armyinform Chapter 234: Spite
Chapter 234: Spite
Chapter 234: Spite
Siobhan
Month 9, Day 6, Monday 3:00 a.m.
Siobhan looked back to the tasteful nude of her other form drawn in Myrddin’s journal. “It does look a little like him,” she admitted, trying to keep her voice from cracking with nerves. She must have succeeded, because Thaddeus flicked a glance to Grandmaster Kiernan and then helped her turn to the next section of pages.
The older man had stationed himself on the other side of Thaddeus despite the distance making it difficult to see past the incoherency defenses on Myrddin’s journal. He was too uncomfortable to stand next to Siobhan, so was constantly squinting and rubbing at his temples as he tried to see what the two of them could.
Siobhan concentrated on the two new glyphs that flashed up, which succeeded in both keeping the contents coherent and partially distracting her from the issue. Surely, Thaddeus had more to say about the uncanny resemblance to Sebastien, but perhaps he did not want to discuss it in front of Kiernan.
Myrddin had left behind whatever the purpose of his last project was, and was now attempting to cultivate a pepper with “perfect hotness and sweetness.” That would have been reasonable, except that he wanted versions that additionally had flavors of cumin, paprika, lemon, and garlic. An all-in-one spice. By this point, Siobhan shouldn’t have been surprised that he seemed to manage it. He modified the seeds with magic, then sped up their growth immensely through several rounds of testing and tweaking.
“Surprisingly efficient,” Thaddeus said, pointing out some notes about the overall energy requirements for a round of peppers from seed to harvest.
Siobhan tried to note the details, since this was the kind of thing that Oliver’s warehouse farms might benefit from, but most of the work had been done on previous pages, and what was left was still beyond the limit that her meagre leftover mental capacity could parse.
Myrddin was more self-satisfied by this achievement than most of the ones that had come before, calling himself an “unparalleled genius and a master chef” and lamenting only that the new pepper varieties had sterile seeds.
Jumping another ten pages ahead found Myrddin again considering the human body. In archaic wording and strange spelling that Siobhan automatically translated into modern vernacular in her head, he had written:
The perfect body would be able to be controlled effortlessly and instinctively, while remaining hyper-receptive to magic. Obviously, current humans are a failure of design in the latter aspect. Perhaps it is ironic that I say so. After all, the wonder and complexity that is life is beyond me. I do not even know where to start figuring out how the human brain works.
There were some calculations where Siobhan didn’t even understand all the mathematical symbols, and then he continued.
It seems like the human brain should not, in fact, work. It is so tiny, to store so much, and the electrical impulses aren’t even really that fast. Is it possible there’s something we’ve all been missing? Crazy theory, but perhaps memories are not, in fact, stored in the brain, only accessed and retrieved by it. Of course, that brings into question the topic of the soul, which is even more mystical and unfathomable.
I am not known to be humble, but I do not understand how thought or personality works well enough to even consider trying to replicate it through transmutation. It is a feat I would be more likely to approach through transmogrification, but...
Perhaps there is another avenue to achieve my purpose.
Siobhan’s eyes were glued to the words as her heart leapt in her chest. She didn’t know what exactly Myrddin was trying to do or for what purpose, but there was a chance—a small one—that his research here could provide insight into her own problem. Unfortunately, they jumped forward again.
There was no writing on this set of pages. Instead, the book displayed a moving painting of a meadow in springtime. Siobhan called it a painting, but it was not like any she had seen before. The faintest of brushstrokes and the fact that it was set into a pair of spread pages were the only clues to what it was.
Beside her, Thaddeus wavered in shock. The flowers of the painting swayed gently in the wind. Bugs crawled through the dirt and bees alit on petals. Birds occasionally swooped through the air. The light was impossibly accurate, shadows and reflections and subtle counter-reflections beyond what a human could create. Even a master illusionist would have struggled.
Siobhan could smell the flowers.
Thaddeus reached toward the page, and she shot out a hand to catch his. “Do not touch it.” The painting was so lifelike that it brought to mind the idea of stepping through a doorway to another world. “You might be trapped within.”
