APPENDIX C.i. (C.D. to F.M.)

APPENDIX C

Other Correspondence

i.

Editors' Note: Outside of the letters pertaining to the affair of the Suldan Stones, which were preserved for their obvious historical interest, not many examples of correspondence between Cordelimaera and Foofribelle exist. Although contemporary sources suggest they remained voluminous correspondents, like most Council members of the time, they had their personal papers burned after their deaths. This rare example survived because it was tucked inside the cover of Foofribelle’s copy of Advanced Botany for Spells, Potions, and Cookery. Although not dated, the letter can be placed at roughly five months previous to Stephanus Demestheln’s (Cordy's grandfather) death.

My dear Foofri,

Nothing much has been happening here, except that we are all killing ourselves over our research projects. I can’t believe the term is half over! Then I shall be a full fledged Imperial magi, and you can start sitting in on councils. Not that it’s any great thing to look forward to, as I have regretfully discovered. They’re usually exceedingly dull, but it will be so much more fun to have you with me so we can pass notes and make fun of the latest extremes in fashion.

Speaking of councils, I had to attend one yesterday which was even dryer than usual. They left off the usual troll bashing and focused solely on decorum, and the importance of maintaining the Dignity of the magical profession. Bah! I spent half the time fretting over all the work I still had to do, and the other half trying to figure out how to peek into my hot-off-the-press copy of Imperial Who’s Who. They came out yesterday morning, but I had not had time to do more than admire the very appealing picture of Gilder Roy and Locke Hart on the cover before running for the council chamber.

The council ended at last, and I escaped to our large workroom where the three of us apprentices were supposed to gather to present an update on our projects to our advisor. Damorin had not yet arrived by the time I had my notes out and organized, so I pulled out my Who’s Who and wondered what to look up first. On a whim I opened to the index and looked up Ardaya. Ardaya, Lady Amanda was listed once, under Entertainment Excels, and Ardaya, Magi Damorin was listed three times: Definitely Dressed, Court Cameos and Magical Moments. I flipped to Court Cameos and examined the suggestive picture of my very own advisor, standing attentively behind the princess’s chair at what looked liked the top tier at a Bun-Snigger outing.

I perused the accompanying paragraph, skipping the excessive name dropping: A new face has appeared on every aspiring hostess’ must-have list...blah blah...distinguished Bun-Snigger hunter...blah blah...Favored escort of the Princess A. Is this another case of courtly devotion or is something deeper in the works?

“Are you with us, Magi Cordelimaera?”

I jumped, and jerked a nearby stack of notes over the open pages. Looking up guiltily, I found Magi Damorin standing a few feet away, gazing at me sardonically. “I...yes, Magi. I apologize.”

“Your report must be absorbing. However it must wait as I have instructed Magii Arthur and Jefferson to give their presentation first.”

Art and Jeff finally got approval to do a joint project, and they’ve been working furiously to make up for lost time. Their project, unsurprisingly, is all about history and digging things up. They were interesting to listen to, but I personally would find actually working in the area as dry as dust (if you will forgive the pun).


My own weather project was on schedule, I had just completed the bulk of the equations necessary to my proposal for equalizing rainfall in the mountainous regions. When I was through, our advisor dismissed Art and Jeff, but, to my very great dismay, asked me to remain.

“I want you to redo the equations. The format is too bulky to be practical.”

“It’s typical procedure for weather formatting!” I argued in amazement. My numbers were, in fact, a perfect illustration of the textbook examples.

“For simpler problems, yes. However, in this situation, standard procedure is impractical. I want the reworked solution by tomorrow afternoon. Good day, Magi.”

He left me staring at my notes in outraged horror. My present set of calculations had taken nearly a week to complete, and there seemed to be no conceivable way of fulfilling Ardaya’s demand. I didn’t have time to waste redoing what I had completed correctly! Resisting the urge to throw something, I slammed my materials together and stalked off to my private cubicle.

I had had hopes of going home early that day, but now I had no choice but to send a note to Grandfather saying I expected to be very, very late. I could have worked at home, of course, but the housekeeper worries about me when I shut myself in the work room for too long, and is always interrupting with drinks and snacks and warnings to not strain my eyes.

