Chapter 216: Wonderfully Right (Or Horribly Wrong)

Chapter 216: Wonderfully Right (Or Horribly Wrong)

Thaddeus

Month 8, Day 23, Monday 10:15 p.m.

Damien remained silent while Thaddeus escorted him back to the dorms and all the way to the end of the walkway between sleeping cubicles, but as soon as they arrived at the far end of the room, the young man stepped forward and ripped back Sebastien’s curtain. As Sebastien bolted up in alarm, Damien blurted, “I told him about the kidnapping attempt and the stranger who saved you. I’m sorry, I just thought it would be better to have someone on your side to keep you safe.”

Thaddeus turned his head slowly to look down at Damien. He was quite sure that he had instructed Damien to keep his mouth shut about their conversation until Thaddeus had a chance to talk with Sebastien.

Damien pressed his lips together until they turned white, but did not remove his gaze from Sebastien, who looked between the two of them, his confusion rapidly morphing into suspicion and anxiety.

Thaddeus sighed. “I would like to talk with you, Mr. Siverling. Accompany me to...my cabin.” He would normally use his office for something like this, but the unconventional setting might remind his apprentice that Thaddeus had helped him with other problems, such as his sub-par Conduit, and suggest that Thaddeus was playing a non-official role and could be trusted.

Sebastien picked up his school satchel, then reached inside and pulled out a small disk. With a twist, it glowed to life, showing a thirteen-pointed star design that he pointed at the ground to provide light for their walk. Sebastien gave Damien a pointed, probing look. “Are you coming?”

“He is not,” Thaddeus said.

Damien pressed his lips even tighter together, opened his eyes wide, and shook his head deliberately, as if he was the one in charge of the decision, and could have tagged along against Thaddeus’s will.

Sebastien turned his attention to Thaddeus and adjusted the satchel’s strap on his shoulder. “I’m ready, Professor.”

By the time they left, Sebastien had suppressed all signs of nervousness, and they walked to Thaddeus’s cabin in silence, almost as if they were sharing a tranquil evening stroll. Thaddeus noted that, when it suited him, Sebastien could display remarkable self-control. This was a young man who could keep secrets. Traumatic childhoods often resulted in such a skill. Thaddeus once again mused on the fact that his apprentice was remarkably like a younger version of himself.

When they reached his cabin, Thaddeus waved the Sebastien in.

The boy looked around the small interior and then, without asking, moved to sit at one of the two chairs at the small kitchen table. He kept his satchel on his lap, as if clutching onto a shield.

Thaddeus followed him into the kitchen and pulled the component circlet out. Though it might seem like catching lies in secret would be more effective, it was often more effective to let someone know that they would not only be caught in a lie, but that even small clues could give them away. Something about the increased pressure made them more likely to make mistakes.

But as Thaddeus explained what he was free-casting, the edges of Sebastien’s lips barely tightened. His apprentice’s breathing remained deliberately even, his hands hidden beneath the edge of the table, and his gaze steady.

Thaddeus felt the resistance of the Raven Queen’s boon and shattered straight through it, noting Sebastien’s flinch. Depending on how the magic had been placed on Sebastien, Thaddeus knew it was possible she might be alerted to its activation and failure, but he did not care. “The Raven Queen can dual-cast,” Thaddeus said casually. “Did you know this?”

To Sebastien’s credit, rather than try to seem oblivious or come up with some tissue-thin lie, he remained quiet. Even now, the physical signs of his distress were extremely muted compared to what Damien had shown in the same position.

“I ask,” Thaddeus continued, “because I recall how surprised you were that dual-casting—splitting one’s Will in two different directions—was not something that everyone could do.”

Sebastien’s posture was painfully straight, his chin raised high, but the divination spell allowed Thaddeus to notice the otherwise unnoticeable twitch in Sebastien’s nostrils.

“I recently had the opportunity to examine the Raven Queen’s anti-divination magic. Curiously, it seems to be the exact same magic that powers the boon she bestowed upon you. Was the day Newton Moore died the first time you met her?”

At this, Sebastien seemed genuinely confused, his eyes flicking around as if searching in different parts of both his memory and imagination for answers, but finding none. Again, he did not respond.

Thaddeus had expected a stronger reaction, but kept his own composure. “If necessary, I can force you to speak.”

“I don’t know how to answer your question,” Sebastien said. Strangely, this seemed to be mostly the truth.

“Because you do not know how best to lie about it?”

