Chương 21: This was not how interrogations began

Cakil studied Veist the way he studied soil profiles. After another moment, he said, "Veist, is it? Didn't you study under High Exemplar Kann for a while?" She replied, "Yes, Professor. In my second year." Hold on. Is Cakil talking about Konan Kann? Konan was the Head of the Geological Wing. That was the highest formal recognition in substratal practice short of Archmagus distinction. If so, Veist had to know Stone Thaumaturgy. He had never seen her attempt it, however. She was emphatically Water.

Precision-channeling Water. She could turn condensation into blade-thin crescents and raise water from the air itself, drawing it into layered shields that curved around her like overlapping panes of glass. She was a very good defensive thaumaturge. But never stone.

"You've come with Kestovar?" Cakil asked.

"Well… not exactly," she said.

"I only meant… I don't wish to interrupt. I'll let Kestovar make his request first." Cakil looked faintly amused now.

"This is not a private meeting," he said.

"If you're both here for academic reasons, you're both welcome to come along." Veliane glanced at Fabrisse. He did not react. He could not, really. His thoughts were still trying to reconcile Water and Stone and High Exemplar seminars and why she was here at all. Externally, he suspected he looked blank.

"… If I am not too much of a bother," she said at last. Cakil waved his hand.

"The soil does not recognize the concept of bother. Come." He turned and resumed climbing the terrace path without waiting for further negotiation. Fabrisse followed. Veliane fell into step a measured distance behind. After a few steps, Cakil spoke again, "Now," he said, without turning, "back to this unprecedented phenomenon. Fabrisse, you were asking to learn an Earth spell. Which one was it you wished to pursue?" He thought of a spell that would let him read density gradients and stress distribution.

He could find out the difference between compacted clay and loam without having to physically dig up the dirt.

"I would like to learn Substrate Harmonic Sense, Professor."

"Substrate Harmonic Sense," Cakil repeated. Fabrisse resisted the urge to over-explain.

"It appears to be a prerequisite for multiple higher-order substratal branches."

"Good. You're finally taking terrain analysis seriously." Cakil continued up the terraces until the cultivated beds gave way to a less orderly section of the grounds. The neat rows of herb plots dissolved into exposed roots and raw cuts where soil had been deliberately carved away. Several long trenches ran parallel along the slope, each at a different depth. Some walls were smooth and recently cut; others had partially collapsed, their layers slumped and mingled.

It looked less like a teaching garden and more like a testing ground. He stepped down into the nearest trench with ease and said without looking back, "Down." Fabrisse climbed in after him. The air was cooler below the surface, carrying the mineral scent of damp clay and disturbed loam. Veliane remained above for a moment before stepping down more carefully. Cakil brushed a hand across the exposed wall of the trench.

"Substrate Harmonic Sense, hmm. Do you recall the first time I mentioned it to you?" Fabrisse nodded after a full second of silence.

"And what did I tell you then?" Cakil asked.

"You told me that my control lacked contextual awareness."

"I told you that you were trying to manipulate material you did not understand. You attempted the introductory resonance exercise once, failed to differentiate compacted subsoil from root-dense loam, and declared the sensation 'too diffuse.'" Diffuse. That had been the word, yes.

"I assumed you would return after practicing," Cakil said.

"You did not." He let the silence stretch just long enough for Fabrisse to feel uncomfortable before saying, "This discipline does not reward avoidance." He walked further down the trench and stopped where the walls became more irregular. He stopped. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Stand there," he told Fabrisse, indicating a clear patch of exposed wall. Then he turned his head.

"Miss Veist."

"Yes, Professor?"

"Would you demonstrate Substrate Harmonic Sense and enlighten Mr. Kestovar on the composition of the earth before him?"

"Me?" Veliane asked.

"Yes," Cakil replied.

"You are an earth thaumaturgy practitioner, are you not?" A small pause.

