The chair was comfortable, but he didn’t think he could ever get used to this. Lewis had never been so tense as he was sitting in the chair at his father’s desk. Curtis sat across from him, setting a strange stone plate between them. It was the size of a tea saucer, with tracings of odd symbols. Staring at it longer, Lewis wasn’t sure it was stone, but he didn’t know what it was if it wasn’t. It was dark and almost shiny. A small knife of the same substance rested in the dish. When had he seen this before?
“Your father did the test when you were about five,” Curtis said.
“This is the relic that can tell you if someone has magic,” Lewis said. Now he remembered.
Curtis held the knife out to Lewis. “I believe your father, but I want you to see it for yourself again.”
Lewis hesitated only a moment before taking the knife. He pressed it against the tip of a finger, then let a drop of blood fall onto the saucer. The blood seeped into the saucer. The tracings in the strange material glowed with a blue light before going dark again.
“You have magic,” Curtis said. “There is no doubt about that.”
Lewis set the knife back on the saucer carefully. “But what kind of magic is it? My father lost interest when I couldn’t use water magic—”
“He did not lose interest,” Curtis said, his voice hard. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Stewart believed keeping you away from magic was the only way to protect you. He didn’t want you to use your magic if it didn’t manifest on its own, but I fear we now have no choice. Someone wrote that letter, someone forged your father’s handwriting with such skill even I thought it was his.”
“How do you know he didn’t write that letter?” Lewis asked.
“He wouldn’t put you in this position,” Curtis said, “not after trying so hard to keep you away from magic. And he wouldn’t leave without saying something.”
Lewis thought about this. “Someone forged the letter. Do you think they had my father abducted?”
Curtis nodded. “It is likely. Whoever did this is no ally to you. They probably thought you had no magic and hoped to humiliate Birch Hall, or possibly even cause the queen to question the trust she has for us. That is why we must make it look like you are qualified for this position, that you are a mage worthy of this title.”
Lewis shrank back in the chair. “I barely know about magic, let alone how to use it. Why did my father want to keep me away from it if I have magic?”
Curtis didn’t answer for a long moment. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “What do you know about magic and mages?”
“I know it isn’t common,” Lewis said. “It runs in families, but sometimes it shows up far down a family line that has been ordinary for centuries.”
Curtis nodded. “That is how it was for me. Your father is of a long line of mages. Types of magic also run in families, which is why most will assume you have water magic. What are the elements?”
It didn’t take much thinking for it to come back to him. His father had told him all of this many years ago.
“Water, fire, nature, and wind,” Lewis said. “These elements are the only kind of magic a mage can have.”
Curtis sighed. “That is not quite true. Most believe it to be a myth, but there is another kind of mage. Fortunately, they are extremely rare, but they are known as Afflicted Mages.”
Lewis thought back, but he had never heard his father mention that kind of magic. “What is an Afflicted Mage?”
Curtis’s hands gripped the arms of his chair tightly. “Stewart feared that telling you about this would make your magic more likely to surface on its own and reveal itself. He believes it is what you are. Such mages still have an underlying element to their…warped magic, but they cannot wield element magic in the same way other mages can. Everything I’ve read says it’s a curse, but there aren’t even theories about who did the cursing, why, or how. Another theory is that the bodies of mages are so inundated with magic that sometimes their children are changed by it. This magic can take several forms, and I don’t know what is true of what I’ve read.”
“Father never mentioned this,” Lewis said, not knowing what to think of it.
Curtis nodded. “Supposedly, some Afflicted Mages can change their appearance at will and can look like anyone. They can change their appearance, but not their shape.”
Lewis tensed. “I don’t think I’ve ever changed my appearance.”
“Stewart thought it would have become obvious by now if you were a shapeshifter,” Curtis said. “Other Afflicted Mages are born with plant or animal characteristics, so you’re not one of those. There is another kind…”
“My father had an idea of what kind of magic it was,” Lewis said. “Didn’t he?”
“He believes you might be a spirit speaker,” Curtis said, “but we haven’t been able to find out much about it. Such mages can make a pact with a spirit, which allows them to use magic, but we don’t know enough. It sounds like this pact allows the mage to use element magic, of the element they already have.”
