Fallen Magic

It was quite simple to enchant glass so that, while light could pass through it, there was no way of seeing through it to the other side. And it wasn’t much harder to project illusions that would provide pleasing though false views to anyone who tried. Anyone rich or well-connected enough to hire the services of a magician could have it done without difficulty.

That meant that when you travelled alone in a carriage without windows, with only a dim enchanted light source to see by, it wasn’t just for security. It was designed to intimidate the traveller.

Beth hadn’t had occasion to think about things like that until now, but she was most certainly intimidated. She didn’t know how long it had been since she’d left her home behind. An hour? Two? Long enough that her legs were beginning to feel stiff, anyway. She tried stretching, dragging her feet back and forth along the floor of the carriage. It eased the pain a little, but did nothing for her growing unease.

She hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d always been a good girl. Maybe a bit odd, people sometimes whispered when they thought she couldn’t hear, but never any trouble. Never even friends with anyone who was any trouble, dragged into it by association.

Besides, there was a big difference between ordinary trouble and being driven away in a carriage without windows. This was normal, she told herself, it was exactly what it was supposed to be. She was going to a secure facility at an unknown location, of course there would be high security on the journey.

She undid the clasps on her trunk, thanking the stars that at least the ride was a smooth one, and found her alchemy kit close to the surface. She didn’t need it: where she was going they’d have far better equipment than anything she’d ever used. But this was hers. One of the few things she owned that really mattered to her. The only one she’d shown a shred of talent in using.

It also happened to contain a small, sharp knife, and it was that she took from it and gripped tightly in her hand, blade still wrapped in brownish cloth to stop it touching any of the vials. Her fingers were nimble enough that she was able to reseal the kit and then the trunk one-handed without difficulty.

Beth knew she was being silly. She’d never once used this knife as a weapon; her magic would be far more useful in any kind of fight, even though she only knew a couple of spells for self-defence. Realistically, it wouldn’t make a shred of difference.

But she felt a little better with its weight in her hand.

It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes later that the incessant clip-clopping of the horses finally fell silent and the gentle rocking motion of the carriage ceased. Well, thought Beth grimly, here they were.

The door was opened a minute later by the same young man who’d been driving her. He couldn’t have been more than twenty; he’d tried flirting with Beth when she’d got in, but swiftly given up on seeing how resolutely uninterested she was.

“I’ll take your trunk,” was all he said now, and she handed it down to him.

“Thank you,” she said, her expression making it clear that she was saying it out of politeness rather than any particular gratitude. It occurred to her that if there wasn’t anything wrong, it was a bad idea to walk into this place openly carrying a knife. She slipped it into the pocket of her skirt and stepped out, ignoring the driver’s offer of a helping hand down.

Once she’d adjusted to the light, she took a second to take in her surroundings. She stood in a featureless plain, the road they’d come on the only thing in sight in three directions other than an endless expanse of freshly ploughed fields. The sun had come out during the journey and was directly overhead now; it had to be close to noon.

“Come on,” said her driver, still holding her trunk as if the weight nearly too much for her to lift didn’t bother him, “we don’t have all day.”

Beth nodded sharply and turned towards the fourth direction. The compound was a large one, its sturdy-looking fences stretching out as far as she could see. The buildings inside seemed to be mostly solid but old-looking, paint peeling away from their walls in places; redecoration wasn’t the biggest priority here, it seemed.

The way in was normally barred by a heavy iron gate a few paces in front of her, but it hung open now. Four soldiers stood at attention in a line just inside, and a fifth man off to the side, watching her with mild interest.

It was too late to turn back now. She fixed her eyes on a patch of air just behind the soldiers and walked forward through the gate.

The soldiers made no move to acknowledge her, so she was forced to stop after only a few steps. She opened her mouth to speak but found she didn’t quite know what to say.

“This is her,” her driver said, filling the brief silence. “And here’s her things.” He set Beth’s trunk down on the gravel track beside her, saluted the fifth soldier and marched back to the carriage.

Beth didn’t even know his name, and she certainly didn’t like him, but she still felt a little bereft as he climbed back into the driver’s perch, leaving her alone with the soldiers.

“Allain, Renard,” barked the fifth soldier. “Close the gate. Marchant, take her trunk and come with me. Darche, return to your post.”

The four soldiers saluted as one and set about obeying their orders. Marchant and his superior set off down the path, the former carrying Beth’s trunk just as easily as the driver had. None of them bothered to acknowledge her, but she assumed that she was meant to follow and did so.

“You do not leave the building unless instructed to by an officer,” the officer said without turning to look at Beth. “You obey the instructions of your master unless they are overruled by an officer or administration worker. You do not fraternise with the soldiers or any other residents of this complex. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” said Beth, trying to work out how she felt about this. It seemed as if she wasn’t in trouble, and this was what she’d been told, but the way they didn’t even speak to her...

“Yes what?”

“Yes… sir?” Beth guessed, deciding it was best not to point out that she wasn’t a soldier or in his chain of command.

That evidently satisfied him, or at least he returned to ignoring her until he abruptly turned left to approach a building that seemed just like any of the others, except perhaps a little larger; a small sign next to it proclaimed it was Building 12A, Not to be Entered Without Specific Authorisation.

Its door was bare but thick-looking wood, without a handle. The officer rapped on it and then stepped back a single step.

There was no response. After a while he knocked a second time. He was about to try a third when the door opened.

“Captain Morel,” said the girl who’d opened it. She looked about eighteen, barely older than Beth and half a head shorter; her long blonde hair was tied firmly back, and she wore trousers and a battered and stained white blouse. “Marchant. What have I done to deserve the honour of an unexpected visit?”

