The Conjuring Man: The Cunning Man, A Schooled in Magic Spin-Off, #3

Prologue I

Background: The following is a transcript of a speech given by Adam of Heart’s Eye, one year after his discovery of the principles of magitech made him the poster child for magical/mundane cooperation.  The speech was widely distributed and just as widely banned, but this did not stop it from providing impetus to a growing movement to push the limits of magitech as far as they would go.

***

I grew up in a city-state.

Many people say that social mobility is easy within a city-state.  There is some truth to that, but it can be difficult to rise above your station.  Much of your life is determined by an accident of birth.  If your family is rich, you will have all the education and opportunities you could desire; if your family is poor, struggling to keep from drowning in a tidal wave of debt, you will not have the time to study and better yourself.  Lady Emily says that one must spend money in order to make money, which can be tricky if you don’t have the money to spend.

I didn’t.

I wanted to be a magician.  It was unfortunate that I lacked the magic to seek a magical education, or the money that might have transformed me into a theoretical magician capable of devising spells, but never casting them.  I was lucky to win an apprenticeship with a master open-minded enough to give me a chance, yet it seemed impossible I would ever make something of myself.  It was not until I was ... encouraged to travel to Heart’s Eye and study magic there that I found the key to a whole new branch of magic, a magic anyone – from the strongest magician to the weakest commoner – could use.  I could not have had that insight anywhere else.

But it was not just me.  Master Landis took me in and encouraged me to experiment.  My friends Lilith and Taffy helped me to experiment.  Craftswoman Yvonne and Enchanter Praxis assisted in building the tools we needed, often devising newer and better ways to produce them in the process.  I have been credited with founding the field of magitech, but the truth is that it was a joint effort.  Everyone I named and more beside played a role in turning magitech into a workable branch of magic, one that has grown beyond my wildest dreams and continues to grow.  And it could not have happened anywhere else.

Really.  Even this speech is a joint effort.  I didn’t write it on my own.

Lady Emily intended to turn Heart’s Eye into a crucible of innovation.  She laid the groundwork, from freedom of speech and assembly to the gathering of knowledge, insight and resources that powered the development of magitech.  She created a university where mistakes were allowed to happen, as long as you learnt from them, and even outright failures offered data that could be very useful indeed.  She told us that we can always learn from our work, and that we must be sensible and mature and tolerant of those who disagree with us, as long as they are tolerant in return.  She told us that all ideas would be tested, that the golden ideas would shine in the sun, while the bad ideas would shrivel and die under the light of questioning minds.  And she was right.

Freedom, Lady Emily said, is a constant struggle.  And, again, she was right.

Our university is under threat, by those who consider us a threat.  We represent a new way forward, a way for everyone to climb as high as they can ... a threat, to those who fear they will be surpassed by the new.  Their people will look at us, at the glittering civilisation we will build, and ask their rulers why they can’t do the same.  And they can’t, because to defeat us they will have to become us and we will win.

To them, we represent a threat far more insidious than anything they have ever faced.  We are not invaders, bent on conquest.  We are not usurpers, putting our claims to the test of battle.  We are not barbarian hordes or dark wizards or even necromancers.  We are an idea, the idea of freedom and self-determination and the right of a man or woman to work their way to the top, or to have a say in the government of their countries.  We are their worst nightmare given shape and form.  We are a free-thinking people.  They don’t want anyone, from the lowest serf grubbing in the dirt to the armsmen and soldiers who maintain their world, asking why?  Why should they be in charge?

And really, why?

To them, we are an existential threat.  Invading armies can be beaten.  Usurpers can be crushed.  Or, if they win, they’re the rightful rulers all along.  Us?  We are a challenge to their order, a rebuke of their conduct that grows stronger with every passing year.  They must crush us, strangling us in our cradle, before our mere existence crushes them.  They have already waged war on us, sending sorcerers and armies against us.  And they will keep going, because they must.  The alternative is their own people rising up against them.

What is a king, without his regal grandeur?  Just a man.

They don’t want us working together.  They don’t want fisherfolk working with merchants.  They don’t want soldiers working with civilians.  They don’t want magicians working with mundanes.  They don’t want us to work together for fear we will unite against them.  They work so hard to keep us apart, to foment hatred between magicians and mundanes, civilians and soldiers, cityfolk and countryfolk, because they fear what we would do if we united.  And they are right to fear. 

