Light XOR Shadow - Chapter 2
"If I were to speak frankly, he was a peculiar one. Not like his brothers in the slightest. But what Alexander lacked in power, he gained in poise. I’d never seen a young man so capable of stealing the thunder from his peers, and, quite often, his teachers."
--Kevin Beaumont
Alexander had been at Beaumont’s for six months, and he still hadn’t gotten used to the fact that his shadowmancy teacher was a dragon. Tsinderion -- or Doctor Tsi, as he liked to be called -- looked like a normal dragonkin. He was just shy of twenty feet tall, with black scales that reflected only the slightest amount of light, and a deep scar crossing his unmarred eyes. Rumor stated that the scar was magical, and was the professor’s only permanent feature. Alexander knew better. Doctor Tsi liked how the scar made him look dangerous, and broke up the uniformity of his scales.
“Mr. Marcus,” the dragon said. “Are you paying attention?”
Alexander blinked, but kept his posture still. He hadn’t -- his professor was a dragon -- but he could still save himself from Tsinderion’s ire.
“Yes, Doctor Tsi,” he replied. The dragonkin raised one half of his scaly brow, ivory teeth glinting from the corner of his slight smile. Alexander knew that he didn’t buy it, but that didn’t mean the game was over.
“Excellent,” the dragon said. “Given the information we’ve been covering, do you believe that the Dreamlands have a connection to the plane of Shadow?”
It was a trick question, but a relatively fair one, given that Tsinderion was punishing him. Lucky for him, Father often tutored his sons on the relations between the bastions of the Great Beyond. Summoning was the House specialty, after all.
“Yes, and no, sir,” Alexander said.
“Elaborate, Mr. Marcus.”
“The Dreamlands as a whole are largely independent from the Shadow Plane, but the demiplane of Leng is rumored to touch it directly. Unfortunately, all of the research expeditions we are aware of have ended well before reaching this cosmic juncture, or the scholars failed to return at all, and are presumed dead.”
“Or worse,” Doctor Tsi added.
“Or worse,” Alexander agreed. “I believe the lords of Thassilon were familiar with the denizens of Leng, but much of their research is lost to the Gap, or hidden by the Azlanti Star Empire. Perhaps-”
Tsinderion put up a hand, giving his pupil a wry look. Alexander had passed the test, but he was close to pushing the dragon’s patience.
“Thank you, Mr. Marcus,” Doctor Tsi said. “Now, as I was saying…”
The lesson continued for another hour, and Alexander was sure to pay attention. He wasn’t going to be forgiven for the same mistake twice. The lecture was primarily on the Dreamlands, but also on the fluid nature of the borders between planes. By the end, Alexander found himself feeling a little guilty -- it was an interesting topic, and Doctor Tsi knew more than what he could read in the textbooks. He’d filled three pages of notes by the end of it, and even had a few ideas for how to improve his binding on Nassistra.
At the end of class, the other students filtered out in their little groups, eager to stretch their legs in the sun. Alexander took no part in social activities. It wasn’t that he refused to, he simply wasn’t invited. The only people who wanted to be associated with him recognized the Marcus name, and thus were interested in alliances, not friendships. After the first few weeks, there was a general understanding that Alexander had no interest in such things, and he was left to his own devices.
“There are girls out there, Mr. Marcus.”
Doctor Tsi stood over his shoulder, looking at the formulae scribbled on the pages. Alexander felt embarrassed, but resisted the urge to cover up his work.
“I know, Doctor Tsi,” Alexander said. “But they won’t teach me magic.”
“Some of them might,” the dragon mused. “Just not the magic you want to learn.”
Tsinderion chuckled, but Alexander didn’t get the joke. People often said that Alexander didn’t understand women. The reality was that he didn’t understand people. Needless to say, he’d never been in a relationship, and likely wouldn’t be, unless Father ever decided to arrange something for him -- an idea that he despised. Alexander was comfortable on his own.
