Chapter 3

Ren's classmates could hire charmed chariots to take them up to the Heights. Others had personal portals built into their high-rise villas. A few families even owned wyverns. The people who were waiting in line with Ren for the public waxways were far more industrious. Shop runners making special deliveries and hired hands attending to less glamorous tasks.

The inner room of the waxway station divided into four sections. There were stone recesses—each one about twice as wide as an average person—with identical paintings nailed into the mortar at eye level. Each painting was of the great fountain in the main square of the Heights, just outside Balmerick's front gates.

For visualization. If you cannot see yourself somewhere, you cannot possibly travel there.

Ren knew the safest method for travel magic involved carrying a physical piece of the location. As a nervous sophomore, she had collected blades of grass from the main quad just to make sure she didn't end up becoming a story of warning for the rest of the Lower Quarter. It turned out that repetition and familiarity were more than enough to shield her from the negative consequences of teleportation. Ren had taken this portal a hundred times now.

Beneath each painting sat a row of waxway candles. All of them flickered with ready flame, running lowest to highest. The thickness of the candle determined how far a person could travel. Long-distance traveling might call for a candle to burn for two or three hours. A jump to the Heights required no more than a few minutes of dancing flame and focused meditation.

The priestess tasked with refreshing the travel stations stood on the other side of the room, helping an elderly gentleman. A box of extra candles had been abandoned on the floor beside Ren. She glanced over a shoulder—no one was there—and let a hand reach down. The borrowed candle vanished into her satchel. Some supplies weren't covered by her scholarship. Every little bit helped.

Ren refocused. In the recess there was a half-burned match. She raised it to the wick of the second-shortest candle, mimicking the priestess who had lit it in the first place. The preferred method was to light the candle herself, but Ren—and most modern wizards—knew the echoed motion was more than enough to establish a magical link.

Next she looked at the painting. Traveling required visualization. Her eyes combed the bright streams of the fountain and the perfect circle of stones and all those flanking trees.

The final step to the spell had always been her favorite part. With that image fixed in her mind, Ren calmly set her forefingers to the chosen candle. Some people preferred to let the candle burn itself out—which was the safest way to initiate the spell. Others liked to lean down and blow it out with a quick breath. But Ren's father had done it this way, so she did it this way.

Her fingers pinched together. She felt that brief and satisfying burn, then the flame vanished. Before the scent of that curling smoke could even reach her nostrils, Ren was snatched into the waiting nothing. She could never get fully used to the sudden absence. Traveling the waxways always made her feel small, as if she were standing at the mouth of a cave with no end.

Her mind shoved into darkness, through the sprawling labyrinths. Plenty of wizards had vanished as they traveled the waxways over the centuries. Some had attempted to travel too far. Others had been distracted in the moment before the spell began. Ren knew it was best to empty her mind completely. Best to allow the magic to forge its own path.

After all, it knew the way.

Her feet set down in the square. There was a wide lane flanked by narrow villas in the distance. The Heights wasn't completely unlike the city below. Here, the buildings pressed together, tall and lean, each spaced the exact same distance from the next. The main difference was that, up here, an entire building belonged to one family. Ren still remembered the first time she'd visited a friend's home for a study session. Learning the entire place belonged to the same family—and that they used the place only occasionally—had been the second shock to her system.

Balmerick had been the first.

A series of coal-black castles sliced through the clouds on her right, their slanting spires unadorned. Perfectly manicured lawns separated the scattered buildings. Imported oaks cast shade over the crisscrossing paths. Pockets of students drifted between classes. She'd been here for four years now and still felt like she was entering contested territory every time she stood at these gates.

Ren settled into the version of herself that Balmerick wanted to see. When she felt mentally ready, she started through the yawning gates and headed to her interview.

Her advisor was Professor Agora. He conducted Magical Ethics in a circular lecture hall. It fell on his shoulders to keep the young elites of Kathor from becoming tyrants. Ren enjoyed him, even if she felt he was fighting a battle that had been lost a few generations ago.

When she arrived, Agora was busy at the back of the room. Steam clouded up as he poured three teas. He liked to make the room feel like a coffeehouse. They were just citizens of the city, discussing matters of great import. He was a slender man, olive skinned, balding around the crown of his head. He kept his beard trimmed artfully and never missed an opportunity to show off his fashionable collection of buttoned vests. Today's mimicked blue-green dragon scales. The window light fractured in dazzling patterns any time it caught the gossamer material.

"Ren. You're here. Good. How are you feeling?"

She took her seat. "Ready. I have a few more notes to study, but I feel prepared."

"Very good. The meeting will be with Lucas Shiverian. I sent your resume, my recommendation letter, all of the normal paperwork. They expressed interest in your research on a new version of the standard coil spell."

Ren thought back through her notes. Lucas was the youngest of the current ruling generation in House Shiverian. Likely the least powerful of the siblings, but that didn't matter. Being hired by anyone in the primary family line would make for a brilliant starting point.

