Chapter 32 – Departure

The next time they met, the conversation went about the same as the first. Mirian tried asking about new innovations in airships, and both Xipuatl and Nicolus scoffed at the idea of really big ones. “The bigger it is, the more fossilized myrvite you need, and that stuff burns really inefficiently, so you need a lot. But the more you add, the heavier it gets, so the more you need.”

Mirian was embarrassed not to have thought of that. It was a pretty simple mathematical concept, and they’d covered the idea in some of the lower level Arcane Physics classes when they talked about why it took so long to invent flying aircraft even after levitation spells were well known. The airship had to be held up by some sort of levitation spell, but Mirian wondered—what was it using? She’d assumed fossilized myrvite because every spell engine these days ran off it, but what if it was something else? A bunch of magi all casting enhanced levitation spells together while chugging mana elixirs? No, that sounded stupid. Great, she thought. Another mystery. It seemed like whatever she figured out just led to more questions.

Classes were going well, and the practical experience in combat magic and illusions was helpful. Professor Marva had come to class each day as a totally different person, alternating gender and style each day. Mirian had to admire their confidence and flair. Most people fell into routines and one sense of style. Marva tried on whatever style fit their mood that day.

Over the weekend, she ended up returning to the passage beneath Griffin Hall. This time, her auric mana wasn’t so depleted, and she’d bought a mana elixir just in case. She also had her spellrod in hand, in case she stumbled on one of the Akanan spies, or something worse. She’d heard rumors the ruins beneath Torrviol eventually reached down into the Labyrinth. If that was true, some seriously nasty myrvites could be stalking the passages down here. She still remembered Professor Viridian’s lecture on Labyrinth creatures from a few years back. It was where chimeras formed, for one. But it was also where things like the slithering swarm roamed. Viridian had described that as a black mass that slithered like a python, only the strange body had hundreds of little arms that could emerge from its flesh. It also had natural telekinesis to hold prey in place, and consumed its victims whole. Okay, there probably wasn’t going to be a slithering swarm just under the Academy, but Mirian figured it was good to be cautious.

As she walked, she drew herself a map in her notebook as best she could. The problem was, passages kept splitting off, going up, going down, curving slightly, and twisting back around so that a passage she thought was two separate directions was really just a loop. After a bit, she stopped trying to make a map, and just made little diagrams that represented each crossroads: lines indicating each hall, a dot indicating where she’d come from, and a triangle indicating which route she’d taken.

Twice, high-strung rats had zipped out of some hidey-hole and scared the five hells out of her. Another time, she’d again thought she heard voices down some passage. The architecture down in the tunnels was mixed up, just like the Academy, with the stonework changing every few hundred feet. Once, she walked through what looked like the layout of an old stone house, with piles of rust dotting the corners. In another spot she heard water dripping, and stumbled upon a vast cistern. Only, there didn’t seem to be any pipes connecting it to anything. That made Mirian nervous. What happened to this place when the rains really got going?

Along the wall of the cistern, she saw nightshelf glowing. The tiny mushrooms looked liked they were painted with a piece of the night sky. It was nice to see another source of light that didn’t come from her.

What was clear was that down here, there wasn’t an easy way to get to Bainrose. In fact, there didn’t seem to be an easy way to get to anywhere. Professor Jei had to have been nuts for going this way. There was no way it was a shortcut of any kind. Did she just find long walks in creepy tunnels relaxing?

Though, Mirian had to admit, there was a mysterious beauty to the place. The old stone arches, the remnant vaulting in the ceiling, the traces of old pots and tools—it gave the place a sense of history, a sense of wonder. There was a story written in the stones and the things that had been left behind.

Mirian lost all sense of time wandering about, though based on the number of light spells she cast, she figured she’d been down there several hours. Just as she was about to head back the way she’d come, Mirian stumbled on a door.

It wasn’t like some of the other doors she’d found. One had been a decaying wood door that opened up into a pile of rubble. Another had been more rust than door. This one seemed newer than even some of the doors in the streets above. It was a solid oak door, reinforced with steel and decorated with runes. The stone wall around it looked like it had been repaired. The keyhole was a small, brass opening. There were no glyphs that she could see, but when she held her hand near it, she felt that strange, indescribable sensation that meant arcane energy was present. No doubt, there were glyphs inside the lock, and glyphs of reinforcement strengthening the door.

On a whim, she tried the different glyphkeys that she’d acquired from the spy. None of them fit. Of course, Mirian thought. That would be too easy.

