Spiral Path (Night Calls Series Book 3) (24 page)

Professor De Lancey looked through me—there was no other way
to describe the feeling. His gaze was so focused you could not imagine him
overlooking anything about you. This man would be able to pick me out of a market
day crowd after this one meeting.

I looked back . . . and saw flames deep in his pupils.

I blinked and hazarded a quick glance to the side.

No . . . it could not be the reflection from the candles, or the
fire . . . or the pale winter light. I wasn’t sure about any of the other professors
I’d met so far, but whatever Professor De Lancey was?

He wasn’t human.

I’d met a fire lord, once, traveling in the wilderness,
pausing in Sun-Return for a few days.

No flames in the eyes of the fire lord.

The long eyebrow hairs, almost like antennae, lifted
slightly.

“
I
am Adolphus De Lancey,” he said, his voice as melodious as a choir master’s. “And
you are Miss Sorensson?”

“
Yes,
sir,” I replied, giving him a slight curtsy.

“
Please
be seated,” he said, gesturing to another chair near the fire. “I am eager to
hear what has brought you to Windward. When did you first know that you had a
gift for magic?”

“A big wolf came to our town, and before he died, he nipped
a few people. The next day we found out it wasn’t a sick wolf, but a werewolf.
I could hear them, calling on the wind, and I dreamt of one of the attacks as
it was happening. So they knew I had The Gift, and needed training.”

“
And
you were sent here?”

“
No,
sir, at least not then. I studied herbs with my mother and wood lore with my
father. Then there was some business with a vampire, and after that I was sent
to study with my cousin Marta Helgisdottir Donaltsson.”

“
Ah.
I have met Mrs. Donaltsson. She is a formidable practitioner. Tell me about
your herb studies with your mother. I understand that she is a granddaughter of
Emma Schell?”

So I told him about studying herbs with my mother, and
trapping and tracking with my father, and helping Marta smoke out a very
dangerous creature terrorizing a village in the small mountains of the Michigan
territory. I did not feel that I could face him as I told my story, so I let my
gaze roam from the flames of the fire to the reflected light along the silver
buckles on his shoes. His breeches were an older style, ending at the knee, his
stockings a bright gold with what looked like a dragon twining up the outside.
The silky thread of the dragon was black and deep red, the eyes scarlet and
gold.

“
It
sounds as if your studies were progressing satisfactorily,” he finally said. “Why
have your family brought you to Windward?”

“
Well . . .
there was this nasty bit of business with a sorcerer trying to steal me away,”
I said vaguely. “I know that when we arrived here my cousin talked with
Professor Livingston a long time. Perhaps she would have shared her concerns
with Professor Livingston?”

There was silence . . . a long silence. The fire popped, returning
us to the world. Finally Professor De Lancey said softly: “I see. Well, then,
shall we talk about the basic tenets of practicing magic? Have you had the seven
major rules of magic explained to you?”

“
I
know some of them,” I replied. “I just found out that the first is ‘The magic
is in the practitioner.’ Of course it’s in the practitioner. If it was
something you could pick up at the general store, it wouldn’t be such a
terrifying thing, would it?”

The professor gave me a solemn look. “No, no, it wouldn’t.
Which ones did you know before you came to Windward?”

“
You
may not realize how much you
don’t
know,” I said promptly. “It was practically the first thing my mother taught
me. I was almost fooled by something simple, but dangerous. I try to remember
that when I am faced with something new.”

“
A
good teacher generally teaches a rule when it is needed. A student is more
likely to remember the rules, if they are taught when a likely lesson appears.
Is that the only one you’ve taken to heart?”

“
Well . . .
there is another one Mar—Mrs. Donaltsson uses a lot, but the way I heard it is
not how Professor Livingston says it,” I started.

“
Yes,
‘Ask for divine guidance before beginning works great and small,’” Professor de
Lancey said, smiling. “As always, Mrs. Donaltsson’s version drives directly to
the point of the lesson.”

