85 – Integrity

Lysander’s attention fell, naturally, on the demon at Aeris’s side.

She wore no red tattoos on her face, which introduced a moment of hesitation, but not a long one. Not simply because that meeting from a hundred years ago had seared itself onto his mind, such that he could never forget the Sorceress’s strangely diminutive stature and intimidatingly bored expression, but because the second breach at Prismarche—as if the first hadn’t—had all but confirmed that the woman was alive and active in the world once more.

Aeris had been unhelpful yesterday when reporting what had really happened in Prismarche. Lysander had put two and two together and deduced that Vivisari had asked for Aeris’s silence. Which annoyed Lysander. Aeris’s allegiance should be to the Institute, not the Sorceress, however much those two factions should themselves be aligned. Another problem Lysander had temporarily set to the side.

He couldn’t say he was unfazed to see the most famous person in the world striding into the garden annex. A jolt went through him upon the revelation of who his new company was, and his thoughts raced as he tried to guess her purpose for coming. There were a number of plausible reasons. Too many.

“Lysander,” Aeris greeted with a nod. “Nia.”

“Hi Aery,” the half-elf archmage returned. “Who’s this?”

“Lady Nysari Keresi,” Aeris replied. “Grand Magus, tenth elevation. We met by chance; she actually has business with you, Lysander. I hope you don’t mind the interruption.”

Lysander narrowed his eyes at the man. Business with him specifically? That was concerning, since the only natural assumption was she needed to speak with the Institute’s Headmaster, not Lysander himself. And ‘business’ between the Sorceress and the Institute meant critical matters of state.

He wasn’t surprised that Nia hadn’t recognized the Sorceress. His fellow archmage was reclusive in the tower and likely had never met the legendary mage, and even now had spared only the briefest glance before returning to her notes, happily absorbed in her study of the spatial phenomenon.

“Not in the slightest,” Lysander replied smoothly, meeting the demon’s red eyes and fighting an instinctive flinch. “I assume it’s urgent, if Archmage Aeris brought you to me. I can take you to my office, if you’d prefer privacy.”

“Yes, please,” came the cool response.

Lysander shared a look with Aeris, but the old warmage kept his face politely neutral. Lysander supposed that meant this couldn’t be anything too concerning.

A sudden meeting with the Sorceress herself, though. Lysander wished he’d had at least a few minutes to brace himself.

He turned and made to leave. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Sorceress’s eyes linger on the spatial tear for a moment before she joined him. He wondered if he would receive an explanation for whatever that personal handiwork of hers had been—and yes, he knew that it was the Sorceress who was at fault. Hardly a difficult deduction.

He also wanted to know why she had torn up a chunk of the spatial fabric in the middle of his Institute. He was hardly irrational enough to think she’d taken that risk for anything less than something of crucial importance, but as the man responsible for the students and mages within this tower, he couldn’t help but feel aggravation at the danger the rift represented.

“I can [Blink] us,” Lysander offered with a glance toward the woman. With her following at his side, he was struck again by just how small she was. Especially since he dealt with children frequently through the course of his duties as headmaster—she was smaller than most third years. The effect disoriented him.

“If you don’t mind,” she replied impassively.

He faced her and held his hand out, and she touched her fingers to his. One [Blink] later, they stood in his office.

The demon looked around at the decorations as Lysander walked behind his desk to sit. He silently studied her expression, but gleaned nothing; her face might as well be a mask carved of bone. She certainly wasn’t impressed by anything she saw.

Sitting, he gestured at the visitor’s chair. “Vivisari. I was expecting you, I admit. Perhaps not so soon.”

Or rather, sooner, but when that hadn’t been the case, then not for some time.

The woman glanced at him, then walked over and accepted the indicated seat. “I suppose there’s little point in denying it. Nysari is for moving around the city without complications. I didn’t think you would recognize me, though. Have we met before?”

Well, there was an immediate confirmation that the encounter from his youth had been a footnote or less to this woman. Something carved onto his memories, but insignificant to the Sorceress herself.

He deflected with, “It’s rather apparent, considering the events of the past week, and that you were accompanying Archmage Aeris.” After a pause, he added mildly, “I would not call the disguise itself particularly effective either, for anyone even vaguely aware of the Sorceress’s appearance. Tattoos hidden or not.”

There had been a moment’s hesitation even in Lysander’s mind, admittedly, half for the lack of tattoos, and the other half for the woman’s stature, no matter if he recollected that stark impression from a hundred years ago. It was simply strange, so much power being packed into a form that small.

“I suppose it isn’t,” the demon agreed. “But again, it’s just to avoid the obvious complications of walking around with my real face. I ask that you don’t spread this identity.”

“If the Sorceress requests it, I am obliged to obey.”

A trace of unintended sarcasm must have leaked into Lysander’s response, because Vivisari studied him for a second longer than felt natural. Lysander wasn’t even sure why he had taken the tone. He understood how important this meeting was. How important fostering a positive relationship with the Sorceress was. Even if he did have a personal grievance—and he certainly did not—he would have kept it tightly restrained.

“I appreciate that,” Vivisari said. “I won’t waste your time. I have matters to attend to, as I’m sure you do as well. There are two things I need to discuss, one personal, and one professional.”

He paused at that. Vivisari had something personal to discuss with him? He truly couldn’t imagine what. “I see. I’ll help in any way I can. But first, might I have a question of my own?”

“Of course.”

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Of course? It was a more congenial response than he’d expected. He supposed he didn’t actually know this woman’s personality much. Nearly no one had, barring the Party of Heroes themselves and the members of Vivisari’s guild. She had been famously reclusive, the least-seen-in-public of the Heroes by far, to the extent she had made Theophania seem like a socialite in comparison.