An Invitation from the Imperial University Mage Tower (3)

Sunlight spilled warmly into my study.

I had finished the morning's work and was enjoying a moment of rest when the elf came in, carrying three scholarly books from the manor's collection.

After the way she'd left my room this morning, I'd assumed she would still be upset. But her expression had returned to its customary stillness.

I watched her approach, wondering what she wanted.

She dropped one of the books onto the edge of my desk and looked straight at me.

“Take it out.”

“What?”

“Your lecture. You asked me to help.”

Help? After all that?

I cleared my throat and straightened.

“You insolent elf. You dare enter without even knocking, and then—”

“I haven't got time for games.”

“…Right. Of course.”

I opened the drawer, took out the paper containing my magical design and spread it on the desk.

It was the blueprint for the artificial-rain spell.

The elf glanced at the drawing and laid her hand on it.

Blue mana gathered around her fingers. Before my eyes, the lines and patterns began to change—as though the blueprint's history were running backward.

In moments, the drawing had reverted to the unfinished form it had taken before she corrected it.

“W-wait—”

I looked up at her, speechless.

“I thought you were going to help me prepare for the lecture.”

“I am. You need to understand why your magic was so poorly designed.”

“…Ah.”

There was an undeniable logic to that.

“Still, isn't ‘poorly designed’ a little harsh?”

“Not at all.”

She pointed to the old version of the diagram.

“There are unnecessary circuits everywhere. Some symbols are placed badly, interfering with the flow or amplification of mana. And the whole structure works just as well without three of these seventeen patterns.”

“Three of them?”

“I'm only telling you the truth. For a human, the basic idea was interesting. Your decision to set the spell's direction independently rather than copy established formulas was even clever.”

She looked down at me with her red eyes.

“But an interesting idea doesn't excuse a badly constructed spell.”

So it was a decent effort for a human, but still a mess by her standards.

There was something rather insulting about it. Yet I had asked for help, and I couldn't very well argue with the person who knew more than I did.

“All right. Then how should I improve it?”

“Start with the patterns responsible for producing and driving the effect. Look here.”

She indicated a section of the magic circle.

“You used a gravitational-reversal pattern to create a localized region of low pressure. Then you placed a floating-magic pattern nearby to produce an updraft. The connection between them is clumsy, but let's put that aside for the moment.”

She picked up the quill on my desk and leaned over the paper, correcting lines as she spoke.

Her silver hair fell forward. The position looked awkward, but she was too absorbed in explaining the spell to notice.

“Linking those two patterns isn't enough. Without the right acceleration symbols, you won't get the adiabatic expansion needed to form clouds.”

“But I recorded the acceleration pattern separately.”

“Fool. You used a full pattern where a supplementary symbol was required. They don't do the same thing.”

“Oh… Now that you mention it…”

“And this section must change as well. To make rain, you need convection that produces layered clouds. Your rushing-wind pattern is too crude for the fine control required. Unless the caster is exceptionally skilled, there's no reason to make the spell more difficult than necessary.”

The elf leaned still farther across the desk, wholly occupied with the diagram.

Her posture was uncomfortable to look at. I wanted to tell her to straighten up, but interrupting the explanation would only make matters worse.

Knock, knock.

The door opened.

Beynon stood outside holding a plate of grapes and apples.

“Young master. Grandfather said I should bring—”

He stopped and glanced from me to the elf.

Then he smiled knowingly and raised his thumb.

“You've become a man.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he nodded to himself and closed the door.

What was that about?

Then it struck me.

From the doorway, the elf's bent posture and my position behind the desk might have made Beynon think she was performing oral sex on me—though she was doing nothing but correcting a magic circle.

Cold sweat broke out across my back.

“Beynon! You've misunderstood!”

But he didn't come back.

The room fell silent.

The elf turned her red eyes toward me.

“What?”

I touched the brooch at my collar and sat down properly.

There was no sense explaining Beynon's ridiculous misunderstanding to her.

“I mean… perhaps I've misunderstood the way the magic should be designed.”

“Naturally.”

With an exasperated sigh, she returned to her explanation.

---

A week later, in the first drawing room of Count Pelgaroin's castle.

The visiting noble had been looking out at the gardens. At last, the guest turned to Ashley with a courteous bow.

“My condolences, Lady Ashley. I had no idea your clever brother would become involved with the rebels. The world truly has gone mad.”

