Severa Book 1 (Chapter 4)

The last chapters are now labelled 2 & 3.

“Oh? Is that so?” Severa said. “Rare in what sense? That I happen to have it, or that you know something useful?” Her words lodged somewhere between incredulity and reluctant intrigue.

“Both,” Kestovar replied, without the faintest trace of irony. “It’s a glacial imprint quartz. It holds a resonance until the right thermal threshold releases it.”

He’s helping. Don’t be mean to him, Severa reminded herself. Why would a glacial quartz be found in a temperate region-locked dungeon, she wondered. Maybe it hadn’t naturally been in there.

“Does it actually have a name?” Severa asked.

“I don’t know. I know it’s a quartz, but this type is so rare I don’t know if anyone has classified it.”

“You supposedly spend all your time looking at quartz to not be able to name them,” Severa folded her arms and lifted her chin, then thought to herself whether that line qualified as mean-spirited. It wasn’t. She was just stating facts.

Kestovar’s brow creased—barely, but enough for her to notice. “I can still determine its refractive index, map its lattice irregularities, and test for residual aetheric saturation without knowing its formal designation,” he said. “Classification is just nomenclature.”

“Though I suppose you don’t have time,” Severa remarked.

Kestovar glanced toward the glass bottle at his side, the liquid inside catching what little light remained. He didn’t comment, but she caught the faint wince that passed over his expression, gone almost as soon as it appeared.

Severa followed his glance, filing it away. Maybe if I help him with whatever he’s struggling with, he’ll have time to spare on dissecting this quartz. He seemed interested in it, after all.

“Why are you even learning water thaumaturgy?” Severa asked, tipping her chin toward the bottle. “Isn’t the Fire Final Test next month?”

He hesitated. “Well . . .” His eyes dropped briefly. “I have a water bottle.”

She stared at him, unsure if he was being serious or if this was his way of making fun of her.

She said, “I know of this one spell that would not disappoint the examiners, if you’re willing to stop wasting your time thinking about water thaumaturgy and focus on something actually relevant.”

It was his turn to stare at him. He held the stare for several seconds before muttering, “What’s in it for you?”

“Ah. You are sharp today, Kestovar,” Severa said, allowing herself the faintest curl of a smile. “Of course, I’m offering for you to help me crack the stone’s hidden imprint. I could do it myself, naturally, but it’s far more efficient to let someone who already knows their . . .  thing handle it.”

Kestovar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You must know a few geologists who would surely know a thing or two,” he said.

She did. Or rather, she was supposed to. The ones she knew are really the ones her father knew—or the ones Headmaster Draeth knew. Involving either with a potential artifact was the sort of bad idea that tended to stay bad.

“I suppose I could extend the opportunity to you,” she said lightly, as though granting him permission to reach for the last tart on the tray. “Helping a fellow student does reflect well on my record. And if your work is thorough, I might even mention you to someone who is in need of this type of work.”

Kestovar didn’t reply. His gaze slid past her shoulder and seemed to lose focus entirely, as though he were staring at some mirage in the sky.

Severa tilted her head, trying to read his expression. Was he actually weighing the merits of her offer? Or had he simply retreated into whatever odd mental backroom he went to when thinking too hard about rocks and bottled water?

When Kestovar’s eyes finally met Severa, he said, “I’ll do it. But only if you meet my condition.”

“Oh?” Severa arched an eyebrow. “And what condition could possibly be worth your geological expertise?”

“You not only have to teach me a new spell,” he said evenly, “you also have to help me pass my Fire Thaumaturgy test.”

Her smile thinned. “Ah, but how could I possibly guarantee that?”

“Three things,” he said, rubbing his fingers together as though he was doing mental calculations. “One: you teach me at least one spell that’s high-value for the exam; something that makes them take notice. Two: you explain exactly what the examiners want to see, not just the syllabus version. And three: you run me through a practice duel and tell me where I’m going wrong.” His other hand tapped on his satchel for some reason.

“Ah.” Strategic thinking from Kestovar was something she hadn’t expected, though perhaps she should have. She’d hoped bonding with the Eidralith had finally knocked some sense into him, and he’d certainly acquired a glint of fire over the past couple of weeks. With his eyes sharp and locked on hers, there was a focus in him that was . . . charming, in its own way.

Too bad a charming face was worth about as much as a cold pebble.

She wondered what unpolished technique might surface from him under pressure, and if he’d give her anything she hadn’t seen. 

“Very well,” her lips curled into a smile. She pinched her fingers together, and a bead of fire bloomed there, then split into a spray of tiny, spinning firewheels. They whirred around her in leisure arcs, their sparks trailing like comet tails, before spiralling back her palm with a crackle and vanishing in a wisp of smoke. “We have a deal.”