My sweet Dust,
How have you been, darling? Keeping busy, I'm sure, preparing your first lectures, working with all the apprentices to help them settle in for the year. They'll be lucky to have a mentor in you. It doesn't seem so long ago that you were one, yourself.
I smiled to myself as I read mum's familiar script, tracing the elegant cursive. In the other hand I toyed with a dried sprig of mint, mum's calling card in every letter she sent, smelling just like her perfume. It really did feel like just months ago I was one of them – nervous and awkward and stumbling, so in awe of the new world they'd found. Her voice echoed even now, sending a bittersweet pang of loneliness through me. It was only because of her I was here, because she'd convinced my stepfather. Even now I kept her letter opener, the blade that had cut my hair and freed me those years ago.
But you've grown and learned so much and, from what you wrote, the Alchemy head was impressed with your research - no matter how little you thought of it. You shouldn't be so quick to dismiss your hard work, chérie. You've put years into this, and you'll need confidence now more than ever to be a leader, a guide.
Five years. I had to remind myself that – five years now I'd been here, first as an apprentice, writing essays and theories, researching and running errands, reading and attending lectures. Now, I'd be helping write them.
No more sweeping up fallen herbs or scrubbing out used alembics, no more writing essays with a stack of books at my side, desperate to please my superiors. At least, less so. I chuckled to myself, rolling my eyes and nudging away a few heavy tomes to make room for maman's letter. There'd still be some of that, surely. But I had more freedom, now – I could direct my own experiments, and Julienne had asked – asked! – for my help in the Lustratorium, not as an assistant but as an equal.
Where would I be now? The thought made me shiver in both fear of what could have been and gratitude it hadn't come to pass. If I'd been married off that night. If I'd never come here, never really got the chance to follow my calling. If I'd never met…
"Bolor." I realized it just a hair of a second too late as a hand landed on my shoulder, making me jump. An exasperated sigh but I couldn't help myself, grinning anyway at where I knew he must have stood. "An hour of alone time, is that really so much to ask?"
A shimmer and the illusion faded, Bolor pocketing his ring with a smirk. I'd been getting better at catching him, by now – noticing the tell-tale glint of light in the wrong place, or the soft swish of his robes as he crept in. It'd become a game between us, one of many as we teased and flirted. "I simply can't resist you that long, darling. You cut out of the celebration early."
"Well, I did celebrate, I just didn't stay. The courier came, and I've been expecting."
"From your mother?"
"Mhm." I fingered the parchment, inhaling the fresh, cool scent that so reminded me of her. "And I wanted to get back to work on my latest experiment."
"A watery drink of ale with the other graduates. Not much of a celebration, if you ask me." He muttered almost petulantly, grumble marred by the mischievous gleam in his eyes as he straightened and wound an arm around my shoulder, a kiss on my cheek. "I had something else in mind."
"That's all you have on your mind." I swatted him away with a snicker, shaking my head. "Which means you can help me with this while I finish up reading. Go draw me some water, would you?"
He surveyed the list I'd scrawled on a note beside maman's letter, brows raising high. "Redwort, monkshood root, strawberries –reworking the aphrodisiac, hm? How industrious of you."
"It is industrious! Julienne is looking for potions we can sell to raise funds for a few projects this year, and there's not much that sells better. If I can finally get it perfect, we'll be set. Besides…" I had to smile, looking over mum's letter. "I enjoy doing this."
"Oh?" Subtle want in his voice sent a little shiver through me. "And what about tonight?"
"Well." I giggled helplessly as he kissed beneath my ear, tickling. A moment of shivery thrill before I reached up in turn, grinning. "That will be enjoyable, too."
A purr. "I don't doubt it. I'll get some water up for your cauldron and leave you to it, then." I had to bite back a sigh as he pulled away, half wanting him to continue to tease and distract as he so often did. "You could try adding some imp gall, hm? Might help increase the, ah – interest it offers."
Not a bad idea, with a little sugar, some sodium carbonate to balance out the acidity. The Elf Cup had stamina covered, but as for arousal… "I'll do that." He left me to my reading again, finally letting out a low, slow breath and – shaking away the blush that had risen – picking up where I'd left off.
How is that handsome Dunmer of yours? Now that you'll have steadier work and you're a bit closer in rank, perhaps it's time to start considering the future a bit more, hm? I giggled to myself, imagining her little smirk, the low laugh she'd give in her throat. No arranged marriage this time, dear. Take it at your own pace. All that matters to me is that you are happy.
