Fallen Magic

I’m a little concerned about leaving Edward alone with Electra, but not so concerned that it prevents me from returning to the oracle project. The next step is to talk to the oracle in question, which also gives me a chance to inform Elsie of what Edward is doing.

Elsie is almost more worried about Electra than about her own powers. Being told she was unambitious and lacking in creativity apparently stung quite a bit. I’m beginning to feel that I got off quite lightly compared to many of my classmates, and I’m not sure what to think about that.

I really need to learn to cast privacy wards as soon as possible so we can have the conversation that needs to follow securely. I expect it will take me at least a few days even with Edward’s help, though, and I don’t want to just not talk about it with Elsie for that long.

So we settle for finding a quiet part of the gardens, not somewhere people would expect to find either of us, and talking in whispers while keeping a careful watch.

“A price,” Elsie repeats carefully. “I don’t know what mine could be. Maybe that’s because I haven’t – I’ve barely used the power, tried not to actively draw on it, but – I don’t know.”

That frightens her; I can hear her voice quivering. It’s not a surprise. I’d be frightened too, if I had to pay an unknown price for powers I didn’t even want. “Nor do I,” I say. “I’m sorry.” I’m apologising too much again; there’s no way this can be considered my fault. It’s just become my way of filling awkward silences.

When she doesn’t reply, I tell her about the Guild of Far-Seeing, including my suspicions that it’s too good to be true.

She nods. “I wish I could disagree with you.”

That sounds a lot like how I feel whenever Edward says something cynical but annoyingly plausible. I don’t feel like I should be the cynical one. “What about the fortune-teller?” I ask. “She knows what you are, doesn’t she?”

Elsie shrugs. “Yes. But she wasn’t very helpful. I cannot show you the path. You must walk it alone. I – I can’t do that, Tallulah.”

“You’re not alone,” I say reflexively, though I’m not sure I can be much help. I’m already nearly out of ideas. Actually, there’s the City Library – I still have that pass I got when I was researching for my essay. That’s only for Malaina research, but the security once you’re inside isn’t that strict. It wouldn’t be too hard to wander into the oracle section and start paging through a few of those books.

And while part of me hates the idea of abusing the access I shouldn’t even have in the first place, of going against the Library’s rules, a more pragmatic part notes that it would be better if there aren’t official records of what I’m researching this time.

There won’t be time today, but we could go tomorrow afternoon, when we have a long free period before –

Before the Astronomy test, which I have not revised enough for. I did some work for it, obviously, but I figured I’d have this time after all the other tests are done to go through my notes again and maybe do a few more practice questions.

It doesn’t seem to matter quite so much any more, but I still feel a familiar discomfort at the thought of going into the test unprepared. I could work on Astronomy this evening, though, and then still make it to the Library tomorrow.

And if I’m going to work, I need to start now before Edward escapes Electra and tries to distract me. Then again don’t I need him to distract me by teaching me privacy wards?

Stars help me, I can’t –

Yeah, that familiar feeling is more than just discomfort. I take a breath and close my eyes. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. The episode passes quickly, at least. Right, I tell myself. Astronomy.

I soon remember one of the reasons I haven’t been spending much time revising Astronomy. Some parts of it are interesting, but I can never remember the exact patterns of constellations. They’re all so similar to each other: a triangle could represent the sail of a ship or the head of a dragon, a little cluster of stars could be anything from a birds’ nest to a collection of gemstones.

And I know there are a thousand legends and religious stories that set out why the constellations represent what they do – I know a fair few of the stories – but it still seems a little… arbitrary. I’m definitely a heretic at this point. As long as I don’t voice those thoughts in front of anyone ardently religious I should be fine, though.

In the meantime I just have to try and find the subtle differences between dragon heads and ship sails, or at least figure out which it is from context. That isn’t all there is to Astronomy, of course, but it’s definitely what I struggle with most. I know the spell that mimics the action of a telescope and allows you to observe the stars themselves, which we’ll undoubtedly be tested on – most likely we’ll have to carry out observations as part of the test, and hence will be completely lost without it.

It's a difficult one to practice, though, since it effectively makes you extremely long-sighted and limits your vision to a thin strip. Useless indoors, and completely disorientating when you’re trying to do simple things like walk and open doors. I have to return to the garden to test the spell, which I do by attaching a scrap of paper to the nearest tree and reading the words written on it from two dozen yards away. The test is successful, thankfully, and I quickly dismiss the spell and return my vision to its usual state.

Edward is in our usual study room when I return to it afterwards.

“Electra didn’t murder you, then?” I ask.

“Just a little light torture, nothing I can’t deal with.”

“You… are joking, right?”

He laughs. “Sort of. Psychological torture, which is pretty much standard practice for Electra at this point. And I did get a lot of useful things out of it.”

I tilt my head to one side in silent question.

