Excerpt: Twisted Hearts

(Chapter 4)
On a wooden table, by the head of the bed, lay a bronze hexagon, intricately inscribed with a complex network of interweaving ribbons. Many people would expect the lines to make a six pointed star, but that's because they'd never seen one up close. A lot of people also said that the medal was hung from an irridescent ribbon, or that it had some deep and meaningful motto inscribed on it. In fact, it was supported by a simple pin on the back, and the only legend it displayed was a single word: Alumnus.

In theory, the bronze hexagon was a symbol marking its owner as a sorceror, a licensed user of the power of magiq, one who had passed through the esteemed halls of the College of the Unseen. For many, it was a badge of honour, bound to attract respect or fear. Just the badge could often attract a complimentary drink or the very best service in a restaurant. However, this badge had its finer detail obscured by dust, and had been sitting neglected behind a glass of water on the nightstand for several days.

Its owner, Licentor, cared little for the respect of the public. He'd much rather have friends than admirers. Besides, his lithe figure couldn't quite be called handsome, but he was willing to accept boyishly cute. Among the College's common rooms and bars, he could quite easily pass for 17 without an ounce of bronze to expose him as a postgraduate student. Right now, however, he didn't mind a little perception of age. He was content with life; his fianceé Elisandra would soon be home from her research tour, and he felt a little too mature now to play the field. His social circle were still mostly younger students, but most of them were probably aware he was a little older.

Right now, Licentor was just standing to answer a knock on his door. He was wearing a black bathrobe, which contrasted sharply with the deep red colour of his hair, tied around with a silver-grey cord. He muttered a few meaningless syllables and waved his hand, and the door clicked unlocked. It was a simple enough cantrip, but one he was quite proud of; the only physical effect he'd been able to complete reliably, specialising more in mind controlling effects and their limitations.

The door swung slowly open, revealing the worried face of a young lady. Her name was Candori, a student of oneiromancy in her 5th year of study. Licentor had met her at a tournament to determine the College's greatest Mahjong team, when he had been representing the North Tower and she the West. They'd been close friends ever since, and more recently Licentor had proved himself as a confident, the friend with an open mind and closed lips who Candori could always trust not to judge her based on anything she disclosed. Tonight she had clearly decided not to attend supper in the Great Hall, as she was wearing a long, slim skirt and tight blouse which showed off her perfect curves rather better than the heavy and shapeless formal robes the College preferred. She was quite tall compared to her peers, and wore her white hair up in order to add another foot to her apparent height, but Licentor found himself looking slightly down to meet her eyes. Normally a soft blue, her irises shone gold today, the distinctive tell-tale of certain alchemical potions used to enhance alertness.

"Hi," he pulled his belt a little tighter against the corridor's breeze, "You want to come in?" Candori nodded silently and followed him to his study, where a fire quickly sprung up in the grate. The desk, a vast pearwood edifice with mahogany veneer and baroque decorations, was clearly unused from the dust encrusted stacks of books and papers. Though the top was clean, it was clearly some time since a cloth had touched the little nooks where tomes of different sizes provided the slightest shelter. The chair was more frequently used, sitting in front of the window beside an ornate brass telescope. More books, heavy volumes bound in green and tan leather, were arrayed on shelves around all four walls. The only item in the room which didn't convey the same distinguished atmosphere was a tattered armchair and footstool set with gaudily embroidered flowers, which sat in front of the fireplace.

Licentor sat in the desk chair, turning it to face the room, as Candori sank gratefully into the more comfortable chair. He spent a few seconds looking at her, noting the spotted ink stains on her cuffs, as he waited for her to focus. She didn't speak for a few minutes, so he decided to help her find a starting point. "Assessed ritual?" She just nodded, so he carried on, "How many days now?"

There was a brief pause before she responded, becoming more focused. "Nine days, eight nights." Licentor nodded with the deepest sympathy. He'd worked without sleep for twelve days once, during the assessment period for his own bronze, and it was an experience he'd never want to repeat. It wasn't really uncommon among students of magiq; the assessments were designed around the assumption that student mages had access to such tricks, and the Masters would often use the stress as a way to test students' ability to not crack under pressure.