Finally, after six exhausting hours, which took my frustration past screaming to the point of tears, it occurred to me that a very simple solution lay in the theorems of another discipline. They never taught us at the Academy to apply transformation principles to weather, but there was no rule against it. My head was itching, so I undid my braid and scratched my scalp furiously. It must have stimulated my brain because things started clicking, and I completed in two and a half hours what had previously taken days.

I double checked my calculations and threw down my pencil in triumph. Take that, Ardaya! I gloated. He had, of course, been right about my original equations, but I wasn’t going to dwell on that. In fact, with the much smaller time necessary for the math, it wouldn’t be hard to get ahead of schedule.

My tension evaporated, leaving me limp and exhausted. The sofa, the only piece of furniture besides my desk, looked irresistibly inviting, despite its inherent lumpiness. I lay down, intending to rest for only a few minutes before heading home.

The next thing I knew someone was calling my name and shaking me lightly. I pried up my eyelids to see a fuzzy Damorin bending over me.

“Did you intend to spend the night here, Magi?”

“What time is it?” I managed to ask around a yawn. Rubbing my face vigorously, I reassured myself that I had not been drooling, and tried to wake up.

“Nearly ten. Your grandfather called looking for you.”

“Good heavens, I had no idea! I didn’t intend to fall asleep.” As I stood and stretched, my stomach rumbled ominously. “Spells, I’m hungry, and Cook will be in bed.” In my pique over having to redo my work, I had skipped luncheon entirely.

“I haven’t eaten dinner, myself, would you care to join me?”

I stared in surprise. This was the first time I could remember that Damorin had indicated to me that he was human, much less suggest leaving the Justicum. He returned my look with a calmly questioning expression, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

I gestured vaguely at my rumpled appearance. “I’m not, er, dressed.”

“It won’t be formal,” he reassured me.

I hesitated, uncertain. It still made me nervous to be alone around Damorin (if only I could stop feeling like an intellectual bug whenever I talk to him), but my stomach decided the matter by once again raising its voice. “Yes, please, and let’s hurry!” I grinned, “Otherwise I may collapse in starvation!”

He smiled faintly, and I rapidly gathered up my papers to stuff into my bag. As I rummaged on the cluttered desk, I knocked a stack of books to the floor, including my W’sW.

“Ah, the source of your earlier absorption,” Damorin said dryly, as he bent to pick up the scattered books.

“Er, thank you. They just came out today,” I said weakly.

“Personally I never discovered their fascination, but my mother reads every page as if it contained the state secrets.”

“Perhaps they do,” I commented cheekily, finishing my task. “I’m finished here.”

I sent a brief message to Grandfather, informing him of my whereabouts, and then we left the Justicum. The restaurant was about two blocks away. It was small, unpretentious but clean, and filled with magii in rumpled robes and weary eyes.

“They cater to exhausted magi?”

“It’s a lucrative business. They never run short of customers.”

I groaned. “Is that a bleak indication of my future? Too much work, too little sleep...” I cast him a sly glance, “too many demanding supervisors hounding my steps?”

“Welcome to the Imperial Council, Magi.”


We sat, and a waitress armed with a steaming pot came to take our order. “Would you care for some coffee?”

I shuddered, “Thank you, no.” I cringed again when Damorin took his black. “I don’t use it for anything but cleaning drains.”

“Speak respectfully, young apprentice. You’ll be as dependent as the rest of us within the year.”

“I maintain that chocolate is an adequate substitute,” I said smugly.

The waitress cleared her throat impatiently, “Are you ready to order?”

“Two specials, and hot chocolate for my intern,” Damorin said smoothly, offering an apologetic smile.

She blushed and smiled back. “I’ll have your food in just a minute.”

I guessed that she would, too. I would have also been willing to wager that she would frequently pass with the teapot, the water pitcher and the ubiquitous ‘Is everything all right?’ “Oh Jalwa.” I had not meant to say it out loud.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Er, nothing. Do you find the service here good?”

