Ink & Quill

Chapter 9

~ Sylas ~

My mouth goes dry, and I swallow the tang of panic at the back of my throat.

"I'm sorry, professor," I say, doing my best to keep the tremor from my voice, "but I don't know what you mean."

He regards me with narrowed eyes a moment, then pushes himself away from the desk and takes a step towards me.

Reflexively, I retreat a step in turn, and the back of my legs bump against a large, upholstered leather chair.

Quirking a pale, critical brow at me, Edwards continues around to the back of his desk, pulls a key from his pocket, and unlocks a drawer. From this, he withdraws a bundle of cloth, which he unwraps to reveal what appears to be a small ceramic cup. It has a little lip on one side, as for pouring, but no handle.

"Do you know what this is?" he asks, gesturing at it with an open hand.

I shake my head.

"It's a crucible. Do you know what that is?"

Again, I shake my head. I know it's the title of a play I was once forced to read, but I'm guessing that's not what he's getting at.

The corner of his mouth quirks upward slightly. "It's not a common object, I suppose. It's used in metalwork—holds the material as it heats, and then is used to pour the molten metal into molds. It's also my Sign," he adds.

He points to the models hanging from the ceiling and to the strange little machines on his desk.

"I made all these by hand and—as you also may have guessed—some of them are powered by magic. These machines are the physical representation of my spells."

He pulls something from his pocket. It looks like a closed pocket-watch—a sort of concave disk.

"This, for example, is something I call a 'deception detector.' It gets hot whenever someone attempts to deceive me."

He lifts his eyes from the strange object and locks his gaze with mine.

"Deception, you understand, is different from a simple lie. People lie all the time without meaning to deceive. When someone asks how you're doing, and you tell them you're fine, when really you're not, that's a lie. But you're not trying to fool anyone; you just know the other person doesn't really care. Deception is a little more complicated; deception means you're trying to hide something. So, Mr. West, why did my detector heat up when I sat next to you, and why did it nearly burn a hole in my pocket when you told me your name?"

"I—"

"And don't bother with anything but the truth," he adds, cutting me off, and closes his hand around the little device.

I swallow again as my mind scrambles to come up with a way out of this. I decide to try evasion. At least if I mess up, I won't get stabbed.

"The school has all my documents," I say, trying to keep my tone cool and slightly defiant.

"The school has Sylas West's documents, yes," he agrees. "I checked. But is your name Sylas West?"

I press my lips together and glare at him. The calming effect of Aurelio's tincture has kept me from completely panicking, so far, but barely. My heart beats fast, my breath comes shallow and quick, and my hands would tremble if I didn't have them tucked beneath my crossed arms.

Professor Edwards shrugs. "Well, I can't make you tell me, but I'll have to report this to the Dean, you know. We take security very seriously here—especially on the Crafter side. I can't just let you go."