Look at what we have done, here at Heart’s Eye.  Look what we will do, if we have time.

We defeated a sorcerer.  We defeated a king.  I charge you all – wherever you came from, wherever you are going – to remember how we defeated an undefeatable king.  I charge you all to remember what we did and carry it with you when you leave this place.  I charge you all to spread the story far and wide, to tell the world that freedom is within our reach and that we can take it.

We won, through working together.  And I promise you this.

We will win again.

Prologue II

You lost.

Master Lance, who had called himself Arnold only a few short weeks ago, didn’t look into the shadows, didn’t meet the gaze of the sending lurking there.  The chamber was as heavily warded as a powerful sorcerer could make it, but he wasn’t particularly surprised that his masters had reached through his defences as if they were as gossamer-thin as a child’s play-wards.  He was bound to them, by oaths of blood and bone, and he could no more escape them than he could cut his own throat.  It wouldn’t save him, if he did.  He’d been told that even the dead served their former masters after they passed beyond.

A minor setback, he said, calmly.  The overall plan proceeds.

The king’s armies have been destroyed, his master said.  And his sister has declared herself queen.

One army, Lance corrected.  He cared nothing for the men, commoners or aristos, who’d died in the fire.  King Ephialtes has others.

His kingdom is in turmoil, his master said.  "And all because of a weak little mundane."

Lance winced at the sarcasm poisoning his master’s tone.  It was deserved.  The average sorcerer wouldn’t have paid any attention to a threat from a mundane, but Lance?  He’d been there when Adam had taken the first fumbling steps towards magitech.  He should have taken steps to ensure Adam could never become a threat, from planting commands in his mind to stealing a sample of blood for a long-distance curse.  And he hadn’t.  And Adam had beaten him, not once but twice.  Lance had to admit he’d made a terrible mistake.  It would have been so easy to break Adam, the second time, or even put a fireball through his head.

The Allied Lands themselves are in turmoil, his master said.  Void has made his bid for supreme power.  His daughter moves against him.  We will never have a better opportunity to secure a foothold, and a nexus point, for ourselves.  Nor will we be able to recover Heart’s Eye, if we don’t move now.

There are other nexus points, Lance pointed out.  And ...

His master cut him off.  There are other nexus points, true, but none of such great importance, he hissed.  It is vitally important the nexus point be secured.  The university comes second.

Of course, Master, Lance said, controlling his temper.  He’d have the university and the nexus point and then they would see.  If only his old masters hadn’t called him back to their banner ... he snorted in disgust, remembering how Adam had wanted to be a magician so badly.  Would he have been quite so enthusiastic, if he’d known the price?  I will not fail you.

No, his master agreed.  There was no attempt to hide the threat in his voice.  You will not.

The shadows darkened, then snapped out of existence.  Lance staggered as the presence vanished with them.  His master was strong, too strong.  And yet ... his master knew Lance was plotting against him, but did he realise how far Lance intended to go?  Of course he did ... it was, after all, the only way to rise.  Lance hadn’t wanted to come back, but his master hadn’t given him the choice.  He was lucky he’d had enough freedom to lay his plans in a manner that allowed him to blame the failure on the king.

He straightened, brushing down his robes as someone knocked on the door.  Lance waved a hand impatiently, commanding the door to open.  The serving maid on the other side looked as if he’d frightened her out of her wits.  Or someone else had ... Lance felt his lips thin in disgust.  He’d done a great many horrible things in his time – his style of magic demanded it –but there were limits.  He didn’t do horrible things for the sake of doing them.  King Ephialtes’s new followers, loyalists and mercenaries alike, didn’t seem to have any limits.

Master, the girl said, prostrating herself. Her voice shook.  His Majesty summons ... ah, requests your presence.

Lance felt a wave of disgust at such weakness, mixed with a droll awareness the girl had no better prospects.  She was small and weak and would never rise any higher ... he wondered, as he dismissed her with a wave of his hand, if she would have done better at Heart’s Eye.  Probably, if she could have gotten there.  Lance wasn’t going to help.  She had nothing to offer him in exchange.

He checked his wards, then strode through the corridor to the king’s private chambers.  The king hadn’t spent any time in his throne room, or even addressing his court, since his armies had been scattered and broken.  Lance knew, despite the king’s best efforts to hide it, that Ephialtes had been having private meetings with his officers, as well as hiring mercenaries and other magicians.  The man wasn’t broken, not yet, but ... Lance shrugged.  Ephialtes would hate it, if he knew, yet the truth was the king meant no more to Lance than the poor little girl.  He was a tool, nothing more.

