The five of them gathered around Nellie.
“Here,” Nellie said, and began to count, working methodically from the north side of the grounds to the south. “...eleven…and twelve.” Osric stared at the fine lettering on her map for a moment before getting his own out to compare.
“You’re right,” he said, “just twelve.”
The trees rustled overhead, the only sound breaking the silence between the students below. Avery took a few paces back towards the academy, gazing at it as if it might answer his questions.
“Perhaps it goes by another name? Or maybe he was referring to the books in Holywell Tower—there was quite a collection there.” he said.
“What exactly did he say to you, Osric?” Nellie asked.
Osric furrowed his brow, wracking his memory for the precise verbiage that Professor Sinclair used. “I think he said: ‘did you know there are a total of thirteen libraries here at Ravenhurst? I have no doubt that one of them will have the answers you seek.’”
Nellie thought for a moment, mumbling the words to herself as she scanned her map. She folded it away and looked up at the others.
“Here’s what I think,” she said, “You said Professor Sinclair wouldn’t answer your questions—no, couldn’t answer your questions—because he got in trouble for it last year.” Osric nodded.
Nellie continued. “Then he tells you that one of thirteen libraries has the answers. Twelve of which we can account for. One of which we can’t.”
Avery looked to interrupt, but stopped when Nellie put her hand out for him to wait.
“So, he’s telling you to find that thirteenth library. If he knew the answers were in one of the others, he would have told you which one. The only reason he can’t say is because he’s not supposed to—it’s a secret library!” She threw her hands out to emphasise the impressiveness of her deduction.
Mary laughed. “You can’t be serious. Why would this place have a secret library?” The five of them exchanged glances. Osric grinned.
“I suppose there’s only one way to find out.” he said, walking to join Avery at the forest’s edge before turning back towards the others.
“We can each take a section of the grounds, checking for any rooms that aren’t labelled on the map. Who’s with me?” Nellie, Edgar and Mary stepped forward one by one.
Avery turned to Osric. “Might first we at least eliminate the obvious? We should ask a member of staff about the discrepancy and save ourselves the trouble if it turns out this was just a simple misunderstanding.”
Osric rolled his eyes, the flame of his curiosity unable to be snuffed out by Avery’s rationalisations. “Oh alright then. Why don’t you and I go and visit Albion Library. It’s close, and we can ask there if they know anything.”
“I’ll take the section from North Hall to Victoria Tower,” Mary said, “It’ll give me the chance to scope out the out of bounds area while I’m there.” Osric nodded enthusiastically.
“I’ll take the western side, and Edgar, you can take the southern. Make sure to be back in time for Introduction to Spellcasting,” Nellie said. Edgar nodded. They headed back towards the castle, a rustling of leaves and piercing ‘caw’ from above giving Osric the impression that their conversation had been observed.
Upon reentering the castle they split off in their respective directions without any further discussion. Osric marched ahead of Avery, eager to disprove the latter’s cynicism. The corridors were eerily quiet at this time, save for the occasional buzz of activity as they passed occupied classrooms.
They turned a corner and pushed open an old, creaky door. The smell of dust and old wood hit Osric first, a faintly warm breeze greeting them as they stepped through. Before them, rows of dark wooden bookshelves stretched across Albion Library, the only daylight coming in from an arched window at the far side of the room. A few lit candles hung in sconces, flames flickering in the air where wicks should have been.
The boys walked down the narrow central space between bookshelves, careful not to make too much noise. Osric heard only the sound of their own footsteps, although as they reached further into the room he did notice the occasional student concealed between the rows. Some looked up at the new arrivals. Others ignored them.
Finally, they reached the end of the library. A pale, bespectacled woman sat writing at a semi-circular desk. She looked up as they approached, greeting them with a smile that fell just short of her eyes.
“Uh… hello,” Osric started, his voice fluctuating as he guessed at the appropriate volume. “We were wondering if you could tell us how many libraries there are at Ravenhurst? It’s just that, amongst us first-years, there appears to be a little confusion.”
The librarian squinted at each of them in turn.
“Ravenhurst has twelve libraries—nine of which are currently in-bounds. I’m sure you can find the details on your maps.” Her voice was as quiet as a whisper, though not nearly as soft.
“Ah,” Avery said, smiling as he gently fanned his map in front of him, “in fact, that is where this little issue arises. We have identified the twelve rooms marked as libraries on the map, but we thought that perhaps there might be another… not marked as such? One of our professors indicated that that may be the case.”
At this final remark, the librarian's eyebrows shot upwards. She put her quill down.
“Did they indeed? Now, pray tell, which of our esteemed professors has been purporting such an idea?”
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Avery’s smile faded. He peered over to Osric, then down towards his feet. The librarian’s unblinking gaze flitted between the two boys.
Come on, Avery. Don’t be so bloody honest for once, Osric thought.
“Well…” Avery said, his map retreating back into his pocket, “now that you ask, I believe perhaps it was one of the older students instead. Easy mistake to make since they’re all so tall.” He feigned a smile.
A silence stretched out before them. Eventually, the librarian’s face softened and she pursed her lips.
“Ah,” she said, “I see what’s happened—sent you to look for it, did they? Terrible really, taking advantage of you poor youngsters.”
Osric nodded, wearing his best attempt at self-pity. He nudged Avery with his elbow.
“Thank you for your time,” he said to the woman, “we’ll be on our way.”
