Mother of Learning. Arc 3 Incomplete

Zorian gave him a sour look. «It’s a lot more complicated than that — that’s just the visible part.»

«Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second,» Zach said.

Still, while Zach seemed very impressed with Zorian’s achievement, Ibery remained strangely quiet and kept giving him funny looks. This was why he hated telling people about his lock-picking prowess — most immediately assumed he was some kind of a thief. Well, that and he didn’t want the academy authorities to find out about his achievement. They would no doubt change their warding scheme and then he wouldn’t be able to do what he just did.

Fortunately, Ibery wasn’t as condemning as some people Zorian met in his life, and got over her suspicions quickly once he started to prepare the salve. Strangely enough, Zach didn’t know how to make one, even though it was a fairly simple thing to make and Zach had demonstrated some mightily impressive alchemical work in class. He didn’t appear all that interested in learning, either — apparently the anti-rash salve was too mundane for his tastes, and he was only interested in things like strength potions and wound closing elixirs. That sounded like trying to build a house without bothering to set up proper foundations, but it wasn’t Zorian who was a decade old time traveler. Yet.

«Aren’t those purple creeper leaves?» Ibery asked, pointing at the small pile Zorian had placed on a wet piece of cloth.

«Yes,» confirmed Zorian, wrapping the leaves into the cloth. «They’re the main ingredient, though they have to be crushed first. Alchemical manuals usually claim you have to reduce the leaves into powder but it’s not really necessary to go that far. You just have to use more leaves otherwise, but it’s not like purple creepers are in short supply…»

An hour later, the salve was done and Zach was kind enough to conjure some kind of illusionary mirror so Ibery could apply the salve on herself right then and there. Kind and sneaky, because while Ibery was busy with applying the salve on herself, Zach dragged Zorian away in the corner so he could talk to him in private.

«So?» Zorian prompted. «What is it?»

Zach reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring, which he promptly handed to Zorian. It was a featureless band of gold that reacted strangely when Zorian channeled some mana into it.

«It’s a spell formula,» Zach said.

«Magic missile?» guessed Zorian.

«That, plus shield and flamethrower,» Zach said. «Now you can use all three in actual combat.»

Zorian looked at the ring with newfound respect. There was only so much one could cram into a spell formula, and it was mostly dependant on the size of the item used as a base. Turning something as small as a ring into a spell formula for three different spells was a pretty impressive feat, even if they were relatively low-level ones.

«Must have been pretty expensive,» Zorian remarked.

«Made it myself, actually,» Zach said with a grin.

«Still, that’s a pretty valuable thing to give away to someone you’ve met less than a month ago,» said Zorian. «Why do I get the feeling I’ll be needing this in the near future?»

Zach’s smile disappeared and he suddenly became more subdued. «Maybe. I’m just making sure, you know. You never know when an angry troll might get a jump on you or something.»

«How… oddly specific,» noted Zorian. «You know, you’ve been getting steadily more nervous as the summer festival approaches. And you seem oddly interested in making sure I attend the dance.»

«You will, right?» Zach prompted.

«Yes, yes, I told you I will half a dozen times already,» huffed Zorian. «What’s so important about the dance, anyway? What’s going to happen there, oh great traveler from the future?»

«You have to see it to believe it,» Zach sighed. «It’s possibly even more implausible than time travel being real.»

«That bad?» asked Zorian, privately agreeing that an invasion of that scale was something he would have had trouble believing in if he had not lived through it.

«Just… try to survive, okay?» Zach sighed. Before Zorian could say anything else, Zach suddenly donned a mask of fake cheerfulness and spoke in a voice loud enough to be heard by Ibery. «Wow, Zorian, I’m sure glad we’ve had this talk but I should really get going now! Have to be well rested for tomorrow! Bye, Zorian! Bye, Ibery! I’ll see you both at the dance!»

And then he left. Zorian shook his head at the other boy’s exit and walked up to Ibery, who was now free of purple rash that once covered her face and neck.

«Well, I guess we should go too,» Zorian said. «The academy normally doesn’t have anyone patrolling after dark, but that idiot’s shouting may have alerted someone to our presence.»

«Oh. Um, right.»

Zorian watched Ibery as they filed out of the workshop and he used his magic trick to re-lock the door again. She seemed strangely subdued for someone who got what they wanted.

«What’s wrong?» he finally asked after a while.

«Err, nothing’s wrong,» she said. «Why do you ask?»

«You don’t seem very happy to be cured,» he noted.