A Practical Guide to Sorcery - Chapter 215: At the Threshold

Damien

Month 8, Day 23, Monday 9:20 p.m.

Back at the University in time for curfew, they found Tanya Canelo waiting at the entrance to their dorm room, doing what looked like a practice exam. This would be the end of her fifth term, giving her a Journeyman certification if she passed. She looked up at Damien expressionlessly as they approached. “Professor Lacer is looking for you, Westbay. He wants you in his office.”

Damien checked his pocket watch. “This late?”

Tanya shrugged, standing up and brushing past Damien to talk to Sebastien. “Miss Gervin reported the situation with some of the other students to me,” she told Sebastien. “I’ll do what I can to keep an eye on them. I may not be a student liaison anymore, but being Professor Lacer’s student aide still has some weight.”

Damien narrowed his eyes. Was it just his imagination, or did she seem a little too eager for Sebastien’s approval? Did she like Sebastien, too? The two of them even had similar hairstyles, though Sebastien’s was getting a bit long. Was Tanya enough older to be considered “mature?” Damien let out a snort and left.

When he arrived at Professor Lacer’s office, the man was still there, though his low ponytail was a bit disheveled and his face was drawn with fatigue. He scowled down at a stack of student papers, holding a mug in one hand and his Conduit in the other as a free-floating pen filled with red ink made angry scribbles and slashing marks across the paper.

The pen dropped and half a second later, Professor Lacer gestured to a chair, which scuttled across the floor and settled ominously in front of his desk. He gestured again, at Damien, and Damien almost expected that he, too, would be magically picked up and moved. However, in the end he had to take the inauspiciously placed seat under his own volition.

Professor Lacer put down his mug, steepled his fingers together and pressed them against his lips, then stared at Damien silently.

Damien gulped. “Why am I here, sir, if I can ask?”

Professor Lacer reached into one of his desk drawers and took out a casting circlet—a clear disk with several bubbles of components arrayed at one end, with the other end molded to fit in the grip of a fist. Free-casters used them to cast powerful spells that required components.

“Did you just cast a spell?” Damien asked.

“A divination spell. It will help me better assess your response.”

Damien’s throat grew tight and his voice came out strained. “A lie-detecting spell?”

“Not exactly. A spell to improve my understanding,” he replied emotionlessly.

It was better than a compulsion spell, but the fact that Professor Lacer felt the need to cast any sort of spell just to have a conversation with Damien was deeply ominous. “Did I do something?” Damien asked, squeezing the chair’s armrest tighter as the urge to wipe his sweaty palms over his pant legs became almost unbearable.

“That is not what this is about. You are in no trouble, Mr. Westbay. Please be at ease.”

Damien wasn’t sure how that was possible, but he nodded jerkily anyway. Showing Damien that he was casting a divination spell was a courtesy and a sign of respect. Either that or the man wanted to put Damien on edge for some reason—it could be a warning.

Professor Lacer leaned back in his own chair, moving the hand with the spell circlet beneath the table, as if not being able to see it might allow Damien to forget it existed. “I hope you are not inebriated, Mr Westbay. You need to be at your best for the exams next week.”

Damien blinked. “No—We just went out to a play and then dinner. Something to get our mind off things. I’ve been kind of stressed lately—well, we all have.”

Professor Lacer nodded easily, as if they were having a conversation about weather patterns in Silva Erde. “Has Sebastien been stressed as well?”

Damien shrugged and chuckled nervously. “He lives in a rather constant state of stress, doesn’t he? So I’m not sure if it counts.”

Professor Lacer raised one eyebrow. “You are his best friend, correct?”

Damien remained silent, unsure how to respond.

“As far as I have seen, you are the person he spends the most time with and speaks most freely with. Would you say that is accurate?”

“I…guess so.”

“Why do you think Sebastien is stressed?”

“Maybe because he’s worried about performing well enough on the exams? He seems to think that if he’s not at least in the top five percent and outperforming people several terms above him, he’s a failure. He’s really concerned about living up to your expectations.”

Professor Lacer frowned slightly. “Is that all?”

Was Sebastien being considered for some kind of special opportunity, and Professor Lacer wanted to judge whether he had the energy for it? Maybe he thought Sebastien would agree to more work, no matter how overloaded he already was.

