Chapter Text
Margot paused as she entered Benson Hall. She’d scarcely passed through the doorway and the air was already crackling with magic. It swirled around the audience of mages, drawn from display tables and two hundred practitioners. It was almost drowned out by the buzz of conversation as guests waited for the first workshop to begin. Almost. Conferences like this always had the curious and unpleasant side effect of making Margot’s teeth ache and her skin tingle.
She quickly adjusted and began walking down the hallway to the main auditorium. Several display booths piqued her interest, and Margot glanced at her itinerary. She recognized each of the Masters listed, if only by reputation: Anansi, the illusionist who was said to have a thousand faces; Brooks, one of the leading pioneers in the field of summoning; Beltrame, the youngest mage to pass her mastery of earth this century. And of course, keynote speaker Grand Master Arthur Wright, the theorist who vowed to make large-scale Teleportation possible within his lifetime.
It wasn’t often Margot had time to explore magics outside her specialty, and she reveled in the opportunity. Life had been especially hectic after the sudden resignation of Master Wu. The chaos at the Academy made the distraction especially welcome. Margot could pretend not to notice when other guests averted their gaze as she walked, the few that could stand to look at her staring at the burns that dominated the right side of her face.
She let them stare. Where the scar met healthy flesh itched and pulled taunt, whether from the residual magic or attention Margot couldn’t say, but she resisted the urge to touch it. She would have garnered strange looks regardless of what she looked like as an unchaperoned woman in the heart of elf country, forgoing a hat in favor for a half-shaved head and petticoats for a simple skirt she could actually maneuver in. The burns only made her pitiable as well as scandalous.
“Professor Margot, is that you?”
Margot turned her head, and one of the indistinct blurs on her bad side sprung into focus. She smiled politely as she recognized the elf striding out of the crowd. “Mr. Wright. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Please, call me Felix,” he said. “Mr. Wright is my father, and the one you actually wish to see. Would you allow me the pleasure of walking you to where he’s setting up?”
Felix Wright was a tall, handsome man in his late thirties who dressed in the latest fashions and looked good doing so. Short-cropped curly hair framed an angular face with high cheekbones and brown, mischievous eyes. His smile was winsome and his manner easy-going, a salesman’s charisma oozing from every pore.
He was a mage like his father, but the younger Wright had never attempted his Mastery and likely never would, instead acting as a liaison for his less personable father. Margot had to admit the role suited him. She took his outstretched arm and allowed him to guide her to the auditorium.
“I must give my thanks on behalf of my father. Without your input we wouldn’t be where we are today.”
Margot smiled. “I doubt that. Master Wright already knew what he was doing. I only confirmed a few minor details.”
“Minor details,” Felix scoffed. “Your paper on the integration of magical and scientific properties was what put the old man on the scent in the first place. Father has wanted to use lithium to counteract the thermal runway problem for years, but it’s too volatile under most circumstances. Ah, here we are.”
Felix led Margot through a back entrance of the auditorium. Half a dozen mages scrambled to make last-minute preparations for the upcoming lecture and demonstration, overseen by Grand Master Wright himself.
Arthur Wright wasn’t as tall as his son, nor as well-dressed or exuberant, but there was no doubt he was in complete control of the room. A soft word carried the same weight as a barked order, one look from his hawkish gaze enough to send a lesser man scurrying. He paced up and down the stage with his hands clasped behind his back, peering down his thin-bladed nose as he assessed the progress that was being made, pausing only to polish his spectacles and have a word with one of the organizers of the conference.
While they waited for him to finish, Margot took a moment to study the cause of all the commotion. At the center of the stage stood two massive rings mounted on podiums. Each was five feet in diameter and made of a silvery substance so infused with magic Margot’s eyes smarted just looking at it.
The rings were Master Wright’s magnum opus, living proof of his theories and evidence that commercial Teleportation was more than a pipe dream.
They were also extremely dangerous. The bases they were mounted on were just as much a part of the upcoming demonstration as the rings themselves and the reason Margot had been invited to the prestigious mage’s conference in the first place. She had argued that mages had for too long focused solely on the magical properties of the elements to the exclusion of the scientific. Water, for example, was often used as a focus and medium during experimentation as it was the element of change and fluidity, but exploded violently when in the presence of lithium—the material Master Wright favored over the more-traditional gemstones for its affordability.