“I see you enjoyed my lecture,” the dragon said. “That is, after you decided to listen. What is this bit at the end? A binding?”
Alexander reigned in his feelings, trying not to blush, but he couldn’t stop his hands from twitching. It was the improved binding spell for Nassistra, the little shadow he kept in his suitcase. He’d found her in the jungles of Castrovel, when he’d walked off the beaten path at his last boarding school, and stumbled into some Elven ruins. She was already bound in place when he found her, but the energy had faded over the millenia.
Nassistra had offered him all the classics. Money, women, fame, power. Her sales pitch was unique, but the message was clear. Her freedom, in return for some of her power. Alexander was tempted, but even Father was cautious of deals with the shades. There was always a catch when dealing with planar beings, but shadows were one of the worst. It was considered best practice to study the creature and its origins before engaging in any kind of dialogue, let alone business. Unfortunately, Nassistra must have been related to Golarion in some way, because the Gap had swallowed any record of her. The Elves may know of her, but Sovyrian was one of the few places in the Pact Worlds where his last name would close more doors than it opened.
Before his last trip home, he’d decided to transfer the binding to his suitcase, and the shadow had remained ever since. One day he’d be ready to strike a deal with Nassistra, but that was a long ways away.
“Yes, sir,” Alexander said. “For shadows. The spell that I know assumes that the border between the Material and Shadow Planes is fairly solid, but your lecture left me thinking otherwise. So I adjusted the binding to take that into account.”
The dragon scanned the page for another moment, and if he found any error, he did not show it in his face.
“Wise,” Tsinderion said. “It’s a shame you lack the strength to summon a shadow, Mr. Marcus. This would hold them quite nicely.”
“Really?” Alexander said, letting himself become empty. He couldn’t risk leaving a hint of Nassistra’s presence. Summoning on school grounds was forbidden, and he doubted they would believe Nassistra came here in his luggage. “I just like the calculations, sir. I don’t intend to use it.”
“Intentions often clash with reality,” Doctor Tsi said. “Never forget that.”
Alexander nodded, and the dragon left, leaving the lights on but shutting the door. There was something magical about an empty classroom. It had all the energy latent in academics, but without all the noise introduced by his peers. He stayed for another hour, scribbling in the margins, tightening the parameters on the spell. It all boiled down to the math in the end.
Alexander was good with numbers.
“Mr. Marcus,” the dragon said. “Are you paying attention?”
Alexander blinked, but kept his posture still. He hadn’t -- his professor was a dragon -- but he could still save himself from Tsinderion’s ire.
“Yes, Doctor Tsi,” he replied. The dragonkin raised one half of his scaly brow, ivory teeth glinting from the corner of his slight smile. Alexander knew that he didn’t buy it, but that didn’t mean the game was over.
“Excellent,” the dragon said. “Given the information we’ve been covering, do you believe that the Dreamlands have a connection to the plane of Shadow?”
It was a trick question, but a relatively fair one, given that Tsinderion was punishing him. Lucky for him, Father often tutored his sons on the relations between the bastions of the Great Beyond. Summoning was the House specialty, after all.
“Yes, and no, sir,” Alexander said.
“Elaborate, Mr. Marcus.”
“The Dreamlands as a whole are largely independent from the Shadow Plane, but the demiplane of Leng is rumored to touch it directly. Unfortunately, all of the research expeditions we are aware of have ended well before reaching this cosmic juncture, or the scholars failed to return at all, and are presumed dead.”
“Or worse,” Doctor Tsi added.
“Or worse,” Alexander agreed. “I believe the lords of Thassilon were familiar with the denizens of Leng, but much of their research is lost to the Gap, or hidden by the Azlanti Star Empire. Perhaps-”
Tsinderion put up a hand, giving his pupil a wry look. Alexander had passed the test, but he was close to pushing the dragon’s patience.
