One of the other students incanted, but nothing happened—a mis-incantation. The spell itself had been delivered perfectly and without hesitation, so the problem must have come from the aether. It was far from the first example of mis-incantation Arcus had witnessed since joining the Institute.
“I cast five perfectly!” one student announced.
“Wonderful!” the teacher cried, applauding.
The other children reacted with gasps.
Wait, what?
Five perfect spells wasn’t bad, but “wonderful” was a bit of a stretch, surely? Maybe this teacher was prone to give praise for the slightest achievement. It had been scientifically proven that success was likely to feed into improvement going forward. Denying the teacher’s methods meant picking a fight with science itself—something that flew in the face of Arcus’s principles.
“You need to learn to control your aether with more confidence, so you don’t get any blips. That’s what you’ll want to focus on in your practice.”
“Yes, sir!” With that, the student happily returned to his pair. The teacher’s praise must have worked, because he seemed suitably motivated.
The students continued to show their spells to the teacher, but not one managed to get through without mis-incanting. Arcus could understand biting your tongue and messing up; failing to apply the right amount of aether and destabilizing the spell was another matter. This class was supposed to be aimed at those who were already confident in magic, yet frequent failure seemed to be the norm.
“Everyone’s casting around six spells right on average,” Setsura muttered beside him. “That’s impressive.”
“It’s not great, huh? I thought so at the practical exam as well.”
“Huh? Mis-incanting is normal, right? Or have you never made a mistake?”
“The only times I mis-incant are when I bite my tongue. And I only do that when the spell’s super long and complicated.”
“What?” Setsura was frowning at him intently for some reason. “I thought controlling aether was supposed to be really difficult.”
“Which is why magicians practice till they can handle it.”
“I know, but...”
Thanks to Craib’s instruction, the aethometer, and, most of all, his work with tempered aether, Arcus had a much better grip on his power than your average magician. Meanwhile, most of these other students were failing to control their aether reliably. But maybe that was why the lecturer was putting so much care into this lesson. As was to be expected of the Institute, he was a good teacher too; his advice was as easy to understand as his lecture had been.
Eventually, Arcus’s turn came around.
“If you will, Arcus.”
“Yes, sir.
Flaming quintessence. Float by the ancestral tomb. Sway, sway. Shake and glimmer. Call on Gown’s lamp. Stray and rush. An ensemble of embers.
Ignited Soul.”
“High waters of the hill. Flowing supply of water. Fill, pull, push, come near, let every place be submerged. O wave, open your upper jaw, feed, and swallow.
Wailing Wave.”
“Shriveled vortex, cause a gentle stir. Moving wind, staying wind. Become a prancing breeze. Guided by that high-pitched call, slice and rend, o blade.
Cutting Whirlwind.”
“Great arm of earth without sword or spear. Manifest your will by hands alone. May he who first revolted now raise his fist.
Earth Fist.”
Easy as pie.
Arcus already knew how much aether had to go into each word or phrase. After all, he was the one who had done the necessary calculations. He even managed to cast the longer spells successfully, leaving the instructor wide-eyed.
“Well?” he asked, once he’d finished.
“Flawless... I can see why you made top of the year. Spectacular. I don’t think there’s much advice I can give you.”
This instructor wasn’t like the other one. Although, if they were all like that one guy, Arcus would have to start questioning the Institute’s educational policies. Not to mention he’d loathe his time here.
The instructor smiled awkwardly. “I suppose my instruction wasn’t of much use to you.”
“Actually, it was. Your lecture was really easy to understand, and I learned a lot about how to position the tongue when casting. That’s something I’ll start to focus on.”
“Oh? Yes, I see...”
If there was one thing Arcus had learned, it was that he still had a lot left to learn, and that he considered invaluable. He had been reminded that he couldn’t be content to exist in a vacuum.
When he got back to Setsura, Kane called out to him.
“Amazing. You cast all those spells perfectly.”
“Any magician should be capable of that.”
“Really? I guess. It’s a real shame about your aether, you know.”
For a moment, Arcus was on guard, till he realized Kane didn’t seem to mean anything by it. He had probably meant it compassionately. That would explain the tiny glimmer of pity in his eyes.
“Yeah. But how much aether you’ve got isn’t everything.”
“Mm. You’ve got incanting, and aether control... You could be right. Anyway, I’m not about to let you show me up!” Kane said, before getting ready for his own turn.
What with Arcus’s exam results and his performance just now, it seemed the boy saw him as something of a rival. Or perhaps that had been true before they had even met.
The instructor hesitated before opening his mouth. “Kane, yes? I think I’ll give you an extra little assignment.”
Arcus raised his eyebrows. His “rival” was apparently getting special treatment.
“I would like for you to pick your own ten spells to cast. Please select ones you consider to be particularly strong.”
“Yes, sir.” Kane nodded, then ignited the aether inside himself at once, like he had revved a hidden internal combustion engine. The energy that escaped created a short burst of wind that swept up the dust around him. Then, he began to incant.