Or maybe Professor Lacer had heard some of the rumors and gossip floating around the school and thought that Damien should be the one to do something about it.

He couldn’t possibly have already heard some mutated and scandalous version of Sebastien thinking he was the ideal romantic partner, could he?

Damien found himself smoothing back his hair as his thoughts raced, suddenly remembered that he apparently had split-ends, then forced his hands together in his lap. “Probably not,” Damien admitted, “but I don’t know the details of the rest. He always seems to be juggling half a dozen projects or practicing some spell. Maybe he’s having trouble with the extra exercises you assigned for this term.”

Professor Lacer kept staring silently. Expectantly.

Damien cleared his throat. “Or maybe he’s just tired? He always has trouble sleeping.”

“Tell me more about that.” Professor Lacer’s expression didn’t change, but perhaps that was why Damien could tell he was so interested in the answer. Normally, Professor Lacer would have scowled, scoffed, or made some scathing comment. Restrained neutrality was abnormal for him.

“He…has nightmares. I don’t know the specifics, but he wakes up in the middle of the night a lot.” Damien paused, then added, “What is this about?”

Professor Lacer ignored his question. “Nightmares? Have you noticed anything unusual? Is this something new for him, or has he always been an insomniac? Has he mentioned anything about the contents of his dreams?

Damien was shaking his head, as he didn’t know the answer to any of those questions.

“Think,” Professor Lacer urged.

“Why are you asking me? If you want to know, why not just ask Sebastien?” A sick, squirming feeling was growing in Damien’s stomach, as if he had swallowed a live nightcrawler.

Professor Lacer’s expression remained inscrutable. “I do not wish to make him uncomfortable by prying into delicate matters.”

The squirming feeling grew stronger, edging into nausea. “But you’ll go behind his back and try to get me to gossip about him?” Damien snapped. He took a few sharp breaths, shocked at his own boldness, to say such a thing to Thaddeus Lacer. Sebastien must be rubbing off on him.

Professor Lacer gave Damien a condescending look. “This is not gossip. I am his master and mentor. I need to know if my apprentice might be in danger, either from his own actions or due to outside influences.

Damien’s mouth watered, and he swallowed compulsively. “Why would Sebastien be in danger?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“You tell me.”

Damien’s thoughts began to race, flitting around but landing on nothing. Why was it so hot in here? “Are you worried he might be placing too much pressure on himself to succeed? I don’t think you have to worry about a break event or anything—”

“Stop,” Professor Lacer said softly. Somehow, it was more disturbing than the normal dagger-sharp chop of his cursory commands. “You know something. How is Sebastien in danger, Damien?”

Damien remembered the divination spell. The man must be cataloguing all of Damien’s involuntary responses and using them to gain insight into his emotions and thoughts. And the obvious reason that Sebastien might be in danger was the secret that only Damien knew. Sebastien was a member of their secret order. Damien took a deep breath and forced himself to calm.

He focused on Professor Lacer like the man was his father.

There was no use trying to avoid anger or punishment. He accepted that things might go wrong beyond his control. He allowed the certainty that he would survive, no matter what happened, to carry him through. A slow, cold dread crept through him, numbing his fingers and leaving sounds more distant, as if he heard them through a wad of cotton. But he was calm, and neither a panicked, flighty mind nor improper fidgeting would bring otherwise avoidable punishment down on him.

As far as Damien knew, Sebastien wasn’t currently taking any hazardous missions for their secret order. So, technically, that shouldn’t be a truthful reason that Sebastien was in danger. Probably. But Damien didn’t know if he could get away with saying that when he felt it was a misdirection, at best.

Professor Lacer was still expressionless, and hadn’t even leaned forward over the desk, but Damien still felt that the man was watching him like a cat looming over a stunned mouse.

The best option was to stay silent.

Damien swallowed, then leaned even further into the numbness. What was the worst that could happen to him? He remembered Sebastien’s promise earlier that evening. Would Sebastien blackmail Professor Lacer on Damien’s behalf, if the man tried to get him expelled? Would Sebastien confront Damien’s father, just like he had stood up in front of Malcolm Gervin?

