Chapter 26 – Progression

She dreamed again. She might have expected the nightmares to come from the massacre of the south hills, or be of looming airships following her, but instead it was the dreams she couldn’t fathom the meaning of. She dreamed she was in the Labyrinth, halls twisting and turning. As she moved, passages closed up and left behind dirt, while new ones of metalloids and stone knit themselves together. There was a beating pulse beneath her, a warm thing that slithered about, and she knew she must follow it. When she tried to behold it, the vision of it slipped from her eyes, like it was an aftershadow. When she tried to hear it, it was as if the sound was just at the threshold of her hearing. When she tried to touch it, it was always just out of reach. It was as if her hand was so close she could feel the heat from her finger tips radiating back, but when she closed her hand, it was always empty.

Then there was a wailing, an endless scream that came from high above. Beneath, the pulse she had been seeking withered, and a terrible fear wormed into her. Something had gone wrong. Something was crying for help.

When Mirian woke, she lay there, trying to figure out what. She was sure the dream meant something. There was a pattern to these dreams that she remembered.

She looked over to the alarm candle. The nails looked like they’d fall out in an hour. Maybe two. Gods, she was up early. She tried to go back to sleep, but just lay there, mind racing with all the things she needed to do. There was just too much. Mirian reluctantly abandoned her warm covers and started her day.

This early in the morning, prism moths were still fluttering about. Normally, it was cloudy enough they looked like normal moths, but this morning, in the light of the twinkling Divir moon, their pale wings trailed a faint mist that shone like a rainbow. For some reason, their wings only glowed in the light of the Divir moon. The Luamin moon didn’t do the trick, even though it was much larger. Mirian just liked watching them flutter about. They gave the pre-dawn morning a sense of calm and beauty.

She went to Bainrose. Given the early hour, the guard told her, “The librarian isn’t in,” when she asked to enter. When she told him the librarian didn’t need to be there for him to let her in, he made up some bogus rule about how there were supposed to be a minimum number of people present in Bainrose at all times and he couldn’t let her in until the librarian returned. It might have fooled a second year who still didn’t quite know how things worked, but Mirian knew he was lying. That was good to know; he was tasked with keeping people out. It meant the spies were doing something in Bainrose.

It was cold, but she had her cloak and the weather still hadn’t turned as cold as it would in a few days. She said, “Then I’ll wait.” She sat on the bench just outside and continued work on her second spellrod design. The glyph light by the library was plenty illumination. It also let her keep an eye out on the front entrance.

The guard became uncomfortable. He clearly wanted to tell her to piss off, but couldn’t think of a reason for it. Eventually, he walked in. When he came out, another man was walking beside him, and Mirian also caught a glimpse of the night shift librarian through the door.

The man walking out was familiar. It was the one she mentally had categorized as ‘cloaked figure three,’ the one who could cast minor illusion spells. He’d done just that; his blond hair was now brown, and his face subtly transformed.

“Oh, I see the librarian,” Mirian said. “May I come in now?”

The guard looked annoyed, but he said, “Yes.”

“What’s up with the rule change?” Mirian asked the librarian.

“What rule change?” she asked. When Mirian explained what the guard had told her, she said, “That doesn’t sound—” but then she froze and looked toward the door. “I’ll have to check with my supervisor,” she said. “Sometimes they forget to tell me these things. Do you need any help finding the book you’re looking for?”

“No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

Combat magic was on the first basement floor, and given how long the certification had been around, several people had written guides and explainers about the process and the spells involved. Mirian had a few of the spells already—Self Defense was a required class at Torrviol, after all—but these were the kind that involved a shock that couldn’t kill a mouse at full power, or force razor, which had the power to give people nasty paper cuts. Actually, paper cuts were probably more deadly.

The combat certification first involved a check on the person’s spellbook to make sure they had each relevant spell on a separate page, all the spells were transcribed correctly, and that it was just a spellbook. Some people had apparently started hiding miniature spell engines inside fake books to pretend they could cast spells, which involved paying an artificer a lot of money to commit fraud, which was a hefty fine for either of them if they got caught. It was another one of those examples of a few morons ruining something for everyone. She also would need to prepare three wands, each with a prescribed combat spell. This also struck her as wasteful.

Next, she had to take a test on when it was proper to use the spells. It seemed like the questions were very basic, like, “are you allowed to cast fire spells at your neighbor after he’s annoyed you?” to which the answer was obviously, “no.” No wonder people like Platus wanted to pursue combat degrees.

Finally, she had to demonstrate using the spells against a target while a supervisory mage watched over. The mage would also be using an item that measured various properties of the spell to make sure she was demonstrating enough competence that the spell wouldn’t do something it wasn’t supposed to, like blow her arm off, or blow the arm off of someone who was standing nearby. It made sense, given the kinds of energy that a proper combat spell could unleash. Still, this was Combat Certification I. There were four other levels beyond it. This one didn’t even certify her for the classic fireball.

It was legal to possess the first level combat spells, but only to practice them on a range. No one had better tell the frost scarabites that, they might report me, Mirian thought sardonically. She started transcribing the spells. Her ink kit had most of what she needed. Naturally, one of the spells required baduka boar ink, the one she didn’t have. Just little ways the universe was constantly mocking her.

After nearly an hour, she had transcribed three spells and dawn was starting to illuminate the big stained glass windows of the main floor. She checked out one of the books, then headed over to the crafting facilities. They were closed still, and the woman working by the gate didn’t want to let her in.

“I just need some wood scraps and a bit of copper,” she said. “Stuff that you’ll burn or throw out anyways. There’s a leak above my room and maintenance has said they’re too busy. I just… I’m so sick of water dripping down into my room. Please?”

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Her piteous demeanor seemed to do the trick. The woman relented, though she still watched as Mirian picked through one of the scrap piles.

Then it was back to the dorm. Patching up the holes was no problem with shape wood, but she didn’t have the full spell for repairing metal. Mirian paged through her spellbook. She realized she had all the glyphs she needed, they were just all on different pages. It wasn’t safe to start casting, then flip back and forth rapidly between pages… but it would work, wouldn’t it?

Twice, she fizzled the spell, and the third time, she accidentally punched a hole in the wall plaster (and winced, hoping she hadn’t woken anyone up). But the fourth time, it worked—actually worked! She beamed with pride, and in a demonstration of infinite beneficence, turned the hot water back on.

A yelp downstairs told her maybe next time she should check the showers first. What kind of psycho took cold showers, though?

Triumphant, Mirian headed back to her room. It was time to talk to Lily.

She’d considered what to say. In the end, she couldn’t bear the thought of her best friend dying. Mirian wanted her to come along. That meant saying something. “Hey roomie,” she said.

Lily gave her a look. “How long have you been up?”

“Not gonna talk about that. Listen, you’ve known me for over five years now. Do I just make stuff up?”