Early the next morning, Magdala ran through the misty woods up the rarely trodden path to the Duelist’s College. By now, any preconceptions that she was physically fit had been left gasping in the mud. She hated every part of this, from the way each breath tore at her chest to how every step was a short brief contest between her will to keep going and the ground’s welcome. However, the worst part was what she was wearing.
“I had your traveling clothes burned,” Francesca had explained from the depths of her covers.
“What?”
“As the Royal Sorcerer’s Office next employee, I refuse to work with anyone who’d wear anything as unfashionable as those things.”
“Employee?” Magdala had jumped onto to her roommate’s bed. “You’re joining the Royal Sorcerer’s Office?”
“Too loud.” Francesca nestled deeper into her blankets. “A much better outfit is under your bed, and please inform Dwayne,” she’d yawned, “his is coming.”
What Magdala had found, what she was wearing now, was a blouse, a leather waistcoat, a indigo long-coat with matching breeches, a belt festooned with holders for vials, a silver embossed bracer for her Qe core, and a pair of knee-high cavalry boots that had closeable slits to help her legs breath. Put together, the ensemble more closely resembled her riding clothes than her traveling ones, although lacking the skirt and a tighter fit. She’d tried to protest the latter, but her roommate had mumbled something about windsong leathers before becoming completely insensible to further complaint. Still, Magdala was impressed, particularly with the woven leather in the waistcoat, which was supposed to still be in the theoretical stage. How Francesca had gotten her hands on some was anyone’s guess.
While the outfit was extremely easy to run in, that wasn’t why she was now jogging through the woods before sixth bell. No that was because right before she’d awakened her roommate, the Lightning Bolt of the East had showed up at Magdala’s dormitory and demanded the dorm minders to bring her down.
When Magdala, blinking away sleep, arrived in the lobby, Lady Pol had proclaimed, “Yesterday, your lady mother requested I teach you all I know about the thaumaturgical martial arts.”
That had woken Magdala up. “Really? She did?”
“We’ll start with physical fitness. You’ll be running from here to the College.”
“What? That’s almost seven prinwirs!”
Lady Pol’s eyes glinted. “Then you’d better hurry.”
Gasping like a bellows, Magdala turned right at the final crossroads then barreled her way up the rocky path, ducking beneath low branches and clambering over fallen logs. A tree root caught her foot, forcing her to stamp her other one down to save herself from adding a mud and dirt to the sweat beading her brow. Thankfully, no one else was out here to see-
“Yes, he said ‘baron.’”
Was that Mei?
“It makes sense. He’s been involved since the beginning.”
Why was Dwayne here? Magdala couldn’t let him see her dressed like this, sweaty and wearing an outfit that was practically cemented to her hips, but before she could find a path around them, Mei stepped out from behind a tree, her rifle strapped to her back.
“Maggie!” The hunter waved a little too enthusiastically. “Why are you running?”
“Mei!” Magdala was about to give in, to stop and say hi, but when Dwayne appeared, when his widening eyes took in her flushed face, her wild hair, the shape of her in her breeches, she changed course, saying “I’m-sorry-I’ve-got-to-run-I’ll-see-you-later-bye!”
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Her face hot, Magdala’s memory of the last few wirs of her run became a blur, dominated instead by her hope that Dwayne had liked what he’d seen and her sincere desire to create a memory obliterating potion for the both of them. By the time she reached the Duelist’s College, at the highest velocity she’d ever achieved in her lifetime, she’d settled on fervently pretending that she’d somehow had a normal conversation with her lord uncle’s apprentice.
Lady Pol whistled as Magdala reached the cabin porch. “You made good time.”
Magdala collapsed against the cabin then threw the older mage a glare. “Why are Dwayne and Mei on their way?”
“The young Dwayne Kalan needs to blow off some steam, possibly literally, and you need a dueling partner. As for Mei,” Lady Pol shrugged, “I have no idea. She finds her own wind.”
Mei had unexpectedly run into her brother last night, so maybe she also needed a distraction? But as for Dwayne, “He can’t do Ri magic, not out here.”
