Negli's Confinement

  After his arrest, Negli was moved to a different suite in the inn. They placed a suppressor ring on him.

  "This ring is keyed to your blood. It inhibits your ability to use magic. Don't take it off, we'll know instantly. It will be considered an escape attempt in which case the guards are authorized to kill. Don't leave the room — we can track you."

  There was no risk of the ring slipping off — the artifact adjusted ifself perfectly to his finger. Negli felt helpless and humiliated, though he tried not to show it.

  The day after, his brother Igli came to visit. At least that meant he hadn't been forgotten. They exchanged polite pleasantries. Negli insisted on his innocence, Igli assured him of the family's support. They couldn't speak freely — Arisa, the red-eyed inquisitor, remained present, suspicious of Negli's every word. When he asked for books, she stepped in.

  "The Inquisition has no way to verify whether your books contain hidden messages or ciphers."

  "Then at least give me ink and paper."

  "We can't allow your family to pass you anything."

  But the next day, she returned with writing supplies and a stack of blank paper.

  "The Inquisition provides these at your family's request," she said stiffly.

  They were Inquisition-issued, not from Igli, which was smart. Even so, she was clearly displeased. If it were up to her, he'd likely be hanging in some dungeon. Still, as annoying as she was, Negli couldn't help but respect her prudence. His brother could smuggle a message even on blank paper, even with Negli's magic sealed. Were Negli in her place, he'd exercise as much caution.

  In the first few days, there were multiple interrogations. Two inquisitors — Arisa and a big man whose name Negli couldn't be bothered to remember — visited him. The first session was in the evening, dragging late into the night. At the tenth hour, Negli refused to speak further, citing inquisitorial code. The man fumed, but there was nothing he could do.

  Each played a role: the man was rude and threatening, Arisa — mildly sympathetic. Negli thought the arrangement poorly chosen. The man's threats lacked gravity — perhaps he was still in training. Arisa would've made a far better intimidator, and the man might've passed as a clumsy sympathizer. Negli tried to provoke them, citing regulations, flattering one while subtly insulting the other. Neither took the bait. They were professionals, after all. The interrogations soon stopped.

  Then, one day, Berenji came. Arisa stood to the side, listening. Berenji opened with his usual pleasantries, ordered tea, and even invited Arisa to join them. She sat but barely touched her cup.

  Berenji tested the waters for a confession, but gave up quickly. He leaned back, sipping tea, his curious brown eyes studying Negli. Rarely had Negli seen him drop his affable mentor mask. Before him sat not a patron, not a bureaucrat, but a scientist observing a curious specimen.

  "I don't understand," Berenji said. "You had money. A career ahead of you. Chief Arcanist — at your age! Yet you sided with those country nobles, those nobodies. What could they possibly offer? They barely survived the winter themselves. So why?"

  "They're my friends."

  "Oh, don't give me that. I know you — you have a practical mind. You wouldn't do this just for friendship. So what was it, really?" He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know what? I can fix this. No problem — we'll call it stress, nerves. Just tell me what happened, and you'll have your life back."

  Negli sipped his tea. Ideally, he should say nothing. But was this a chance to probe Berenji? After a moment, he replied:

  "I don't want my old life back. I don't want to be Chief Arcanist, or even Archmage. All Tower officials do is politicking. The higher I climb, the farther I become from knowledge and magic. As much as I enjoy being rich, I won't waste my life on falttery."

  Berenji shook his head.

  "I can't believe what I'm hearing. And here I thought you were a serious man. Mature. We're not politicking — we're maintaining order. That's how the world works. Magic is for battlemages, for fireball-hurling meatheads No one cares about magic. Real power is here." He gestured vaguely around.

  Negli set down his cup, smiling. Seeing Berenji genuinely annoyed was oddly satisfying.

  "Order, you say? Isn't it order for order's sake? The land is dying. People are starving. We need solutions, ideas, not just 'order'. The Tower has lost its way. The only thing you do is squabble over titles and silver. Keep your order if you wish — I'll go my way."

  Berenji turned to Arisa with a theatrical sigh.

  "Forgive my former student," he said. "Clearly he's reliving his rebellious teenage years. Let me know if he snaps out of it."

  He bowed mockingly and left without a backward glance.

  Negli's Dilemma

  On the eleventh day of confinement, Negli stood at the window, staring down at the frozen canal. His suite was on the second floor, overlooking the embankment. The fall wasn't that high, but landing on hard ice could cause injury — not that he planned to jump. Despite its futility, the thought of escape often crossed his mind.

