There was nothing that resembled the ornate, comfortable furnishings of Hephistole’s study. The seat Gaspi sat on for his mentoring sessions had the thinnest of cushions, and always left his buttocks numb. He would have complained if Voltan had anything more luxurious for himself, but his mentor’s chair looked even less comfortable. Gaspi supposed the room suited its occupant, and certainly it was the study of a warrior Mage. The tapestries were all of battle scenes, the carefully selected books stacked neatly on heavy-looking shelves were all related in some way to martial magic, and there were even a couple of ancient weapons suspended from the wall behind Voltan’s squat, square desk.
“Where are the cages, sir?” Gaspi asked.
“Not here,” Voltan answered, before standing up and walking to the door. “They’re up in Hephistole’s study. I’ll take you to them,” he said, swinging the door open.
Gaspi swiftly gathered his things, and followed his mentor. Voltan’s office was on the third floor of the large tower in the centre of the campus. To get to Hephistole’s study they could use the transporter on their floor, which was only paces from the door to Voltan’s study. They transported up to the observatory, as Hephistole named his own study, and Voltan began to lead Gaspi round the long curve of the tower’s bulbous top floor. Gaspi had been to the Chancellor’s study several times now, but he’d never gone further than the part immediately by the transporter, where Hephistole had his long, bean-shaped desk, and several comfortable chairs for visitors.
Jonn had once described the rest of the office to him, with its sinuous walls falling back into seven deep recesses filled with all kinds of interesting sounding things. Jonn had also spoken of the hole at the other end of the office that he’d “flown” down from with Hephistole after his first and only visit to the Chancellor’s office. Gaspi was hoping Voltan would let him go out that way instead of using the transporter. He was craning his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay around the broad curve of the office - but, disappointingly, Voltan stopped him at only the second recess.
The wall swept back into a wide recess lined from floor to ceiling with shelves, each housing several cages. The cages were all of a similar size, large enough to contain a small dog perhaps, and most of them were covered in a red velvet cloth. The few that weren’t were stacked on the left side of the recess, and they were charred and sullied enough that they looked as if there’d been a small bonfire held in each of them.
“What’s in the other cages, sir?” Gaspi asked.
“Take a look,” Voltan answered. Gaspi had expected Voltan to refuse to tell him, and he looked back at his mentor a couple of times before going to the nearest covered cage. Suddenly nervous, he slowly lifted the edge of the red cloth, peering under his hand as he did so. He could see what looked like a knobbly little knee poking out towards him. Curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled the cloth off in one quick motion, revealing an ugly little creature, its distended pigeon chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.
“Is it a dJin?” Gaspi asked, taking an involuntary step back from the cage. He couldn’t see much of its face; but the heavy claws on the end of its hands and feet and the grey skin, pulled so tight it looked like it was about to burst, were exactly as he remembered from Professor Worrick’s first lesson.
“Yes, Gaspi, it is,” Voltan said. “You don’t need to worry, though. The cages are enchanted to keep them asleep, which gives us a chance to study them.”
Gaspi took a step nearer the dJin again, peering closely at the vicious little demon. He remembered the sheer hatred and violence that the first dJin he’d seen had displayed, and shuddered. Why would anyone want to keep one of these, even to study them? And then he remembered what Professor Worrick had said; it was illegal to summon a demon. “How did they get here, sir?” Gaspi asked, not confident Voltan would tell him the answer.
Voltan paused, his mouth twisted, as if reluctant to speak. “Hephistole seems to want you to know things that other students do not, so I will answer you question - but only if you promise to keep this to yourself.”
“I promise,” Gaspi said, without hesitation.
“That means Emea, too,” Voltan said firmly.
“Okay,” Gaspi said, eager for the answer.
Voltan still didn’t look particularly keen to speak, but he started nonetheless.
“There used to be a teacher here at the college who became secretly obsessed with things that are best left alone; one of which was Demonology.” Voltan’s serious tones brought the dark subject matter of the story to life, capturing Gaspi’s imagination completely. “Unbeknown to the other teachers, this magician explored deeply into mysteries that are better left unearthed, seeking ways to control other beings. Learning how to summon and control demons was an inevitability for someone of his proclivities.” Gaspi didn’t know what proclivities were, but they didn’t sound like good things.
