It was, Mirian decided, a good thing it was the weekend. She awoke to an empty room, the hour well past breakfast. If Lily had set the alarm candle, she certainly hadn’t heard it. For once, she took her time waking up, then resumed her studies.
Mirian ravenously consumed the books on combat magic, divination, and illusions that she’d picked up, and when she wasn’t doing that, she alternated between visiting the metal shop and the spellforge. She also signed up to get combat certified. Since plenty of students would be joining combat magic classes for the first time in the next academic quarter, there were dozens of sessions being held before winter quarter started. She chose the earliest one, scheduled for the next Thirdday. She was going to be pushing herself pretty hard to get there, but the only thing she was using her auric mana for, besides practicing the basic combat spells, was artifice. Worst case scenario, if she strained her auric mana too much, she could actually afford an elixir of mana rejuvenation. It would cost a whole gold doubloon—A-class mana was expensive to obtain, and even more so to distill—but she actually had the money to do that now.
Creating the three wands she needed for the combat evaluation only took her an afternoon. She did several stability checks on the glyph sequence and found she’d probably gone a bit overboard. The wands were the easiest bit of artifice she’d practiced in four years. That didn’t mean all wands were simple; a complex spell was harder to fit in the standard compact frame, and for certain high-intensity spells she’d have to have mana channels running in parallel, but for spells like minor force blade and shock chain, there just weren’t any major complexities. The material cost rankled her though. Even though she had money now, needing to buy an arcane catalyst for each wand deeply pained her. It was just such an inefficient use of resources.
She finished the wands an hour sooner than she’d planned, so she spent the extra time scribing her first real illusion spell—geometric image didn’t count. There were two ways to make an illusion spell. The first was math intense, and involved creating a spell that put points of colored light at predetermined areas. Geometric image did that. So did the illusion projector spell engines that most of the professors used, though the number of equations and light points they used made even her head hurt. Those spells had no mental component, which was why even a machine could create them.
Most illusion spells did have a mental component. Certain glyphs interfaced with the mind, and the resulting spell projected images, sounds, or touch that the caster could imagine. That made them quite a challenge, though; the arcanist had to hold the result in their mind all while casting the spell. It was also hard to teach because no one’s thoughts worked quite the same. Serious illusionists had to figure out the mental component themselves, though there were of course plenty of advice manuals on techniques that worked for most people. Mirian had worried the common techniques wouldn’t work for her, but after an hour of practice, she found her worries were misplaced. The trick was to practice the spell so that rote memorization became instinct and you didn’t have to think that hard about the spell part, and then you could really focus on the image. And Mirian was, after all, an artist.
“Hey roomie,” she said upon her return to the dorm.
“Hey Mirian how was your oh my Gods what did you do to your hair?” Lily blurted out when she saw her.
She laughed. “I learned an illusion spell. A real one!”
“Thank the heavens. I mean, it’s your hair, you can do what you want, but that shade of blond looks… weird? Like, it’s not you.” Lily examined her more closely, then said, “That’s pretty good though. I knew you’d have a knack for it.”
“Thanks,” Mirian said. She didn’t talk about the reasons for it. The more she talked about time travel, or even alluded to it, the more uncomfortable Lily got. Instead, they chatted amicably about the goings on of class. Really, Mirian mostly listened to Lily. Then she headed out for the Luminate Temple.
She thought about if she should bother going anymore. She didn’t like the priest. And she’d heard the sermon before. The weekly trips to the temple weren’t about that, though. Did the Gods care if time was repeating for her? It was ultimately to them Mirian was faithful. She wondered how closely they watched the temples. She wondered how closely they examined their own priests. It was through the priests that they acted, wasn’t it? Mirian had always been taught that the celestial energy that the priests and healers used for blessings and to treat the infirm were fundamentally different than the arcane energy they used, that it only came by divine grant. The Academy teachings said the same thing. That was why everyone in Baracuel went to the Luminate Temple; the proof of the Gods’ miracles was in every hospital, in every temple, and in the holy relics the faithful wielded. The head priest in Torrviol may have been a condescending jerk, but the Gods saw something in him.
The Gods had seen something in her too, she reasoned. Was she their conduit now? What else could explain the miracle that had now twice brought her back from death?
