Experimental Magics

Dark News

The Dawn Tower Street was filling with people when I stepped into the steam omnibus, blissfully ignorant of the flood of trouble about to pour on my head. Actually, I was rather pleased with myself. First, I had finished writing a new paper. I had passed it to my colleague, Nicephorus Vatel, to read it over before submitting it to the Thaumaturgical Review.

Second... I pulled out the note delivered by a street boy the day before. I tilted it towards the light of the gaslamps outside and read it again.

Dear Professor Imlay,

I wish to speak to you at your earliest convenience about a most important research project. Please reply a.s.a.p.

Your, Tahar Ruslan.

Sending a letter on a Sunday and to my home rather than to my lab was a bit unusual, but Ruslan was an unusual man, one of those modern entrepreneurs and inventors. He occasionaly worked with our institution and money was not a problem for him. Research project meant funding. I might finally get enough money to pay for a new harmonizer. Things were looking rather good on this Monday morning, as I left the omnibus at the Stone Lady square.

I was early, as usual. The lights of an airship were piercing the still dark sky and making golden reflections on the waves of the Dhor Hondo river. The Baby moon was right above the skyline, while the Mother had already disappeared. The air was smelling of burnt coal, horse manure and freshly baked bread. Snow had thawed the previous week and the streets were still full of sleet. Steam cars sent mud in all directions each time they passed through a puddle. Election placards covered the walls: the compass pointing the Way of the Heritage Party, the wolf head of the Founders Party, the hoe and hammer of the People's Party and the rising sun of the Progress Party. The latter had been in power for the last twenty years, but lately, had been marred by various scandals, so all bets were off for these elections. At that time, I didn't yet have strong political views. I was still a naïve researcher whose only interest was Science.

Only my field of study was not chemistry, biology or physics, but Power... magic. A form of energy which crossed through thousands of worlds over a millennial cycle. Forty years ago, it had reappeared in ours after having been away for four centuries. Like countless wizards, mages and sorcerers before me, I had devoted my life to its study. But now, my laboratory was not in the heart of a cave, in the bowels of a dungeon or on the top of a tower, but in a building of the University of Sciences. Nor did I wear a long robe embroidered with stars, but a lab coat with badly worn sleeves. We were in the times of logic, mechanics and progress. No more superstitions and hazardous spells. We were going to study magic with scientific accuracy and turn it to some industrial use!

At least, that was our ambition. Over four centuries, most of the knowledge was lost. There was nothing left but legends. We had to start from scratch. But every cloud had a silver lining: there were opportunities in this new domain, even for a woman, the daughter of immigrants without any contacts. At thirty-three I was already a professor.

I turned into the Street of the Seven Virtues and passed in front of the fancy new Triskelian café, thinking about my current project: sequential measurements of the Power waves emitted by moonflowers. A male voice cut through my mental diagrams: "Professor Imlay?"

I blinked. "Yes?"

The man lifted his bowler hat and smiled nervously. In the gaslight, he looked like a middle-aged office worker, with his typically Deshwan features: brown skin, jet-black hair, and slightly elongated eyes in a long face. "I'm sorry if I startled you. I am Daron Jol, I work for the Rexal company. I was wondering if you could direct me to where I might find Doctor Vatel?"