“So I have to make a pact with a spirit to be able to use magic?” Lewis asked.
“Maybe,” Curtis said. He stood, moving to stand before the window, with his back to Lewis. “Most can’t see spirits unless the spirit allows it, but spirit speakers are supposed to always be able to see spirits.” He sighed. “Much like Afflicted Mages, spirits are believed by most to be nothing more than stories.” He turned to face the desk again. “I know this isn’t what Stewart would want, but whoever put you in this position could have further plans. You must learn to use your magic, both to thwart whatever plan our unknown enemy has, and to protect yourself.”
Lewis’s breathing had gone shallow. “Even if I made a pact with a spirit and learned to use my magic, I’m not qualified to be High Mage. I know nothing about using magic. High Mages get requests that only they can handle. I can’t do that. If they think I have water magic, they’ll call on me to ease droughts and other things that a student can’t do yet.”
Curtis sat back at the desk. “I will do what I can to help. Obviously I won’t always be there for requests, and we don’t want anyone to suspect I’m helping you, or doing all the magic myself, but we have the same element. Your mother was not a mage, so it is highly likely you have the water element like myself and your father.”
Lewis took a deep breath, trying not to vomit. “Doesn’t the High Mage have to meet with the queen and the court?”
Curtis nodded. “You are to meet with the queen in several days. I imagine your first request will come soon after.”
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Lewis stared at the saucer on the desk. This was too much to sort through all at once. Had his father really thought keeping this from him was for the best? And what had he feared would happen if Lewis used his magic? What would a pact with a spirit entail? A sudden calm settled over him. He was beyond not qualified for this position, but he had little choice. His father might be captive somewhere, might be in danger. If he was to figure out who had written that letter, what they were planning, and where his father was, he was going to have to go along with this.
“How do I summon a spirit?” Lewis asked.
Curtis smiled briefly. “I’ve seen that look from Stewart many times. You are prepared to do whatever you must to get to the bottom of this.”
“If my father is in danger, I want to help,” Lewis said.
Curtis stood. “I know you’re tired, and I’m exhausted, but the sooner we do this the better. And it would be best to do it under the cover of darkness. I am the only one here at the hall who knows about your magic. All others believe the letter to be real, believe Stewart had simply had enough and passed the role on to you. They think he trained you himself, that you’re some sort of prodigy and didn’t need to study here at the hall.”
Lewis groaned.
“We must keep this between us for now,” Curtis said, “until we know who we can trust. We’ll go out into the forest and see about summoning a spirit. Tonight.”
Lewis followed Curtis back down the tower stairs and through the eerily silent corridors of Birch Hall. They stopped by Curtis’s room and he handed Lewis a black cloak before putting one on himself. When he raised the hood, Lewis did the same.
“In case we’re observed,” Curtis said.
They left Birch Hall through the back door, into a small garden. They set off into the pale forest, not stopping until the hall was out of sight behind them.
“How do I summon a spirit?” Lewis asked, sweaty beneath the cloak despite the cool night air. This would be the first time he would do magic.
“Do you have any ideas?” Curtis asked. “Only a spirit speaker should be able to summon a spirit, so I was hoping it would be…instinct.”
Lewis sighed. “I’ll try.” He sat on the forest floor and tried to relax, focusing on what he wanted to do.
His father had said magic was a matter of intention, of the mage knowing what they wanted to do with their magic. Hopefully it was the same for him as an Afflicted Mage. He wanted to know more about that. Was this a curse? If it was, how had it happened? He calmed his thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for questions. He needed to summon a spirit and make a pact, so that he could use his magic and find out what had happened to his father.
A presence surrounded him, strong but not frightening. When Lewis tried to open his eyes, he couldn’t. For a moment, he panicked. The darkness behind his eyes lifted. He was standing in a clearing surrounded by trees with dark bark. He knew the countries of Ferax and Conlis had trees that weren’t birch, but he had never seen them before. There was a large pond at the center of the clearing, with the darkest water Lewis had ever seen.