  The Inquisition had nothing concrete on him — of that, he was fairly sure. His family was too influential for them to fabricate charges outright, but not influential enough to set him free. So here he was, suspended in limbo of a posh suite.

  Most likely, they were holding him until the spring Conference. There, they'd present their accusations. Best case: he'd be absolved. Worst: fined some symbolic sum. Either way, his position in the Tower was as good as gone.

  Logically, he should have waited it out. He wasn't in immediate danger. He'd already done what he could for Kedi. Just wait and see how events unfolded — that's what the old Negli would have done.

  But one thing worried him. If all they wanted was a dismissal, they'd simply order him to resign. The Tower didn't care for court theatrics or fines. So why keep him? Were they still waiting for a confession? Or was it something more calculated — something that required him out of the way?

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  As he saw it, there were two possible outcomes: One — he is released, resigns, and continues his research on Aya. Two — he is released, and there is no Aya, no House Vemer even, and he is a disgraced warlock with nothing to show for it. The two possibilities were about equal in his estimation, which meant he was betting his future on a coin toss. Not a good gamble. It made him think of other options, and the only one that came to mind was escape.

  But was it possible? Suppose he removed the ring and got his magic back — it would trigger the alarm, the guards would rush in. And then what? Jump out the window? Even if he escaped the building, the Inquisition would just comb the city.

  So he had to disappear quietly. That meant three things: remove the ring unnoticed, open the window unnoticed, and climb down unnoticed. Each step had its own obstacles. The ring would sound the alarm. The window had no handles. And for climbing, he'd need a rope.

  He sighed and sat on the couch. How did the ring even work? He knew the basics — it had to do with elemental composition. The keyed circuit resonated with the blood of the wearer. And it had to be live blood. Spilled blood quickly dies. Death element sets in, and the circuit resonates no longer. In theory, blood inside an organ lived longer, so if one cut off the finger with the ring, it wouldn't trigger right away. Still, it'd give him only a few minutes. He looked at his index finger. It was his favorite, and he decided to keep it.

  Nothing else came to mind, so he decided to start with research. He picked up a quill and began writing down the spell formulas he'd need.

  Negli's Work

  From that day on, Negli stayed up late every night and trained the guards to bring him breakfast at noon. In about a week, he had reconstructed the ring's spellwork. He had no way of testing it without magic — but he was more or less confident.

  Arisa visited daily to prod at his will. At first, he responded, then just ignored her.

  "What is it you're writing?" she asked once.

  "It's my work."

  She didn't press further.

  One day, he noticed a cloaked figure outside, watching him. At first, he thought it was a guard, but then the figure waved and lowered its hood. It was Imke, his servant. His windows looked out onto a narrow, frozen canal, and Imke stood on the other side. Negli waved back. Imke pulled his hood up again and disappeared into a side street. He reappeared the next day, and the day after, just before dusk. Negli had no way of communicating with him, but he could deduce what was happening. Most likely, his brother had made Imke watch the inn in case Negli found a way to pass a message.

  One morning, an idea struck him. He ran it through the ring's schematic, and it held up. Of course, he couldn't be certain — the only way to truly verify a circuit was to apply magic and see if it worked. At first, working purely inside his head had been frustrating, but then he realized there was something liberating about it. The inner sanctuary of his mind was a place of freedom like no other — a place where no amount of shackles could stop him. He had never noticed it before, when tools were at hand.

  He checked every spell thrice that day, then spilled candlewax on his bed and ordered his sheets changed. The next day, Arisa noticed the change in his mood.

  "Why aren't you writing anymore?" she asked.

  He glanced absently at the table. His writings were neatly stacked and set aside.

  "The research is over. I need to think of implications."

  "Shouldn't you start with goals in mind?"

  "You start with goals, but then the research goes its own way. In the end, you know what's possible and at what price. It isn't always what you wanted — so you decide whether to use it, and how."

  "And what's possible with your research?"

  He met her eyes. A keen, unfaltering gaze. She must have been frustrated by now, yet she didn't show it.

  "Allow me to keep that to myself. The work's not published yet — I don't want someone else taking the credit. I'll send you a note as soon as it's available in the Archives."

  "I confiscate your notes for inspection," she said after a pause.

  He gave her an exasperated look. Why did she have to be so difficult?

  "Make sure you return them intact."