Thaddeus drew back his hand, and she released his fingers. “Thank you,” he said. “Is it a trap, then?”
“I do not know what it is. I only have an instinct of an eldritch danger.”
Thaddeus stared at the painting for a while longer, but then turned to the final page of the journal.
Here, Myrddin had written another note:
What is the Will? Oh, yes, I have heard many explanations since I came here, each more vague and platitudinous than the last. It is the manifestation of our thought-weight, the proof of the soul, and the tool with which we bend reality like a pewter spoon.
But what is it? How does it work?
Everything has an explanation, but the Will, perhaps even more than the magic that can be accomplished with it, seems to subvert the rules of physics and reality as I know them. Obviously, this means that I understand neither the rules of physics nor reality.
If I can find the answer, it may solve several of my other problems and be a huge step toward completing The Work.
After that, he had made a long list of experiments to try. Some she could understand or at least parse together from their individual words, but others were seemingly gibberish. Quantum superposition? What did that even mean? Had Myrddin made those words up?
He had drawn a star next to one of the ideas, which was just, “Try portable spirit-realm viewing spell.”
Why was it special? Did he think that idea was particularly likely to bear fruit? As far as she had seen, there had been no such thing written in the journals so far. Either they had missed it somewhere in the pages they had skipped, or Myrddin hadn’t written it down.
“How sensitive is the trigger? Does it work on his intent, or your judgement?”
“Intent and severity of the offense. A few threats will do nothing. It will be triggered by bodily harm, imprisonment, attempts at assassination, that kind of thing.”
“So if he were to accidentally harm Sebastien, he will be safe?” If that were the case, then there was a good chance that harming the Raven Queen wouldn’t count, since it would be unintentional harm to Sebastien. It wasn’t enough to reassure her, however.
Thaddeus narrowed his eyes. “Do you think he will attempt to ‘accidentally’ harm us? I am not sure he is clever enough to think of it, let alone pull it off.”
“I do not know him well enough to say, though I judge him to be spiteful to the point of foolishness. Of the binding method... I assume you took into account the boon I gave to Sebastien? If there is any sympathetic magic involved in the triggering—”
Thaddeus waved a hand at her. “Not to worry, the curse is nothing so rudimentary. It works on my conception of Sebastien as well as the High Crown’s—so that he cannot use some sort of geas to change his understanding of his enemies’ identities. ‘On accident,’ as you said. In exchange for power, and to make other methods of breaking the binding more difficult, the curse will break on its own in three years and three days. By then, I hope to make Sebastien strong enough to protect himself somewhat.”
Siobhan hummed ambiguously. “And the duel, then? It seems it would only raise the High Crown’s ire and make an enemy of his heir.”
Thaddeus was silent for a moment, though his lips twitched a few times as if he wanted to say something but was holding himself back. “So you do understand consequences?” Before she could respond, he continued. “I called the duel for multiple purposes. It was a handy way to suppress the High Crown and immediately set the man’s response precedent. If I could start him out submitting to the curse and refusing to dare to trigger it, he would be more likely to continue on that path. After all, to do otherwise would be to admit he was wrong. Secondly, I called for the duel out of spite.” Cooly, he took a sip of wine. “I think you can understand that motivation.”
Siobhan felt strangely insulted, but couldn’t think of a rebuttal in time.
“Thirdly, the duel was a convenient way to give Sebastien experience combatting someone more powerful in a safe environment, but where the stakes still felt very real.”
Siobhan tilted her head to the side. “You thought Sebastien needed...combat experience?”
“Fekten’s class is useful, but far from enough. Sebastien is too talented and has too easily surpassed his peers. I will add that the duel worked. I saw Sebastien take a large step closer to free-casting with my own eyes. Despite the simplistic spell arrays, he showed significant improvement in his control over his spells’ output, and extensive clever modifications. Apparently, he only needed the proper incentive.”