“Yes, I have always found them to be prompt and attentive.”

I caught the snort halfway out my nose, which converted it into a genuine sneeze.

“I hope you have not caught a chill, Magi.” Damorin’s words were solicitous, but I was convinced those gray eyes could see straight through to what I was genuinely thinking.

“I am never ill,” I said with dignity, putting an end to my sneeze and the waitress. “I should have come here earlier. Perhaps it would have served as inspiration.” I ran my fingers over the various equations and notations scratched into the tabletop.

“They say Lastra developed his Theory of Economic Distribution while sitting at one of these tables.”

I laid a hand over my heart in mock solemnity. “I feel honored to be at the source of such genius. They should erect a monument or something. We could take up a collection for a tasteful plaque.”

“No, no monuments, please!” Damorin looked horrified. “Anything with the words ‘In memory of’ attracts sight seers, and that would mean this place would be,” he paused ominously, “discovered.”

“I see your point. The City has enough hot spots.” I pictured a snazzy band jammed into the corner, garishly colored trim, and waitresses in frizzy hair and exaggerated accents destroying the peaceful atmosphere, and found the idea too awful to contemplate.

The waitress arrived with my hot chocolate, and sugar and cream for Damorin. “No thank you, I take it black,” he said. She looked disappointed, but left.

“What was so fascinating in Who’s Who this afternoon?”

He sounded only mildly curious, but I was at an awkward loss for an answer. “I..er...”

He raised his eyebrows. “Which happy fellow’s exploits do you follow? The Crown Prince, perhaps? Or does your interest run to less noble characters? I seem to remember my sister creating a massive collage on her door involving top tier bun sniggerists.”

I had a sudden vision of our own closet walls sporting half the national league and decided the truth was less embarrassing. “I was reading about you, actually.”

“Do you mean that I have had the...ah...fortune to be placed in those august pages?” Damorin sounded as if he didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed.

“Well yes. To be exact, in three separate categories.”

“I see. Dare I ask what and why?”

“I...ah...haven’t read it all. And I’m certain you would much rather read it in Madame Dorthwany’s own delightful phrasing.”

“That dreadful?”

I just smirked. Naturally I was dying to know whether he was really courting the princess, but I would have branded my own tongue before asking.

The waitress arrived with our plates and set Damorin’s down. “If anything’s not right, I’d be happy to exchange it for you.”

“Thank you, I’m sure there won’t be a problem.”

“Well be sure to ask. Do you need more coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

I cleared my throat and she looked over at me in surprise. “Oh, here you are, Magi.” She at last set the other plate before me and I inhaled blissfully. “You all be sure to ask if you need anything,” she said once more before finally leaving.

I fell upon the food with great joy and exuberance. “This is excellent,” I managed somewhere between the steak and a mouthful of potatoes.

Damorin was amused. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m always enthusiastic about food. We don’t get a whole lot of it at school.”

“You don’t mean to say they starve you?”

“Well, not directly. They call it food, but once Foofri transformed a whole set of teacups into rats, and the next day they were gone. They called dinner that night ‘Casserole Surprise.’”

He threw back his head and laughed without restraint. I was surprised, since at school the food jokes never earn more than a groan, but pleased. I felt as if I had accomplished something significant, making the impassive Damorin laugh. On the other hand, maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t do it more often. We would have had all the waitresses hovering.

I was feeling rather bemused myself. I had never seen my stern advisor so completely relaxed. The late hour, a contented stomach and the congenial company were combining to make me almost giddy and dangerously loose tongued. I pushed away my empty plate, plopped my elbows on the table and my chin in my hands and grinned. “So you are human after all.”

He seemed genuinely startled. “I gave you reason to doubt it?”

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Have you given me reason?” The question was rhetorical. “Other apprentices talk about the merry life they lived during their internship. Their advisors take them dining, dancing, to tour the city, to political rallies. I, on the other hand, tremble every time I run into you because it means my workload is about to double.”

“Is that really what you wanted this semester? To tour the city?”