“He was caught eventually, and fled the college and the country,” Voltan continued. “We found these demons in his basement, kept in these enchanted cages, along with a lot of other strange and dark things.”
“What things?” Gaspi asked.
“Things you don’t need to know about,” Voltan said sternly. “Hephistole asked me to tell you about the demons, but beyond that I draw the line.”
Gaspi wasn’t put off by Voltan’s answer. He could still ask about the demons. “So, why keep them?” he asked.
“A question many have asked,” Voltan answered thoughtfully. “Some people think we should destroy them all, but Hephistole wants us to learn as much as we can from them before that happens.”
“But isn’t that…cruel?” Gaspi asked.
“That’s certainly a good question to ask,” Voltan said approvingly. “Hephistole would happily talk with you all night about that, but I’m not really a philosopher and I can only give you my view. They are pure evil. There is nothing redeemable about them. They cannot be rehabilitated or feel sorry for their actions. They are quite simply the enemy, and if studying them - even causing them pain - gives us an advantage in the long run, then we must do it.”
Gaspi didn’t know how to feel about that. Certainly Emmy wouldn’t like it. She would probably see a dJin as a naughty dog or something.
“You’re probably wondering what happened to the dJin kept in these few cages,” Voltan said, interrupting his thoughts and indicating the charred cages Gaspi had seen on first entering the recess. Voltan didn’t wait for a response from Gaspi before continuing. “Hephistole has recently wanted us to study more of how to fight and defeat these creatures, and so we have woken a few of them up, and eventually killed them.”
Gaspi looked at the filthy, burned cages in distaste. “Aren’t the cages broken now?” he asked. “They look pretty beaten.”
Voltan let out a single bark of a laugh. “Nice try, Gaspi. These cages hold a powerful enchantment, and are too precious to throw away. We could mimic the enchantment and make new ones, of course, but it would take much more time and effort than we wish to expend. I think you’ll find they’ll clean up just fine,” Voltan finished, indicating a bucket of steaming water and several scourers with a sweep of his arm. “Now, I must attend to other duties and will leave you to yours. I‘ll come and get you when it‘s time to finish.”
Voltan swept out of the room, leaving a disgruntled Gaspi in his wake. Gaspi took off his robe and pushed up his sleeves with a grimace, ready for what was going to be hours of unpleasant, dirty work.
Chapter 28
In the wake of Gaspi’s confrontation with Everand, the weeks rolled by in relative peace, a steady regime of ever-more-challenging classes keeping Gaspi’s head full of new learning. His spells became increasingly impressive as the block on his power continued to erode. He’d done as Hephistole had asked and been very controlled in martial magic; but in other classes, where no-one was on the receiving end of his spells, Gaspi hadn’t felt any need to hold back. In terms of pure power, he had started leaving the class behind in almost every lesson. Even if his skills were not very refined in some of them, the potency he brought to the table made his spells brutally effective most of the time. Gaspi remembered what he’d promised Hephistole, and didn’t stir things up with Everand, but he’d have been lying if he claimed he didn’t feel smugly satisfied when his spells outshone Everand’s and the large boy tried to hide his impotent frustration. Gaspi thought that by not bragging about it he was in a way making it even harder for Everand to keep his cool, but at the same time it pleased Emea, so he won on both fronts. He didn’t want to start another fight with Everand, but he certainly didn’t mind seeing the overblown idiot eat some humble pie.
One morning, the class met in the courtyard for martial magic, and Voltan surprised them all by leading them into the classroom. Martial magic had been in the courtyard since the very first lessons, when they’d moved on from the force shield and started learning more sophisticated kinds of new forms of attack. They filed into the classroom and took their seats, wondering what the warrior Mage had in store for them today.
Voltan faced the class. “You’ve all done a fair job of learning new strikes, so I decided it’s time to see how you’ve improved against the force shield.”
Several students groaned, but quickly shut up under Voltan’s flat stare. “Why the groans?” he asked, surprising Gaspi by indulging the class instead of just telling them what to do.
