The Chronicles of Faylon: Saahira | Chapter 35

Instead of stopping at the Final Bar, the Last Gasp, or some other restaurant that Saahira hadn’t visited just yet, Basile led them all the way through Odalric to the sanctum. As expected of a Kalyna evening, the grounds were empty of students. Two servants moved about the lawns, watering plants and trimming trees. Another polished the armrests on a nearby bench, and a fourth tended to the detailed water fountain with the figures dancing. For the first time, Saahira wondered if it depicted Lillith with Headmaster Erato, rather than a second demon.

Basile led her by the hand up the stairs to the library, moved passed the front door and turned right, then left, following the side of the building. Had he forgotten about dinner in his quest for information? Saahira opened her mouth to ask, thought better of it, and closed it again.

Just before they reached the end of the building, Basile stopped and released her hand. Saahira pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders while he reached into his pocket and retrieved a collection of keys on a small golden ring.

“I imagine you would be more comfortable talking with me beyond Odalric’s prying ears and eyes,” he said without looking up.

“I… Yes.” She still wasn’t entirely comfortable with this, but the fewer who overheard, the better.

Basile smiled as he fished free the keys he sought, sliding each one it into three separate locks on the door. Tucking them back into his pocket, he held his left hand against the polished wood, closed his eyes, and murmured, “Devoli leifa.”

A soft glow wrapped around his fingers, then sank into the door. Another click followed, and a blue, circular symbol illuminated just beneath his palm. Basile opened his eyes just as the symbol vanished.

“Three locks and a spell?” Saahira asked.

“Yes. An enchantment crafted by Mr. Hirokazu. The locks are more of a visual precaution.”

Saahira furrowed her brow. “If I step through there, am I going to be paralyzed?”

“No. You’re safe,” Basile said with a chuckle. “Come on.”

They entered a dark room lit only by the fading light of the sunset poking through the open door behind them. Basile whispered another spell, and eight glass orbs—two on each wall—sparkled to life, throwing their light across short bookcases filled with leather-bound tomes, a desk the color of Rhoryn ash, and a circular rug that bore the same blue symbol as the one Saahira had seen on the door. On the wall were paintings depicting ethereal figures and tattered pages of parchment with script too small and faded for Saahira to read, and just above the desk hung a book with a title penned in shimmering golden ink: The Royalty of Réimse na Sleacht.

“Mr. Hirokazu’s office?” Saahira guessed.

“The very same.”

“What was the blue symbol on the door and on the rug?”

Basile slid his hands into his pockets and nodded toward the rug. “The qalen’rua for syl’dren.”

“It’s a symbol? I thought hexlations was a study of words?”

“The words are what we say and cast with. I’m sure you’ve learned that these words exist in all living things, correct?”

“Mhm.”

“For those who can see them, they manifest as symbols. The difficulty in translating hexes is understanding and conjugating these symbols into words, terms, and spells all sorcerers can utilize. I don’t want to overwhelm you, and you’ll learn more from Professor Lodovico as the year progresses.” Basile crossed the room, freed a hand from his pocket, and opened another door—this one unlocked without any special actions. “For now, we’re going right in here.” Saahira followed with a nod.

Light from the new set of glintspheres revealed a long, narrow table made of the same ash-colored wood as the desk. Six chairs were neatly tucked beneath on either side, their violet cushions embroidered with swirling golden thread. Eclectic items adorned all four walls: masks like the ones in Professor Moborí’s classroom, a framed set of cards, a delicately carved triangular object in a glass box, and shelves of flowers and plants with leaves curling towards the floor. Only one bookcase stood on the opposite end of the table, but it spanned from floor to ceiling and held scrolls alongside its tomes.

“The professors meet here with the headmaster for weekly meetings and important talks,” Basile explained as Saahira looked around.

Every item seemed rare and carefully housed in their displays. Expensive. “And we’re really allowed in here?” she whispered.

A tantalizing smile tugged at the corner of Basile’s mouth. “Well, I am, of course.”

“Basile.”

Basile laughed and the wings on his head danced with his voice. “I’m only teasing.” Taking the chair nearest the door, he gestured for Saahira to take its opposite. “I started working in the library in the latter half of my first year of the sanctum. As I said, I’ve earned Mr. Hirokazu’s trust. He allows me free use of his office and this room when I deem necessary.”