“Thank you, Mr. Marcus,” Doctor Tsi said. “Now, as I was saying…”
The lesson continued for another hour, and Alexander was sure to pay attention. He wasn’t going to be forgiven for the same mistake twice. The lecture was primarily on the Dreamlands, but also on the fluid nature of the borders between planes. By the end, Alexander found himself feeling a little guilty -- it was an interesting topic, and Doctor Tsi knew more than what he could read in the textbooks. He’d filled three pages of notes by the end of it, and even had a few ideas for how to improve his binding on Nassistra.
At the end of class, the other students filtered out in their little groups, eager to stretch their legs in the sun. Alexander took no part in social activities. It wasn’t that he refused to, he simply wasn’t invited. The only people who wanted to be associated with him recognized the Marcus name, and thus were interested in alliances, not friendships. After the first few weeks, there was a general understanding that Alexander had no interest in such things, and he was left to his own devices.
“There are girls out there, Mr. Marcus.”
Doctor Tsi stood over his shoulder, looking at the formulae scribbled on the pages. Alexander felt embarrassed, but resisted the urge to cover up his work.
“I know, Doctor Tsi,” Alexander said. “But they won’t teach me magic.”
“Some of them might,” the dragon mused. “Just not the magic you want to learn.”
Tsinderion chuckled, but Alexander didn’t get the joke. People often said that Alexander didn’t understand women. The reality was that he didn’t understand people. Needless to say, he’d never been in a relationship, and likely wouldn’t be, unless Father ever decided to arrange something for him -- an idea that he despised. Alexander was comfortable on his own.
“I see you enjoyed my lecture,” the dragon said. “That is, after you decided to listen. What is this bit at the end? A binding?”
Alexander reigned in his feelings, trying not to blush, but he couldn’t stop his hands from twitching. It was the improved binding spell for Nassistra, the little shadow he kept in his suitcase. He’d found her in the jungles of Castrovel, when he’d walked off the beaten path at his last boarding school, and stumbled into some Elven ruins. She was already bound in place when he found her, but the energy had faded over the millenia.
Nassistra had offered him all the classics. Money, women, fame, power. Her sales pitch was unique, but the message was clear. Her freedom, in return for some of her power. Alexander was tempted, but even Father was cautious of deals with the shades. There was always a catch when dealing with planar beings, but shadows were one of the worst. It was considered best practice to study the creature and its origins before engaging in any kind of dialogue, let alone business. Unfortunately, Nassistra must have been related to Golarion in some way, because the Gap had swallowed any record of her. The Elves may know of her, but Sovyrian was one of the few places in the Pact Worlds where his last name would close more doors than it opened.
Before his last trip home, he’d decided to transfer the binding to his suitcase, and the shadow had remained ever since. One day he’d be ready to strike a deal with Nassistra, but that was a long ways away.
“Yes, sir,” Alexander said. “For shadows. The spell that I know assumes that the border between the Material and Shadow Planes is fairly solid, but your lecture left me thinking otherwise. So I adjusted the binding to take that into account.”
The dragon scanned the page for another moment, and if he found any error, he did not show it in his face.
“Wise,” Tsinderion said. “It’s a shame you lack the strength to summon a shadow, Mr. Marcus. This would hold them quite nicely.”
“Really?” Alexander said, letting himself become empty. He couldn’t risk leaving a hint of Nassistra’s presence. Summoning on school grounds was forbidden, and he doubted they would believe Nassistra came here in his luggage. “I just like the calculations, sir. I don’t intend to use it.”
“Intentions often clash with reality,” Doctor Tsi said. “Never forget that.”
Alexander nodded, and the dragon left, leaving the lights on but shutting the door. There was something magical about an empty classroom. It had all the energy latent in academics, but without all the noise introduced by his peers. He stayed for another hour, scribbling in the margins, tightening the parameters on the spell. It all boiled down to the math in the end.
Alexander was good with numbers.
Comments