“No, of course not. But there is such a thing as a happy medium.” I waved my hand theatrically and deepened my voice. “By the way, Cordelimaera, those equations it took you a week to finish? Redo them all for tomorrow.” I snorted, “Wasn’t slavery outlawed in the Realm?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Even dinner has to be educational! You really should get out more, Magi. I honestly think this is the first time I’ve seen you outside of the Justicum.”

His expression became wry. “Despite what you obviously think, Cordelimaera, I don’t crawl out from beneath a rock every morning.”

“I never said that! But I bet you do sleep at the Justicum half the time. Don’t all seventh skillhouse have quarters there?”


“Only the ones who request them.”

“Aha!” I exclaimed as if that proved everything. “You see! You as good as live there! I bet the only time you ever leave is to go to Court and dance attendance on the prin...” Too late I clapped a hand over my big mouth. I slumped down in my seat and covered my eyes with my other hand, wishing desperately for a convenient hole to crawl into.

I peeked painfully across the table through my fingers. Miraculously enough, Damorin didn’t appear angry. Rather, he seemed to be on the verge of laughing again. “Is that what made me worthy of the Dorthwany notice?”

“I apologize, Magi.”

He was still smiling. “For what, exactly?”

“For, er, prying into your private affairs.”

“Anything in W’sW is fair public domain.”

“That’s a very reasonable attitude,” I said in relief.

“If I bit off the head of everyone who repeats Court gossip the City population would drop to nothing.”

“I can live without my head. I was just afraid you were going assign more work,” I said with perfect sincerity.

Don’t ask me why, but he collapsed in laughter, face buried in one hand as he attempted to control the outburst. Our waitress chose that moment to reappear with the coffee pot, again. (Chocolate refills, on the other hand, were not high on her list of priorities.) She eyed Damorin’s silently shaking shoulders in some alarm. “Is everything all right?”

“He’s been working too hard. He has also had more coffee than is good for him,” I explained sweetly.

She ignored me and turned to ask pointedly, “Magi, would you like some more coffee?”

“I...no thank you,” Damorin managed.

The waitress shot me a hostile glare before prancing off. I felt myself starting to get the giggles, but they were cut off by a huge yawn. I glanced at my watch. “Spells! It’s after midnight. Grandfather will think I have been abducted.”

Damorin signaled for the check, and I picked up my bag. “Can I catch a taxi around here?”


He shook his head. “I’ll transport you home.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” I was suddenly afflicted with a leaden weariness, and was happy not to have to endure a dark taxi ride.

We walked outside and he placed a light hand on my shoulder and effortlessly wove the incantation. A moment later we were standing at the foot of the drive. “Thank you, Magi, that was very enjoyable,” I said a trifle formally.

“Thank you for enduring the company of this demanding supervisor.”

I flushed. “Did I really say that? I was miffed over this afternoon. You were right about those calculations.”

“Oh yes, you need not turn them in tomorrow. I saw them on your desk and looked them over. A very solid piece of work. You may proceed with the next step.”

Is it silly to be thrilled over having one’s work labeled ‘solid’? I grinned in the darkness. “Does this mean I don’t have to come in first thing tomorrow morning?”

“I believe you’ve earned a morning off.”

My thanks were broken by another yawn.

“Get some rest. Goodnight, Cordelimaera.”

“Good night.” I watched his retreating form for a minute, before treading lightly up my own drive. I felt supremely content with a most productive day’s work behind me. Grandfather was still up, but I just stuck my head in the study door and waved before going up and tumbling into bed.

I woke up deliciously late this morning, and indulged myself in a bubble bath and a leisurely luncheon before heading for the Justicum. In reviewing the events of the previous evening, I decided I had better not presume upon it. I was still only a lowly intern, even if I now knew my fearsome advisor to possess a lighter side. It was a good thing I prepared myself, because when I finally did run into Damorin, he was his usual formal, reserved and unreadable self. If anything, he was even more distant than usual.

Grandfather sends his love. Art sends his regards (I think he’s still pining after you, Foof. Perhaps we could set him up with Camilla Jenson. What do you think?)

Most Affectionately,
Cordy

PS How was the botany exam? As tricky as you feared?