Candori wasn't coping well. She was clearly fatigued, despite whatever potions she'd taken, and was only partly aware of what was going on around her. She'd need to rest for real tonight or tomorrow, Licentor guessed, or she'd be doing permenant damage to her physical and psychic health. "What have you been using?" He was worried about his friend, and quickly dropped the cool, confident facade he normally maintained, "If there's anything I can do to help, just ask."

"You're so kind," she nodded again, gold-ringed eyes struggling to focus on him, "Always somebody I can count on."

"Yes, this isn't the time for flattery, Candi. What do you need? I'll do anything rather than see you in this state." She smiled a little at the offer. The older student had always gone out of his way to help her, though she couldn't be sure whether he was so good to all his friends, or he had less than pure desires towards her.

"Thankyou," she breathed the word, "So tired, need sleep. Can you ... clairvoyance ritual ... half done?" Licentor looked into her eyes in surprise. He'd expected he could offer to supply her with more advanced (and expensive) alchemical concoctions that might help her rest more comfortably, or if her choice of sleep-resisting potion was less wise that he could offer some of his own mental energy to replenish her depleted reserves. He'd been a model student in his time, and the thought of completing a friend's assessed ritual was almost unthinkable. But ... he'd said he would do anything to help her out of this pitiful state, and cheating was what she'd asked of him. He looked back to her eyes, hoping for some clue she wasn't serious, that she just needed help recovering after a marathon of work. But he just saw the shimmer of gold disappear behind suddenly heavy eyelids, and her body sink into an unnaturally deep sleep.

The assignment proved not to be such hard work. Candori had conducted 7 out of the 6 required spell castings, and had cast the 7th but been unable to get a clear image. Well, the departmental records would show that she'd carried out the appropriate rituals, so Licentor could take an image from one of the other students' minds to complete her results. It took a little while for him to remember the techniques; usually, he would only enter the thoughts of someone he could see, wrapping a spell up in his words to slip it past the mind's natural defences. But even without his favourite tools, it was relatively easy to find a clairvoyance student in the dream realms, where his talent for stealthy action seemed to be as effective as in the mortal world.

* * *

Morning came around, and Candori's eyes flicked lazily open. For a moment, she wondered where she was - the last day was pretty confused in her memory - and then the blurred world resolved itself into eyes, a few inches from her own, and a face framed by an unruly mop of red hair. "Licentor?" She mumbled as she tried to unscramble her memories.

For a moment, her mind was filled with the worst guesses of how she could have got there. Licentor was, after all, one of the College's few experts on memory alteration. Could he have had some dark motive in inviting her here? The thought was chilling, but strangely thrilling at the same time. For as long as she could remember, she had entertained fantasies about having all choice being taken away and finding herself absolved of any guilt for the most perverse, depraved acts she secretly desired. And Licentor knew those dreams; he'd stumbled across a few of her most secret imaginings among the shared psychic realm of the Communities, and somehow managed to link her to the anonymous bundles of images and desires. "I couldn't judge you on that," he'd promised, "being yourself hurts no one, and there's far worse in the dark corners of my heart."

Could she have experienced that darkness, entertained the older man's sick appetites? Faced with the immediate prospect, she was amazed how quickly her body responded, her heart racing as the blush rose to disgrace her ivory skin. And how much, she realised, she wanted it to be true.

Then she felt his presence withdrawing from her mind, leaving behind a substantial body of knowledge. The results of her scrying rituals, all collected and analysed, surrounded by a poetic description of her methods and findings that would have taken her another three days to compose. Memories of the night before, still disjointed, started to surface in her mind. She knew she should feel relieved, finding her most dependable friend both honest enough to be a gentleman, and dedicated enough to help her cheat the tutors on her assessment. But the breath that escaped her lips wasn't just a sigh of relief, it betrayed more than a hint of disappointment.

"I've done as much as I could while you were sleeping," Licentor's powerful, resonant voice pulled her out of her imagination, "But you'll still have to write it out. I never had the knack for imitating someone else's caligraphy."

