School of Sorcery

Chandagnac said:

'Maybe today is your lucky day,' says Icharium, his grin growing even wider.

'What if we've had enough and we decide we don't want to play anymore?' Phil asks suspiciously. 'Can we cash in our chips and get money back?'

'Sure. I wouldn't cheat you. This is a respectable business, you know.'

'No, it isn't,' Venta tells him flatly. 'If it was, you wouldn't be doing it under a mask of secrecy.'

'It's all part of the excitement,' says Icharium with a shrug.

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'What's that golden demon statue in the corner?' you ask, squinting at it.

'Noticed that, did you?' Icharium raises an eyebrow at you. 'That's our patron. One of Simony's little fancies.'

'It's Achamat, isn't it?'

He nods. 'I would have preferred Zanaster, myself. But it seems to have worked out for us.'

'Isn't that dangerous?' Venta squawks.

Icharium wears an expression of unbelievable innocence on his face. 'Why would it be dangerous?'

'Because… demons want to destroy all of reality, don't they?' Glancing up at him fearfully, Venta looks suddenly uncertain.

'Depends on the demon. Some of them want to destroy everything. Some of them want power, influence, and mastery of their own small corner of Creation. Achamat is one of the latter. Patron of gamblers and chancers everywhere."

'Why are there illusory tapestries depicting hunters on horseback chasing a human being?' you ask.

'Someone has a nasty sense of humour.' He shrugs. 'Nothing to do with me.'

You reach a decision. 'I don't think it's a good idea for us to get involved in anything which has been dedicated to a demon lord,' you say, glancing around at your teammates. They mutely acquiesce, so you continue, 'We'd like to cash in our chips right now, actually. One silver shard for each of us, please.'

'Clever,' says Icharium, looking amused. 'Of course, that's the kind of trick that only works once, you realise.'

'Are you going to give us the money or not?' asks Phil.

'Why not? I have plenty of money,' says Icharium with a careless shrug. 'I can afford to be charitable to little first-years sometimes.' He hands each of you a shiny silver shard in exchange for the wooden gambling chips he gave you earlier. 'Don't spend it all at once!'

'Great. Free money!' you cry, exiting the makeshift gambling hall. Your teammates hurriedly follow. 'Well, that was worth it. What shall we do now?'


You end up hanging out together for a few hours, practising your Bladderwrack plays, reminiscing about your recent adventures in the tomb of Garanhedd the giant, and discussing you've seen and heard of Simony Bidwell. None of you can figure out what his plan might be – why did he dedicate the Apathy Society to his father's demonic patron?

'What if he's trying to undercut the old man?' Phil suggests. 'I mean, Achamat is the one who gave him fancy magical powers in exchange for worship and so on. Maybe Simony's plan is to say to the big bad demon lord, "Give me those powers instead and I'll give you a better deal." What do you think?' He glances around at you and the others, looking for your approval.

'That would make sense,' says Venta with a nod. 'Risky, though.'

'I never thought I'd be involved in any of this stuff,' says Isolia, sounding rather shaken.

'Well, what can we do?' You heave a frustrated sigh. 'Keep our heads down and try to keep out of trouble, that's all.'

'The problem is, it seems like trouble has a way of finding us,' Phil says sagely.

It seems that all of you agree with that.


The next day, during the morning's Ritual Magic lesson, you work through a series of exercises designed to test how well you are able to create and maintain a variety of different illusions. Apparently, from next week onwards, you'll be taught the basics of force magic. Since Wing Commander Vancien already taught you some simple force magic spells for use in games of Bladderwrack, you've made a start already.

After lunch, you have a study period during which you half-heartedly practice your literacy skills together with your team. Now that Isolia can read and write well enough for Professor Witt to praise her, it seems much less important than it did before.


In the evening, you're alone when you head to the latest meeting of the Explorers and Archaeologists' Club. None of your teammates want to go with you. They are wary of getting any more involved in Simony's schemes than they already have.

You head to the same outbuilding as you did before, with its plush furnishings and dim lighting. Now that you're a member of the club in good standing, no one disputes your right to be there. You were able to trust Phil's wayward brother that much, at least.

In a gloomy alcove, close enough to the fire to get the benefit of some of its warmth, but not facing it directly, you find Simony himself, haggling with another young man who is furtively trying to sell him something.

