Chapter 63

“So,” Maddy said. “Like most disciplines, spellwork is a mixture of intuition and study. A proper academic foundation—an understanding of principles and techniques—helps a newbie mage in advancement ... though, truth told, a person could stumble their way into competence just by listening to their heart. That’s important to remember. What you’re doing should feel right. Your rune gives you an invaluable set of instincts, and the worst mistake you could make is ignoring them over what some stuffy book says.”

Zoey blinked. There were similarities in what Maddy had said to how Sabina had described alchemy, but Maddy was taking a much harder stance: that instincts superseded everything. Sabina had outright said instinct was needed in the ‘brewing stage’, but she’d emphasized study and knowledge was just as important, if not more. Maybe that was because alchemy was a crafting rune? It would make sense a crafting rune took a more scientific approach.

“It does feel like I know how to do things I shouldn’t,” Zoey said. “Rosalie helped me learn the basics,” the bare, bare basics, “but even then, she’s not a mage. I had to fumble around ... but I made it work.” In a very simple sense, at least. A single spell: ice-spike.

“Exactly,” Maddy said. “That’s lesson one—use what your rune gives you. Study is important, but not that important. Practical application, and learning to trust yourself, is by far the most crucial aspect. Though, advance studies—before entering the Fractures—is definitely useful. My mom made me work through a nauseating amount of books. I think some people take that to mean study is the most important part of casting, since most good casters have pored over a bunch of spellcasting compendiums ... but it’s more because there’s nothing else to do until you get your rune. Inferior preparation is better than none.”

“Ah,” Zoey said. It was an intriguing perspective. It made sense there would be misunderstandings about that sorts of thing ... or, all sorts of things. These people didn’t have the internet, obviously, and from her discussions with Rosalie, it seemed like valuable information on how to succeed as a wayfarer was kept secret simply for the purpose of competition. Zoey was in a fortunate position to be talking with a competent mage, someone raised by a family of spellcasters. Just one of a hundred other ways she’d been lucky, arriving to this world.

“Let’s get some vocab hashed out,” Maddy said. “There’s a lot of words people use to mean all kinds of things, and I want us to be on the same page. So. Here we go.”

Maddy’s bubbly, somewhat timid nature had faded as she started her lesson. Zoey had always loved seeing someone become absorbed talking about things they were passionate about—and Maddy was definitely passionate about spellcasting.

Maddy traced a gloved finger through the air in a wide circle, and where her finger passed, a glowing white line was left behind. The quick movement completed, a single, thick circle hung, supported by nothing.

“A circle,” Maddy said. “It’s how all spells begin. You know what it means?”

“The number of them represents the strength.”

“Right,” Maddy said. “Or, mostly right. It’s not wrong, but you’re paying me so I can be specific. Circle strength isn’t absolute—it varies from caster to caster. Really, a circle describes the maximum strength of a spell ... and few people, possibly none, can reach that potential. Not even The Muse, I’d suspect.”

“The Muse?”

Maddy gave her an odd look, before remembering Zoey’s amnesia. “The guildmaster of the Striders,” she said. “Maybe the strongest mage in the world. Definitely up there, at a minimum.”

Zoey absorbed that. She’d heard the name of another near-legendary figure: Enzo d’Celestin, the guildmaster of the Deepshunters, the highguild Rosalie was aligned with. It made sense the other dominant political force had an equally powerful leader.

“Why’s she called ‘The Muse’?”

Maddy shrugged. “Her class uses music. Her weapon is a flute. And a few other reasons ... but you’re distracting us.”

Zoey flushed; she’d done the same thing with Sabina. Zoey really did have a problem with being distractible. “Sorry. Keep going. A circle isn’t an absolute measure?”

“Or consistent, at least,” Maddy said. “It’s about how much mana it can hold. Properly constructing the formula—” In a few deft movements, Maddy sketched several looping glyphs into the circle, filling the interior of the suspended glowing light, “—means the spell can hold closer to its maximum. But nobody can be perfect. Close, maybe. But the worse you are,” as if to demonstrate, Maddy’s wrist wobbled, and the next line she engraved into the air had a sloppy jerkiness to it, which made the whole diagram shake, as if a building with a support that had suddenly sagged, “the less mana the spell holds, and the less effectively it uses it.”

Maddy placed a palm onto the finished spell circle, and the light surged, briefly, before vanishing in a flash. A single crystalline dart zipped away, slamming into the far wall and vanishing without a sound.

“And how does it scale?” Zoey asked. “The circles? From first to second, second to third. What magnitude between each tier?”

Maddy blinked. “Well, that’s hard to quantify. And isn’t consistent, I’d figure. Each successive advancement is stronger than the previous.”

“Exponential,” Zoey said, nodding.

“Er, yeah. Exponential.” She gave Zoey a curious look. “You’re a scholar?”

Which had Zoey pausing in surprise. She supposed a ‘regular’ person wouldn’t know terms like ‘exponential’—the education system, and technology, of this world wasn’t in the stone age, but it wasn’t quite to the point of Zoey’s, or even close. ‘Exponential’ would be a mathematical term. Not a particularly complex one, but why would a commoner know what it meant?