“Book recommendations, a few suggestions for spells I should learn, and… she offered me private lessons.”

Private lessons with Electra. Stars. “Did you…”

“I told her I would need my father’s permission. Which is completely true. And he won’t give it, so I can avoid the lessons without directly angering her. Even she wouldn’t pick a fight with my dad.”

Having seen the two of them together, I’m not so sure of that. “What do you think she was after, offering?”

Edward shrugs. “My trust, I suppose. The opportunity to influence me.”

Neither of us need to state that Edward will not be giving Electra that, however many private lessons and book recommendations she offers him.

“It’s not a bad way to go about it,” he muses. “I’m not used to being told I’m not good enough. Maybe she thought I’d be less suspicious of that than of praise.”

I would be suspicious if Electra praised me, to be fair, and I don’t even come close to Edward’s level of paranoia. “Here’s what your problems are,” I speculate. “And oh, look, I just happen to have the solution, all you need to do is let me give you private lessons.”

He nods. “It’s a pity. There’s so much she could teach me. I’m almost tempted to accept.”

I give him an incredulous look.

“My choice doesn’t make a difference. I’d need my dad’s permission either way, and his choice isn’t going to change either.”

There’s something a little sad about the matter-of-fact way he says that. I wonder if he realises it. Probably not.

“Anyway,” he says. “What are you working on?”

“Astronomy,” I reply. It’s completely true, but I still can’t help a twinge of guilt. How am I going to explain the planned library expedition to him? I could tell him I’m going back to the Malaina research, that I want to take that essay and try and improve it. It is something I’m tempted to do, something it’s believable I’d do.

I’m not sure I can lie to Edward, but that isn’t the problem. The problem is that I don’t want to lie to Edward. “I just went outside to test the telescope-spell,” I add.

“Results?”

“It worked.”

He looks a little disappointed, but says merely “Good to know.”

“Test me on these constellations?” I ask.

“That’s boring.”

“Please?” I try. Normally I wouldn’t make him do this, but I’m trying to distract him from my awkward hesitation a second ago.

“Okay… but you have to do something a bit more interesting afterwards.”

Edward’s idea of a bit more interesting could mean a lot of things. I don’t like the idea of all of them, but at least one is probably exactly what I want to learn right now. “Deal.”

I do acceptably on the impromptu test, even when Edward tries to catch me out: I only get two wrong out of twenty-something. That is mostly because I only went over them a few minutes ago before my brief trip outside, though.

“Satisfied now?” he asks when we’re done.

I’m almost tempted to tell him I’m not and I want to go through them again. But I don’t really need to until tomorrow, probably; it would only be to annoy him. And I don’t feel like doing that. “Satisfied,” I confirm.

“Good. Because I want to show you a few new tricks…”

He’s been working on a more advanced form of illusion, apparently: we’re supposed to cover it next term in Spells, and he’s decided that his way of beating Felicity is to teach himself the entire Spells course before the holidays end to make it harder for her to ask him something he doesn’t know.

“It won’t be that bad,” he says. “I know pretty much all the theory already, it’s just a case of actually trying out the spells and getting some practice.”

I wish it would still surprise me when he says stuff like that. It does surprise me that he expects me to keep up with him, though, because I know how little chance I have of doing the same. Every holiday while I was at Genford I’d resolve to work ahead on the new term’s content, and every new term I’d come back having only done at most a week’s work. Why should this be any better?

I decide not to argue that point today. “So, this new illusion…” I say instead.

“Animation,” he replies, smiling. “Movement.” He mutters an incantation, and a blue triangle appears in mid-air – and then begins to rotate steadily about its centre. “Like so.”

I narrow my eyes, studying it. I realise I’m already wondering what the underlying thought processes are for that, how best to replicate it. Maybe I’m more of a magician than I thought.

This is apparently one of the simpler forms of animated illusion: the movement is defined when you cast the illusion and you have no control over it afterwards. That limitation removes a lot of its practical uses, and apparently only the most skilled of magicians can do much more than what Edward is demonstrating.

“I wish people wouldn’t say things like that, though,” he adds. “Because other people will believe them, and that makes it true. I bet if people weren’t told how hard it was supposed to be a lot more could manage it easily.”

“And yet you told me,” I repeat sceptically.

“I don’t want to play mind games with you, Tallulah. Even for your own good.”

The sincerity in his voice startles me, and gives me another stab of guilt about concealing the Elsie situation from him. I’m already wondering if I can just tell him, if I could make him keep it a secret even from his father. Surely he would –

No. Edward might be my best friend and the person I trust most in the world, but he’s also his father’s son, and has that same ruthlessness to him. And even if he cares about Elsie, I’m not sure it would be sufficient to overcome her new value as a strategic asset.

Knowing that is awful, but I can’t deny it to myself.

Stars help me.

“Well, then,” I say. “How do you cast this illusion?”