Chapter 16: The Statuary
FALL TERM - November 2nd
Marblebrook was correct about the scrying glass. It's addicting. I limited it to just glimpsing moments from home, and even that was too much. I saw my mother having afternoon tea with Lady Salazar, my father's eyes slowly drifting shut as Lord Hart talks on about something inane, Ianthe throwing a tantrum - I looked away before more blood was spilled. One thing I hadn't realized with the scrying glass was just how hard it would be to see if anything was amiss. I was getting fragments, at random, and mostly of nothing significant. Though it was comforting all the same.
I hadn't seen my mother in months. She looked the same as always. Dignified. Her gray scales gleamed even under the low light of Caburh's ever-dark skies. She wore new headscarves, new gowns, but otherwise she was the woman I remembered, no less. I watched her practice her lyre on the terrace some evenings, imagining the sound of the instrument from memory. It was easy to miss her and harder to admit it.
Outside of the scrying glass, the term has carried on. Exams are a week away. I'd promised myself I'd study a little more for the individual classes, but since finding the other beginner's grimoire in the Sanctum, I've had a hard time choosing to read pretty much anything else.
The first spell I tried from it, ruin, made one side of the courtyard fountain weather away to dust. Okay, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but it did actually make all the faces of the figures carved into the stone melt away in an instant. I hadn't even been aiming at the fountain. I hadn't been aiming at anything. But the sheer force of the spell once cast sought a target. I loved it immediately.
Imagine it: the feeling of that much power waiting at your fingertips. I really am going to need to learn a good repair spell before trying it again. I don't know how many shredded tapestries the faculty will be willing to excuse if I don't.
But this grimoire has other spells too. There was one that enabled the caster to see spirits of departed souls. I practiced it on a whim and for the hour that followed, I could see ghosts. The Court, it turns out, is absolutely riddled with them. I couldn't walk to a lecture without being met by a dozen hollow-eyed stares from beyond the grave. Won't be doing that again any time soon.
Then another, deathless familiar. This one I'd had Aisling help me with, with the promise that if it worked, we'd summon a familiar for her next. We rearranged the furniture in the little sitting room of my suite and prepared the room for ritual. It was an elaborate ritual casting that lasted close to twenty minutes. While that may not sound long, it's a very long time to cast. By the end of it, I was exhausted, but I'd felt the presence of magic and Aisling, who'd watched, said, "Yeah, you definitely did something." But then, nothing happened.
No familiar rose from the summoning circle. "I definitely put out a call, but I guess there's no guarantee there'll be any response," I said.
Aisling shrugged. "We're doing mine next," she reminded me. I could walk her through the casting. It wasn't that it was so hard, only long and draining. At least this time around I wasn't casting it myself. Nothing showed for her either.
The other spells though were not duds. I'd practiced a few that I had confidence would work, but as for what they actually do it's hard to know exactly until you see them in action. They were marked, by some past coven member, as good for dueling and the description made me think they were worth trying. I found with each new spell a loud burst of power, it was like discovering ruin all over again. This was magic as I liked it best, strong, dangerous, and effective.