Gambling His Neck
Chris glanced around, then dropped his voice.
"Is there any underhanded way to get past the requirement?"
"Breathing methods don't have shortcuts."
Catherine shook her head as well.
"There might be something out there, but we don't know of it."
She caught him licking his lips and asked, "Want another?"
Shame pricked him, and he refused.
"I ought to eat back at the dormitory."
He added his thanks, then said, carefully, "But listen. You were cold in Lion Pavilion, and now you've gotten awfully kind."
"Me?"
"The old you would never have bought me cake and tea."
Alice jumped in to agree.
"She's right. You've gotten really kind. Back in Lion Pavilion you wouldn't have dreamed of being friends with someone like me. Am I wrong?"
Catherine looked sheepish.
"Was I like that?"
The two of them answered as one.
"You were."
Catherine drew out a handkerchief and fidgeted with it.
"The truth is, I never wanted to come to the magic tower."
"Why?"
"I liked living at home. I liked gathering friends for tea parties, going out to see performances, having dresses fitted, picnics, balls..."
Her eyes went hazy, as if she were looking back on happier days.
"And then a magic tower, of all things!"
"You hated the tower?"
"My family runs a merchant guild. Old Mages stopped by, and so did the tower's New Mages. Watching them, I understood. A mage isn't normal. A mage isn't human. So why would I have wanted to come? My father sent me by force."
Chris and Alice looked at each other. The two of them, born slaves, had longed for the tower; Catherine, raised in comfort in a wealthy house, had seen it otherwise.
Chris himself had learned, well enough, how grotesque a mage could be before he ever entered the tower—through the shocking sight of Randal burning Jack alive. Even so, he had not refused the place. He had desperately wanted to become one of them, because he was a slave, and slavery offered only that one road out.
So Catherine had been different.
Different circumstances bred different thoughts, and different thoughts bred different conduct. Dragged somewhere she hated, she had simply gone sullen.
Alice studied her.
"Even after you said you didn't want to go, your father forced you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"He meant to make me a mage and bind the house more tightly to the tower. Trade with the tower turns a handsome profit."
"I see."
Chris murmured, "There was a whole world we never knew."
Catherine's voice brightened.
"It's all right now. Learning magic has gotten fun."
"That's a relief."
Would Catherine, who had found herself again and grown bright and kind, turn inhuman like the other mages once her realm rose?
The thought left him bleak. He hoped she wouldn't change, but he had a feeling she would. After all, even he—still only at the Gyesin stage—had changed a great deal. Since coming to the tower he had killed a man. Stabbed in the back, he had come down with a sickness of suspicion. He could no longer trust people.
"Why do mages change?" he murmured.
"Chris, I think you're right. Cut yourself off from everyone else, isolate yourself for decades, and it comes out as a change in character."
Catherine nodded as if she agreed, thought a moment, then offered another view.
"Maybe it's age."
"Age?"
"Ordinary people grow old and die. Mages live a very long time. Instead of dementia, maybe something inhuman takes root."
"Instead of dementia." Chris laughed. "That's a fresh way of looking at it."
"Let's have another cup of tea. All this talking has left me thirsty."
This time they ordered a sweet tea. Chris drank and said, "Sweet really does suit my mouth."
Alice laughed.
"That's because your palate's cheap."
"I can't even deny it, and that wounds me."
Alice stuck out her tongue.
"I like sweet things too. What about you, Catherine?"
Catherine looked awkward.
"I..."
Seeing she couldn't answer, Chris laughed.
"So you're the dry, bitter sort."
Alice raised a thumb.
"A rich man's daughter, through and through."
"Don't tease me."
Bantering in a café with his old cohort from Lion Pavilion, life tasted worth living. Yes. This is how a person ought to live—happily.
Remembering the pavilion brought that bastard to mind.
"What's Alex up to these days? Learning his magic properly?"
Alice lowered her voice.
"After we heard the rumor that his arm had been cut off, this is what we thought."
"What?"
"Alex was finished."
"Why?"
"He went through a seed reading... and every result came back negative. Naturally, everything after that was painfully slow."
"He was the first of our cohort to sense mana, wasn't he? He and Andrew argued over which of them stood at the top, and you're telling me he doesn't even know his seed's attribute?"
That argument was why Henry had suffocated.
"That's what made it all the more disappointing. The ones who started later kept pulling ahead, one after another, while he kept falling behind... and then he was maimed on top of it."
"Did he leave the tower?"
"No. Just when everyone thought he was finished, there was a dramatic change."
"Does this have something to do with you glancing around and whispering?"
"It does."
"How?"
"A mage of very, very high standing took Alex as a disciple."
While the two of them whispered, Catherine, who had been quiet, joined in.
"They say a remarkable mage taught Alex with everything he had. As a result, Alex reached the realm of Jenyeom. He climbed faster than Andrew—the greatest hope of our cohort, the genius."
Alice nodded.
"Alex is the first Jenyeom-realm mage of our year."
"Alex was a dunce. He just becomes that overnight?"
"I told you. His master is an extraordinary mage. They say he poured resources into him without mercy."
"So you're saying... if a high-ranking mage dumps enough resources on someone, he can drag even a dunce up to Jenyeom?"
"Well. That's the conclusion, yeah."
