“Yes, they mentioned it at Convocation Academy,” she replied, which wasn’t technically a lie.It had been mentioned in passing, though in the context of a wizard being ham-handed with their magic and using more force than technique.She could work with Gabriel on this.“We only need do this once more today, to satisfy the proctor, and then we can make haste more slowly.”He still held her, showing no sign of setting her down, so she laid a hand on his cheek and kissed his pursed and unresponsive lips.“I’m fine, Gabriel.I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”
“We have yet to establish that you will,” he countered, “as you’ve been evasive with me in the past about the toll our magic work takes on you.”
“I’ve promised to do better,” she replied with all the sincerity she could muster, well aware that she wasn’t being perfectly honest at the moment.There would be time for honesty later.
He hesitated.“It occurs to me that in your twisty mind there’s some distance between doing better in the future and adhering to your promise in the moment, especially if you think you’re doing the right thing in managing me.”
The man knew her far too well.How had that happened in such a short span of time?She scraped her nails over his cheek, just sharply enough to make him flinch.“How unfortunate that we have no time for self-excoriating philosophy.”She sighed as if in deep regret.“You know how I love it so.”
“Ha-ha,” he muttered, but he set her on her feet—though he kept steadying hands on her.
She brushed them off.“I’m fine.See?”Determined to stay upright, she marched to the magically sealed arcanium door, then held out an expectant hand.“Let’s go kick that proctor in the teeth.”
Gabriel took her hand, interlacing their fingers while watching her intently, and she knew he was sampling her magic, testing her strength.At least he knew to do that now.Fortunately, whatever he sensed seemed to satisfy him because he nodded minutely.“Ready?”
“Yes.”She faced the door, a seemingly solid circle of silver.Gabriel sipped at her magic, just enough to mix with his, the tendrils winding out to make contact with the enchantment embedded there by his Phel wizard ancestors.She paid close attention to the transition of the dense metal back into the moonlight it had been woven from.Or, at least, as Gabriel had guessed that was how they’d done it.It was truly a miraculous enchantment—both in its original creation and that it had endured for so long without a living wizard to maintain it.Once again, she marveled at the ingenuity and power of the ancient House Phel wizards.
And she wondered at their precipitous decline.Gabriel possessed off-the-charts levels of magical potential and, from the evidence, so had his ancestors.How had such a powerful house gone from that to magic too minor to register above a three on the Convocation’s MP scorecards, and in just a couple of generations?Houses declined in power, sure, and were removed from the Convocation roster when they no longer had at least one wizard with sufficient scores.But usually they decayed gracefully, a High House drifting into second-tier status, and thence to the lower tiers where they scrabbled along, their production license greatly reduced but still viable to sustain a small household.
But House Phel—they’d gone from High House to nothing.Their people had become farmers largely ignorant of magic and the distant Convocation, not even aware of the minor magic still lingering in most of the population.Yes, rumors had it that madness had played a role in the fall of House Phel, but that didn’t explain the enormity of the precipitous fall.
“Nic?”Gabriel prompted, tugging her hand.“Do you need to rest?”
The long tunnel under the lake glowed ahead of her.“Just thinking.”She kicked her feet into gear.They had a number of pressing issues to handle, far more immediately important, and yet… “Is there a history of House Phel in the library?”she asked Gabriel as they walked, side by side, their fingers still interlaced.
He didn’t answer for a long moment.“That’s not what I expected you to be thinking about.”
“That’s promising.”She gave him a cheeky smile.“I’d hate to be predictable this early in our relationship.”
“Somehow I suspect you willneverbe predictable,” he muttered under his breath.
“What’s that, darling?I didn’t catch it.”She beamed innocently.
“Never mind.There are histories, yes, some quite old.What era are you interested in?”
“The, ah—” She caught herself before calling it the “final” one.Nothing ominous in that.Besides, it hadn’t been so final after all.“The most recent, before House Phel’s status was revoked.”
“That’s still a couple of centuries old,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t ask if it was new,” she replied patiently.
“I don’t recall reading one,” he answered slowly as they reached the end of the tunnel, unlocking the next door.“It could’ve been among the tomes ruined by floodwaters.”
Hmm.She really wondered.“How about family gossip?”She picked her way carefully over the cellar floor, hoping she wouldn’t step on anything disgusting—or venomous—with her bare feet, but still unwilling to call Gabriel’s attention to his error in forgetting her boots.“What tales are told of the end days of old House Phel?”
“They aren’t,” he said abruptly.“We don’t talk of the past.”
Maybe Gabriel’s parents would know.“Do you have any living grandparents?”
He bit out a sigh.“No.Do you want to tell me what you’re getting at?”
“Just mulling a few things.In History of the Convocation, my professor emphasized learning from the past to predict the future.”Thankfully they reached the rickety stairs up to the kitchen without anything chomping on her toes.
“We’re still in the process of reestablishing House Phel,” he replied, sounding cranky about it, “and you’re already researching our downfall?”
“Well, clearly I’m not,” she countered primly.“As there aren’t any books to read on the topic.”
“What about in the Convocation archives you mentioned?”