Alice Marévil lived in the west tower, in a small room that smelled of lavender and old parchment. The walls were covered with diagrams, charcoal drawings of magic circles, notes on mana density at different altitudes. A tall window let in the afternoon light, resting on a wooden table where three scrolls lay, rolled, sealed with blue wax.
"Sit down, Zirinos," she said, pointing to the bench by the window. "I don't bite."
I sat down. Mira stayed in the corridor, playing with a wooden top one of the servants had given her. The door remained ajar; the spinning of the top and the girl's muffled laugh could be heard.
"Do you know why I called you?" asked Alice, sitting in the opposite chair.
"To teach me the spells you promised."
"That." She picked up the first scroll. "But also to tell you something. The three sea villages are my homeland. I was born there. My father is the governor."
"I know."
"You know, but you don't know what that means." She unrolled the scroll. "The villages are dangerous. Not because of monsters, not because of the Contraranures. Because of people. The guilds fight among themselves. Merchants poison other merchants' food. And my father… my father is a good man. But the good die first."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you'll need allies. And in the sea guild, allies are bought. Not earned."
"I have no money."
"You have gold. From the dungeon." She raised her eyes from the scroll. "I used part of it to buy these scrolls. The rest is yours. Spend it wisely."
She picked up the first scroll and handed it to me.
"It's called Clairvoyance. One hundred and fifty mana units. It's a simple spell, theoretically. In practice, it's one of the hardest to master."
"Why?"
"Because it tires the eyes. Use it once, your vision will be strained. Use it twice, you risk temporary blindness. Use it three times…"
"I go blind."
"You go blind." She nodded. "What you see with Clairvoyance is the adversary's muscle layer. And the spiritual layer as well. You can see where the body is weak, where the mind is wounded. You can see farther than any human eye."
"And what else?"
"You can see lies. Not all lies. Only those engraved in the liar's body. The sweat, the tension, the heartbeat. Clairvoyance shows you that. If the adversary is a demon…"
"If it's a demon?"
"It shows you the corruption. And that can blind you permanently."
I put the scroll in my backpack.
"The second?"
Alice unrolled the next scroll.
"It's called Space Cut. Three hundred mana units. It's a dangerous spell."
"Dangerous how?"
"It cuts. It doesn't matter what. A wall, a leg, a memory. If you cut a psychological or spiritual bond, and you yourself have that bond, you get cut too." She looked at me. "For example, if you cut someone's fear, and you yourself are afraid, you lose your fear too. You won't know what you lost until you've lost it."
"And if I cut a chosen one's bond with their god?"
"You lose a hundred mana units. And the spell fails. You can't cut what is divine. No one can."
"And the physical cut?"
"The adversary suffers one fifth of what you suffer. If you cut him, you get one fifth of the wound. If you kill him…"
"I die one fifth?"
"You die one fifth." Her voice was grave. "That's why you should only use Space Cut if you are absolutely certain of what you're doing."
"And you are certain I should learn this?"
"No. But you need it. Trussum won't wait for you to learn pretty spells."
I put the second scroll in my backpack. It felt heavier.
"The third?"
Alice sighed. She unrolled the last scroll with trembling fingers.
"Iridium‑maleriud. Two hundred mana units for the first part. Five hundred for the second."
"And what does it do?"
"It swaps two beings for a short time. Or separates the soul from the body."
"That doesn't sound dangerous."
"The first part isn't. The second…" She fell silent. "The second part makes the adversary immobile until the soul returns. But the user relives bad memories. All the bad memories. At the same time."
"And if the user's mind is not focused enough?"
"It loses its own soul."
Silence filled the room. Mira's top, outside, stopped spinning.
"Zirinos," said Alice, "don't use the second part. Never. Even if you're losing. Even if you think there's no alternative. Don't use it."
"Why are you teaching me, then?"
"Because you need to know it exists. And because I trust you not to use it."
I put the third scroll in my backpack. It was full.
"Thank you, professor."
"You don't need to thank me. You need to come back."
---
The next day, before leaving, I returned to the west tower.
Alice stood by the window, looking at the sea. Her grey hair loose, her blue tunic unbuttoned.
"Can't you sleep?" she asked without turning.
"No."
"Neither can I." She touched the glass. "My father, the governor of the villages… I haven't seen him for two years. I sent him letters. He answered two. He says everything is fine. But I know it's not."
"Why?"
"Because the letters arrive clean. No dust. No creases. Someone opens them before he reads them. Or before he writes them."
"Who?"
"The Contraranures. Or the guild. Or both." She turned. "If you see my father, tell him Alice misses him. And that he doesn't need to pretend."
"I will."
I shook her hand. She shook back.
"Be careful with Clairvoyance. And with Space Cut. And with Iridium."
"I will."
"And be careful with beautiful people. In the villages, beautiful people are the most dangerous."
I looked at her. Grey hair, green eyes, tired smile.
"You are beautiful too," I said.
"I am old. Old age is not dangerous. It is just sad."
I left the tower. Mira was waiting for me in the courtyard, backpack on her shoulders, sword at her waist.
"Are we going?" she asked.
"We are."
The king's road stretched before us.