Riniock took the stack of manuals from Linry and flipped through them, scanning the titles.
'Dune Drift…Stellaridon's Thirst…Earstone…Desert Deterrent,' he murmured, counting at least nine in total. 'These are all techniques you're taught here?'
Linry nodded.
'Just from the titles alone, I can tell these are incredibly useful.'
'Naturally,' she confirmed. 'Our academy's founders spent their entire lives in the rock barrens. They developed these spells and techniques to make survival in this place easier for future generations.'
Riniock turned the pages, admiring the detailed instructions, intricate diagrams, and arcane graphemes.
'I can only lend them to you,' Linry said. 'Copy them down as quickly as you can and study them at your own pace.'
He glanced up. 'You're not going to help?'
Linry shook her head, tapping a finger against her lips, emphasizing her bewitchment. 'You know there are some things I can't share – whether willingly or by force.'
Riniock exhaled through his nose. 'I see. Well then, if you don't mind, I'll start right away.'
Riniock wasted no time, meticulously copying every detail from the manuals Linry had given him. The contents weren't particularly long or complex, and his pace was steady yet efficient.
Linry observed him in silence, noting the precision of his quill strokes, the controlled elegance of his penmanship.
Despite the focus required for such a task, Riniock still had the presence of mind for conversation.
'I never asked you this before,' he began, eyes still fixed on the manual he was transcribing. 'Does it bother you? Going against your peers? Betraying your master?'
Linry didn't answer immediately. Her silence stretched, deliberate.
'Does it trouble you,' he pressed, 'that you're helping me kill them?'
'I thought it would – at first. But no matter how many of them suffer or die, I don't seem to care. I don't want to care.'
Riniock stole a glance at her. Her face was eerily neutral, her eyes distant, lost in a void.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she spoke. 'My father.'
He looked up fully now. 'Your father?'
'He's the reason I put up with all of this.'
She exhaled, voice steady but laced with something unreadable.
'When my mother died, my father fell into depression. He drank constantly, drowning himself in alcohol. One night, some years ago, he came home with strangers – men in robes.'
Riniock's expression darkened. 'Ikshari maegis?'
She nodded. 'Yes. He was intoxicated, barely coherent, and they were ruthless in their handling of him. They forced their way in, demanding I pay off the debt he owed them. But as you can probably guess, my father's drinking had drained what little money we had.'
Riniock set his quill down, giving her his full attention.
'They didn't take long to realise we had nothing. That only made them angrier. They broke our table, tore through our house, taking whatever they could. I was young – too young – but I had already been forced to grow up. Taking care of my father left no room for childhood.'
His voice was quiet now. 'What happened next?'
Her next words sent a chill through him.
'I sold myself.'
Riniock's brows furrowed. 'You what?'
'I offered myself as payment. But even that wasn't enough. So one of them took me in as his disciple – a bond that would allow me to earn the rest of my father's debt.'
Riniock clenched his jaw. 'Fladd. It was him, wasn't it?'
She nodded, a small, humourless sound escaping her lips. 'Yes. He took me in around the same time as Frisian and Rodgut. By then, Arthian, Piddruin, and Irgod were already under his tutelage.'
'So you're still here... does that mean the debt isn't settled yet?'
Linry nodded, a flicker of exhaustion crossing her face. 'As of a fortnight ago, I finally managed to pay off the first half.'
Riniock frowned. 'Only half?'
'Unfortunately, yes.' She exhaled sharply, her expression hardening. 'So when you ask if what we're doing bothers me…I sincerely hope this entire academy burns in flames so fierce, they can be seen from your college.'
Riniock had no response to that.
For a moment, he considered saying something – anything – but instinct told him it was best to stay silent, to let her sit with her own thoughts.
Surprisingly, it was Linry who broke the tension.
'Don't linger too long – you can't stay here indefinitely.'
Riniock fumbled with his quill, snapping back to the present. 'Right…'
An hour later, Riniock stood at the exit, Linry lingering just behind him.
'Go,' she whispered, motioning for him to leave. 'Before someone sees you.'
'Thanks, Linry.'
Without another word, he slipped out, making his way straight to his assigned room within the same tower.
The moment he arrived, he wasted no time. He sat down, pulling out his tome and setting to work.
'Dune Drift…' he murmured, scanning the instructions. 'The movement technique they use to glide across the desert sands. The way they circulate their odh while doing it…that's probably the trickiest part. The flow and speed are different from what I'm used to – tedious, but not impossible.'
Lacking sand to practice on, he stood up and mimicked the motions illustrated in the manual. Rehearsing it on solid ground felt unnatural, even foolish, but it was necessary.
Next, he turned to another page.
'Stellaridon's Thirst…unlike the last one, this is a spell. Once cast, the user won't feel thirsty for an entire day. Overuse, however, can force a maegi to drink excessive amounts of water afterwards.'
A spell with side effects. That explained why the Iksharis occasionally sipped water – it was likely to regulate their use of the spell.
Moving on, he switched to the next item.
'Earstone…neither a spell nor a technique, but an enchantment. A carved stone, imbued with magic, capable of transmitting voices over distances. Activation requires speaking the word: Earstone.'
Reaching into his pocket, Riniock retrieved a small, engraved stone. His spoil from Arthian's murder aboard the Absconder.
He had suspected it had a purpose, but now he understood its function. Carefully, he erased any lingering traces of Arthian's odh signature and replaced it with his own.
Still, using it now would be a risk – any contact might connect him to the other Iksharis. He set it aside.
Finally, he reviewed one last entry for the night.
'Desert Deterrent…a draught brewed from Daqroot, a plant notorious for its repelling properties. Once consumed, it wards off most creatures, particularly predators.'
Riniock's eyes widened as the pieces fell into place.
That day, when the elantreas ambushed them – no matter how many Iksharis stood in their path or even struck at them – the beasts had simply ignored them. Or rather, they had been repelled.
The draught…
He committed the recipe to memory, noting the instructions and the most effective way to apply it. Just as he finished, a yawn escaped him.
Exhaling, he set the tome aside. He had much to practice – but for now, rest took priority.
Strangely, despite the lack of physical exertion over the past few days, exhaustion weighed on him more than expected.
Without bothering to review the rest of what he had copied from Linry's manuals, he found his bed and collapsed into it.