Chapter 56 – The Cut of Truth

There was always someone watching Mirian now. As soon as she started to look for it, it was obvious. As she walked into her dorm, she caught sight of one of the people Nurea had pointed out. Oh well. Not much to be done about it. She needed to wait and see if the new mayor or Nurea would believe her.

Until then, what could she do to prepare? She had to stop bumbling about. She had plans, but they were all loose and unstructured. She needed to get ahead of what came next.

An idea struck her, and she got out a piece of parchment. She was sketching out a rough map of Torrviol when Lily walked in.

“Hey roomie,” Lily said. “That doesn’t look like classwor—right, I forgot, you’re an apprentice now. Is that what Professor Jei has you doing?”

“No, I’m going to make a map showing the Akanan attack. This is the rough draft. There’s a bunch of fancy symbols military maps are supposed to use, so I’ll have to look them up. Then I’ll use a spell to make copies. When the Baracuel military shows up, I can hand these out. I might even send one to Fort Aegrimere early.”

Lily bit her lip. “Right. I keep forgetting… it’s still so strange. Like… it can’t be real, but then you do things, or know things… I just don’t know what to do.”

Mirian sat back. “I don’t know either. I’ve been struggling with the philosophy of it. My parents taught me to treat people right, no matter what. But everything I do is erased. The mistakes, yeah, but also the nice things. Any kindness I show—wiped out. Compliments I give—forgotten. What’s the point of helping someone if they’re just going to need that help every cycle? Is it better if I just use people to hurry up the progress I need to make? But then, what kind of person do I become?”

Lily sat down on her bed and looked at Mirian. “I… I can’t believe it. I’ve been so focused on how this affects me I didn’t even ask—Gods, I’m so sorry Mirian. How are you doing?”

Mirian swallowed. She thought about the spike trap, about the sound the first spy’s body had made when it hit the pavement. She thought about the spy who she’d blasted off the battlements several times now, about watching the people of Torrviol get massacred, again and again. She thought of Nicolus, weeping over his dead knight, and of the wails of despair as the very sky fell. She thought of Lily dying in her arms.

Mirian didn’t intend for her words to come out as a hoarse whisper, but they did. “Not well.”

“Come here,” Lily said, and when Mirian did, she hugged her.

The floodgates burst then. Mirian hadn’t realized how much she’d been holding inside until it all started coming out. Great sobs wracked her body, and when Lily handed her a handkerchief, she soaked it. Her friend sat there and kept her arm around her until Mirian was done.

“Better?” Lily said.

“Yeah,” Mirian said, sniffing.

Lily squeezed her shoulder. “This shouldn’t all be on you. I… I mean, I’ve been focused on my classes, but that’s stupid, isn’t it? None of that’s going to matter if… hey, you said you needed a book, right?”

Mirian wiped more of her tears away. “Yeah. Modern Military Map Notation, or something. I don’t remember if it’s in the map room or the reference books.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Lily said. “And I bet I can figure out how to scribe an amanuensis spell to help you copy them.”

“Thanks,” Mirian said, and gave her a soft smile. She was glad to have her friend supporting her again, even if she knew it wouldn’t last.

***

True to her word, Respected Jei was committed. When she discovered Mirian didn’t have enough money to send her map to Fort Aegrimere by zephyr falcon, she gave her the coin, then gave her even more to continue buying mana elixirs and artifice supplies.

“It is hard to commit to this path,” Jei said. “Each reminder that I must sacrifice takes more will to overcome. Even with the preponderance of evidence present, it is easy to let doubt creep in. It is… Iliyia told me the phrase. ‘An existential crisis.’ Most people do not worry about death until they near old age. They cannot comprehend what they do now is in vain. I am glad I have the strength to keep my eyes open.”

“I’ll remember,” Mirian promised.

“I know you will.”

They worked through the weekend, but that was no change for Mirian. She rarely took the time to rest anymore. Jei continued to correct her technique, no matter how minor the error. “Selkus taught me the phrase in your language, ‘practice makes permanent.’ You cannot practice wrong. When you are tired, it is even more important. When you are too tired to do it right, stop. You understand?”

Mirian did. “What does Professor Viridian think of all this?”

“Most of them have an ‘alternative hypothesis,’ Viridian included. Sefora is still, what did she say? Sitting on a fence. I have done my best to convince Iliyia. She is waiting on your last prediction. I must admit, it will be a great reassurance to me.”

“And what’s Archmage Luspire up to?”

Jei frowned. “I do not know. He does not talk to me, and most of his people do not talk to me. They do not like me.”

“But they… invited you. You had to travel months, Zhighua is… really far away.”

“People are messy, and rarely consistent.”

“Isn’t that true,” Mirian mused.

“I am both useful to the project, and a thorn to his ambitions. In the end, it seems not to matter. Back to drills,” Jei said. “You are struggling with displacement most, so that must be our focus. First, remember that all mana you are channeling must originate from your aura, but the exponential drop in potency from distance can be mitigated…”

Mirian sighed, and got back to her lessons.

***

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The night of the 19th, Mirian woke sometime before midnight and then spent a long time staring at her ceiling. When it was clear that sleep would not return to her, she dressed and headed to the plaza. The night was cold, so she cast a warmth spell and sat down on the rim of the fountain to watch. The guard on watch—it wasn’t Bertrus, he was off duty—saw her, but said nothing.

Above, the Divir moon hung ominous in the sky, like a sword dangling above them, ready to plunge into Enteria’s heart. She watched it, then her eye was caught by a bright flash in the sky. A streak, not unlike lightning, came across the horizon from the south. It flashed again as its wings unfurled and it came to rest atop the roost tower atop the Royal Courier’s building. The zephyr falcon’s wings still crackled with electricity as it let out a keening call.

She stayed in the plaza. No sense giving anyone an excuse to think she tampered with the message.

Mirian wasn’t sure how Sire Nurea figured out where she was, but she made her appearance, Nicolus in tow. She looked at the guard, then back to Mirian. I wonder if she’s trying to figure out how quickly she can shoot us both.