Each of the five houses had played a distinct role in the founding of Kathor. Some had even taken on new surnames to reflect their family's position on that new frontier. The Broods were gifted in tactical warfare. The Proctors oversaw the building and organization of the city itself. The Winters family were the first doctors and priests. And the Graylantian farmers grew the crops that eventually fed the entire population.

But the Shiverian family had always been known for their prowess with magic. Many scholars argued they were the deciding factor that transformed Kathor from fledgling harbor town into the greatest economic power of the modern age. Half the spells in the current magical system had been invented by the Shiverian family, but Ren knew that some of their most complex magic was kept under lock and key. Their secrecy offered Kathor a constant edge in world affairs—and the Shiverians worked hard to maintain that advantage. Not only would they provide Ren the perfect foothold for her larger goals, but she might actually enjoy the work she'd get to do with them.

Her optimism stumbled only upon hearing Agora's final point.

The coil spell she was working on was very promising. The standard version fell into the larger category of binding spells. Coils were the most popular method for linking one magic with another magic—effectively combining their separate purposes into something more uniform. It allowed the user to create clever, cross-purpose magic.

The limitation with the current version was that, once bound, the magic remained tangled. In fact, the bond grew stronger as time passed, and it often took years for small-level bindings to loosen or break. Her version provided a coil that bound entities or magics briefly. The breakthrough had come when she'd braided a temporal charm through the other two spells. It would be a huge advancement if she could get it to work, but that was precisely the problem.

"My coil spell research isn't complete. I'm still in the early testing phases. I haven't ruled out side effects or calculated the impact of the spell when dealing with high-level magic. It'll be months before I even have a proper proposal in order."

"Don't tell Lucas Shiverian that," Agora replied. "Tell him you're making progress. This is an elder heir in one of the great houses. You cannot use words like ‘testing' or ‘incomplete.' Creatures like him bore easily. Always give a sense of momentum. You are on the verge of something new and groundbreaking. It doesn't matter if it takes you another five years to figure out the magic. They just want to feel like they're recruiting someone who can add a new angle to what they already do."

Ren nodded. "Lie to him. Sure. What else?"

Agora offered her a hesitant look.

"What? What is it?"

"Wield your knowledge with precision. You are one of the most intelligent students I've ever taught, but Lucas Shiverian isn't one of your classmates. He is not your peer. He believes that he is your superior. You must shine without causing a glare. Do you understand?"

"Be excellent, but on his terms. Understood."

"Precisely. Go ahead and study. I'll keep an eye on the hallway and let you know when he's coming. You can do this, Ren. I'll be right back."

She turned through the pages of her research. The ancestral chart offered details on her potential interviewer. His age, spouse, children. Ren quietly studied those notes before cross-referencing his name with the court-reported business filings. Public records that walked through who in the family had been responsible for signing off on which projects. His name appeared on any record connected to the family's coastal trading. She saw that he did a lot of work with the northern ports that had larger Tusk populations. There was even a note about the fact that he observed some of their religious customs, which would make him unique amongst the more agnostic Delveans. She was weighing the appropriateness of bringing up religion in an interview when the door creaked.

Ren glanced up to see Agora peeking inside.

"He should be here any minute."

Ren took a deep breath, eyeing the notes. She continued studying until the wait became unbearable. She closed her folders and crossed the room. There was a single pane of glass looking out into the hallway. Agora was alone. And he was pacing. She quietly returned to her seat.

There were theories about how time slowed or quickened, depending on the perspective of the beholder. Certain dragons, it was said, once existed outside of time. Some claimed to live in their favorite moments permanently, offering only a begrudging awareness of the present. Ren felt a kinship with them now. It was as if a grain of sand were stuck to the roof of the hourglass, unwilling to fall, and nothing outside the room was moving. That illusion broke when Agora returned again. Alone.

"He's late, but I'm certain he'll be here shortly. More tea?"

Ren shook her head. She could hear the nervous clinking of Agora's spoon as he mixed honey into his drink. A clock in the corner kept the time, the second hand gliding mercilessly around the circular frame. Ren sat straight backed and ready. She refused to allow herself to believe that the interview might not happen.

The door finally opened. It wasn't a middle-aged man with sloped shoulders and a stark jaw. It was Percie James, slight and wispy, peering in at them. "Am I too early?"

Ren hid shaking hands under her desk. A glance at the clock showed it was nearly time for class. Lucas Shiverian was more than an hour late. He isn't coming. Agora glided forward.

"Come on in, Percie. I've got more of that darkthyme tea you liked. There are a few bags of summer lily left from last time as well.…"

A few other students filed in behind her. Agora went about the business of setting out everything. There was a great fuss over mugs and seats as the rest of the class settled in. Ren's advisor paused briefly beside her and his voice was lower than a whisper.

"It has to be some mistake. I'll check after class. We'll get it rescheduled. Chin up, Ren."

Ren said nothing. She was used to this by now. It did not matter how brilliantly she performed. It did not matter that her grades were the best in her class. All they saw was a girl who'd come from the Lower Quarter. Dirty or dull or worse. She'd have to prove them wrong. Somehow.