The maid would probably be more useful, he reflected, wryly.  Certainly in the long run.

Sir Sorcerer.  King Ephialtes looked tired, tired and stressed.  A goblet of dark red wine sat on his desk, untouched.  His eyes flickered from side to side even though he’d put a dozen sorcerers to work warding his chamber to the point that even Lance would have trouble taking the wards down without raising the alarm.  Are you ready to take control of the university for me?

Yes, Your Majesty, Lance said.  He would take control.  He just wouldn’t hand it over to the king.  Are your forces ready to move?

There are rebels and traitors within my city, within my kingdom, Ephialtes said.  It was practically a hiss.  You will assist me in rounding them up, before we proceed.  And quickly!

Of course, Your Majesty, Lance said, smoothly.  There was nothing to be gained – yet – by showing the king precisely how small and helpless he was.  Besides, he was right.  The king now had a challenger, a rival monarch, in the form of his own sister.  Factions that might otherwise submit to the king were weighing the odds, trying to ensure they came out on the winning side.  King Ephialtes needed to strike first.  I am at your command.

He bowed, deeply.  And smiled.

Chapter One

Lady Emily, Adam said, is a genius.

He stood in his workroom, staring down at the collection of notes and spell concepts he’d been given after the end of the siege.  He’d spent the last two weeks going through them, trying to understand it all before adapting the concepts to work with the runic tiles and spell circuits he’d devised, and he was lost in awe for her work.  And yet, there was something distinctly odd about the notes.  He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was there, something that nagged at his mind.  Something ... missing?  He’d asked Master Caleb if he’d extracted papers from the collection before he’d passed them on to Adam, but Lady Emily’s friend and collaborator had insisted the notes were complete.

And yet, it feels as if she left out the working, Adam mused thoughtfully.  As if she jumped from start to finish without bothering to work through the intermediate steps.

Lilith giggled.  You’ve been marvelling over those notes for weeks, she teased, lightly.  Should I be jealous?

Adam flushed, looking over at her.  It still baffled him, sometimes, why she was interested in him.  She was beautiful, with long red hair that fell over a heart-shaped face and slender body, and she had magic and connections to boot.  Their relationship felt solid and yet flimsy, as if she’d come to her senses any day and abandon him for someone greater.  It was hard to convince himself otherwise, even though they’d been through hell together.  Arnold – the damned traitor – had come close to killing them and destroying the university twice.  Adam knew it was just a matter of time before the rogue magician reappeared a third time.  And who knew what would happen then?

No, he said, quickly.  It’s just that ...

He scowled at the notes.  Lady Emily seemed to have pulled a multitude of concepts out of whole cloth, without going through any developmental stage.  Adam had studied the history of spell design and magical research and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the final result was always preceded by a multitude of earlier versions that had yet to be perfected.  It held true for steam engines and printing presses and everything else Lady Emily had designed over the last decade – he’d seen the earlier models in the university’s museum – and yet, it didn’t seem to be true for her notes.  It made no sense, not to him.  How had she done it?

I think her earlier notes never got added to the collection, he said, finally.  That’s why there are so many gaps, so many missing pieces of working.

Or she didn’t need it, Lilith countered.  Quite a few wizards don’t bother to write down details they consider obvious, just to make life harder for anyone who steals their notes.

Adam wasn’t so sure.  It was true a great many points were never written down, particularly in a sorcerer’s private spellbooks, but anyone who wanted their work to spread to the rest of the magical community had to document and detail everything from the cauldron volume to the hand motions they made while casting spells.  A powerful sorcerer might be able to skip a few steps, by using his magic to fill in the missing places, but there was no way the caster could write down such a spell and expect others to duplicate it.  He felt a twinge of the old envy, the bitterness and resentment he’d tried to bury for so long.  The task before him would have been so much easier if he’d had magic of his own, rather than borrowed background magic.  And yet, he knew he’d done something new.

Perhaps, he agreed.  It’s clear she thought she’d need a nexus point for some of her spells.

