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“Sometimes I really wonder where it all started,” Magnus said, staring thoughtfully at the board.
“When what started?” Lorenzo asked, taking a sip of his tea.
“Us.” Magnus reached out for the bishop but stopped, his hand hovering over the board. “The animosity.”
“Animosity is putting it very mildly,” Lorenzo replied with a hardly-there chuckle.
“You know what I mean.” Magnus looked up with a twitch of his lips.
“Oh, I do.” Lorenzo leaned forward to scrutinise Magnus’ move.
Magnus stared at the bishop and eventually, moved his hand towards the knight. Another moment, and he moved the bishop after all.
“I think it was back in Vienna when-”
“Vienna,” Lorenzo cut in, slowly and very politely, “was preceded by Barcelona.”
“Barcelona?”
“Forty-seven years and three months before Vienna.” Lorenzo let his eyes roam across the board.
“Not that you’ve been counting.” Magnus crossed his arms when Lorenzo frowned at the bishop.
“I have been counting every day, thank you very much.” Lorenzo took the white knight. “After what happened in Barcelona I couldn’t wait to see you again to one-up you.”
“But you never did.”
“I did, and that’s when you accused me of seducing the High Warlock of Moscow’s daughter.”
“Yes, I admit that was stupid.” Magnus moved a black pawn. “Because I didn’t know back then that you were batting for the other team.”
Lorenzo huffed and picked up his cup again.
“Enlighten me, please.” Magnus made an inviting gesture. “I have to admit Barcelona doesn’t ring a bell.”
Lorenzo stared at the board, his frown deepening. Then he reached for the knight again, but changed his mind. Just as he was about to move the rook he noticed Magnus’ smile. One of his eyebrows arched up, but he looked back at the board with no more than a sigh.
“Admit it.”
“Admit what?” Lorenzo asked calmly.
“You didn’t see that one coming,” Magnus replied, trying not to sound smug.
“I didn’t,” Lorenzo replied slowly. “As little as I saw it coming in Barcelona.”
“Speaking of.” Magnus took a sip of his Martini. “Barcelona?”
“Prior to Barcelona,” Lorenzo said, his eyes on the board, “I had spent the better part of five years researching a spell, a project started by my mentor, and discarded again for... various reasons. I thought I saw my chance to make a name for me, so I picked up where he left.”
“And that spell was?” Magnus had his eyes on Lorenzo’s hand.
“The soundless disintegration.” Lorenzo moved his rook.
These words were followed by a long pause, and Magnus took a hearty sip of his drink.
“Ah, you seem to remember.” Lorenzo leaned back again. “I admit I was young and naive. But I was so proud of myself, and here he comes, that little son of a... demon,” he cleared his throat while Magnus all but giggled, “and tells me right into my face, in front of an audience of twenty-odd High Warlocks, that he and his father have been using this spell for decades.” He looked up again. “And you gave it a horribly stupid name, to boot.”
“Not the Cassandra spell?” Magnus asked in a voice of someone who’d rather forget what they did last night. “I was drunk when I promised her I’d name a spell after her!”
“The very one. I assume you were also drunk when you actually did name it.”
“I have no excuse,” Magnus replied with a small groan.
Both of them looked at the board.
“In my defense, I was young and stupid.”
“Good thing you’re at least not young anymore.”
“Lorenzo, that was a pun I hadn’t expected of you.”
Lorenzo huffed out a small chuckle.
“So,” Magnus said after a moment, and moved his queen with a very satisfied smile. “That’s why you had to try and prove something to me in Vienna?”
“I had to prove something to myself, Bane.” Lorenzo’s tone was mild, however, belying the sharpness of his words as he watched Magnus’ move.
Magnus stared at the board with pursed lips after he had made his move. “So that’s where the thing with me being born with a silver spoon in my mouth comes from.” He looked up. “My father didn’t shove that spell into my pocket, you know?”
“Having met him, he probably didn’t.” Lorenzo moved his rook again. “That doesn’t change the fact however that you made me the laughing stock of the entire European warlock society for decades.”
“I guess an apology won’t do any good?”
“It’s a start.” Then Lorenzo leaned back, a triumphant smile on his face.
Magnus opened his mouth for a smart retort, but then looked at the board again. And looked. And looked. And looked back at Lorenzo.
“You bastard.”
“That’s low, even for you, Bane.”
“You distracted me with that Barcelona nonsense, Rey.” Magnus looked up.
The two warlocks stared at each other, eyebrows drawn together, eyes glowing.
After a moment, they both simultaneously laughed, both shaking their heads.
“You’re still a sore loser, Magnus.”
“Good thing I know my weaknesses,” Magnus replied with a sigh. “Damn.” A deep sigh.” Have another drink?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Lorenzo said with a smile.
Magnus returned that smile and snapped his fingers, replacing the empty teacup with an Old Fashioned.
“To friendship,” Magnus said, lifting his glass.
Lorenzo hesitated, and his eyes softened, as much as his smile. “To friendship.”