“
Professor
Livingston told me that one rule is ‘Expect the Unexpected.’ That seems very
important to me. Maybe it should be the first rule?”

“
At
certain points in life, it
is
the
first rule,” the professor responded. “That rule is my favorite, because it
covers so many other things. The others have long-winded definitions that you
will find in your Endor book, but perhaps I can simplify them for you now.” He
paused, his expression thoughtful, his gaze flicking toward the fireplace. “One
way a student of magic could recite one of the others would be to say: ‘We are
not gods and goddesses. If we forget this, the Universe
will
remind us.’”

My eyebrows rose. I’d felt the hand of the Mother Goddess
once . . . or whatever that overwhelming maternal presence might be. It didn’t seem
likely that you could confuse a mortal with an immortal. But I was new to this
game.
Practitioners would not pass on
that lesson if it wasn’t useful
.

“
The
next, equally valuable, is ‘One does not dabble in magic.’ Can you guess why
that is so important?”

Professor Shipley’s last words had brought this home to me.
I shivered at the implications. “Because magic is not something you can study
half-heartedly. It’s too dangerous for that. If you do, eventually you’ll make
a mistake, and the magic will eat you.”

“‘
Eat
you’ . . . yes, that dives right to the center of the rule. The
last, but far from the least, is: ‘Everything is connected to everything else.’”

“
Oh,
yes, that is truth,” I replied, thinking of the golden bands of light weaving
the world together.

“
So
you have already seen that rule in action?” Professor de Lancey said. “What
made that lesson so vivid for you?”

I took a sharp breath, my mind a tangle of images. I had
learned of the great connection from the angel of Death, one snowy day not so
very long ago. I was fighting for my freedom, and maybe even my life. Death had
needed a favor, was the simplest way to think of it. Between us, we had
attacked an ancient evil, and called it to the Other Side.

It had been a lesson in Wild Magic. I was trying hard not to
talk about the Wild Magic, but it was the magic I knew best, and it kept
cropping up.

“
There
were these mushrooms...” I started weakly.

Professor de Lancey laughed. “You took a great chance,
child,” he said, shaking his head. “Some mushrooms are very dangerous. There is
no return from a poorly chosen journey. But yes, a few varieties do give
insight into the Great Connections.” Still slowly shaking his head, the
professor went on. “I generally teach a small class in the spring about the
history of magic. You are in time to join that group. If you start reading now,
you will be ready for the discussions next week when we begin.”

“
Yes,
sir.”

“
Miss
Sorensson?” he said, tilting his head like a curious crow waiting to see what I
would do.

“
Sir?”

“
How
old are you?”

I was surprised that it had taken so long for someone to
ask. “Thirteen, sir.”

“
Ah.
Your family found you good tutors for your academic classes, I hear.”

There wasn’t a simple way to answer that. The teachers who
had passed through Sun-Return had been sound, as Papa said, and between their
encouragement (or neglect) and my family’s belief in education, I had learned
all I could.

But there were no tutors. I had learned what I did because I
was bored. My mother had not been willing to start teaching me higher
magics . . . but she had learned that I could finish a day’s busywork in an hour. And
my ways of keeping out of trouble had not suited her ideas of a daughter’s
schooling.

So I had found my own wisdom. I was a better trapper and
tracker than most, and could ride a horse long hours, if need be. I had not
wasted much time.

“
I
am fortunate in my family,” I decided to say.

“
Yes,”
he said gently. “You are fortunate.” Pulling a watch from a pocket in his vest,
Professor de Lancey opened the case and looked at it. “I am going to let you go
a few minutes early. Professor Livingston will give you a schedule of classes,
after you have completed all your testing. She will note when you are to return
to me. Read the first two chapters of Endor’s book for our next meeting.”

“
Yes,
Professor,” I said.

“
And
Miss Sorensson—”

“
Sir?”