He took a step closer, but the water rippled. Something massive rose from the pond, fast enough to soak him. Lewis backed away so quickly he tripped, falling into the grass, the hood of his cloak falling back. He stared up at the massive creature. Its black skin looked rubbery, and possibly slippery. There were streaks of pale brown here and there on the giant salamander’s body. It stared down at Lewis with entirely black eyes.
“What…” The word came out as a small, embarrassing squeak.
The salamander leaned closer, its nose inches from Lewis’s face. “It has been a very long time since a spirit speaker called out for a spirit. You knew little of what you were doing, though I suppose there is nowhere you could have learned.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Lewis asked, his heart beating fast enough he thought it might beat its way right out of his chest. “Are you a spirit?”
The salamander grinned, showing sharp teeth. Lewis had only seen pictures of salamanders in books and wasn’t sure what sort of teeth they had, but these looked unnaturally sharp. Maybe it was their size.
“I am a spirit,” the salamander said. He stared at Lewis for an uncomfortably long moment. “I am Amnis. You are fortunate it was I who answered your call and not a lesser spirit, or one who simply sought to eat you.”
“Eat me?” Lewis was relieved when the salamander’s mouth closed and he could no longer see those sharp teeth.
“For your magic,” Amnis said, as though it were obvious. “You truly know nothing of your magic, do you?” He leaned away at last.
Lewis got to his feet slowly and backed away a little. “All I know is that I need a pact with a spirit to be able to use my magic.”
Amnis sighed. “That is a very simplified version of how this works. You must not have attempted to use your magic before now to have reached such an age. Without a pact, a so called spirit speaker is destroyed by their magic. They become something called a chimera, dying from the violent transformation.”
So that was why his father had kept him away from magic.
“How is my magic different from an ordinary mage’s?” Lewis asked. “My magic still has an element, doesn’t it?”
Amnis dipped his head. “Your element is that of water, just as mine is. You can only make a pact with a spirit of the same element.”
Lewis thought carefully. This was his best chance of getting answers about his magic. “What does the spirit get from the pact?”
Amnis grinned, showing those sharp teeth again. “So few of your kind ask that question.” The grin vanished. “Spirit speakers have magic like that of spirits, which your human form cannot handle. For our part of the pact, we give the mage some of our essence, to give your magic focus and form, to prevent it from destroying you. Your magic is then like that of an elemental mage, getting stronger with experience, with use. But as your magic becomes stronger, so to does that of the spirit. This is what the spirit gets from the pact. Spirits often consume each other to become stronger, the weaker spirits being the most at risk of this, since they cannot protect themselves. Any spirit would be eager to make a pact with one such as you, but some are too greedy and would simply consume you, rather than wait for you to become strong and give them strength along the way.”
“Are all spirits as big as you?” Lewis asked, mulling all of this over.
Amnis laughed, the sound big enough to shake the ground a little. “We get bigger with the strength of our magic. For one such as you, it would have been wise to have given more intention to your call. A spirit with strength, and of the same element as you. Otherwise, any spirit might have answered. A spirit without the water element cannot make a pact with you, but they could still eat you. Ordinarily, you would be safe from spirits, but your call to us allows a spirit to reach out to you and thus could put you in danger. Or a lesser spirit could have answered, a tiny mouse or a rabbit.”
Lewis hesitated.
“I can release you from this place,” Amnis said. “You could try again if you wish.”
“Could I make a pact with you?” Lewis asked.
Amnis smiled briefly. “Of course. I did not want to presume, but I do have the proper element. The strength of my magic will ensure the pact succeeds. A pact that is too weak would leave you with the risk of your magic killing you. A pact with me will not.”
Lewis hoped this was the right choice. For all he knew, Amnis was a spirit that wanted to eat him and was just good at talking. Would the pact mean Amnis could just eat him later rather than now? He pushed that from mind for now. He had to make a pact with a spirit, and this one was willing.
Amnis leaned in closer. “Do you accept?”
“I accept,” Lewis said, barely keeping his voice from shaking. What would happen next?
“You are certain?” Amnis asked.
Lewis opened his mouth to say he was, but Amnis spat suddenly, right into Lewis’s mouth. Lewis gagged and sputtered, but he felt something cold rush through him. The cold vanished, along with the clearing with the pond.