"Yes, Professor." Fabrisse hadn't known this, either. Also, Cakil had started sounding non-theatrical now. That could never be a good sign. She stepped forward into the trench's open space, taking up a stable stance. For a Water specialist, she adjusted to uneven ground rather quickly. She raised her hands. The sequence was efficient. Her fingers traced small angular patterns through the air, then she chanted a mnemonic,"Stratum above, stratum below. Bound by weight, parted by flow.

Where earth answers, there we know." Aether manifested as a clean white glow around her hands. White meant neutral—she hadn't put any emotion into it. The spell itself was high-ranked, though, at the very least, judging from its excessively poetic mnemonic. Then again, advanced spellcasters had a habit of rewriting perfectly functional mnemonics into increasingly ornate versions. Most were probably just indulging themselves. The glow dimmed as her palms lowered toward the exposed soil wall without touching it.

She spoke, "The top layer's been turned recently. It's loose. There's a lot of organic matter mixed through it. There's a harder band running across, underneath. And here—" she gestured to the right without opening her eyes, "there's resistance that isn't mineral. A root mass. Deeper than the fine ones above. It spreads out before dropping." After a pause, she added, "I can't tell the exact composition. For that, you'd need a higher-precision diagnostic spell.

Something tuned for particulate analysis, not just harmonic response." She withdrew her hand and opened her eyes. Cakil inclined his head.

"Would you be willing to repeat the spell so that Mr. Kestovar may attempt replication?"

"Yes, Professor." Cakil turned to Fabrisse.

"Can you attempt replication?" Fabrisse fumbled, "I could… try." Veliane repeated the motion before stepping aside. Fabrisse stepped forward into the space Veliane had vacated. He knew the steps. He knew them. The mnemonic came easily. His memory had never been the issue.

"Stratum above, stratum below." The Rank I version only needed this much. Now, what was left was aether. It has to come. He had affinity with Earth. That much had been measured. Aether was not optional. He could not be empty. He finished the sequence. Nothing happened, as per usual. He had conjured no aether. Then Eidralith appeared in front of him again: [Stratal Harmonic Sense: Progress to Understanding — 3%] Three percent? He had failed. Hadn't he?

[SYSTEM NOTE: Learning rate modifiers prioritized as follows:] Inner Resonance Elemental Affinity Intuition Cakil's voice rang,"What do you perceive?" Fabrisse did not lower his hands.

"… Noise," he admitted.

"Explain."

"It isn't… well, it isn't blank," Fabrisse slowly explained.

"It's layered. I can't separate it cleanly. But I can feel… variance. There's pressure differences… or something." Cakil watched him for a long moment.

"Last time, you felt nothing. This is progress. Uncomfortable progress, perhaps. But progress nonetheless." He stepped closer to the exposed wall, resting his hand lightly against the soil.

"Magic is not exempt from discipline. It behaves no differently than any other field of study. As I've told you countless time: repetition refines perception. Some will require fewer repetitions. Some more. That is immaterial. With sufficient repetition of correct technique, competence emerges." He turned to Veliane.

"Miss Veist's technique is sound. I suggest that you repeat the exercise under supervision, until the signal ceases to feel diffuse. Miss Veist, would you mind assisting Mr. Kestovar for a time? Miss Veist appears to have followed you all the way to my garden. I trust the matter is either academically important or exceptionally inefficient. Either way, you may continue the discussion here."

"Yes, Professor."

"I will leave you to it," he said. Then he did. He walked toward the incline and simply disappeared from view. So it was true. Veliane was trying to speak to him. Veliane moved again in his peripheral vision. She just resumed casting the spell without saying anything. He should have been watching. Instead, his thoughts spiraled elsewhere. She was here. It had to have been because of Eidralith. She's analyzing me. That was the only explanation that fit. She'd never initiated a conversation with him before. Why now?

The timing couldn't have been more precise. Without preamble, Veliane asked, "Kestovar… do you like mingleberry?"

"… What?"

"Mingleberry," she repeated.

"The small red kind. They bruise easily." He stared at her. This was not how interrogations began.