Saahira removed her cloak and laid it over the back of the chair beside hers. Then, lifting her chair by its arms, she pulled it back from the table, watching the legs to make sure the feet didn’t scratch against the floor. She imagined even a dent to the chair itself or the wood beneath it would send her home and making repayments from the Bull for the rest of her days. When there was just enough space free to slide between the arm and the table, she sucked in her breath and sat down as lightly as she could manage. The cushions were incredibly soft and welcoming; she chanced brushing the fabric with the tips of her fingers. For a moment, she pictured a dress made from the same fabric and wondered how it would feel to dance in something so lush.

The thought was interrupted by the tinkling of a bell, and her attention snapped to Basile’s hand. A golden bell dangled at the end of a handle between his fingers, and he wore a knowing smile. Before she could ask, a sanctum servant appeared beside him. An older man whose features held the years of Professor Lawrence without the madness. In fact, his composed face was far more distinguished, his inquisitive eyes darting between Saahira and Basile. Tiny hints of chestnut brown touched his silver hair, suggesting the lush color it had once been long ago. In addition to his servant’s uniform, he wore a short black cape that clung to his shoulders, fastened to his chest with a ruby clasp.

“Mr. Renoult. It is a surprise to see you here with unfamiliar company.” His words were crisp, and he left the unsaid to weigh heavily in the air.

“Miss Montarac and I are researching a topic of utmost importance, Glen,” Basile replied in that soft, sure tone that was his constant. “I already informed Mr. Hirokazu. However, if you feel you need to disturb him on his evening of rest to verify Saahira’s presence—”

“No, sir. I do not believe that’s necessary.” Glen frowned and straightened his shoulders. “What shall I fetch you from the kitchens?”

“Is Eichhörn fare available just yet?”

The slightest twitch jumped at the corner of Glen’s left eye. “I believe so. A moment.” With a bow, he vanished.

“Do all of the servants have capes like that?” Saahira wondered.

“Only the ones in direct service to the professors and headmasters.” Basile raised a brow. “Did the servant who attacked you wear a cape?”

Saahira shook her head. “She wasn’t wearing one when they interrogated her. The headmaster said she’d been one of the dormitory servants for four years.”

“Hold that thought a moment.” Basile reached for his satchel and procured a notebook, quill, and ink. Flipping the notebook open to a blank page, he smoothed the center with his hand and quickly dipped the quill. “Dormitory servant for four years,” he repeated as he wrote. “And her name?”

 “Madora Roderic.” Saahira shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Do you know which block?” Basile didn’t look up as he wrote.

“No.”

“I can find out. And her demon’s name?”

The twists returned to Saahira’s stomach. “Aieuz. He was a Chthonia. During the interrogation, he tried to hex me.”

“Without Madora’s command?”

“Yes. Aieuz casted it completely on his own.” She lifted her wrist and touched the ward. “But Professor Lodovico and the ward he gave me stopped him.”

Seconds passed, the only sound being Basile’s quill against the parchment. “Sorcerers can give autonomy to their demons, though it’s atypical,” he murmured, more to himself it seemed. “And neither Aieuz nor Madora stated an intent?”

Saahira crossed one ankle over the other and looked down at the table. “He called me ‘Bynraen x'lori’ over and over again. Lillith said it means ‘Paramour of Chaos.’”

“I’m unfamiliar with the term.”

Swallowing hard, Saahira traced the table’s grainlines around a small imperfection in the wood. “It’s a name demons give to a person chosen by the Six who can summon a Leliouria.”

Basile paused and looked up from his notes. “To have that capability… Saahira, your power must be immense.”

“So I’m told.” She laughed weakly.

Glen returned without warning, startling Saahira. A second servant stood beside him, this one a much younger woman wearing a bright smile and giddiness like a mantle. There was a spring in her step as she rounded the table and set a covered plate, silverware, and a filled chalice in front of Saahira. She pulled the cover away and revealed the meal with a flourish.

Steaming slices of glazed meat topped with brilliant red berries rested in the center of the plate. Fresh greens encircled the plate’s edge, garnished with small cuts of myriad vegetables and drizzled with dressing.

“Glazed näem with sweet berries and salad,” the servant announced proudly. “Enjoy!”

The näem smelled a little like pork, but had a gamey undercurrent like venison. It looked delicious. Saahira poked at it tentatively with her fork.