Temalia’s hand went up. “Yes, Temalia?” Voltan said.
“It’s just that we started with this, and it’s much easier than all the other strikes we’ve been learning,” the willowy girl said.
“Yes...it is easier,” Voltan answered. “And no doubt while you’ve been learning air strikes and earth shocks your strength and skill will have increased. With the exception of Gaspi, who can actually use the wind, you have to use force to summon and shape your air strike, or to send a shock into the ground. Force is just a summoning of magical power, untamed, untailored; and you will all do measurably better against the shield after all this practice. Matthius, we’ll start with you,” Voltan said, while lifting the ornate force shield out from behind his desk, and placing it on a table at the front of the room.
The small, curly-haired boy shrugged and walked to the back, turning to face the shield while summoning magical force into his palm. His strike swirled in his palm, an opaque ball of power ready to be cast at an enemy...or in this case, a practice shield. It certainly seemed to Gaspi that Matthius’ strike was a fair bit bigger than when he’d last seen him summon one. Matthius seemed to think so too, as he was staring at his strike with wide eyes, clearly pleased by what he was seeing.
“Cast it, don’t play with it,” Voltan said, and Matthius flushed, the strike almost flickering out as he lost concentration. He managed to hold onto his strike, and lifted his eyes to the shield. With a look of particular focus, he threw his hand out at the target, sending his ball of power spinning rapidly through the air. It hit the shield with a deep, dull detonation, and the shield coloured a deep orange as it absorbed the force.
“What colour did the shield turn last time you did this?” Voltan asked.
“It was a much lighter orange than that,” Matthius said, with a shy smile.
“Good work,” Voltan said. “I expect you will all see a similar improvement. Emea - you‘re next.”
Gaspi suspected that Voltan knew how much Emmy would be dreading her turn if left to wait for long, and was grateful for his consideration. His mentor was certainly stern, and you didn’t want to cross him, but he showed moments of sensitivity that made Gaspi remember that there was more to Voltan than just being a teacher or a warrior Mage.
Emea took her place at the back of the room, and closed her eyes. Despite all the progress she’d made, Emea’s weak spot was combative magic. She was so good at enchantment, and at healing of course, but anything that was just a raw show of strength still threw her off. To her credit though, she didn’t look half as nervous as Gaspi thought she would, and if anything she was just being really deliberate and trying to concentrate. When she opened her palm a ball of force began to grow there. It swelled to the size of an apple and kept going, slowing down and eventually stopping at about twice that size. Emea opened her eyes and looked down at her force strike, eyes narrowed in concentration. She lifted her eyes to look at the shield, extended her palm slowly until it was lined up with the target, and then flicked her wrist. It was an elegant, sudden movement that sent the strike spinning off her finger and flying at the target. At the moment of impact a detonation sounded that was every bit as deep as the one the shield had made for Matthius’ strike, and it turned an almost identical shade of orange.
Emea spun around to look at Gaspi in delight. Gaspi grinned and gave her a wink. The whole class knew how hard this was for her, and several of the girls broke into applause. Gaspi looked around in surprise. He knew that some of the girls were really nice and would probably have liked to be friends with Emmy and Lydia, but Everand had always kept them from crossing that unspoken divide; or, at least, in class. Emea and Lydia were Gaspi’s friends, and Gaspi was the enemy. Emmy had told him before that the girls were much nicer towards her in their dorm, but they’d never shown such public support before. For a moment, he thought that could mean there really was a thaw coming on, but one look at Everand’s stormy expression showed him otherwise. The only other thing it could mean was that Everand was losing his control over the class. Gaspi supposed it was inevitable after he’d been so humiliated by Gaspi in martial magic. He was no longer the most powerful magician in the class, and every lesson that passed was making that clearer, as Gaspi continually outperformed him.
The rest of the students were called up for their turns one by one, getting a better result out of the force shield than they had previously. Gaspi wondered if Voltan was saving up his turn for the end of the class, giving him a chance for a bit of dramatic victory. He glanced at Voltan, who briefly made eye contact with him, and Gaspi could have sworn he saw the ghost of a knowing smile. Another tick in the box for his mentor. And then, it was Everand’s turn.