The boys hurried back the way they came, a few of the nearest students casting them looks of smug satisfaction.
“I knew it,” Osric said, once they had escaped the oppressive silence of the library. “Did you see how she reacted when you said it was a professor? She was worried someone had been blabbing!”
Avery scoffed. “Nonsense! She was merely insulted by having been contradicted by a colleague.”
Osric couldn’t believe his ears. The panic in her eyes had been clear for him to see, and yet Avery seemed determined to dismiss it. He sighed.
“Well, what do you suppose we do now then? Forget about the whole thing?” he said.
“We could ask Professor Sinclair for clarification. Our next History of Magic lesson is in only a couple of days.” Avery responded.
“Fine,” Osric said, “Still, let’s keep searching for now. The others are already out there looking, and it’ll be poor form if we don’t join them.”
Avery nodded. “Of course. It’ll be good to explore the grounds anyhow.”
They headed back down the corridor, Osric studying his map for suspiciously unlabelled rooms. A few turns later, they reached the first one. A solid wooden door barred entry. Locked. The second was no different. The door to a third gave way, only to reveal a storeroom packed with an assortment of stationary supplies and a few unused chalkboards.
Nearly an hour later, the boys had checked eight different rooms. Only two had opened, and neither had a single book within them, let alone a library.
At the top of Feodora Tower, the ninth and final room lay behind an ornate door. Carved into its surface was a tree, its branches stretching from one side to the other. Osric approached, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached his hand out.
Please open. Please open. Please—
The door opened. Osric stepped through, his eyes adjusting to the dark room before him. Inside was a round table adorned with fine tablecloths and gold-lined plates much like the ones used in the Great Hall.
A chandelier hung overhead. He counted twelve places, each with two plates, one bowl and three glasses. In the centre of the table was a smoky grey crystal, almost half the size of Osric, which glistened faintly in the dim light.
Cairngorm quartz. They talk to the gods here.
Whatever this room was, it wasn’t a library. Other than a fireplace and a few portraits, the rest of the room was empty.
“This is pointless,” Avery said, “if this library was that big of a secret, they would just lock it!”
Osric hated to admit it, but Avery was right.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s head back for Spellcasting.”
By the time the boys reached the classroom, Mary and Edgar had already arrived.
“Any luck?” he asked. They shook their heads. “Us neither.”
Nellie arrived a few minutes later, mid-conversation with Pendlebury. She split off from him and sat down next to Osric. Professor Edwards strode through the door, scanned the room, then clapped her hands together. Osric suspected her previous method of attracting their attention would not have gone over quite so well indoors.
“First-years! How lovely is it to be back learning about spellcasting again? This lesson we’ll be focusing on the most basic spells offered by Nautanios, Vafram and Locurith.” She handed out some worn textbooks entitled ‘The Nature and Acquisition of Spells: Revised Edition’.
“It won’t be long before one of these spells are offered to you, so it’s in your best interest to learn everything you can about them. It will also behove you to understand the spells offered by the gods of other students, as these are amongst the spells you will be facing when duelling begins next term.”
A murmur broke out. Osric thought he saw a smirk on Pendlebury’s face as the boy glanced in Osric’s direction.
“As your Introduction to Divine Communication course will soon cover,” Professor Edwards said, “the process of acquiring deimancy spells involves an element of choice. While the decision rests ultimately with your god, a request for one spell over another is often successful.”
Osric leaned over to Nellie. “Did you find anything?”
“No, just a few empty rooms and a whole lot of locked doors,” she replied, dipping her quill in ink.
“Same here,” he said, pausing for a moment before continuing, “What was Pendlebury talking to you about earlier?”
Nellie began writing a few notes. “Oh, uh, nothing much. Something about a family connection.”
Osric noticed Professor Edwards’ beaming smile directed straight at him. He leaned back over his own desk and grabbed his quill.
“As I was saying,” the professor said, “petitioning your god is only the first step. Once the spell has been transferred to you, its presence must then be solidified. Please open your textbooks and read page 56.”
Osric did as she instructed, glad to have a textbook to himself this time:
Chapter V — Domatio Incantationis
The process of Domatio Incantationis, known colloquially as spelltaming, is the final stage of spell acquisition.
Following transference, the aspiring magus must rapidly learn to control their new deimancy spell. During this period, their newfound power will be tumultuous and erratic. Study of the spell’s inner workings, combined with rigorous practise, will allow them to bend the will of this foreign spell to their own.
Should this not be achieved in a matter of days, the risk of spell loss will increase, and the unsuccessful student may be forced to re-petition their god for a second attempt.
A muted quiet fell over the classroom as the first-years read the indicated passage.
“Fear not,” Professor Edwards said, “the gods are patient. Many students struggle with spelltaming, and there will be further chances in the coming weeks should the need arise.”
Osric stared down at the textbook. His chest tightened, blood rushing to his face.
What if I fail? I’ll be left behind again, begging for a second chance.
He gritted his teeth. He hadn’t come all this way to flounder now, just when he had finally managed to join his peers in being able to cast his feramancy. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he read the page again.
There was only one option. No matter what, he had to complete Domatio Incantationis on his first attempt.
Besides, if he did so before Edgar and Avery, his reward would not be limited to control of a new spell. Osric smiled faintly to himself as the terms of their bet resurfaced in his mind. He needed answers, and if he needed to use it to get them, then so be it.