She considered the door and how she might open it. Just as she was relaxing into thought, her light spell ended, plunging her into darkness. She muttered curses and got her spellrod out again—then stopped. There was a faint orange glow inside the lock. More, the cracks where the stone was fitted together glowed also, a faint blue emanation she could only just make out. But what did that mean?

She simply didn’t have the tools or the spells to begin to open it. Mirian recast her light spell and headed back for the surface.

***

Firstday morning, Mirian met with Torres again before class. She didn’t want to talk artifice. The attack was approaching. “Any news from your contacts?”

“Yes,” Torres said. “They see no indication of an impending attack.” She paused. “Part of the problem is that Akana Praediar is organizing an expeditionary force at Baracuel’s request. There is an expected army and navy buildup, because they want one. It’s going to sail to Persama to aide them. If one were to launch a surprise attack, one might only need to order that fleet to a different landing place. But there is no evidence they might do that, and more, there is no reason. If you’ve had visions…?”

“I can’t figure out the why either. Unless it’s something to do with your project. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Torres considered this. When she spoke, it was clear she was choosing her words carefully. “I don’t see why Akana would consider the project a threat to them in any way. I could understand why the Syndicates would think it was a problem.”

There was that term again. How was it that everyone seemed to know about the crime syndicates except her?

The professor tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps there are implications I don’t understand yet.”

“I can’t figure out any of it. But it does happen. Have… have someone with a telescope at the top of Torrian Tower. The telescope should look northwest.”

“You said this attack comes on the 28th?”

“Yeah. But it’s an… what did that guy call it… an army group. So it’s big. And they have giant airships too. So you should be able to see it well before it arrives. Oh, and one more thing, because I’m not sticking around. Someone kills Platus on the 23rd. There’s an explosion in the alchemistry building. He’s in room, uh, 312, it has a window facing the road. It happened at about 5:54 in the morning.”

This book’s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“I see,” Torres said. That was all she said, though, because Mirian’s classmates had started to arrive. She took her seat in the back and studied illusion glyph sequences out of her notebook.

Mirian continued her classes and continued her studies. In the evening, she checked the newspapers, looking for any sort of development. A few more articles were talking about the fighting in Persama, though that was dying down. It got her thinking, though. Baracuel’s military wasn’t worried about a hypothetical invasion because they were dealing with an actual low level war. The amount of evidence they’d need to see would be overwhelming, wouldn’t it? They were hard pressed enough that they wanted Akanan help. What sort of evidence would they find sufficient to withdraw an entire army from a war with Persama to defend against the world’s least likely attack?

The 20th of Solem was the last day Mirian ever saw Nicolus in the previous cycles. Once again, he and Sire Nurea showed up to the study session like everything was normal. Both were completely relaxed; for Nicolus, this meant lounging back in his chair and making jokes. For Nurea, this meant standing statue-straight, but not actively tensing as if she were going to pounce.

Mirian struggled for what exactly to say to rehash the same thing they’d been talking about. Her mind went back to the giant airships, inexplicably above them when physics said they shouldn’t be. “What sort of technological research is being done into new energy sources?” Mirian asked. “It seems it’s such a limit for what kinds of spell engines are possible. I mean, think about if airships could move things like trains could.”

“Lots of stuff,” Nicolus said at the same time that Xipuatl said, “Nothing meaningful.”

They talked over each other for a bit, then Nicolus got the upper hand and said, “The key innovation is going to come from dissecting some artifact someone finds in the Labyrinth. Don’t tell Calisto I said that, by the way, she’ll think that means her family is important again, but that’s not how innovation tracks. Someone is gonna find it, someone else is gonna make money. Or, throw enough wizards at the problem and one of them will come up with something. Best left to the Academies to do that, and then let someone with money develop the items that use it.”

Xipuatl shook his head the whole time Nicolus was talking. “Absolutely wrong on every level. No one in Baracuel or Akana Praediar is going to innovate from the current framework because the framework is wrong. They think the conceptual development of the arcane force is complete, so they can’t even begin to look for what they’re missing. It’ll be Tlaxhuaco nagual who figure out the next step. If you don’t believe me, send a wizard to the Sacred Ceiba tree in Uxalak. See if they can even begin to understand what’s going on with ambient mana myrosynthesis in that area.”

Nicolus rolled his eyes. “Give Professor Viridian a suite of shiny new divination tools and a few hours and he’ll figure it out. He’d take longer to figure out how to operate the projector spell engines all the other professors use.”