“Is there anything else you require at this time, Mr. Renoult?” Glen asked as the second servant rejoined his side.

“No, thank you. This is perfect.” Basile closed his notebook and set it aside.

“Very good. You know how to reach me should you need aught else.” With another bow, Glen and the second servant were gone.

Basile watched with a knowing grin and twitching wings as Saahira cut a bite-sized portion of meat for herself. She glanced up at him, then back down at her plate.

“All right, what is a näem?” Saahira relented.

His grin widened. “A flying, four-legged creature that lives in the Aschenstar Mountains, just north of where I was born. Voracious omnivores.” He tapped his knife against the plate in thought. “When I was younger, I had a dream of flying to the Aschenstars from Sehnsucht and taming a näem, but that would be like walking from here to Rhoryn. Possible, but not advised.”

“I tried something similar. The first time I went to the ocean, I wanted to try walking back to Almaryn just to see how long it would take.” Saahira exhaled a laugh through her nose at the memory. Her mother had told her to try all she like and her father had chased her down almost a mile down the road. By then, Saahira’s feet had begun to ache as if she’d made the entire walk. “It would take very good shoes.” She tried her first bite of näem and hummed in pleasure. Thinking of Melony and her food sputtering habit, Saahira swallowed before speaking. “This is delicious!”

“Isn’t it? They’ll save this to serve to the professors, but Mr. Hirokazu made it known to the higher serving staff that I’m to be afforded the same considerations.”

Saahira took another bite. The meat melted with just the movements of her tongue, and the berries perfectly complimented the glaze. Before the sanctum, she’d never dreamed that food could taste so good. “Is that normal for a third-year student to be treated like staff?”

“It depends on the student and how diligently they work. Mr. Hirokazu sees me as his second in command, as I spend so much of my time outside of classes working in the library and assisting with his research. Have you been to the alchemy lab?”

“Mhm,” Saahira hummed through her food.

“Kataya, Miss Vonte’s apprentice, has similar privileges. We’re essentially staff in all but title.”

“I see.” She stabbed her fork through a section of the salad next, pleased that she managed to spear two of the vegetables with the lettuce. “Do you plan to stay in the sanctum’s library once you finish your studies?”

“No. However, Mr. Hirokazu is an invaluable resource for my future. His recommendation alone will open doors otherwise closed in every corner of the world.” Basile’s gaze wandered somewhere very far away over Saahira’s shoulder and his wings tucked inward against his head. “There’s still so much to learn and study in regard to magic, essence, energy, demons, and celestials. Questions that beg to be answered. I’ll write my own books on my discoveries to pass on to all those who come after me.” He blinked and his eyes settled on hers, a reserved smile curling his lips. “I know it’s not as exciting as becoming a master alchemist or enchanter, but it has been said by many wise men before me that knowledge is our greatest power of all.”

“Traveling the world and writing what you find sounds very exciting,” Saahira replied. “Besides, the more we understand, the easier and safer this all becomes, right?”

“Right.” Basile’s face brightened. “Speaking of unsafe magic and exploding glintspheres…”

Saahira flushed and took a drink. Sparkling cider bubbled against her cheeks while she hid behind her cup.

“…Have you managed a consistent way to call your energy yet?”

“No,” she admitted into her cider.

Basile chuckled. “Capable of summoning a Leliouria, but the basics evade you.”

That makes me feel so much better, she thought bitterly.

Basile continued, “I’m sure you know by now that everyone interacts with their energy in a different way. It’s a personal experience.”

“Yes. Professor Gallowood told me as much.”

“Well, in addition to that, every society teaches their magically adept to approach it in a different way. In Aṣálẹ, for example, one is taught to unite the energy in the heart, as in the mind, energy is a separate entity. In Réimse na Sleachta, elves learn to utilize the sounds and sensations of nature—a breeze or rainfall, perhaps—to focus inward and draw their energy out. Perhaps you simply need to approach it differently.”

“Maybe,” Saahira murmured.

“You said the Six helped you achieve summoning and transferring your energy, correct? What did they say to you?”

Heat rose up Saahira’s neck and into her face. The food on her plate that occupied her mouth and attention was running dangerously low. Lying was an option, but she’d have to remember everything she said to Basile to save face later. He was so meticulous on details.

She knew her fork had been in her mouth far longer than proper etiquette dictated, but she froze on what to say.