'It's worth five hundred shards at least! Do you know how much trouble I had to go through to get this?'

'The last breath of Sharhedron the dragonlord,' Simony muses, examining the ruby-red gemstone which is being proffered to him. Even some distance away, you can see that it glows with inner fire. 'I'm not sure I want to buy that from you. It's rather too hot to handle, if you get my meaning.' He smirks at his own joke. 'Did you steal it from the Sagittarus Estate?'

'What if I did?' says the other boy, putting on a show of indifference.

'Dangerous enemies to have. I admire your bravery, but perhaps you would do well to temper it with a measure of… ah, caution.' Simony sighs heavily. 'This is one of the most famous and valuable gemstones anywhere in the Sambian Empire. In the entire world, probably. I can't pay you its true value, I won't be able to sell it, and if I take it off your hands, I'll only be putting myself in danger. On this occasion, I would recommend that you go out and find yourself another fence."

'So you won't buy it? Not at all?'

'I'm afraid not.'

'I… I could go as low as two hundred,' says the other boy, looking frantic.

Simony laughs at that. 'Two hundred shards to cut my own throat? Not on your life, my friend. Be off with you!'

Still grumbling, the young man, who has in his possession a legendary gemstone which he stole from the estate of a rich nobleman, puts his stolen property away in his pouch, turns around and hurriedly exits the premises.

'I thought this was a club for aspiring archaeologists, not a den of thieves,' you snidely remark.

'Archaeologists, thieves… what's the difference?' Simony gives a careless shrug. 'How nice to see you, young Master Valens. Is there anything I can do for you?'

'You mentioned that… uh, you might have some jobs available, from time to time.'

'So I did.' He gives you an appraising glance and a nod, then points to the door to one of the backrooms. 'Go through there, tell them that I sent you, and they'll explain what they need you to do.'

Feeling somewhat anxious about what this might lead to, you follow his directions, entering a smaller room in which three young men – no, two men and one woman – are standing around a ritual circle, arguing with each other. You only get to hear the tail end of their conversation, but it seems that they're upset about something.

'–perfectly safe!'

'Tell that to Xim,' says the young woman, shaking her head.

'Look, he'll be fine. It'll just take him a little while to recover, that's all,' says one of the men, holding an old leather-bound grimoire in his arms and speaking in a calm, soothing voice. 'It could have been a lot worse.'

'The plan can still go ahead,' says the other man. 'We just need a fourth person.' He indicates you with a pointed finger. 'Happily, I think our "fourth person" just arrived.'

'Uh, Simony sent me,' you say, looking around nervously. You don't understand any of the symbols they've inscribed into their ritual circle. Or why they need a sea urchin shell, a pile of sand, or a handsome piece of much-weathered driftwood.

'I'm Philomond,' says the grimoire-holder. He indicates the woman next to him. 'This is Xanthippa.'

'Regimander,' says the other member of their team.

'We have discovered the fabled grimoire of Galadan the Mystic, in which he describes the principles of portal magic,' Philomond says grandly. 'It takes all three of us to open a portal, but we can do it! We just hit a slight snag with one of our practice runs, nothing to worry about!'

'Ximenon nearly got himself killed,' Regimander mutters.

'Yes, but he didn't! It's fine! We have everything ready this time,' says Philomond. 'Look, we only need this to work once! Just one time, then we'll all be rich beyond our wildest dreams!'

'What are you planning to do?' you ask, feeling some trepidation.

'You've heard of Mishrak, right? The dragon-god of the deep sea. Everything which falls into the deep sea, he claims as part of his hoard. Well, he's got a vast amount of wealth which he isn't using, so he's not going to notice if we take a few sacks full…'

As his voice trails away, Xanthippa takes over. 'We have figured out a way to open a portal into Mishrak's private pocket dimension. It'll take the three of us to hold the portal open, so we need a fourth person to go through the portal and grab as much loot as possible.'

'We'll split it four ways,' says Regimander. 'Like the man who couldn't pronounce his effs or tees, I can't say fairer than that.'

'Just think about it. Enough gold that you'll never have to worry about paying tuition again," Philomond says dreamily. "What do you say?'

How do you answer? (Choose one)
[] "I'm in!" (Wait for them to open the portal, then jump through.)
[] "No way!" (Flee as quickly as you can.)
[] "Uh… I have some questions first." (Write in: what questions do you want to ask?)