He smiled to himself.  It had taken weeks to bring the runic tiles from a paper concept to something actually workable, and there was still a great deal of research and experimentation to do, but the results were undeniable.  He’d cast spells without magic of his own.  They’d had to adapt the spells to work with the tiles and circuits – a difficult task, even for a trained sorcerer – and not every spell had worked perfectly, but they’d worked.  The world had changed and he’d been the one who’d changed it and ... his lips quirked into a smile.  He thought he knew, now, how Lady Emily had felt when her innovations had taken off.  And yet part of him wanted to keep the whole concept to himself.

Too late now, he told himself.  We need the runic tiles to survive.

The thought haunted him.  The university had been lucky to survive the siege.  The enemy army might have been destroyed by the firestorm – the handful of survivors had fled into the desert before the university’s defenders could give chase – but King Ephialtes was unlikely to give up so easily.  His sister was still in the university, still trying to promote herself as an alternative monarch for their kingdom.  Adam had no idea how it would work itself out, but he’d met enough aristos in the last few months to know they were stubborn, stiff-necked and reluctant to concede defeat until they were battered into submission.  They were just too entitled, too convinced of their own right to rule ...

He pushed the thought out of his mind as he returned to the spell circuits and started to carve out a new set of runic tiles.  The basic concept had been worked out weeks ago – first on paper and then in the workshops – but the craftsmen needed it as refined as possible before they put them to work.  Adam was thrilled to be part of the airship project and yet ... he shook his head.  He didn’t need the glory of flying the airship for the first time.  He’d already flown a hot air balloon over enemy lines, evading their sentries with causal ease.  He could fly on the airship later, when the kinks had been worked out.

And if these runes don’t work properly, the airship won’t survive its first flight, he thought, pushing the next set of carvings into place.  A lone sorcerer will blow it out of the sky with a single fireball.

Everything has to be flat, Lilith muttered, a hint of irritation in her voice.  Why doesn’t it work in three dimensions?

Adam nodded in understanding.  Lady Emily had drawn on a nexus point.  She’d had enough raw power to force her spellwork into existence, then keep it in place.  They didn’t.  There was a nexus point below their feet, a pulsing source of magic that powered the wards running through the university, but they dared not become dependent on it.  Their spell circuits wouldn’t work outside the walls, if they did.  It was possible to draw on the nexus point through a pair of interlinked chat parchments, but even that had its limits.  Adam wanted – needed – his runic structures to be as independent as possible.

She probably intended to streamline the concept, once she had the spellwork worked out, Adam said.  The first printing presses had been crude, to say the least, but the later versions had been much more elegant – and reliable.  She just never had the chance.

There was a tap on the door.  Adam looked up, sharply.  There was no one who should be disturbing them.  The university staff had too much else to do, while Taffy – the third of their trio – was working with her fellow craftsmen, trying to get the airship ready for flight before something else happened.  Or working on newer and better weapons.  The university’s sole advantage was the simple fact it was a hotbed of innovation, with magicians and craftsmen constantly looking for newer and better ways to do things.  Adam had no illusions about what would happen if the flow of innovations came to a stop.  The kingdoms and other reactionaries would crush the university through sheer weight of numbers.  It would be the end of everything.

Lilith scowled, her lips thinning. Come in!

The door opened.  Jasper stepped in. Adam gritted his teeth, feeling a twinge of unease that threatened to unman him.  Jasper was slight, by Beneficence’s standards – he looked more like a scribe or an accountant than a docksman – but he had magic.  He had more power in his little finger than Adam had in his entire body, power enough to stop Adam in his tracks or strip him of his free will or even turn him into a toad – or worse.  Adam glanced down at the spell circuits, hastily plotting how to use them to defend himself.  It would be chancy, but the only alternative was letting Lilith defend him.  And that would make him a laughingstock.

But I did punch Jasper in the nose, after depowering him, Adam recalled.  I’m not as helpless as he thinks.

Lilith scowled.  Jasper, she said, stiffly.  What do you want?

Your father requests your urgent presence, Jasper said, sardonically.  Yesterday, really.

And he sent you with the message?  Lilith didn’t sound impressed.  Why?

Jasper’s face darkened.  I was waiting outside the council chambers, he said.  He volunteered me for the job.