"Thanks," she flashed him a brief smile, "I'm feeling a lot better now. Can I work here? Its a long way back to West if I have to come up to Kristachian's tower anyway once its finished." For a moment, an inner voice wanted to respond angrily _Is that all the thanks I get, for doing two days of your work in one night, and jeopardising my magiq license?_ But Licentor was always in control of his own mind, and forced himself to remember that Candori was a friend, that he had offered his help freely. As soon as they had come, the spiteful words were forgotten.

"Feel free, its a bit of a mess in here though."

"Thanks. Are you going to tidy the desk for me?"

* * *

It was almost midday now, the light of sun and moon streamed in through the window and shrouded Licentor's bed in glittering motes of dust, silver and gilt sparkles that made it feel as if the whole room was glowing. He lay back on the bed, eyes open but dreaming. Somewhere around the world, a dozen wizards shared the same dream, constructing a complex experimental spell with their minds, safe from the possible ramifications which could accompany a mistake building enchantment in the real world. Licentor was juggling a set of runes when he became aware that somebody wanted to talk to them. He threaded them into the spell, before letting his awareness settle into a lower domain of the realm of thoughts.

He always visualised a field, studded with cherry trees shedding blossom, when he came to receive a message through the Communities. It was a pointless exercise, really, but he found the background more relaxing when the messages were related to the stresses of research. He wouldn't need it today, though, now it was his beloved Elisandra who had taken the time to pitch a sealed bundle of thoughts to him through the dreams of the masses, half way around the world. "Hey Li," an image stood between the trees as his mind turned the message into a more tangible form. Her voice sounded sultry, inviting, but on some level he knew that was just how he preferred to imagine her, rather than any indication of her tone while she composed this missive. "Haven't got much time now, but just wanted to let you know, I've decided to stay and study here for the present. I'm sorry, but I have to follow my dream. If its really meant to be, maybe we'll meet again some time."

The image turned, and in a minor flurry of blossoms, was gone. Licentor let his mouth fall open, so completely surprised that he didn't even know how he was supposed to feel. With a dozen words, all his plans for the future had no foundation. The world had become empty, and his heart felt empty too. He didn't feel betrayed, didn't despair. It was just as if his every emotion had deserted him, leaving his mind like a barren desert.

When Licentor came into the study, bearing in each hand a fine china plate with a steak pie and selection of steamed vegetables, Candori was already nearly finished with her assessment. Her brush moved effortlessly over the parchment in a series of angular runes, transcribing the text her friend had devised for her. "How's it going?" His voice was unusually subdued, with neither the barely concealed nervousness he showed around strangers, nor the determined fire that made him seem so assertive when discussing his specialties. She didn't want to get him talking about his problems though, that would only dampen her own enthusiasm at tonight's party, so she held up the page she'd been writing. "Possible error from the procession of the celestial sphere," she read, "I think I'm nearly finished."

He nodded, "Only two stanzas left. Don't strain your eyes, though, I made us lunch." She knew what he was referring to almost immediately, but didn't want to believe it without checking for herself. She reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out a small mirror of polished moonsilver, gasped with surprise as she finally noticed the sickly green tint to her bloodshot eyes. "I didn't even notice..." she exclaimed in surprise, "You didn't tell me this morning?"

"I didn't think you could take a dragon's humour draught without realising." He didn't realise the sharpness of his tone until the words were out, and seeing the surprise on Candori's face, he silently cursed his abruptness. He was shocked at his own misfortune in love, but it was unfair to take that out on a friend. "I'm sorry," the appology was if anything more of a surprise, the emotion in his voice quite tangible and more intense than she'd ever heard him express a feeling, "I didn't want to worry you, you seemed quite fragile this morning. The gold's fading, your eyes will be fine if you don't spend too long staring at the scrolls the next few days." He paused, almost overwhelmed by guilt and loneliness welling up in his empty heart. "Look, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, and I'm so sorry. I want to make it up to you, I'll do whatever you want, and that's a promise."