They were absurd thoughts, but Damien couldn’t imagine that Sebastien would stand by silently, even if he had no chance to actually save Damien. Strangely, this helped Damien to calm even further. He stared Professor Lacer down.

The silence stretched on until Damien felt a trickle of sweat slide down his side.

Finally, Professor Lacer sighed. “Do you think Sebastien will be in trouble if you tell me?”

Damien’s voice was rough with stress, but he spoke without hesitation. “I think if you want to know personal details about Sebastien, you should ask him yourself. Frankly, it’s insulting that you would come to me. Do you think I’m an idiot, or just a faithless friend?” Being so rude sent a spike of anxiety shooting through his calm, but he accepted it and let it go.

Something about the way Professor Lacer stared at him after that made Damien wonder if, perhaps, a compulsion spell was coming next.

He realized that, despite his complaints, their secret order still didn’t have robust communication methods. And after they had burned their bracelets to keep whoever had tried to kidnap Sebastien from tracking them down, Damien had no way to let Sebastien know he might be in danger.

Damien made a mental note to, if he got out of this unscathed, submit an official suggestion that members of their secret order take compulsory vows to help them resist interrogation. Or would that be even more suspicious? But if an enemy were willing to go as far as blood magic—taking away a sapient being’s free will—then the person being questioned was probably screwed, and any method to keep the others safe would be better than nothing.

But that reminded Damien that compulsion spells were illegal. Was Professor Lacer questioning him on behalf of the Red Guard?

Damien’s detached calm began to tear like a shield made of spiderweb. Was there any piece of information he could give that would lead the man away from the truly important secrets?

But then Professor Lacer sighed, and whatever undecided action had been waiting in potentia subsided. “You are a good friend,” he said begrudgingly. “Let me explain my sudden interest. I recently met with the Raven Queen. She intimated that there was some threat to Sebastien—one I had missed. And after considering it, I realized that Sebastien may, for some unfathomable reason, be keeping relevant secrets. Things I should know as his guardian. Whether that might be because he thinks he will be punished for his actions, or there is some other reason he will not…or cannot, be open with me…” He trailed off.

Was he really suggesting that Sebastien might be under a geas, or being blackmailed, or taken some restrictive vows? Or was that only Damien’s paranoia talking?

“Damien, I hope you know that I only want what is best for Sebastien. I take my responsibility to ensure his safety and general well-being very seriously. If you have any reason to believe that Sebastien might be in danger, please tell me.”

Damien considered continuing in silence. What would happen then? Professor Lacer would probably confront Sebastien. But Sebastien had a boon from the Raven Queen, right? Damien still wasn’t sure of the details, but Sebastien had once mentioned that it could ward off divination. Professor Lacer might not be able to tell if he was lying. Would the man force Sebastien to talk with a compulsion, then, thinking it was all for Sebastien’s good? Illegal or not, someone like Thaddeus Lacer wouldn’t be punished for doing so, especially not if the Raven Queen was in any way involved. Only his own morals bound him.

Maybe, if Damien could steer things in the right direction, it would be a net positive. But what could he reveal? He considered giving the details of what they had done to entrap Ana’s uncles. Surely, if the Raven Queen knew about someone impersonating her, she wouldn’t be pleased?

Even the idea made Damien shudder. With all the newspapers he had been reading lately, he had been exposed to more examples of how unhinged thaumaturges could exact malevolent retribution than was good for his mental health.

And it was the kind of thing that really might get Sebastien in trouble if the Raven Queen ever found out. But suddenly, Damien realized a possible solution.

“You know.” Professor Lacer said. “Or you have a good idea. Tell me.” His command was so strong it almost seemed to hold a compulsion of its own.

Damien was worried that this was not, in fact, the optimal solution.

“You will not leave this room without sharing this information with me,” Professor Lacer said, his voice hard. “Speak.”

“The High Crown!” Damien burst out.

Professor Lacer’s eyes and nostrils both flared. “What happened?” he asked softly.

“During Sowing Break, when the Raven Queen made that huge ruckus and rescued a group of people from the Pendragon Corps… They had kidnapped civilians. Children.”

Professor Lacer’s knuckles grew white as he squeezed his large spherical Conduit within a fist.

Damien continued. “Sebastien said that he had been trampled by a crowd during the panic. But…that was a lie.”