Sebastien’s eyelids drooped by a millimeter, turning his alert expression into one of calm laced with subtle defiance, despite the pulse beginning to pound in his neck. When challenged, his apprentice consistently responded with aggression, even when it would be eminently more wise to remain meek.

Thaddeus repressed his instinctive urge to speculate. Answers would come soon enough. “Do you know what binding magic is?” He could see that Sebastien did. “Then you must understand that it cannot be used without some form of consent, purposeful or accidental, from both parties. And yet you reported to the coppers and the Red Guard that this bizarre magic somehow attached itself to you without your knowledge.”

Strangely, Sebastien seemed to start calming down again. Had Thaddeus mis-deduced something? Perhaps Sebastien really had no memory of the agreement. Or the boy simply believed that Thaddeus knowing the truth held no real danger for him.

He would try another test, then. “The Raven Queen recently got into an altercation with the Red Guard, during which she used the array-device you came up with. Which, I might ad, has not been patented or approved for general sale yet.”

Sebastien appeared entirely unperturbed. Which was a clue. Even if Sebastien knew that the Raven Queen had a prototype of his design, surely the knowledge that she had used it, and against the Red Guard at that, should have been surprising. “But you knew that already,” Thaddeus said flatly.

Sebastien’s eyelids fluttered and a muscle in his throat pulsed as he stopped himself from swallowing nervously.

Perhaps a slight switch in tactics was in order. Thaddeus leaned back, settling himself more comfortably into the kitchen chair, and gave Sebastien a slight smile.

Sebastien flinched.

“Are you familiar with the limits on Will-growth?” Thaddeus asked.

Sebastien blinked twice, then opened his mouth as if to ask an involuntary question, but closed it again before any sound could come out.

“It is well-known that the Will grows faster in those who are already powerful. What the general public might not be aware of is that there is a formula one can use to calculate the maximum rate of growth based on a person’s current Henrik-Wilson capacity. Your records indicate that you have considerably exceeded this growth limit, even if you were to spend the maximum safe amount of time casting since the first term. Explain this.”

“I...didn’t actually hit my maximum on that first test.”

Thaddeus stared at his apprentice. “And?”

Sebastien’s eyes grew slightly glassy. “I like this life. I don’t want to lose it. I want to keep going to classes, spending time with my friends, and learning from you.”

Thaddeus wanted to vomit. It had been a very long time since his body responded so viscerally to his emotions. He had thought such weakness mastered, or at least turned toward sudden and devastating violence rather than the shameful betrayal of his mortal flesh.

He bared his teeth with frustration. “I cannot help you if you will not speak to me. Do you think me so useless, that I cannot deal with your secrets? Whatever problems you may have, I assure you they are trifling in comparison to my abilities.”

Sebastien sighed softly, the gentle fall of his chest and the flutter of a strand of hair that had fallen into his face the only indication of his feelings.

Thaddeus rubbed his chin. “You do not trust me,” he realized. He did not know why this was so surprising. Would Thaddeus have acted any differently, in the boy’s position?

However, usually, his own responses were not a good metric to judge others by. Thaddeus was quite singular. He suppressed the urge to ask Sebastien what his nightmares were about. He knew the boy would either refuse to speak, or he would lie.

But even without Sebastien’s cooperation, Thaddeus had his own theories. Why would the Raven Queen place such emphasis on the boy? He had considered that they might be related, and Sebastien the product of some dalliance of her father’s. Only, neither of them looked anything like Ennis Naught, and except for the eyes, nothing like each other, either. Eyes which Ennis did not share. If they were related, it would have had to be through someone else.

This had led him to consider what value Sebastien might provide someone like the Raven Queen. What could be worth the things that she had given and done for him? When Thaddeus had asked that question, several clues he had initially not even recognized as strange lit up like a beacon in his memories. Thaddeus stood. “Follow me.”

Sebastien hurried to catch up as Thaddeus left his cabin and walked in a straight line toward the library, ignoring the winding cobblestone paths to cut across the grounds.

The library was closed, but Thaddeus’s faculty token gave him access to the building, and then to the restricted archives beneath.

Their footsteps echoed in the empty tunnels, but Sebastien’s anxious, heavy breaths remained audible.

Thaddeus took Sebastien deep into the white cliffs, to the place he and Kiernan had prepared for the Raven Queen to help them with Myrddin’s journals. It was a small room, which had made it easier to ward to the gills. It was both a physical and mental struggle to get past the doorway, and would be again to leave through it.