Anya sends her affection – at least, all she can spare with the boys. Another muffled laugh. Poor Anya – two pregnancies, three boys, all spoken of in her own letters with exasperation and adoration. I know things have been hectic with the new rank and the changes at the University, but I hope you find time again to write soon.
With all of my love and pride, chérie. I miss you.
Maman
"Oh, mum. I miss you, too." It was impossible not to feel a flicker of homesickness reading her letters, even knowing I'd never leave if I had my way. I'd write her again soon – tomorrow morning. I folded it up, inhaling the scent of mint one more time before sliding it in my desk with the others.
For now, as always, there was work to be done. Things had been hectic – not just with work, but with university politics, something I'd always tried to strictly avoid. But with Bolor intwined, it had been impossible. The Council had fallen apart, old Arch Mage had left, and elected in his place was –
"That dull-witted, condescending, wrinkled sack of shit!"
"Bolor?" I slid around the corner into the alchemy laboratory, cradling sacks of ingredients in my arms. "Everything alright?"
"Yes – yes, of course. Come in, Dust." His voice had lost its usual charm, gruff and low. I left my reagents aside and approached him where he leaned white-knuckled over the cauldron, face twisted in a scowl.
I'd seen him like this more and more, over the past two years. Ever since Arch-Mage Traven had been elected – ever since necromancy had been banned from the university's halls. I pursed my lips tight, gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder. "What happened, Bolor?"
He shook his head, nares flaring, eyes alight with anger. Finally with a growl he pushed himself up and away, stalking across the stone floor.
"He wants me to turn it over – all of it. All my writings. Every ounce of my past work."
I stiffened. The Arch-Mage had made sweeping changes since he'd been here, splitting and dividing us into sects. Only on swearing to give up his craft was Bolor able to stay, turning his work from necromancy instead wholly to teaching Restoration and Illusion. But this… "That isn't fair. You've already given up the craft, just like they said – what more do they want?"
"To destroy it, us. To root out all we've done, even the good, and erase it from history." I hated seeing him like this – so frustrated, so helpless to do anything to stop it. "I don't even know how they realized I kept it."
"We…" I swallowed hard, wringing my hands in helplessness. I wanted to help. Somehow. Over the years since the reform I'd supported him, listened to him, comforted him, but it never felt like enough. "We could explain, couldn't we? Show them your work and tell them how much it's done, how – "
A smile, but there was no humour in it. Only weariness and affection as he planted a kiss on my brow, pulling away with a sigh. "Ah, my Dust. If only it were that easy. I'm sorry, my dear – I shouldn't worry you with my problems. Get a start on your potion, mm?" Relief, as the twinkle in his eyes returned. "I'm sure we could test it out tonight."
Poor Bolor. Or was he lucky? Always willing to be the test subject for some of my more creative endeavours. I grinned up at him, coaxing him down to me.
"I look forward to it." A slow, sweet kiss and he was gone, leaving me to my work and worries.
It'll be alright. It was easy to convince myself that, so pleasantly exhausted between celebrating and the new workload and nights spent so often in Bolor's bed without much sleeping. We'll talk to them, convince them. He's clever, and his work is so good, and imp gall was just what this needed…
Too easy then to stir in the prepared reagents, listen to the soothing hiss and burble of the cauldron, and relax. Too easy to lay my head down on the counter, just for a moment…
"Dust!"
I startled from my desk with a gasp, blinking sleep out of my eyes. What had I been…? Everything had been so soft, so pleasantly warm and sweet from the smell of my brew…
"Shit!" I leapt up fast enough to knock back my chair, grabbing the handle of the cauldron as its contents hissed and pop. Dammit, this thing was heavy enough empty –
A moment and Tar-Meena was at my side. "You have the left handle?"
"Yes – gods, dammit, it's been at such a low boil for so long – "
"Well, let's get it off."
A few grunts and groans and we were able to haul it away, off the firepit and onto a stone groove beside where it could cool. I took at a glance at my faded, indistinct reflection within it, pink and filmy. Dammit. Well – maybe it wouldn't affect it all too badly. And at least it hadn't boiled over.
"Thanks, Tar-Meena. Gods, if you hadn't woken me up…"
"I've been telling you you've been working too hard."
I had to laugh at her chiding. Dragging a hand over my face I could feel the imprint of a book corner that must've dug into my cheek, the grit clinging to my eyes as I rubbed them awake. I really was sound asleep. "Maybe you're right. Did you need something?"
I finally caught her eye – or tried to. She looked away. A tingle of apprehension rose in me as I took a step closer, tilting my head to try and get a better look. "… Tar-Meena?"