“
If
you have any questions about what you find in your books, know that you are
welcome here at any time to ask those questions.” He looked up from his pocket
watch, his gaze pinning me to the chair. I felt like he was trying to tell me
something . . . something more than his words conveyed..

He did not make his offer lightly, I thought.

“
Thank
you, sir. I will remember.”

“We will speak again very soon.” I could see the fire in his
eyes again.

He didn’t feel threatening, exactly. But still . . . .

Lady of Light, hold me
in the circle of your protection.

o0o

It was quiet in the dark hallway when I left the
classroom, so I considered what I would do next. Margaret or Catherin would
probably look for me, so . . . .

“
You
are Alfreda Eldonsdottir Sorensson, yes? Daughter of the Schell line?”

I whirled about. The woman’s accent was more Russian than
anything else, but not quite that, either.

The carpet was not thick; I should have heard something. But
no hint of her approach had reached me. The woman was tiny, her neck slender, her
wrists so delicate I had no doubt I could circle my thumb and middle finger
around them. Pale skin, dark hair, and a face memorable for its strong jaw,
sharp cheekbones, and beautiful nose. It was her eyes that caught your
attention—they were the hazel of polished amber.

Now where had I seen . . . ?

Her dress was fashionable but simple, and looked to be a
long-sleeved sacque, pulled over the head and tied under the breasts. It was an
older style of dress, easy to get into without assistance. I could not make out
details, but her high sash and her hair were both dressed with touches of
winter, tiny pinecones and bright berries, fresh holly leaves and acorns.

This was not a student, unless Windward took adults as
students.

“
I
am Alfreda Eldonsdottir Sorensson,” I said, standing very straight.

“
You
found the portal in the carriage house,” the woman went on, indicating with a
flick of her first finger that I was to follow her.

How many people were supposed to know about that? “Yes,” I
finally told her.

“
I
am Professor Brown,” she said crisply. “Come with me. You will meet Professor
Tonneman in the dome room. All testing for ritual is done there. You have your
athame and wand?”

“
Yes,
ma’am, but I haven’t used them yet.”

The woman abruptly stopped. Fortunately, I was not right on
her heels, and did not bump into her. “You have not yet used them? Then why are
you being tested by Professor Tonneman?”

“
I
was sent here to learn ritual magic. My teachers started with herbs and
warding, but felt that I needed ritual before I could continue my studies,” I
said, wishing I’d thought of that phrasing earlier.

“
Ah,
you have warded? That is good. Come then, I will take you to the dome.” Once
again she set off with her crisp walk.

I wondered what this professor taught, and why I was not
scheduled to see her, but I decided not to inquire. Professor Brown seemed like
the kind of person who would ask what she wanted to know. Her eyes, though . . .
I felt certain that I had seen her before.

“
You
need basic ritual before you can begin training with me. Otherwise all sorts of
terrible things can happen. Part of learning magic is learning how to limit
magic. Magic without limits is a dangerous thing.”

Her speech was precise, but I did not feel the weight of any
spell behind it. At a guess, English was not her first language. But I thought
I understood her well enough.

Curiosity won out. “What do you teach, Professor?”

“
Transformation,”
she replied, punching the four syllables.

Transformation? I had not even begun to think about
transformation. Changing things, maybe even changing self—

The cat. The cat in the barn.

You could become as small as a
cat
?

We pushed through oak doors to the staircase. The dome, I
knew, was on the third floor.

The woman stopped me with an upheld hand, shaped like a dancer’s,
her gaze lifting to meet mine. “Remember. Whenever you are in the dome—whatever
is happening is real. Do you understand me? Never assume that something is
illusion.”

“
I . . .
do not have a lot of training in defense,” I decided to say.

“
Use
what you have learned. This is a test not only of learning, but of competency
and courage.” Again the tiny flick of a finger, and with her other hand she
lifted her skirt and started up the stairs.