The wings at Basile’s head fluttered and he leaned back in his chair, one hand still resting on the table, the other finding his pocket. “If you tell me, I may be able to help you,” he said gently.

Saahira set her fork on her plate and smoothed her hands over her skirt. “Lillith explained one day that mortals have…sexual energy. Ever since they helped me, I’ve wondered if that’s what I called on instead.”

“Oh?” He canted his head to the side. “Why would that be?”

“Because the choir, they…had me touch myself.” Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Once the admission was out, her words flowed like an undammed river. “My mind was so clear as they talked to me. I could feel my energy swell, and I was able to send it to the glintsphere without hesitation. Ever since then, I’ve only been able to call upon a fraction of it on command. So I keep thinking maybe it wasn’t my magical energy, but the other one instead.”

“As far as I know, if it lit the glintsphere, that was your magical energy. Sexual energy can be incorporated into a cast just as an element can be, but…” Basile drummed his fingers against the table. “Do you have the glintsphere with you?”

“I— Yes?”

“Take it out.”

Saahira’s heart hammered against her chest as she shuffled through her satchel for the box holding the small glass orb. Basile stood from his chair and rounded the table. The expression on his face was impossible to read, and he walked with such purpose that it caught her off-guard. She set the box aside and held the glintsphere in both hands, afraid her quivering fingers would drop it.

Basile stopped beside her chair and rested a hand on either side of the backing. “Are you willing to let me test a theory?”

The air in the room was suddenly very cool against her skin.

“If at any point you’re uncomfortable, you can tell me to stop,” he added.

I’m uncomfortable now. But her curiosity suppressed the voice. “Okay.”

Two hands gently pulled the curtain of her hair away from her face, then repositioned it over one shoulder.

Basile bent forward, his mouth just inches from her bared ear. “Close your eyes, Saahira.”

Cupping the glintsphere tighter in her hands, Saahira did as he instructed.

“Where in your body do you feel your energy most?” he murmured.

“My stomach.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Good. Now, just relax.”

That was easier said than done.

Fingertips lightly traced beneath her chin and over her throat. Saahira shivered.

“Flügels with magical aptitude are taught to draw our energy from our wings.” A second hand combed through her hair as he spoke. “If we struggle with it as you have, it’s possible to be coaxed by another set of hands.” The fingers continued downward, sliding into the dip of her throat, trailing her collarbone.

Between his touch, the scent of his skin, and the hot breath on her ear, Saahira’s nervous tension evolved into a very different kind of tension. She bit back a moan.

“Our wings, however, are intensely sensitive.” The barest of touches over the tops of her breasts, mapping the curve of her chest. “I believe stroking them would cause a similar arousal achieved by your choir?”

Saahira’s breathing sped and her pulse raced in her ears. “I-If it feels like this? Yes.”

“Then we’re on the right track. You see, connecting that sensation to where your energy originates holds its own power.”

She drifted on his voice, acutely aware of his fingers in her hair, his hand drifting south, his breath on her skin.

 “You don’t need to search for your energy. You know exactly where to find it.” Had he nibbled her ear, or had she just imagined it?

“Yes.” And she could. Tendrils of energy bloomed just below her navel, reaching upward to meet Basile’s fingers as they moved ever downward. Tingling excitement flooded her veins.

Soft fingers tickled her jawline as he traced its length. “Lighter touches over the wings can ignite that first spark.” Dizziness threatened to consume her as she leaned into his touch. “A heavier hand can help guide your senses to it,” he said as he pressed into her navel. Into the place where she felt her energy flourishing. “Am I close?”

“Right there,” Saahira breathed. She shifted the glintsphere into one hand while her other shot to her abdomen, trapping Basile’s hand against her.

“Call it forth, Saahira.”

It didn’t take a command this time. She felt herself mentally grasp the tendrils and force them through her shoulders, into her arms, into her hands.

Into the glintsphere.

Basile withdrew his touch from her head and stomach as he straightened. “And there you are.”

A glowing light painted the insides of her eyelids bright pink. She blinked and fought to regain her composure.

“How…” She swallowed and brought the glintsphere to her chest, cradling it in shaking hands. “How can I do that without coaxing?”

Basile rounded the table, stretching the wings at his sides as he walked. “Repeat it enough times until the sensation becomes natural.” He took his seat and leaned an elbow on the chair’s arm, resting his cheek against his hand. “Shall I assist you?”