She seemed to steel herself, a deep breath before turning and smiling again like nothing strange had happened. "The Arch-Mage wants to see you. Immediately." At my stiffening she hurriedly spoke again, soothing. "I'm sure it's nothing bad, Dusty. But you should go now, before you end up taking another nap, hm?"
"I –" Panic, buzzing and chaotic like a fallen hive. A hard swallow and I turned to gather up my books, glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen in the time that I'd dozed, the dimming skies turning peach. What could he want with me? I'd seen him around time to time, and certainly heard enough from poor Bolor to know of him, but…
Well. This is your chance then, isn't it? I tightened my grip on my satchel. To defend him. But why he'd want to speak to me himself, I couldn't fathom.
"I'll go now. Dammit, I hope no one comes along, wanting to use this, I don't have time to clean up and bottle – "
"I'll find Bolor and we'll take care of it." That kind smile that I'd come to depend on over the years, the jingle of her headdress soothing. "Don't worry."
"I owe you one, Tar-Meena."
I ran – probably wouldn't do to keep the Arch-Mage waiting, and wondered. Why me? He'd met with Bolor and other would-be necromancers many times, of course, convincing them to stay, warning them of new policies, but I was just – well, me. He had no reason to seek me out.
Did he?
All was mostly quiet by now, the evening humming with crickets and murmurs as students and teachers alike returned to their quarters or went for walks to enjoy the last of the fading summer sunlight. My footfalls echoed in the tower hall, announcing my presence whether I was ready or not.
"Ah, Miss Dust."
A stately greeting from a stately woman – Caranya of the guild council. Any peace of mind I'd managed to build collapsed immediately under her disdainful gaze. Robes mussed and dirty from work, hair half pressed in from sleeping on it, I must have looked a sight. Her lips pursed and she sighed, straightening to beckon me with a crooked finger. "Come along, then."
My chest so tight it hurt I followed her upstairs, trying to keep my breathing calm, not to trip in my hurry to keep up with her long strides. The council - They aren't all here, are they?
No, but the three was enough to make my insides plummet into my feet. Caranya took a seat, gesturing for me to do the same as the others – Raminus Polus and the Arch-Mage himself – gazed over me a little more kindly.
"Welcome, Journeyman." Traven looked – harmless. There was no other word I could find for him, almost as short as me, hair white and feathery, watery blue eyes crinkled in a smile as he took my hand to shake it. "And congratulations on your recent rise in rank. I'm certain it was hard-earned."
"Thank you, sir." I bowed my head and sat, all my lessons on manners and poise flooding back in at once and yet somehow not doing me any good. I still caught myself fidgeting, glancing around the room. "Sir, may I ask…?"
"Yes, I suppose there's no point in stalling, is there? You must realize this is unusual." His smile faltered some as he sat himself upright, folding blue-veined hands in his lap. "Raminus, if you would…"
"Of course, Arch-Mage." The younger man straightened, cleared his throat and pinned his gaze on me. I felt trapped, squirming. "Miss Dust, our Arch-Mage has, as I'm sure you well know, implemented many beneficial policies over the past two years. There has been conflict, but ultimately it will all be for the good of the guild."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, and – did Caranya scoff just there, or had I imagined it? Still, I held my tongue. "Yes, Master-Wizard."
"But I'm also certain you realize that not everyone has been so – so pleased with these changes. Now, you spend much of your time in the company of Bolor Savel, do you not?"
Oh, gods. I felt myself flare red. It was an open secret – we'd kept things more discreet at my lower rank, but since the night I'd thrown away that fear, we'd simply shrugged off stares of disapproval. There was no rule against such relationships, after all; it was simply frowned on. "I – yes, sir. He's been a mentor and a dear friend to me. I know…" This is your chance. I straightened, tried to smooth and steady my voice. "I know and understand your policies, and I know he hasn't always been amenable, but the work he's done, the betterment he's given the restorative arts – "
A hand rose, silencing me. Traven sighed deeply, heavy lidded eyes falling shut before lowering his arm. "We know you think much of him, Miss Dust."
"Yes, sir, I do." I felt myself bolstered by the thought of him, by righteous anger at the unfairness of it all. "His old research, even the research you don't approve of – it's invaluable. He's obeyed every other policy you've implemented, sir, but – "
"Has he, now?"
There was something cold in that voice, cold enough to stop me dead and send a shudder through me. Grandfatherly no more Traven stared me down, calm but testing, probing.