“And he won’t have to.” Lady Pol started waving. “Hey, over here!” As Dwayne and Mei made their way towards them, Lady Pol asked, “Did you really think this tiny field and this dinky cabin was all there was to the Duelist’s College?”
“Umm…”
“Good morning.” Dwayne’s expression was wry as he turned to Magdala. “Magdala. I guess it was your turn to run away.”
Looking refreshed and well-coiffed in his night blue long coat, Dwayne looked great and every bit the lord’s scion Magdala’s lord uncle had made him. He’d looked great on the bridge too, even though he’d had to have been nervous to speak with so many people without preparation. Seriously, he…
Oh, she was just standing her staring. She should probably say something, anything.
“I, uh, needed the exercise.” Scintillating.
Dwayne frowned. “What for?”
“Because young Gallus here,” Lady Pol slapped Magdala on the back, “wants to fight.”
Dwayne’s frown deepened. “And I’m here because?”
“You’ll see. First, allow me to distribute these…” Lady Pol pulled a stack of gold cards out of her pocket and handed one out to Magdala, Mei, and Dwayne.
The card was thin, but heavy, likely gold-embossed steel, but the bumps on it were intriguing. “What are they?”
“Keys.” Lady Pol inserted hers into the center of the cabin door and waited. Thunk. She threw the door open. “Onwards.”
Instead of a humdrum cabin, the door opened on a set of stone stairs that descending into the dark.
“The cabin, the yard, those were to throw the deans off the scent,” Lady Pol explained as she led the way. “We were young, rich and ambitious so we made this under the dark of night.”
“Sourans do like to put things underground,” said Dwayne.
Magdala frowned. “Things like what?”
“He can’t say.” Lady Pol had paused to feel around in the dark. “Now, they should be right around… here. Qeuibuve.” Silvery light silhouetted the wind mage. “Question, young Gallus: what did I just do?”
The light came from an azade crystal set into the wall. “You fueled…” That was wrong. “What we’re taught is that you provided magic to fuel the light, but that doesn’t fit with Resonance Theory, does it?”
Mei peered at the lit crystal. “There are bugs inside it.”
“Oh, so they work like the spell vials,” said Dwayne.
Lady Pol chuckled. “And just like that, the three of you solve a mystery that has stumped Souran magic for ages.” She tapped another crystal. “Qeuibuve. You’re lucky you didn’t demonstrate artificial versions of these two nights ago.”
“Why?” asked Magdala.
“Certain noble families would find themselves destitute if these could just be made.” She tapped another crystal. “Qeuibuve. Director Giordano would have been so pissed. We’re here.”
They’d reached the bottom of the stairs where a vast, echoing space yawned before them.
“So, apprentice, trainee.” Lady Pol faced Magdala and Dwayne and gestured upwards. “Will you do the honors? There are lights up there and all around us that Boyle used to light one by one, but I bet you two could do better.”
Dwayne’s hand brushed Magdala’s as he joined her on the bottom stair. He grinned at Magdala. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
That friends weren’t this friendly? “Um, that this is like creating the Qe core?”
“Exactly. Let’s try it.” He held out his hand to her.
Magdala took it because it was logical, holding hands enhanced joint magic, and certainly Dwayne couldn’t feel her heart race through her palms.
“You know the spell?” she asked by way of distraction.
“Yeah.”
Of course, he did. “Then, on three. One, two, three.”
“Qeuibuve!”
Their magic thrummed, and its harmony ignited the dozens of wall sconces and the massive crystal chandelier set high into the ceiling. The fresh silvery light revealed a large room nearly the size of Sanford with six circular fields cut into the stone floor. A bunch of dusty old equipment was piled into the far corner.
“Boyle would be pissed.” Lady Pol wiped her eyes and then turned to Magdala and Dwayne. “Let’s get started. Oh, you can stop holding hands now.”
“Oh.” Magdala snatched her hand back. “Sorry.”
Dwayne’s grin faded. “Yeah, sorry.”