Page 43 of The Ordeals
There’s a ripple of murmurs before she turns sharply, picking up a piece of chalk and writing a few key words on the blackboard. ‘Let us begin with the basics. My expertise is in illusion, the manipulation of the mind, but also in the history of magic and wielders, the very roots of our past. The four corners of magic: alchemy, botany, masquier, illusion,’ she says, then turns back to face us. ‘Hands up if you are a botanist.’
I glance around as fifteen hands are raised slowly in the air. There’s Naeve, Betty, Charlotte, Betram, Alden … then the jock types, which include Richards and Peterson.
‘Hmm. And alchemists?’
Not a single hand is raised. She smiles slyly and nods. ‘All right. Illusionists?’
I raise my hand and count seven others, including a woman,Zelene, who I notice is also keeping careful tabs on who is raising their hands, and where they’re sitting. When our eyes meet, hers flash, but she shakes back her silver-white hair and doesn’t look away.
‘Interesting. Now the masquiers.’
Thirteen hands are raised, as slowly as the botanists. I don’t catch the moment Greg raises his hand. He’s sunk low in his seat, still keeping a low profile around everyone after what happened in the Morlagh. I make a note to find out later what he wields.
‘Thirty-six of you and not a single alchemist,’ she says quietly, turning back to the blackboard. ‘So we can surmise that alchemy, the wielding and manipulation of non-living matter, is now the rarest form of magic in our world and luckily for all of you, Professor Hess is on staff at Killmarth and able to give a demonstration now. I also need volunteers for the other pillars of magic: a masquier, an illusionist and a botanist.’ She raises her eyebrows as none of us raise our hands. ‘Don’t all fall over yourselves to volunteer.’
Tessa hesitantly rises, then Betram and Li. They walk to the front, standing awkwardly in a line as Hess prowls forward first. He twists his wrist, as though summoning an object out of thin air, and the blackboard at his back begins to shimmer. It ripples, the surface of it losing Lewellyn’s chalked words. And in the work of a few heartbeats, our fascination and awe is reflected back at us all. He’s turned it into a mirror.
‘Alchemy,’ Hess says, ‘the manipulation of tangiblenon-livingmatter.’ Then he snaps his fingers and the blackboard reverts back, chalk words and all emblazoned across it. ‘And unlike the cerebral wielding of illusionists, it is not in the mind. We change the very nature of what we find around us.’
There is a smattering of clapping as he steps back, usheringBetram forward, and Lewellyn hastily places a plant pot on her desk, filled with soil, and nods to him encouragingly. ‘Go ahead.’
Betram clears his throat, pointing to the plant pot. ‘I can sense a seed in there, one that has not germinated. As a botanist, if I focus …’ his forehead bunches slightly ‘… it sparks to life.’
I crane forward as a tiny green stem unfurls from the soil, twin leaves dancing. Betram grunts and the stem grows, leaves multiplying, until a small bud appears. It opens, red and purple petals blazing as Betram wipes a sheen of sweat from his face. ‘Professor, I-I can’t—’ We all gasp as the flower explodes into ten flowers, all popping and growing, before instantly decaying and dying. Betram gasps too, bowing at the waist, and places his hands on his thighs. ‘I couldn’t hold it. The life in it—’
‘It wanted its own way?’ Lewellyn asks.
Betram nods, straightens and shrugs. ‘I can control the growth of new life for a short time, but it’s always so insistent. Always wanting more and more. With a wound on a person or animal it is different. I pour more and more energy in and it’s forcing the wound to heal, to close. But with new life,greenlife …’
‘And there you see, everyone? Botany.’ Lewellyn sweeps a look around the room at us all. ‘Betram is a botanist, but every botanist is different, having different levels of ability to wield, and different specialisms. Betram’s is green life, and he’s learning to control that first gasp a plant takes so that it does not rush through its life cycle and die too quickly. Betram, sit. Good work. Now, Li?’
Li shuffles forward, tucking her black shiny hair behind one ear and then bringing both hands up. I watch as the threads of illusion dance at her fingertips, spinning out like honey light, weaving together as she bites her lip in concentration.
‘When is sheactuallygoing to begin,’ someone in front of me mutters, and everyone nearby snickers. Of course, they can’t seewhat I can see. And if this whole room of hopefuls cannot see illusions and how they are made … Triumph rises in my chest. Perhaps I am theonly onewho can see what Li’s doing. In an entire room of brilliant wielders with their own specialisms and talent, I have an edge.
Li sniffs, eyes widening and throws her illusion away from herself, as though it is a net. The magic detaches from her fingertips, cloaking the windows to the left of us completely. Where before there was sea mist and gloom, the sky and sea meeting in shades of granite and shale, now there is sunlight. Azure, bright and burning. There’s a collective ripple of excitement as hopefuls shade their eyes, muttering to each other. Then the sun becomes brighter and brighter, looming huge, as though hurtling towards us, or us towards it. A few hopefuls nearest the window scrape back their chairs, throwing their hands before their eyes. The room grows hot, the sun beating down on the window and as everyone complains, a hint of nervousness permeates the room. I glance back at Li.
Her hands are both held towards the window, teeth gritted, a single tear of blood carving a path down her cheekbone. Her hold over this illusion is mesmerising. She has manipulated every mind in this room to not only see the illusion, but to feel its heat, conquering two human senses.
But then she cries out, dropping her hands, and as she leans forward, blood spatters the floorboards from her nose and eyes. The illusion shatters, the gloom of the sea and sky returning to the window, the room cooling and the hopefuls in the room shift and murmur, running their hands over clothes and hair, as though troubled by what they just saw and sensed, the level of manipulation Li held over their minds.
‘Excellent. Just … excellent,’ Lewellyn breathes, moving towards Li and handing her a tissue. ‘Take a moment to compose yourself.You have earned a privilege for your work; supper as well as the other meals at Gantry at the head table for a week.’
Li staggers back to her seat and there is an uneasy wash of silence. Privileges can be earned outside of Ordeals? As every hopeful collectively realises what this means, shoulders are rolled back, chins jutting forward. Determination infuses the room.
Tessa steps forward last, hands clasped in front of her. ‘What would you like me to demonstrate, professor?’
Lewellyn exchanges a glance with Hess, who nods subtly. ‘Perhaps a full transformation, if you follow in your father and grandmother’s footsteps with their specialism in masquier wielding?’
‘Of course,’ she says and nods. Closing her eyes, she keeps her hands clasped in front of her. For a moment, nothing happens, nothing obvious anyway. But then her brown hair begins to change. It lightens. It retains its curls, the flyaway strands still escaping the tortoise shell clip at the nape of her neck, but her overall hair colour is now a ruby blonde. She sighs, flicking her fingers down, and as though her entire being is shuffling and reassembling, she grows several inches, both upwards and outwards. Her clothes, which were a black turtleneck and grey wool trousers, change to slacks and a navy blue corduroy jacket with elbow patches.
She twitches her nose and her entire face changes. Between blinks, her hair is now short and decidedly ginger, slicked back and … My fingers fly to my mouth. She looks at us all and chuckles. ‘Settle down, hopefuls.’
Shock runs in waves over all of us as we look between the real Professor Hess, arms crossed, slouched against the wall next to the chalkboard, and Tessa who is now the mirror image of him.
‘And this is real?’ I blurt without raising my hand. ‘This isn’t a form of illusion, is it? You’ve physically altered yourself?’
‘Every facet,’ she says, and Hess’s voice booms across the room.I shrink back, repelled and fascinated in equal measure, before Tessa shrugs off the wielding like a coat, and suddenly she is back as herself.
