“I never meant for you to… I didn’t know you were having such a hard time.”
“That’s kind of you to say.” Sciona studied Jerrin Mordra for a moment. There was a nervous pain in his fern-green eyes that seemed sincere. “Are you a kind person, Highmage Mordra?”
He looked confused. “I’d like to think so. I hope so.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Are you sure you’re alright, Freynan?”
“Highmage Mordra, if you’re a good person—or you aspire to be—you should ask your father to pull some strings and find you a different job. One far from magic and politics.”
“Why?”
“I appreciate you checking on me. I have to get going.”
“Highmage Freynan?” Mordra said, but Sciona had already swept down the hall, a plan crackling on the kindling inside her.
Fire filled the void.
“Holy is magical conquest, for God gives power to the mages, and through them His Might is known. The mage’s responsibility is to bring to heel the wild of the world and make it civil through the cleansing Light of Feryn, the Father. As he tames the wild energy given into his hands by God so too must he tame his inferiors, though they resist him.”
— The Tirasid, Magely Conduct, Verse 10 （59 of Tiran）
ONLY HIGHMAGES WERE allowed to take books from the fourth-floor of the library out of the building, a privilege that Sciona intended to exercise for the first time. Her mind raced as she walked among the stacks trying to think: What do I need? What might I need that I can’t pull from my memory or get anywhere else? She tumbled through all the terrible eventualities of the coming plan and made her decision: Highmage Jurowyn’s Maps of the Greater Kwen and Archmage Sintrell’s System of Coordinate and Spellweb Organization, Highmage Gorbel’s Maps of Modern Tiran.
She slipped the last book into her shoulder bag and turned to find a white robe blocking her way between the shelves.
“Renthorn!” She started back. “God, is this some kind of joke? Do you spend all day lurking behind shelves?”
“Only when I’m on the hunt for something. Same as you.”
She could see immediately that Renthorn was unwell. He looked like he’d gotten about as much sleep as she had over the past few days—and possibly supplemented his teas with alcohol.
“How’s your mapping coming, then?” Sciona couldn’t help a malicious smile. “Not as well as you’d hoped?”
“Well, I daresay not as well as yours, Miss Freynan.” Renthorn took in her bedraggled hair and bloodshot eyes. “You found out about the Otherrealm, didn’t you?”
Sciona was mute for a moment before she said tightly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You opened a clear mapping visual, didn’t you? You saw it.”
“How do you know that?” Even Bringham hadn’t known until she told him.
Renthorn shrugged. “I make it a point to keep an eye on my fellow mages, how they’re doing, what they’re reading. No one reads that much Stravos except the idiots trying to replicate his methods. I put it together when you started screaming.”
“Oh.”
“I’m just curious how you did it when so many before you have failed.”
“Just a bit of creative composition.”
Renthorn chuckled, but there was something strained about it. “No, but honestly, Freynan. People have tried to adapt Stravos for a hundred years. You expect me to believe you did it in three months, and there was no special trick to it?”
“Two days,” Sciona couldn’t help saying.
“Excuse me?”
“I took two days to adapt Stravos’s mapping method. And there was no special trick.” As she said it, though, she realized that it wasn’t entirely true. Thomil was the special trick. He had led her to Stravos’s maternal Kwen lineage. Without Thomil, she never would have looked up all those accounts of Kwen witches and known what sort of spellwork she was trying to glean from Stravos’s writings.
“It seems I misjudged you, Freynan.”
“Misjudged me?”
“I concede. My theories about you were flawed. I thought you’d gotten where you are with your feminine wiles alone. But you’re quite the formidable mage, aren’t you? Just like the rest of us.”
“I am not like the rest of you!” Sciona protested before thinking better of it. She was supposed to be playing along.
“True enough.” Renthorn somehow managed an insufferable smugness even through his exhaustion. “I didn’t scream and cry quite so much when I learned the truth of the Otherrealm. I suppose that’s what comes of being a woman.”
“If you’re just here to comment further on my sex, I couldn’t be less interested.”
“On the contrary”—he blocked her way between the stacks—“I’m here to help you.”
“Really?”
“I know uncovering the truth must have shaken you. And so close to the meeting of the High Magistry, there’s no way you’ll be in any condition to present your findings by Feryn’s Feast. I have an offer.”
“Let me guess. You want us to present together.”
“My plan for the expansion is polished and ready for application. If you explain to me how you did this—how you generated your mapping visual—I can help you use this new spell to its full potential.”
“Alright now, Renthorn,” Sciona laughed. “Let’s not pretend you’re trying to do me any favors. You want access to my spellwork because you know you’ll never come up with anything half as good yourself.”
Utter spite flashed across Renthorn’s face, but for once, he held the bile behind his teeth and spoke politely. “I think you’ll agree that we would be better off combining our expertise. You can’t do what I can with spellwebs.”
“I don’t think you know me well enough to say what I can and can’t do.”
“Well then, Sciona Freynan”—he took a step closer—“let’s get to know each other better.”
“Excuse me?”
“Be realistic. The presentation is a week away, and you’re not ready. I mean, the best of mages aren’t ready for their first presentation before the Council, but after all that experimentation with the mapping spells themselves, you won’t have had time to revise your web to a high standard. And I know your assistant didn’t do it for you.” Renthorn was right. Feryn damn him. “The spellweb I’ve put together is unparalleled. You’ve seen my work from before I was a highmage. You know it is.”
“Only if you’ve learned to tighten up your connective composition.”
“See?” Renthorn was standing very close now. “We do know each other. And you understand that our partnership is inevitable. Once the archmages see my spellweb, they’ll order us to combine our work anyway. Eventually, you will be working for me.”
Not wanting to back up into the bookcase, Sciona held her ground and glared up at the other mage. “If it’s so inevitable, I’m sure you can wait a week.”