She listened once again to the priest’s sermon on Ominian, and Their sacrifice. The statues of the Ominian had always struck her as gruesome. No matter the temple, they followed a theme of mutilation. Most had knives jutting out and a chest carved open so the anatomically correct heart was showing beneath the peeled-back ribs. The one in Torrviol was especially grand, and especially detailed. But Ominian’s statues never showed pain, discomfort, or hesitation. Her eyes traced the swirling patterns of the stone They were carved from.
This time, she left as soon as the sermon was done. She stopped before the figure of Yiaverunan and Her hourglass. In the Kiroscent Dome, the statue held the hourglass upright. Here, She held it at a quarter-turn. Mirian wondered at it. Will you do it again? she thought.
She returned home.
***
Mirian was not entirely surprised when, once again, the Myrvite Ecology exam was different. It wasn’t just different, though; Professor Viridian walked in with his beard combed, looking well-rested and quite pleased. He actually had with him a little plant.
The main body of the plant was several long, narrow leaves. In the midst of those leaves was a thin stem that had about a dozen cute, droopy, bell-shaped flowers. They were white at first glance, but shimmered slightly. “Lily of the prophet’s sorrow. Or, in other regions, whitebell. Likes shade. Very poisonous. But pretty to look at, nice to smell, and quite harmless magically. Unlike violet wispsorrow, this plant produces an illusionary smell, which is one of the hardest kinds of illusions to produce. No one has figured out why it does this, but it should make the classroom quite pleasant to be in. Good luck on your exam!”
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Well that’s nice, thought Mirian.
It was the only exam now that had changed three times in a row. Apparently, Viridian actually wrote his final exam over the weekend or something? It wasn’t a problem, though. This exam was about marsh ecology, and Viridian had talked about marsh ecology endlessly. This time, the essay question had to do with people going missing. Local magi were sure it was bog lion attacks, but a careful reading of the clues (plus knowledge of how the ecosystem worked) made it clear that the real culprit was actually baduka boar attacks. Culling the bog lion and fire drake population had led to the boars overpopulating the area. Mirian felt oh-so-clever figuring that out. One thing she could certainly appreciate about Viridian was that his exams were almost fun to take.
In Arcane Mathematics, Mirian watched Professor Jei introduce the exam, and expected her to depart and the proctors to take over. This time, though, she didn’t run off. She just… stuck around.
What changed? Mirian wondered. She was sure that Viridian’s change had been because she’d stopped the spy that was wrecking havoc on the Myrvite Ecology building. But what had done it for Jei?
Shortly after the exam began, the despair set in. The extra dozens of hours Mirian had spent on alchemistry had made even that legendarily difficult exam not so bad. The same amount of practice had done nothing to make the Arcane Mathematics exam any easier. The questions were still utterly baffling, and now that Mirian had checked her notebook and the lectures against the exam, she was absolutely positive that half the questions on the exam hadn’t even been covered.
“No crying,” Professor Jei told the class. “Exam score is scaled. Tears are not necessary.”
It was probably the least consoling speech Mirian had ever heard, which she found funny. Professor Jei really was the only person who made Professor Torres seem warm and emotional by comparison. And yet, despite the tone and words, Mirian felt she could sense that there was a compassion there.
After the exam, Mirian approached her. “Thank you, Professor Jei. I’ve enjoyed taking your class,” she said.
“Good,” she said. “I teach one more class next quarter. No math, too many complaints. You will sign up.”
Mirian was pretty sure that demand meant Jei liked her as a student. “Artifice Design?” she asked.
“Yes,” she said. “How did you know?”
“Professor Torres mentioned it. I was wondering, though… why put the questions we didn’t cover on the exam?”
She shrugged. “Worth trying. Maybe one of you is, hmm, what’s the word? Mathematical genius. Only one way to find out.”
Mirian grinned. “Hey, I was wondering. These math equations—they imply spells of teleportation are possible.”
“Yes,” Professor Jei acknowledged.
“What about time travel?”
“Hm. Mathematically, probably no problem. But math is not reality. For this, we have no data. Applied math requires quantifiable experiences. Arcane energy paths, mana flows—all of it can be quantified, studied, recorded, and tested. No tests can be done on time travel.” She shrugged again. “So, not worth trying.”
Mirian bit her lip. She considered how much to reveal to Jei. “What if… what if I could test things? What if it was possible to, say, repeat the month of Solem over again? How would I even go about collecting data that could be used to figure out how it works?”