Adam tried not to smile.  Jasper’s position was a little vague – too many of the older magicians were working to defend the university, rather than tutoring their students and apprentices – but it still had to gall him that he’d been turned into a messenger boy.  It was strange to reflect that Jasper was actually a weak magician, one who’d only come to the university because it was the only real option he had.  And yet ... Adam shivered, recalling how Jasper had taken his resentment out on him.  Adam was no brawler, no apprentice who delighted in assembling his friends and picking fights with other apprentices, but breaking Jasper’s nose had felt so good.  The magician had needed to be knocked down a peg or two.

Lilith stood.  I’ll be back in a moment, she said, sourly.  Her relationship with her father was tense, particularly after she’d started dating Adam.  Adam didn’t pretend to understand why Master Dagon had approved of their relationship, then changed his mind shortly afterwards.  If you finish the tiles before I come back, take them down to the airship.

Adam nodded, trying not to stare as she hurried out the door.  Her dress clung to her in all the right places ... he calmed himself with an effort, reminding himself he wasn’t alone.  Jasper wasn’t making any move to leave ... Adam gritted his teeth, bracing himself for trouble.  He had, in theory, the authority to order Jasper to go.  But in practice, giving an order he couldn’t enforce was asking for trouble ...

Jasper eyed Adam, thoughtfully.  Adam thought he saw uncertainty in the other boy’s eyes.  When they’d first met, Adam had been nothing more than a powerless mundane with delusions he could become a magician.  A great deal had changed since then, from magic-draining potion to runic tiles a mundane could use to cast spells.  Jasper had to be just a little unsure of himself, Adam reasoned.  He knew what a normal magician could do, and mundanes were powerless against him, but Adam ...?  Who knew what Adam could do?

I don’t know what she sees in you, Jasper said, finally.  "Why does she want you when she could have anyone she wants?"

Adam kept his face under tight control.  The question baffled him too, sometimes, but he was damned if he was discussing it with Jasper.  Or anyone, really.

He kept his voice calm.  What do you want?

I’m curious, Jasper said, his voice artfully innocent.  "What does she see in you?"

Adam felt a twinge of irritation.  "What possible business is it of yours?"

A magician has the obligation to look out for other magicians, particularly when they are on the verge of making mistakes that will drag their reputation through the mire, Jasper said.  As a son of House Karut ...

You’re not a son of anything, Adam charged.  He wasn’t sure that was true, but Jasper was getting on his nerves.  You’re a newborn magician.

Jasper’s face darkened.  How dare you?

Easily.  Adam met Jasper’s eyes, silently daring him to throw the first hex.  It would be the last – Adam was effectively defenceless – but Jasper didn’t know it.  His uncertainty might keep him from testing the waters.  I have to get back to work.  Say your piece and get out.

You have no magic of your own, Jasper said, waving a hand at the tiles on the workbench.  You’re just playing with toys.

They’re not toys, Adam snapped, stung.  And Lilith understands that better than anyone.

Jasper leaned forward.  Toys, he repeated.  You’re little better than a conjurer.

Adam felt a hot flash of anger.  Conjurer was not a compliment.  Conjurers were the lowest form of magician, barely equal to hedge witches and a great deal less useful.  They had limited magic, so limited that half of their spellcasting was little more than sleight of hand and con artistry – and couldn’t do anything with their lives, beyond showing off their talents on the streets.  To compare him to a conjurer ...

These toys, as you call them, have already changed the world, he snarled.  Or have you forgotten how I broke your nose?

Trickery.  Jasper’s lips twisted into a fake smile.  I can counter your gas – he snickered loudly – easily, now that I know what to expect.  That trick won’t work twice.

I have other tricks, Adam said.  He forced as much confidence into his voice as he could.  Do you want to find out what they are?

Jasper shrugged.  "Do you think your tricks make you my equal?"

Adam knew better, but he couldn’t resist.  I think I would have to fall a long way before I became your equal.

We’ll see.  Jasper leaned forward, resting his hands on the workbench.  Adam stood his ground.  Would you like to place a bet on it?

No, Adam said, curtly.

Really?  Jasper smirked.  Here’s the bet.  We duel, you and I.  Winner gets Lilith’s hand.

Adam blinked.  What?

If you win, I won’t say another word about your relationship, Jasper said.  "I’ll even shut down the magicians who are gossiping about you and her, suggesting there’s something ... unnatural about your relationship.  You know they’re talking about you.  And her.  Someone is going to do something dumb soon, unless it gets nipped in the bud.  You need me on your side."

He smiled, nastily.  "And if I win, you ditch her so I can make suit for her hand.  How does that sound?"