It had been a minor work, a side project for Margot when not busy with other things. No one had been more surprised than her when Master Wright initiated a correspondence that helped him develop the safeguards for his Teleportation device.
“I don’t know why he’s so worried,” Felix said conversationally. “All of the proof of concept tests have gone on swimmingly. Between you and me, I think he gets stage fright.”
“You’re not nervous?” Margot asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
“My dear Margot, once my father gets his teeth sunk into something he doesn’t let go until it’s met—no, surpassed!—his lofty expectations,” Felix said. “It’s been twenty-five years since he first developed his theories into something that could actually be tested. This is the culmination of a quarter-century of labor. He should be celebrating, not fretting.”
“I can celebrate after the demonstration,” Master Wright said, approaching his son without as much as a glance at Margot. “Where have you been? And who is this woman?”
“You remember Margot, Father,” Felix said. “The lady professor? From the Kempeston Academy?”
Master Wright stared at Felix blankly. Then he scowled. “Of course. Well, show her around and get her out of here. I have enough going on without the distraction.”
He strode away and began his inspection of the Teleportation device. He pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook tucked into the inside of his suit jacket, thumbing through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Then, reading from the notebook, he whispered a chant that activated a series of runes around the silvery ring. There was a nearly inaudible hum, and the air within the ring shimmered and warped. A small black sphere, small enough to fit in Margot's hand sat on a platform--likely the material that would be Teleported when the time came.
“Forgive him,” Felix said earnestly. “He asked for you to come specifically as his way of thanks. Tell me what you would like to see, and I’ll do my best to accommodate you.”
Margot was silent for a moment. She had little patience for being talked over and ignored. Perhaps Master Wright had wanted her at one point in time, but he didn’t want her here now.
“Thank you, but I believe I’ll watch the demonstration from the auditorium,” Margot said. She shook Felix’s hand. “Good day, Mr. Wright.”
She left the sputtering elf and quickly found the backstage exit. In her haste she nearly bowled over a half-orc standing on the other side.
“Pardon me,” Margot said.
“Naw, I should have been watching where I was going,” the orc said, removing his trilby respectfully. “Say, were you coming from back stage—“
He was cut off by a scream. The air on Margot’s arms stood on end with a wild swell of magic. She scarcely had time to think before she grabbed the orc by the arm and pulled him from the doorway.
“Get down!”
An explosion rocked the auditorium. Instinctively Margot threw up a force field as a second explosion followed the first. The mages who had come early ran for the exits as black, noxious smoke billowed from behind the curtain.
There was a second scream, this time for help. Margot dropped her shield and ran behind stage. Mages and organizers pressed at all sides, fleeing the disaster. Where the Teleportation devices had sat was now a black crater. Fire raced up the curtain, the force of the explosion overwhelming the building’s protections.
Margot activated the charms in her skirt, water pooling in her hands. She used it to douse the curtains before writing a series of sigils into the air to seal off the ruined mess of the Teleportation devices.
“How can I help?”
Margot jumped, not realizing that the orc had followed her. “You a mage?”
“Not the kind that’ll be any use here.”
“Then help get people out of here. I have no idea if that thing’s going to blow again.”
The orc nodded, before rushing to the prone figure of Felix Wright. With a grunt he hoisted the elf over his shoulder. Margot covered her mouth and nose from the smoke and scanned for any other injured. There seemed to be little damage aside from the crater and curtain fires, the safeguards containing the explosion remarkably well. The few second’s warning had been enough to prevent anyone else from getting hurt.
Anyone except for the voice who shouted it. Margot walked carefully to a slumped figure that had been thrown from the blast site. The immense heat melted wire-frame glasses, and scorch marks singed a white undershirt black.
Worst of all was the face. Master Wright’s mouth was open slack-jawed in surprised horror, his neck bent at impossible angle. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth, and the smell of burnt flesh almost made Margot gag.
There was no need to check for a pulse, but Margot did anyway, some distant part of her mind not believing what she was seeing—not believing that she was smack-dab in the middle of disaster yet again.
“Professionals are pouring in. It’s time to go.”
Margot turned her head to the half-orc. His hat was nowhere to be found, and neither was Felix Wright. He extended a hand.
“He’s dead,” Margot said blankly.
“Yeah, I know.”
She let him help her up and stumbled away from the stage, her stomach churning. Grand Master Arthur Wright was dead, and all Margot could think was how close she had been to sharing his fate.