Unexpected?

“Isabelle,” replied Captain Morel, “may I introduce your apprentice, Bethany Quint?”

This girl – Isabelle – was the alchemist? Her master? It took years of study to become a Master of Alchemy, there was no way she was old enough.

Beth’s expression of pure, naked shock was mirrored by Isabelle. “Apprentice,” she repeated, and then collected herself. “Yes. Thank you for escorting her here. Those are her things, Marchant? Take them inside and set them down in the living quarters, would you?”

Marchant didn’t move, his eyes flickering to Morel.

“Do it,” the other soldier ordered. “And only that.”

Isabelle stepped aside to allow him to pass, carrying Beth’s trunk. “How’s your cold, Captain?” she asked. “Better?”

For the first time something flickered across Morel’s features. “Yes,” he said gruffly. “But – “

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“The evening air has done it a world of good.”

“So if you happen to get ill again, you know what to do.”

Morel stared at Isabelle for a long moment before nodding. Before the silence became awkward, Marchant stepped back out, now without the trunk. He brushed past Isabelle and stood at attention beside his captain.

“Everything is in order, then?” Isabelle asked.

“It would appear so,” Morel replied.

“Would you care for a drink?”

“Isabelle, you know quite well that’s a breach of regulations.”

She nodded, unabashed. “I don’t think it could do any harm.”

Morel stared at her for a long moment. “We must return to our duties. Come, Marchant.”

The two soldiers marched away without another word.

“Give it a couple of weeks,” said Isabelle once they were out of earshot, watching them go. “Now, come in! We have a lot to do.”

Well, she seemed friendly enough, even if she was too young to be a Master of Alchemy. Besides, it wasn’t like Beth had a better idea. She followed Isabelle inside.

The building was in just as much need of redecoration inside as out. They stepped into a small square room painted an ugly pale brown, with four doors coming off it including the one they’d entered through, one set into each wall. Isabelle took Beth’s arm and steered her through the door on the left.

This room was little different from the first, except that there were only two doors and it contained three aging armchairs and a low table, with Beth’s trunk lying beside it.

“Sit down,” Isabelle said. Beth let herself sink into the nearest armchair, while Isabelle slipped off her shoes and stood on the table, facing her.

“Sorry for asking, but…” Beth began.

“Don’t apologise for asking questions. Unless they’re really stupid ones.” Isabelle smiled reassuringly.

“Aren’t you… a bit young to be a Master of Alchemy?”

Isabelle laughed, not unkindly. “I was mostly brought up by my grandfather, who was an alchemist himself. I practically grew up in his lab, so you could say I had an early start. Now! Tell me how you ended up here.”

This wasn’t an interview, Beth told herself firmly. She already had the job. “I knew as soon as I graduated from the School of Sirgalese Magic that I wanted to be an alchemist. But the Alchemists’ Guild doesn’t exactly publish its address, so I didn’t know how to go about getting an apprenticeship.”

“So…” Isabelle prompted, tapping a bare foot against the wood of the table.

“So I wrote to the Guild Relations Department.”

“And they offered you this job?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” She tapped her foot again. “You’re a magician? Which School?”

“Siaril,” said Beth, internally sighing, “and before you ask what family, I don’t know. I’m adopted; never knew my biological family.”

“Have you tried to find out?”

“I – no. My parents – they’re my family now, regardless of who gave birth to me.”

“I can understand that,” Isabelle said. She sprang down from the table and tugged her shoes back on. “Right, that’s introductions taken care of. Let’s get to it.”

Beth just wanted to sit down and think in peace, but it seemed that wasn’t going to happen just yet. She climbed to her feet and followed Isabelle back into the previous room, where she opened the door opposite the entrance and stepped through.

Beth stopped and blinked a few times. This was the alchemy lab, then. It was quite something: three times the size of the only one she’d used before (and that she’d shared with a dozen other students), every table gleaming metal. Three cauldrons of differing metals sat against the opposite wall, and both the adjacent walls were lined from top to bottom with shelves on which sat jars and bottles and tins of every alchemical substance Beth knew and more than twice that amount she didn’t, test tubes of every size and shape, knives and stirring spoons and mortars, glasses moulded into strange shapes… in short, anything you could possibly imagine using to practice alchemy.

Isabelle grinned. “Not bad, is it?”

“No,” Beth agreed. “Not bad.”

“I’m not familiar with the alchemy curriculum at the Sirgalese School,” Isabelle said. “A year’s study?”

“Yes.”

“Any original work?”

“You mean… experimenting? Doing things without an established recipe?”

“That is the essence of alchemy, is it not?”

“No. It wasn’t on the curriculum.”

“Did you do any regardless?”

“It wasn’t allowed.”

“Would you like to?”

“Yes, of – “ Beth stopped as her mind caught up with her mouth. This wasn’t just a hypothetical sometime in the future Isabelle was talking about. It was right here, right now.

She couldn’t remember the first thing she’d learnt.

“Excellent. Three rules. One: if you don’t understand what it does, don’t touch it. Two: no taking shortcuts with safety, even if you don’t think you need the precautions. Three: if I tell you to stop, you stop.” Isabelle leaned back against a table and pushed herself up until she was sitting on it, legs dangling over the edge.

“But I – can’t I have some time to settle in or something?” She knew the moment she had spoken that she wasn’t going to like the answer.

Isabelle smiled sweetly. “You want to be a Master? Then show me what you can do.”