“How was he injured?”

“A Pendragon Operative tried to kidnap him. He fought back and was injured. And…someone else, I don’t know who, saved Sebastien. That person used a memory-modifying spell on the Pendragon Operative so that they wouldn’t realize they failed. I guess just to make them think they couldn’t find him.”

“Why did he not say anything to me?” Professor Lacer asked, still strangely calm.

“Because if anyone knew, then they might try to come after him again. And memory-modification spells are illegal.”

“Who saved him?”

Damien shook his head, dread building in his stomach again as he realized that this was the failure point of revealing what he had. “I don’t know. I’m not sure Sebastien knows, either. I don’t think that person wanted anyone to know who they were. I… Please don’t say anything about this. You can understand why we kept it secret, right? It’s not just the danger from the High Crown. Sebastien can’t say anything about the person who saved him, and if he knows I told you—”

Damien wouldn’t actually keep what he had revealed a secret from Sebastien, of course, but this desperate attempt was the best way he could think of to keep Professor Lacer from digging in a direction that would lead him to the secret order.

“Yes, I understand,” Professor Lacer said. He stood slowly, dropping the component circlet and squeezing his Conduit even tighter. He slammed his fist down on the table. In a flash, a wave of force rolled out from his body. He hadn’t been calm at all; his rage had only been concealed beneath the surface.

Damien’s eyelids fluttered and his heart clenched so hard he thought he might pass out under the force of Thaddeus Lacer’s Will.

Everything in the room rattled and jumped in place as the man’s anger came to life.

Sound disappeared.

The air froze, trapping Damien’s breath in his lungs.

The light dimmed strangely in a way that reminded Damien of the moon passing in front of the sun, and Damien wasn’t sure if it was because he was on the verge of passing out, or if it was real. He saw multicolored stars that reminded him of the fire witch’s show earlier that evening.

Damien caught a glimpse of Thaddeus Lacer’s eyes and had the sudden, intense certainty that someone was going to die.

Damien skin seemed to ripple strangely despite the stillness of the air, as if he had gone thrill-jumping off of the white cliffs. He began to hear a phantom sound. Something more sensation than noise, and approaching from a great distance.

Damien tried to scream, to throw himself to the ground, to crawl to the door on his hands and knees and escape.

And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pressure receded.

Damien was in his chair, unscathed.

Professor Lacer dropped his Conduit, letting the celerium sphere clatter onto his desk. He blew out a long breath, just on the edge of a whistle, before lifting his head to meet Damien’s gaze again. “I apologize, Mr. Westbay. It has been a long time since I allowed my emotions to overtake me so shamefully.”

Damien pressed his trembling fingers into his thighs, blinking rapidly as he took a few deep breaths to reassure himself that he was okay. His jaw ached where he had been clenching his teeth together, and his heart beat like a fleeing jackrabbit drenched in acid, but there were no real sensations of pain. “Are you…going to do something?” he croaked.

“To the High Crown?” Professor Lacer closed his eyes and took another deep breath. “Sebastien’s injuries— He had my apprentice beaten, and if not for—” He cut off again.

Damien’s bladder tightened shamefully and his eyes stung with the prickle of oncoming tears as he realized how close beneath the surface Thaddeus Lacer’s rage still was. “Sebastien is safe,” he forced out. “The Pendragon Corps never took him.”

“But he is still in danger.” Professor Lacer looked up at Damien, then adjusted his chair and sat back down. “Was Sebastien attacked just because of the fact that he has had a positive interaction with the Raven Queen? Just because he could have been used as bait? Or is there something more?”

“It—it’s possible the High Crown is paranoid and thinks Sebastien could be a threat? Ana, she looked into Sebastien’s background, and we think maybe he’s connected to the original Siverlings. And Princess Krell, she maybe had a baby that survived. With the promise Sebastien has been showing, maybe the High Crown believes Sebastien could be long-lost royalty. Technically, he would have some kind of claim to a…kingship?”

Professor Lacer shook his head. “No. I am aware of the original Siverlings, but Sebastien is not of royal blood. Or at least not…that…kind.” His gaze went distant.

“Sir?” Damien asked, confused.

Professor Lacer ignored him, staring at nothing.