makes him a wonderful research assistant, but I never thought I’d find myself so worried about an elf’s longevity.”
“Of course we’ll look after him,” said Alison.
Truthfully, Alison didn’t know how they were meant to babysit an elf that was likely decades older than any of them, except for Lady Sibba.
But judging by the giggles coming from inside, they wouldn’t have to worry about it—Ceri was already on the job.
Back in their room that night, with both of them reading their respective books in bed, Alison turned to Keir to discuss something that had been troubling her.
“I think I felt the curse earlier,” she said. “But not on Leo, or even on the lighter. I feel it here, in the hallways when I walk around alone. Do you feel it too?”
“I don’t know,” said Keir. “I feel a sense of unease at times, but I attributed it to the darkness in the hallways and a lack of air circulation. Maybe some peculiarities in the architecture. Sometimes buildings like this that have been partially ruined and added onto over centuries have strange features. Places where walls come together at odd angles, steps that seem too short or too tall, that sort of thing. It can be a bit disorienting when you’re used to well-made structures.”
“My cottage is pretty wonky, and it doesn’t give me that sense at all. But I do see what you mean.”
Keir closed his book and looked at Alison. “Do you feel unsafe?”
“No,” she reassured him. “Not really. I feel as though I’m being watched though. Not all the time. Just…I don’t know. I’m being silly. It’s probably just all the royal guards hanging about.”
“Alison.” He tucked the hair behind her ear. “I trust your instincts even if you don’t. If you feel like something isn’t right, we can leave. If you want to stay and try to figure it out, I’ll stay with you.”
“Thank you,” she said and kissed him softly.
“Of course, I’m suspicious of the library, personally. Yes, it’s helpful, but doesn’t it seem odd to you that the library can read everyone’s inner-most thoughts and feelings and no one seems to think that’s unusual? Perhaps that’s what you’re feeling. Perhaps it’s listening to us right now.”
He had meant it as a joke, but the idea sent a shiver up Alison’s spine.
“Maybe I’ll just put these books in the bathroom for the night. Just in case.”
Keir laughed, but he also handed his book over. “Just in case,” he said.
It didn’t take long for those of the group who weren’t preparing for the autumn term to settle into a routine.
Following breakfast in the dining hall, Alison, Keir, Weyland, and Lady Sibba joined Leo (and often Ceri) in Professor Marin’s workshop to run their tests. Weyland and Leo cobbled together some kind of crude power-saver from the material samples and a few of the lab’s many parts, while Alison and Lady Sibba crunched the numbers from the previous experiments. Keir’s official role was ensuring their safety, but in practice, he was frequently called to the High House infirmary. While there had been no further major ‘lectrocution incidents with the solar-power crew, there had been an outbreak of a nasty cold during the move-in.
They continued day after day, sharing their progress with Professor Marin each night. She reviewed the results and suggested modifications, and the next day, it was back to the workshop again to try four cells in the chamber rather than two or a zinc cathode rather than one of adamant. There were countless variables and combinations tried, but by the night before the first day of school, they had narrowed down the design significantly.
“Mithril is extraordinary,” said Professor Marin when they showed her the latest tests. “It’s far better at handling overcharge when combined with iron than the alternatives. The answer is here if we can just solve the leakage problem. Of course, it’s very expensive, but if it’s the crown making the investment…”
“Gwenla says there’s more mithril than the dwarves let on,” said Alison. “It’s sort of a false scarcity situation. Keeps the prices high.”
“It’s a good thing we know a dwarf,” said Weyland. “I barely managed to get my hands on mithril even when I worked for Derkomai.”
After they packed up their experiments for the day, Alison hesitated before opening the door to her room. The halls were filled with the nervous anticipation of the upcoming term, students coming and going, collecting last-minute supplies and books and discussing plans on which classes to try (and which ones to avoid).
It reminded Alison of her own first day of college. Her father hadn’t managed to get time off from the manufactory on move-in day, so her mother had been the one to help her carry the same trunk she still used into her tiny dormitory. They had fought bitterly, as they often did when they were tired and stressed, arguing over what Alison needed to do, which Alison had felt perfectly capable of figuring out for herself.
Her mother had tried to make amends as she left, perhaps not wanting to leave things with her only daughter on the final day of her time under her parents’ care on a bad note, but Alison had refused to listen. She didn’t feel the weight of it at the time, the loss her mother must have felt. She didn’t even feel the massive change that was happening, not really. All she felt was relief that her life was finally starting and gratitude to be free of her mother’s nagging and their constant bickering at last.
That was all she felt until the night before classes began, at least. By then, the anticipation had turned into anxiety, and she found herself paralyzed with fear that it had all been a mistake, that she wasn’t smart enough to go to university and that she ought to go back home right then and forget about the whole thing.
She had called home, hoping to speak with her father. They had always been close, and she knew he would know just what to say to make her feel better.
But it had been her mother that had answered.
Alison kept the conversation short, still holding some piece of resentment over the way her mother had made her feel the week before, but her mother had said something to her that had stayed with her nonetheless:
“Everyone feels the exact same way you do. None of us know what we’re doing, not really. You aren’t a mistake. You worked hard and you deserve to be where you are. Don’t let that voice inside you keep from being as great as I know you can be.”
At the time, Alison had rolled her eyes and ignored what she said. She had zeroed in on the phrase “as I know you can be” as evidence that her mother thought she wasn’t great right then.
But now, watching the students in the halls, she got it.
They looked at her and saw someone grown up, someone with the answers, but she wasn’t.
She never would be, and that was okay.
Her mother had never had all the answers, either.
They did the best they could. Sometimes the doubts crept in anyway, but Alison had done what her mother had told her to without even realizing it: she had learned to stop listening to that voice that told her she didn’t deserve to be happy.
Alison walked down the hall. At the end, tucked between a pair of statues, was a long-talker. It was much nicer than the one she had used to call her mother all those years ago—it probably wouldn’t even fade out if she talked on it too long.
She picked up the receiver and gave the party line number to the operator.
It rang five times, but finally it picked up.
“Hi, Mum,” she said. “It’s me, Alison.”