XI

"Torture?" Mrako asked, appalled.


Freggel twitched as if pained, "It is not torture, It is...dissuasion. Valora does not have the capacity to fulfill this duty, and we need only to convince her and her father of that. You can surely see the reason in this: What on earth is to happen to us, to the very practice of Magic itself, if we allow an incompetent, petulant, girl to orchestrate the Institute? We have devoted our entire lives to the practice, study and teaching of Magic, and well do we know how delicate the Institute is. It is for the good of all of us, including Valora. I'm sure you've realized how she loathes us."


Mrako did not like this in the slightest. In fact, he did not like a lot of what was going on these days. "What is the danger in trying her fairly. Who can say what aptitudes she may have? Certainly we have had excellent Wizards out of the Family in the past."


"We do not have time for that. We are floundering, Mrako. We were not prepared for this situation, and we  have already found a more suitable candidate. We have begun training them, in fact. We require now only that Valora step down, and we are prepared to make certain she does."


A pause.


Mrako bit his lip, and looked at Professor Freggel. He sighed, and said only "As you wish, Professor."    

X

Making love with two people (whom are unaware of your making love with the other) is a queer experience. In the moment, and with only one of them, it is a sublimely simple, euphoric rush. Nothing is linear-but a flowing organic surge that swallows all capacity for reason. Afterwards, and when alone, it is the most complicated, guilt-ridden, heavy affair imaginable. An utter paralysis.


For Rane, there was no foreseeable way out of this situation. He loved both uncontrollably, and choosing one or leaving both were unthinkable. He spent his hours in a state of sickly shock-quite absorbed in the trivial tasks he was given throughout the day.


For Lyron, he preferred to distract himself. Anytime he thought of it, he tried his damnedest to think of something else. It is not at all that he believed the issue would resolve itself, it was simply too much to bear atop the administration of a Kingdom.


For Allendre, a decision had been reached. Lyron must be killed. What was so damnably irritating about it was each attempt seemed to go awry. Poisoned food was whisked away, assassins simply disappeared, and cursed objects seemed to do nothing whatsoever. Most...suspicious.


Valora, oblivious to all of this, sat waiting in a little room in the basement of The Institute. It was the strangest room she had ever been in! It was lit from nowhere, with the walls all out of sight, and nothing whatsoever inside, besides her little chair. There was absolutely no sound, and the door had apparently vanished. She had no concept of how long she had been waiting.


Suddenly, little shapes began dancing in front of her eyes: all egg-shell white. They arranged themselves into letters and words, and this is what they said:

Syllabus

Magician

Axis I: Current Paradigm 

Axis I Magic involves manipulation of attention, framing, and presentation to alter a subject’s understanding of a series of events. This is the most basic form of Magic and requires little inherent ability. 

Journeyman

Axis II: Altered Physical Paradigm

Axis II Magic involves manipulating physical relationships in the world to alter how they behave. This is an intermediate form of Magic which requires some inherent ability.

Master

Axis III: Altered Psychical Paradigm (Individual Level)

Axis III Magic involves manipulating the inner, psychological landscape of a subject to create impressions, beliefs, or perceptions. This is a difficult form of Magic that requires much inherent ability.

Wizard

Axis IV: Altered Psychical Paradigm (Group level)

Axis IV Magic involves manipulating the inner, psychological landscapes of a group of individuals  to create impressions, beliefs, or perceptions. This is an extremely difficult form of magic that requires prodigious inherent ability.

 

The Head of The Institute is to be fluent, and gifted, in all axes

IX

...was a grave error. It is sickening to think what Man might still know if not for it.
--Excerpt from Histories, by R.H Mucler 




Upon returning to the Palace, Rane had been given the honourable duty of polishing the Princess' silverware. He was exhausted, and confused, though in an odd way it helped to focus on this banal task.


He sat on the floor of one of Valora's side-rooms: meticulously rubbing the sliver, inspecting it for little flakes or crusted food, and then placing each piece back into it's proper place. He had never seen such fine things, and they were almost certainly the work of the grandest craftsmen alive! In each and every piece there were hundreds of little figures, probably the entire Kandor line-he mused. And the stamp was most unusu--


"No! I will not! Never! How can you even ask! No, No, No!" Valora's voice came screeching from the adjoining room.


Rane dropped the spoon he had been admiring and strained to hear what caused Valora's outburst. He heard only a low mumbling, and then more wild protests. He scooted nearer to the door. A terrible idea, as Valora flung it open and it came violently crashing into his face. He was hurled back with the force of it, and white, throbbing pain washed over his head and neck.


Valora stood stunned, "I'm sorry...Rane. I didn't realize you were here. I...." She trailed off, a far-away look coming into her face, laced with defeat and peppered with resentment. She did not want to apologize to anyone just now. She wanted to scream, and to break things, and to smash them into small irregular pieces and feed them to that damn elf-servant she had just been speaking to.


"That's all right, your majesty." Rane said, teetering his way to an upright sitting position. He couldn't really see. And the shock was giving way to more and more pain. It was concentrated in his jaw and nose, tickling his face like shredded glass.


Valora sighed, and sat down beside Rane. " Rane, have you ever been angry? Not just any sort of angry, but a high-frequency hot red tidal wave of angry. The kind that moves past words and even sensations to a place where there is nothing but angry. Have you ever felt that way? Because that is what I feel now."


Rane had no idea what one was meant to say to The Princess of Xanara is this circumstance. He could think only to say: "Yes, Your Majesty." 


Valora was not listening, "How could they? How dare they? Have they ever met anyone more incompetent at Magic? The Head of the Institute! I should like to be a toe-nail clipping, or a stray bit of hair! What could they possibly be thinking? I won't; I can't; I shan't do it."


Rane, very much in pain, could only nod as she continued this bitter tirade.