Adam had to fight to keep his emotions under tight control.  He knew boys had fought for girls on the streets of Beneficence, but it had never happened to him.  He’d never had a girl, let alone one someone else wanted.  He wasn’t even sure if the winner got the girl.  Here ... he found himself utterly unsure of where he stood.  Did magicians fight for girls?  He didn’t know.  He wanted to tell Jasper to get lost, to take his challenge and stick it where the sun didn’t shine, but his stubborn pride refused to let him.  He couldn’t back down.  He just couldn’t.

Charming, he said, with heavy sarcasm.  He reached for the runic tiles and pushed them into place.  Do your worst.

Jasper darted back – clearly expecting Adam to punch him in the nose, again – and raised his hand to cast a spell.  Eldritch light shimmered around his fingertips, flashed out at Adam ... and disintegrated into a shower of sparks when it reached the spell circuits.  Jasper gasped, then cast another spell.  It failed just as quickly as the first.

Toys, you say?  Adam kept a wary eye on the runic tiles.  The magic was supposed to be absorbed into the spellwork, or dispelled into the surrounding air if it was too great to subsume without overloading the tiles, but the concept hadn’t been tested in an enclosed space.  The magic might contaminate everything in the workroom.  "Your magic is useless now, and all because of my toys!"

Jasper paled.  Impossible.

You saw it happen.  Twice.  Adam came around the table, careful not to step too far from the tiles.  The duel is over.  You lost.

You didn’t best me, Jasper snarled.  You just ... cheated.

Adam felt a hot flash of disgust.  And what do you call it when you use magic to overpower a mundane, who can no more defend himself against you than a mouse can fight a hawk?

That’s different, Jasper protested.

Is it?  Adam clenched his fists.  "At least a real duellist would offer his opponent a choice of weapons, so they fight on equal terms.  You didn’t even have the nerve to do that, you ..."

He bit off his words before he accused Jasper of being a coward.  Jasper would never forgive him for that.  He had no idea if the tiles would be able to cope, if Jasper started hurling spell after spell, or if he’d have the sense to use magic to throw something solid at Adam instead ...

I won, he said.  Keep your word.

She doesn’t really like you, Jasper snarled.  And you cheated.  You ...

He shrank, his head and body morphing into a brown furry mass.  Adam barely had a second to realise what was happening before his own vision twisted, the floor coming up towards him at terrifying speed.  His body was changing ... he caught a glimpse of fur sprouting on his hands before he squeezed his eyes shut, all too aware someone had cast a spell on him ... on both of them.  It should have been impossible, unless ...

His eyes snapped open.  The room was suddenly huge, the workbenches and chairs towering over him like apartment blocks looming over the streets.  A rat – another rat – quivered on the floor, right in front of him.  Jasper, part of Adam’s mind noted.  And behind him ... he knew, even before he turned his head, who stood in the doorway.  They’d been so wrapped up in their argument that they hadn’t realised someone had opened the door.

Lilith’s voice was cold, very cold.  I am not a prize to be won.

Chapter Two

Jasper ran for the door.

Adam watched him flee, his ratty form moving so fast it was almost a streak of brown lightning.  It wasn’t fast enough.  Lilith caught him with a spell, yanked him into the air and dangled him in front of her, his paws frantically struggling against the unseen force holding him firmly in place.  Jasper was panicking, Adam realised; he was too shocked to think straight, to try to counter the spell ... the spell that shouldn’t have been cast at all.  Adam shivered.  The runic tiles were on the tabletop, out of sight and out of reach, but they should have dispelled the spell before it took effect.  That it hadn’t ...

I am not a prize to be won, Lilith repeated.  "And you are not going to duel for my hand."

Her lips thinned until they were almost invisible.  Jasper shrank into himself, as if he were trying to hide from her gaze.  His paws stilled ... Lilith leaned closer, until she was looming over him.  Adam fought to stay still, despite all his instincts telling him to run.  He’d been a fool.  He might have let Jasper ruin his relationship with Lilith, once and for all.  If he had ...

You’re pathetic, Lilith said to Jasper.  You only came here, to the university, because you couldn’t get an apprenticeship anywhere else.  You could have worked with the other magicians here, to improve yourself to the point someone might give you a chance, but instead you lashed out at everyone below you.  You let Arnold pull the wool over your eyes because you refused to grant a mundane might actually be intelligent and dangerous, and then you let Matt do the same.  And now you’re thinking I’d actually go with you if you won a duel ... a duel you lost, because you picked a fight in your victim’s place of power!

