Chương 5: Nonsensical babble? That’s Stone Thaumaturgy theory

That's Stone Thaumaturgy theory The Eidralith resembled an enormous pyrite reliquary carved from a single impossible crystal. Its interlocking cubic faces caught the sanctum light in muted brass, while certain edges split it into fleeting iridescent colors that reminded Fabrisse of bismuth.

It was one of those objects that inspired immediate confidence for no better reason than the fact that nobody had the slightest idea how it worked, and anyone claiming otherwise was generally invited to demonstrate from a safe distance.

According to everyone responsible for moving it, it was also extremely heavy. From the far end of the chamber, a door creaked open, and the attendant emerged sweating as he guided the floating Eidralith with both hands. Bound in writhing aether chains, it hovered a comfortable foot above the floor, which unfortunately did very little for its maneuverability. With considerable effort, it finally settled on an obsidian pedestal etched with lambent violet runes.

His heart thumped as he reached into his satchel and wrapped his fingers around the transformed Stupenstone. Does it actually want me to approach the Eidralith? There was only one sensible method of evaluating an absurd hypothesis. Test it. The instant his fingertips brushed the Stupenstone— Nearest Compatible Artifact: 24 strides Navigation Enabled The thin white line extended straight toward the Eidralith. By the Flames. No way. He jolted in surprise— —and his satchel tilted.

With a series of cheerful clunks and clinks, eleven more hideous, completely useless stones cascaded out and hit the polished sanctum floor like a pocket-sized rockslide. They stopped only when a particularly big stone nudged against the base of the dais… The Headmaster, Archmagus Murelien Draeth, looked down at the dozen Stupenstones littered across the sanctum.

"Kestovar. Do you imagine yourself amusing?" Fabrisse opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, "... not usually." A ripple of horrified disbelief spread through the assembled magi.

"It' s Kestovar."

"Again?"

"During the Grand Gathering?" This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

"I told you he' d bring rocks," another apprentice whispered.

"Hah. Rock Witch," some boy muttered, snorting. Fabrisse was pretty sure that boy was Cuman, his eternal bully.

"Silence," Mentor Rubin said without so much as looking at him. Cuman immediately lowered his head. The rest shut up promptly. Draeth stepped forward.

"You have failed more courses than any apprentice in recorded history. You can't conjure a spark without singeing your eyebrows. You once submitted a stanza instead of a methodology section. And yet... yet! You continue to squander what limited time and limited attention you possess on these... these geological droppings!" He jabbed his finger at the mauve-flecked stones.

"You parade your incompetence like a badge! You disrupt a sacred invocation to chase rubble!" No one looked surprised. Embarrassed, certainly. But this was hardly the first public spectacle Fabrisse had provided. H e muttered, "Permit me to speak, Archmagus. Technically it's sub-aetherically inert metamorphic residue with unclassified matrix potential—""Silence!" Draeth thundered. The winds that weren't there a moment ago came roaring.

The crimson color of rage coiled through the rafters and howled against the stained-glass moons above, rattling every banner on its pole. Fabrisse shielded himself with his robe. The gale came too loud for his liking. The Archmagus snarled, "Nonsensical babble! That is why the Origins have never blessed you with a trace of true gift! No reverence for magic! Because you have the soul of a hedge-rat and the priorities of a moth!" Nonsensical babble? That's Stone Thaumaturgy theory.

Fabrisse's mouth opened, but he had absolutely nothing to say. Lorvan stepped forward.

"Headmaster Draeth," he said, inclining his head.

"If I may—" The corner of Draeth's mouth twitched. He looked like he was waiting for this moment the entire time.

"You may not, unless it is to apologize for the catastrophic standard of apprentices you continue to advance." His voice went unnaturally flat, like someone speaking underwater. Lorvan's jaw clenched.

"I stand by every student I teach."

"And that, Mentor Lugano, is precisely the problem—" A hand touched Draeth's sleeve. Archmagus Rolen leaned in and whispered something into his ear. Draeth exhaled audibly.

"Quite right." He turned back to the congregation.

"This discussion is not concluded. Kestovar. Pick up your rocks. Do not cause any further disruption." He turned back toward the dais.

"Now... the Eidralith." He crouched to retrieve his shame, stone by stone. Each one was louder than it had any right to be. As if they weren't rocks, but proof. Proof of his failure, of stubbornness, of dreams so unmagical and mundane they couldn't even spark in his imagination. What's wrong with rocks? I can go into theoretical strata research if I know enough about rocks. He reached for the largest one when a second hand came into view. Lorvan bent beside him and began helping. They said nothing.

The air was too thick with the aftertaste of public humiliation. Conversation resumed only after Lorvan walked away, quietly enough that everyone pretended not to be talking about him. Fabrisse risked a glance.

"Thank you," he mouthed soundlessly.

"No one has laughed at you yet." That was the last thing Lorvan said to Fabrisse. He shoved the last of the stones into Fabrisse's satchel and walked away without a word. Fabrisse' s gaze found the foot of the dais. One Stupenstone remained where it had rolled. The glowing one, except it wasn' t glowing anymore. Why had it stopped glowing? The white line had pointed straight at the Eidralith. Something had happened.

He needed that stone back, preferably not while Archmagus Draeth was standing three strides away delivering a sacred ceremony. Five minutes. Maybe ten. Once everyone had found something else to glare at. Then he would get it.