  She picked up the pile and left. He stood and went to the window. Imke was there, standing in a lane, obscured by shadows. Negli had gotten good at spotting him. It made him wonder — how long had Imke been around?

  He ordered tea and told the guards he'd be working late again. The man grunted and closed the door behind him. The guards disliked him — his arrogance, his erratic hours — but they wouldn't have to tolerate him much longer.

  Negli began by writing out the spells he'd need. There were just three. He did it from memory, then checked them against notes he'd made on a small piece of paper he kept hidden. He had nothing else to do for a couple of hours, so he savored his tea, thinking of different things.

  Two hours past midnight, he took off his earring, pressed a hidden catch, and it split open, revealing a small, metal blade. He rolled up his sleeve, wiped his hand with the hot tea, and threw the rest onto the carpet. Then made an incision. A red bead appeared instantly on his swollen vein. Holding his elbow over the cup, he let the blood flow until it was half full. Then he dipped his index finger in the blood and slowly lowered the ring into the cup. It clinked softly against the porcelain.

  He held his breath and took the finger out. No alarm. Instead, a peculiar sensation washed over him — a tingling wave of magical power returning. It was pleasant, but he had to hurry — blood spoils quickly.

  He took up the first spell and chanted it. The blood stirred. It condensed, rising through the ring like jelly squeezing through a loop. The ring settled around a small, crimson mass. It twitched, then grew limbs. A tiny humanoid figure — red, wet, and faintly steaming. The ring fit around its waist like a belt. The doll opened its eyes. Small, glassy red beads stared up at him with unsettling intensity.

  "Can you hear me?" Negli asked.

  "Yes," it replied.

  It moved its little red mouth when speaking, but there was no sound. Instead, the reply came telepathically. That was a good sign, meaning the spell had been performed cleanly.

  "Will you help me?"

  "Yes. I am you," the doll said.

  "You know the plan?"

  "You escape. I burn."

  Negli had been afraid he'd have to explain everything, but the little creature shared his thoughts. It was supposed to work that way, but he hadn't been sure whether the ring would interfere. The creature climbed out of the cup and stood on the table.

  "You're bleeding," it noted.

  He quickly bandaged the wound, then took out the rope he had made from sheets the day before.

  "Looks weak," the doll commented. Or was it his own thought? No wonder Caseus went mad, working with these things as much as he did.

  He took the sheet with the second spell and approached the window. He marked the glass with his bloodied finger and chanted. He felt the spell tug at his power, and he fed it very carefully. The glass began to heat — slowly, evenly — until it softened and started to melt. Liquid glass, glowing golden, dripped down the frame. Must be quite the sight from the street. A cold wind rushed in.

  He returned to the table, drew a circle, and chanted the third spell. The small fire rune glowed brightly against the tabletop. He looked at the red homunculus standing by the rune. Did it intend to stand like that for hours? He should have thought of some kind of chair for it.

  "Pour me tea. It's cold," it said.

  Negli filled the cup, and the creature tested it with its hand, like water in a bath.

  "What are you waiting for? Go. I'll trigger it at eleven-thirty."

  Negli tied the rope to the post and lowered it out the window. It almost reached the base of the building, but there was still the height of the embankment. He'd have to fall a little. He pulled on his cloak and stepped onto the sill.

  "Good luck," the creature thought.

  "Good luck to you," he thought in response.

  "I am you," the creature noted.

  Negli grabbed the rope and hung on. It held. He slid down gradually, loosening and tightening his grip in turns. About halfway down, he heard a tearing sound. He loosened his grip, sliding fast, but clutched at the end. The sheets tore, and he tumbled down. Negli fell into a snowdrift clumsily, hitting his ass against the ice. He grumbled, trying to stand up, but froze as he saw a cloaked figure standing over him.

  "Master," it whispered and extended a hand.

  He took the hand and stood up.

  "Imke?" he asked.

  "Yes. I have a place nearby — let's go there."

  "I need to get to the Vemer estate," Negli said. "Can you help me?"

  "I can, but the gates are closed. Can we wait until eight?"

  "Yes, we can," Negli said.

  Imke led him to a nearby stable where two mares waited. He handed him a set of servant's clothes to replace his bloodied robes. They waited in the stables until eight, drinking tea Imke made on a small stove. It wasn't true tea — just some herbal mix peasants used — but he could swear it tasted better than the inn's tea. At half past eight, they rode out of the city among the trickle of early travelers. The guards let them pass without question.