She snorted.  You’re not held back unfairly; you’re held back because you refuse to put your head down and work to accomplish something.  You could have made something of yourself if you’d worked at it, but instead ... you’re no better than a mundy aristocrat who thinks birth trumps merit because birth is all he has.  And ...

Lilith flicked her hand.  Jasper flew through the air and out the door, which slammed closed after him.  Adam swallowed hard, feeling a conflicting blur of emotions he didn’t care to look at too closely.  Lilith had knocked Jasper down hard and ... the spell would probably wear off sooner or later, Adam was sure, but the shock of being overwhelmed so easily would linger long after the magic was gone.  Adam hoped Jasper would remember her words and take them to heart, but he feared he wouldn’t.  He’d known one young man, back home, who’d been so thoroughly emasculated by a girl that he’d picked a fight he couldn’t win rather than come to terms with his shame or even move elsewhere, to a place no one had ever heard of him.  And ... he shuddered, feeling his own paws twitch as she looked at him.  Hadn’t she promised never to transfigure him again?

Adam ...  Lilith took a breath, then started again.  Adam., you’re being silly.

Adam felt his body start to twist and hastily closed his eyes.  It felt ... disconcerting, as always, to have his body changed, even if he was returning to human form rather than becoming an animal or an object or something utterly beyond his comprehension.  Everything snapped into place ... he opened his eyes to discover he was sitting on the floor, his legs spread out as if he’d been shoved down by an unseen force.  It was almost a relief.  His legs felt unsteady, as if they couldn’t take his weight a moment longer.  He hadn’t felt so bad since he’d had a fever, a few years ago.

Lilith sighed, heavily.  You shouldn’t let him bait you like that, she said, crossly.  What were you thinking?

Adam shook his head, unsure how to answer.  It was difficult to put his feelings into words.  He felt ... he felt as if it was just a matter of time before Lilith grew tired of him and left him for someone a little more suitable, for someone with magic and bloodline and everything else a good little magician was supposed to look for in a mate.  Jasper might be only one step above a mundane, as far as the rest of the magical community was concerned, but that step was an impassable gulf.  His children would have magic.  It wasn’t clear if Adam’s children would share his infused blood, let alone have magic of their own ...

Jasper is a very small man and a fool besides, Lilith said, more to herself than to him.  He could have tried to befriend me, when he first arrived at the university, but instead he fell in line with the rest of them and shunned me.  He is so unable, because he is unwilling, to better himself that he spends his time trying to knock everyone else down instead.  And he couldn’t handle Arnold even when everyone thought Arnold was a mundy riding on your coattails, rather than a trained sorcerer in his own right.

Her lips curved into a humourless smile.  "He was pleased when we learnt the truth because it meant he hadn’t been bested by a mundy, but just another magician."

She cocked her head.  Why does he get to you?

Adam scowled.  Jasper was ... Jasper was the embodiment of everything he’d hated and resented when he’d been growing up, from superior birthright and bloodline to prospects and privilege granted by an accident of birth.  Jasper could fall – he had fallen – but he couldn’t fall very far, not as long as he had magic.  Adam was all too aware that he could lose everything, that he could wind up begging on the streets or enslaved to pay his debts or something – anything – that would make it impossible to climb back up again.  Jasper would always have friends and family and sycophants.  No matter what he did, there would be people making excuses for him.  Adam ... could easily wind up dying alone.

He ... he touches on all my insecurities, Adam said, finally.  It was impossible to put the rest of his feelings into words.  She wouldn’t understand.  How could she?  And I can’t just let it go.

Lilith met his eyes, evenly.  Let’s discuss this, shall we?

She leaned closer, until they were practically touching.  "You invented a way to channel magic to produce potions, even without a single drop of power in your blood.  You devised a way to gather more magic and channel it into a storage medium, then transfer it to wands and staffs to power spells.  You then devised a way of producing runic tiles so they could be formed into spell circuits, allowing you to cast spells without – again – any magic in your blood.  And then you saved the university, twice, besting a trained combat sorcerer in the process.  How many of us would be dead, twice over, if it wasn’t for you?"

It wasn’t just me, Adam protested.  It was you and Taffy and ...

It was you, Lilith