The noble clicked a tongue in apparent sadness, then took a leisurely sip of tea.

The visitor was Vivena Blazam, a stout aristocrat with a prominent belly, who had come for the Great Spring Hunt scheduled two days from now.

Vivena also possessed influence at the gathering where the Pelgaroin succession would be discussed.

Ordinarily, lesser nobles serving House Pelgaroin would have avoided intruding into a ruling family's choice of heir. But these were not ordinary circumstances.

The count's eldest son had died in the war, and the second had joined the rebels. Rumors of a falling-out between Count Pelgaroin and Princess Benelia had weakened his standing still further.

Among nobles with connections to the princess, even so powerful a house could not wholly escape politics.

Opinions about the succession had divided.

Some supported Maldon on grounds of hereditary legitimacy. Others favored Ashley for the future effectiveness of the family.

And some, like Vivena, were still withholding a public commitment.

Ashley didn't mind.

It was often easier to deal with someone whose wishes could be seen clearly.

“Thank you for your concern,” she replied with a graceful smile. “We cannot remain trapped in our sorrows. Perhaps this meeting with you, Vivena, is the beginning of something fortunate.”

For a moment the noble seemed caught off guard by her warmth. Then Vivena cleared her throat.

“Oh, well! I'm honored you would say so. But I'm hardly capable of bringing blessings to someone like you. Perhaps, with your guidance, that might change.”

The real question was plain enough.

What will I gain if I support you at the succession meeting?

Ashley drew a fine business card from inside her dress. Gold leaf decorated its edges.

“I've heard your son has taken an interest in hunting.”

Vivena's eyes fixed on the card.

“Is that…?”

“Yes. A card belonging to a master blacksmith who supplies weapons to the Imperial Armory. You must have heard of Master Kunrik.”

“Kunrik…”

The name was famous. With his imperial obligations, the blacksmith now accepted very few private commissions.

Each year, just twenty of Kunrik's business cards were offered at auction. Whoever obtained one could request a weapon from the master himself.

Naturally, the cards were enormously difficult to acquire.

Vivena had been searching for a special gift for a son nearing adulthood. The card was almost perfectly suited to that wish.

“It was difficult to obtain,” Ashley said, holding it out, “but I have no particular need for it. Please accept it. We should help one another when we can.”

Vivena accepted without even pretending indifference.

“Of course! We should always help one another. Naturally!”

“I'm glad you agree. I hope to maintain a good relationship with House Blazam in the future.”

Ashley had been deliberate in speaking of herself, rather than promising anything in the name of House Pelgaroin.

Vivena understood which candidate should be supported for that relationship to continue.

The noble stood, tucked away the card and bowed.

“House Blazam looks forward to our continued good relations. Then I'll take my leave.”

Vivena departed with a pleased smile.

Ashley's head maid, Jean, approached.

“I'm glad that went well, my lady. Was Vivena the last person you needed to see?”

Only then did Ashley allow herself to sink back against the couch.

“Yes. It was difficult, but I finished in time. I would have been in real trouble if the Marquis de Robent hadn't supported me.”

“He's stern, but he has never thought highly of Master Maldon,” Jean replied. “Perhaps he considers the family's future more important than succession by blood alone.”

The thought of that future weighed on Ashley.

She gave a tired smile, straightened and removed her white cotton gloves.

“In any case, I need some rest. I've been running from one meeting to another. If I could have even a day—”

“My lady, forgive me, but there's one more visitor asking to see you.”

“Another?”

Ashley frowned. Someone had arrived without arranging an appointment, on the very day she had been struggling to keep to her schedule.

“Please ask them to return tomorrow.”

“May I really tell them that?”

“Of course. By the way, who is it?”

“Viscount Theorad.”

“Ah?”

Ashley froze.

The spring hunt was still two days away. Why would he come already?

Jean's smile became unbearably amused.

“If you're tired, I can send even Viscount Theorad away—”

“No!”

The answer came out before Ashley could stop herself.

Jean gave a quiet chuckle.

Ashley glared, stood and tried to arrange her expression into the dignified composure expected of the house's daughter.

“Show Sir Theorad to a room and ask him to wait a moment. And…”

Grrrr…

Her stomach chose that instant to interrupt her.

She had skipped meals while entertaining nobles all day, and now her hunger had announced itself to the entire room.

Her face went red. Jean covered her mouth to hide another smile.

Ashley turned her head away.

“…First, I'll have something to eat.”