Siobhan stared down at her lap. What Thaddeus had actually seen was her using one part of her Will to shore up the other, splitting the workload, so to speak. A trick shortcut to success, just as her tether method for spell distancing had not been true detachment. But of course she couldn’t say so.
Thaddeus had done a lot for her, in both of her forms. And he was incredibly powerful. But he also took drastic action like this without warning, which made him feel somewhat dangerously unreliable. No matter how powerful he was, he was not omniscient or all-powerful, and could not reliably protect those who were allied with but much weaker than him. Maybe his threat to the High Crown would keep her safer, but the possibility wasn’t guaranteed enough that she felt comfortable with the accompanying risk.
And something about the look in his eyes when he spoke of spite...it was a little unsettling.
She set her empty coffee mug down and stood. “Will you walk me to the lifts?”
Thaddeus seemed somewhat reluctant, but didn’t argue. Once they were outside again, he said, “I gave the gesturan reference books to Sebastien.”
“Oh? Perhaps you could explain why Sebastien has no idea that I was the source of one of them? You took credit for my find.”
Thaddeus cleared his throat. “So you heard that, too? Obviously, it was too public a venue for me to mention your name, and I did not want to put off his education for something so trivial.”
Siobhan huffed, but gave Thaddeus a small smile so that he would know she was not really angry. “Well, just as long as you do not mind me taking credit for your work at some point.”
Thaddeus’s steps slowed for a moment. “That is...acceptable, I suppose.” When he got to the lifts, he activated one on her behalf, then stood at the top for a while, watching her descend.
Siobhan returned to Liza’s before dawn, since she didn’t want to compromise her attic apartment with her presence in this form, and it was too much of a hassle to go through the long process of multiple disguises to become Sebastien again.
Over the next few days, she spent the daylight hours working on light-refinement and practicing gesturan magic from the two texts Professor Lacer had given her. Her night hours were spent mostly in the restricted archives. They contained less on shamanry than she had expected from what was most likely the largest library in the country, but she had found a few interesting tidbits.
The best was something from a mostly redacted book—a condition that made her more interested in the pieces of information that were left behind, because surely the rest of it must have been especially useful. Apparently, it was possible to get hints about how a spell worked by examining the magic from the spirit realm, where there would be a “conceptual echo” of it.
‘This was probably what Myrddin meant by a spirit-realm viewing spell,’ she realized, her heart jumping with excitement. ‘And maybe it worked, because he ended up making the transformation amulet, and a much better version of Carnagore.’
It might, just possibly, be a safe way to examine the thing trapped inside her mind, or the magic of the seal itself, without contacting the Aberrant again or allowing it any sort of freedom. ‘Finding a way to do that should be my number one priority,’ she thought.
During the few night hours she was not squirreled up in the restricted archives, she had completed the other two short add-on rituals for the guiding light symbol and visiting the University archives. She had been lucky to get the correct kind of night sky—and weather—for the other two sub-rituals in such a short period of time, but other than sensing through the symbol, she needed help to ensure she had completed her part correctly.
Really, the whole process had been easier than she would have expected for such a useful piece of magic. With the expanded utility functions, it was basically an alternative emergency communication system.
‘Why is the ritual not more well-known? The limitation here is really the number of shapes that can be easily made into a personal symbol. To implement it on a large scale, nations would need to put in place some kind of mathematical method to create symbols that are just distinct enough from each other not to cause problems with the magic, but which could have thousands or even millions of subtle permutations. Though...who knows if those kinds of symbols would actually “take” with this kind of spell, being by necessity disconnected from the conceptual identities of the people who would be using them.’
Then, Siobhan realized that she was a bit of a hypocrite, and not for the first time. A spell like this could be a rather large tactical advantage, and despite often lamenting the secrecy so ingrained into thaumaturge society, she had no plans to share the guiding light ritual with the masses, either. Maybe someday. When she was much, much stronger, she would be able to share some of the less sensitive magic she had learned.
On Wednesday evening, she left Liza’s house, avoided the door-knocker’s petulant attempt to bite her, and headed out for the Undreaming Order. Surely, someone there would be willing to help her test her new magic.