Chris looked at Catherine.
"Couldn't you manage it too?"
"No. If I have to give reasons—first, my family isn't in a position to command a mage of that rank. Second, they would never spend that kind of astronomical sum on me."
"So Alex reached Jenyeom... Jenyeom... Jenyeom..."
The longer the muttering went on, the paler his face became.
"Chris, what's wrong all of a sudden?"
"Things between us are bad."
"Things are bad between us and Alex, too."
"No. Mine isn't on that level. The day I was working at the smithy, he came looking for me to kill me."
"What!"
Startled, Catherine's voice rose.
"That happened? Why?"
"I put him on the suspect list over Prince Mark's death. He held a grudge over it."
"But that was finished..."
"He's the type who nurses a grudge. Later, when the royal investigators came, I quietly pushed him as the culprit, so there was no repairing things between us."
"Why did you do that?"
"Because I hated him too much. And..."
When he trailed off, Catherine spoke quickly.
"And what?"
"I also wanted to hide the real culprit."
"What are you saying? Do you know who did it?"
Chris looked at Alice.
"Alice, you didn't tell her?"
Catherine turned on Alice.
"You knew?"
"I was right there when the knights from the royal house were hunting Chris like a rat."
Catherine chided her friend lightly.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"There were too many sore spots. I didn't want to bring up anything to do with the prince's death. You avoided the prince's business on purpose, too, didn't you?"
"I did."
The memory of a comrade burning alive rose in her, and she shuddered.
"So who was the culprit?"
"Smith."
"What! Why would Smith kill the prince?"
Alice repeated the case Chris had made that day. Catherine accepted it and nodded.
"Ah. So Smith was the culprit."
Chris said, "No."
Alice frowned.
"You said Smith was the culprit."
Even as she asked, her eyes widened.
"Does this have something to do with you killing Juan?"
It was something she had wanted to ask from the moment she saw him again, a question she had buried for fear it would pain him.
Chris watched the sunset slowly spreading beyond the window.
"Aigoo, look at the time. Let's go back and eat."
"Hey!"
Catherine flared.
"You're going to leave us hanging like this and just walk out?"
"That's because you've never lived in a cell. For us, every single meal is precious. We can't miss one. Alice came up a slave—she'll understand how I feel."
Catherine opened her purse.
"I'll buy you a whole cake. Make that your dinner."
Chris swallowed.
"A whole one?"
"Yes."
"Deal."
With a fresh-cream cake set before him, Chris began to talk. Cutting off pieces and eating as he went, he told them everything, leaving out only a few parts that didn't need saying. When the long story ended, Catherine spoke.
"Alex is probably blaming you for his arm being cut off, too."
Alice said, "That was for the crime of being insolent to the prince."
"Think about his character. He's the man who held a grudge over Lion Pavilion and went out of his way to the smithy to kill Chris while he was working as a laborer. He'll blame Chris for certain."
"Ah. You're right."
Alice took Chris's hand.
"Run."
He shook his head.
"I want to become a mage."
"You don't even have the talent!"
The blunt truth stabbed him in the chest, and Alice bowed her head.
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's fine. It's the truth. What of it?"
Catherine said, "I think you'd be better off running, too."
Chris pushed the plate away.
"I've lost my appetite. I can't eat any more."
Alice was dumbfounded.
"You left a few crumbs and ate the rest."
He leaned forward.
"Given Alex's character, he's definitely been keeping track of my movements."
"So what?"
"Which means he knows I got out of prison. And he still hasn't harmed me."
"And?"
"For the time being, he doesn't mean to kill me."
"Aren't you taking this too lightly?"
Catherine sided with Alice.
"Yes. You're reading the situation far too optimistically."
"Think about his character. Is he a patient man?"
Both of them shook their heads at once.
"No."
"Right. If Alex meant to kill me, he would have come and done it long ago."
"There's clearly sense in what you're saying. The more I think about it, the more I agree. But what if you're wrong? You're gambling with your neck as the stake. Even if the odds look kind, that isn't a bet you make."
Chris smiled bitterly.
"If I leave the tower, what glory is waiting for me?"
They said nothing.
"I'd wander the world and die for nothing."
Still neither answered.
"I truly want to become a mage. I want the world on its knees at my feet."
Honestly, it wasn't quite that grand. He would have been satisfied serving as the mage of a small domain. But even a post of that modest size required him to solve the problem of Iron Body. Only then could he function properly as a mage.
He exaggerated.
"If I can't become a mage, I'd rather die."
Pressed by that stubbornness, the two women could urge him to leave no further.
"How are the Lion Pavilion cohort we haven't mentioned today getting on?"
"You mean Frank? He reached Jenyeom last year."
"Good for him. Was he still taciturn in the Training Wing?"
"Yes. Quietly, steadily, he walked his own path."
"And Andrew, the greatest hope of our cohort?"
"He's the one who reached Jenyeom right after Alex."
"He lived up to expectations. But once you reach Jenyeom, do you leave the Training Wing?"
"Yes. You choose a master of your own and serve them, the way David serves Randal. You might see them later."
"How?"
"Teaching those at Gyesin is the work of a Jenyeom-realm mage, isn't it?"
They talked for a long while after that, set a time for their next meeting, and parted.