The room was a perfect bubble, sealed in seamless iron, with air-refreshing artifacts at the corners of the ceiling. Neither Kiernan nor Thaddeus were ward-masters, but one of the other members of the Architects had helped with the design, and they were competent enough to implement it.

The ward used a spell array layered with both a tetragram and nonagram, for stability against authority and the creation of a conceptually separated space. A smaller circle of ever-burning dark red flame surrounded a pedestal of pure salt, atop which lay the three books.

Sebastien’s breath was coming even faster.

“Come in,” Thaddeus said, making the necessary offer to allow the boy past the threshold.

Sebastien’s gaze was glued to the books.

Thaddeus took Sebastien by the arm, guiding him forward. They stopped in front of the pedestal. Thaddeus slid his hand down to Sebastien’s wrist, then pressed Sebastien’s fingers to the bottom edge of the central book’s leather cover.

Sebastien’s breath hitched.

Silently, Thaddeus guided his Will to match the meaning of the changing glyphs on the front. Soon enough, they split into two.

Thaddeus’s spine tingled at the confirmation of what he had considered, at first, a rather unrealistic theory. He was not sure if he was satisfied or disappointed to be correct about this, in particular.

He dropped Sebastien’s wrist. “These are Myrddin’s journals. You may remember that I mentioned they have an identity lock. We developed a way to spoof a positive response. However, I have not used that method tonight. Which means that the books recognize your identity and authority over them.”

Sebastien stumbled back, passing the inner Circle of red flame. It illuminated his features from below, giving his dark eyes an eerie tint. He looked to Thaddeus, his bewilderment clear.

Thaddeus clasped his hands behind his back. “This evidence suggests an extraordinary conclusion. It is possible that you are a direct, if distant, descendent of Myrddin. I would also suggest that the Raven Queen knew of this, and it is why she approached you, and why she was willing to give you aid on multiple occasions.”

Sebastien swallowed. “Ahh...”

“Has she been using you to help open the journal in her possession?”

Sebastien’s eyes widened, then narrowed. After a few long seconds, he gave the tiniest of nods, so minimal that Thaddeus might have missed it if he were not paying avid attention.

Thaddeus kept silent the fact that he was not entirely sure Sebastien’s bloodline was natural, as Thaddeus even now knew nothing about the boy’s parentage. Sebastien could still have been a more deliberate product. Thaddeus’s mind ran wild for a moment with outlandish speculation—how would someone have been able to match Myrddin’s bloodline? Did they have a sample from the man? Or, perhaps, they had tried to create a Myrddin imitation in a completely different way. It was even possible that it was a combination of both—Myrddin’s bloodline discovered and experimented on. Thaddeus forcibly reined himself in. He had no evidence, and the reality could be something entirely different and more mundane.“Do you know anything of Siobhan Naught’s bloodline?”

Sebastien shrugged, his fingers bone-white around the strap of his satchel. “The same things as everyone else, I think.”

“I had considered that she might be a descendent of one of the experiments carried out by the Third Empire. Or that the People were hiding an advantage thought long-lost. Did you know that you and Siobhan Naught have almost exactly the same eye color?”

Sebastien stared back at Thaddeus like a deer caught in the light of a high-powered search-lamp.

“On her, it looks natural, but on you, it is quite unusual. Almost as if it were an unnaturally dominant genetic trait.”

“You think Siobhan Naught might...also...be distantly related to Myrddin?” Sebastien asked, his voice high-pitched with disbelief.

“Who knows? She has one of his extraordinary abilities. That is not enough evidence to say for sure. But it is some moderate evidence that she was chosen for a reason.” Thaddeus scratched his beard as a wild hypothesis jumped to mind. What if the Raven Queen identity was lying dormant within Siobhan Naught all along, and merely released with proximity to the book? He set this idea aside, because it would require her to either be basically immortal, but have no memory of her past, or for Myrddin to have figured out how to pass memories extensive enough to contain an entire personality down to descendants. It was too outlandish.

“Will you tell anyone?”

Thaddeus returned his thoughts to the present, raising his eyebrows derisively. “Of course not. Did you think my assertions of your safety were merely lip-service? Or that I would be so enamored by the idea of a descendent of Myrddin that I would lose my mind?” He snorted. “I am interested in seeing if you can develop the ability to split your Will, however. But do not go trying such a thing until I have given the matter more thought. We have no way to assess if it would be safe. And...”

Thaddeus sighed. “You judged correctly that you should never tell another of this matter. Not everyone is as rational as I, and those who are may still be swayed by greed.”