“Strange hypothetical,” Professor Jei said, raising an eyebrow. “Give me, hm, a week to think about it. Good thinking requires long walks.”
“Thanks, Professor!” Mirian said, and waved goodbye. She’d thought about asking her where she went after class, but figured that might be going into the ‘stupid questions’ territory. And it looked like Professor Jei would be the one teaching her artifice class next quarter. Whatever emergency made her unable to proctor her own exam hadn’t happened, so probably, she was free to teach. Well, that would screw up the predictions she’d given Torres, but it also would be very interesting. Professor Jei, with her background in Zhighuan artifice and mastery of applied math, no doubt had completely different ways of assembling and structuring her magical creations. It was exciting to think about.
***
The last thing she had to do was retake the Enchantments exam she’d skipped, which she did under the watchful eye of a proctor. Then, freed from exams, Mirian went back to work on her spellrod. The design she’d settled on was the same as the one she’d made last time, only better. The enhanced mana channels would allow for more intense spells. For the force blades spell, that would mean more cutting power and a longer potential range. A better arcane catalyst would mean she could pour more of her own mana into the spells faster; without that, the enhanced mana channels would be useless. Finally, the higher quality materials she used for the structure and glyphs would make the whole device more efficient. She could use less mana and still get the same effect.
Then, Mirian continued to consider future designs. She still knew very little of illusion glyphs, but had quickly realized that the fundamental structure of the device would need to be totally reworked. Almost all glyphs used in illusion magic were flux glyphs, and they’d change the function of the subsequent glyphs in the sequence, sometimes by a little, sometimes by a lot.
When her head hurt from all the intense focus, she relaxed on the practice range, trying out her new wands and spells. She had to admit she was a little envious. While she was busy giving her target paper cuts and tiny burn marks, other students were sending out gouts of flame or actual lightning bolts. It was only a little embarrassing to be wearing sixth year tassels and have the fourth year next to her dishing out spells that were easily twice as powerful. She was annoyed that Torres was making her jump through this hoop, but it made sense from her perspective. She might not believe Torrviol would be attacked, but she certainly knew she could be reprimanded or fired for approving dangerous student projects.
On Thirdday, Mirian and Lily headed down to the practice range for the various tests. In both cases, professors had deployed large contraptions with glowing glyphs, metal antennae, and thick lenses that detected and measured magical energies. Students formed lines and waited for their turn on the range. It was all very boring. She passed the combat certification without a problem. It was, after all, the first level of certification, meant for third years who had only just started mastering the basic spells. Down on the other side of the range, Lily passed her spell empowerment test, which Mirian was happy to congratulate her on for the third time.
“Did you know that was going to happen?” Lily asked.
“Yeah.”
“Ugh! And you didn’t tell me? I was worried I’d fail!”
“But if I told you that, what if you’d relaxed too much, stopped practicing, and then failed because you didn’t practice enough? I didn’t want to risk it.”
“I guess that makes sense. Still….”
“Come on. Registration opens soon.”
When Mirian got there, though, the class list was the same as it had been. Professor Torres was back to teaching Artifice Design 426. Mirian’s brow furrowed. She looked around, as if someone in the crowd of students or in the registrar’s office had some sort of insight. It hadn’t changed.
“Stay focused please, there’s a long line,” the clerk behind the desk said.
“Sorry. I’d heard Professor Jei was teaching this class,” Mirian said, gesturing. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “Last minute switch. Happens. Same class, different teacher.”
Not that she’d expected him to know. Mirian signed up for it. Torres would be wanting to talk to her.
For her other classes, she took Spell Engine Alchemistry from Atger again, since she still needed to figure out what was going on with Nicolus, and Artifice Physics because she liked Professor Endresen. But Geoarcanology? She didn’t need that. She wasn’t sure how big the Akanan attack was, but if escaping Torrviol was enough, she wasn’t going to get a job scouting Persama for magical rock layers. She’d end up in a spellforge somewhere, making weapons. She replaced it with Combat Magic 201, which her new certification let her join. As for Spellbook Enhancements, she was tired of Professor Eld. She swapped that class with Illusion Spells 281.
It was time to expand her repertoire. At least, for a few days, before she fled Torrviol.