"I…" My voice came in a croak. I inhaled again, tried again as I felt my mouth go dry. "Yes, sir, always."
Polus spoke again. "We have reason to believe that may not be the case."
"Has he been acting strange, as of late?" Caranya now, as smooth and confident as I wasn't. "Perhaps not speaking of his projects, spending more time in his private laboratory? Has he made any suggestions for your own work that seemed – off?"
"No. No." And yet, as I searched my mind – he had been distant lately, hadn't he? I'd been working so hard I'd barely had time for myself, nevermind both of us, but he'd been more frazzled, more nervous. Spending more and more time alone. I firmly pushed my doubts away. "He's – he's fine. The only suggestion he made recently was imp gall for a potion, and I'm sure it's a good one."
"Nevertheless." Traven shook his head. "As a member of our guild and our University you have a duty to us, Journeyman."
"And what's that?" I snapped, more harshly than I'd meant to. At Polus' stern glare and Caranya's raised brow I softened my words. "Arch-Mage, sir."
"To protect yourself and all of us from the insidious dark arts. You are in a unique position, my dear." A tilt of his head, his voice taking a kinder tone in the face of my anger. Soothing, trying to assuage me. "You being what you are to Mister Savel makes you of course inherently biased, but…"
"You are also the person closest to him," Caranya's smiled all teeth, coy and condescending, making me bristle. "And thus in the unique position of being able to watch him without suspicion."
My blood ran cold. "You want me to spy on him."
Polus shrugged. "If you want to call it that, yes."
"He's done nothing to warrant this." I couldn't keep the tremor out of my voice. "He's a good man, one of the few who stayed on despite all these new regulations. He's been nothing but loyal to the guild, to you – "
"And if that is the case," Traven cut me off again, a strength I couldn't have imagined steeling his voice. A pause and he softened. "Then there will be no cause for alarm, and we'll all be better for it. But if you find that he is doing anything, even for a moment, that sets foot outside the University's policies…"
"I trust him." I realized my eyes were wet and blinked furiously. They're wrong, they're wrong and as idiotic and paranoid as he says, and I'll prove it. "I trust him."
"More than the Arch-Mage?" Polus pressed me. "More than the Council?"
"Yes. No, I – I don't know."
"I realize we are placing a great burden on your shoulders, Journeyman." He almost whispered now, the old Breton, great brows lowering over old, old eyes. "But this is for the good of the University, and for yourself. I wouldn't see you risk your entire career because of him. You have so much promise, Dust." His eyes crinkled into half-moons as he smiled. "I'm an alchemist, myself. Our field is so often dismissed and ridiculed – it would be a great shame to see talent such as yours go to waste."
Such praise from the Arch-Mage himself once would have had me almost shrieking with glee. Now I only bit my tongue, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Thank you. Will that be all, sirs? Madame?"
"Yes." Polus stood as I did, following me to the top of the stairwell. "You will, of course, keep our meeting tonight between us. If Bolor is up to anything dubious, he must not be given the chance to flee."
"He isn't," I bit back. This time, even at the Master-Wizard's glare, I didn't falter. I drew myself up instead, breathing deep. "And I will. Goodnight, Master-Wizards. Arch-Mage."
I don't know how I managed it – perhaps Tucket's lessons on poise had come in handy, after all. But it wasn't until I was well out of the tower, alone near the gardens that I finally let myself crumple, let the tears come.
A spy. They wanted me to spy on him, on Bolor – my friend, my mentor, my lover. Asking me – no, forcing me to betray him on pain of expulsion or worse.
"Fine." I hissed to myself with venom as I strode across the grounds. Fine. I'd act as their little spy, and I'd deliver nothing but the truth – the truth that Bolor was upstanding and trustworthy. Frustrated by the ban, yes, by the hatred for what had been his craft, but adaptable and dedicated to the guild.
I moved with purpose now, first to the archives – gathering up what little information was left behind on necromancy. If I was going to prove his innocence, I'd need to understand what could lead him to be seen as guilty. Once I'd taken as much as I dared I slipped out, the glow of swollen summer moons giving me light to read by through the windows of my quarters.
My aphrodisiac would have to wait. My new responsibilities, my planned research – they could all wait. This took precedence. It's going to be fine. A deep breath and I flipped open the first book, grimacing at gruesome illustrations of the undead.
I'll prove them wrong. I'll show them. I can change their minds – I can change this. A hard swallow. My eyes stung, but I knew I'd be here until I dozed off on my desk. I can fix this.
The emperor died the next day.
