"Have you seen him with your own eyes?" Marvel pressed. "Have you seen his golem army? Or any warlock pledging undying loyalty to him?"
Baylin remained silent, an entertained gleam in her eye.
Marvel hesitated. "Wait, have you?"
"There are many things in this world of which you are unaware," she declared. "Don't dismiss possibilities just because you haven't seen them."
"So, according to you," Marvel said, "people are afraid of being warlocks because they would have to serve the Northern King, rather than pledging loyalty to the Draconian King as a mage?"
Baylin ignored his question. "We've gotten off-topic," she said. "Now that you understand the basics of Fusion magic, can you see the inherent problems with you being given these powers?"
"You mean, aside from magical energy that tries to murder you?"
Baylin fixed him with an irritated look. "For Pelen's sake, use your brain, Marvel Satis."
Narrowing his eyes, Marvel racked his brain, processing the information. "My will has to be stronger than the athar at all times, or it could destroy the entire world?"
Baylin nodded. "That's a start."
"And nobody can see me using akathar for obvious reasons, so I'd have to find some means of hiding it," Marvel said. "My arrays don't seem to like having the energy pushed through them."
"What else?"
"What do you mean 'what else'?" Marvel's heart sank. "There's more?"
Baylin began counting on her fingers. "Let's start with your new centre. Do you know why your arrays don't cooperate with you?" He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off. "It's not because of the energy. Most warlocks don't suffer unspeakable agony to cast even a detection spell."
"Then, what's the problem?"
"You have a new centre that wasn't specifically engineered for your system," she said calmly. "Your body is going to fight it as best it can—like battling a sickness."
That thought was deeply unsettling. "A sickness."
"The more you use it, the sicker you'll get," Baylin said. "At some point, my potion won't be able to help you anymore."
"Shit." Just his luck.
"Also—"
Marvel goggled. "There's more?"
Baylin gave him a look that warned him to stop interrupting her. "Every spell you try to cast will inevitably go awry in some way because the akathar's understanding of magic is different from a mage's."
Marvel exhaled. "Alright, I guess I can work with th—"
"You're a Novice with a Pelen-knows-how-large store of athar in your system," she speculated. "Given the type of magic protecting you, your limited storage ability won't be able to contain it for long."
"I'll work hard to climb the ranks—"
"Also—"
"There's more?"
She levelled him with a quieting stare. "You seem to have made enemies with your athar's will. If you want to get anything done magically, you'll have to get it to work with you instead of its current master."
"Current master? What current master?"
"Whoever it is that's protecting you—whoever gave you the new centre likely only let you have a small piece of their magic." Baylin stroked her chin in contemplation. "The athar is loyal to them."
Marvel's mind reeled. "Only a small piece? This is only a small piece of someone's magic? What sort of Grandmaster could be that powerful?"
Baylin shrugged. "The Conclave, unfortunately, does not track every mage or warlock in existence."
"Okay." Marvel nodded, trying to absorb all he'd learned. "So, first things first. I need to figure out how to do Fusion magic in front of other people before my duel with Caspian in five days. You have something that can help, right?"
Baylin wrinkled her nose. "You want me to help you with that?"
Marvel stood, dislodging the poor former-rat creature. It scurried off somewhere. "You said you'd help me get better."
"I said I'd assist you as much as you were willing to assist me in studying you," she corrected, unmoved by his words. "Are you ready to tell me how you came upon your newfound power?"
Through clenched teeth, Marvel said, "I told you: I promised the Grandmasters I wouldn't repeat it—"
"Which means I need to take the information straight from your mind," she said evenly. "Cracking that spell will be difficult, if not impossible. It will take time. Until then, I won't have time to spare helping you with a simple Novice mage duel."
"Then what was the point of this arrangement?" he snapped.
"I saved your life not half an hour ago," Baylin said, her tone sharp. "Do not test me."
Impotent rage boiled through Marvel. She thought she could do whatever she liked, and he could do nothing about it. The arrogance—after putting him in a cage—
"Besides," she added dismissively, "people will notice if there's a mage spell on you hiding your magic. I couldn't help even if I wanted to. I'm sure you'll find a way around it, though, since you're so determined."
Marvel knew she was probably right. It didn't make him hate her any less.
"You could give up," she suggested. "All of the problems I've mentioned—you'll never find any permanent solutions to them. For the rest of your life, you're only going to suffer. Why not abandon this path?"
Marvel raised his chin. "I'll find more solutions."
"And when they stop working as well?"
"I'll find others." His fists tightened. "And more, and more, until it kills me. Yes, I may suffer all my life, and yes, I'll be miserable, but if you think any of that will make me give up, you clearly don't know me as well as you think you do."
Baylin studied him, not as if he were an experiment, but as if, for the first time, she might be considering that he was an actual person.
Then came a whoosh of air and a burst of blazing light that had Marvel shielding his eyes.
When he lowered his arms, he froze at the sight of Grandmaster Darius, shining in his silver robes, eyes blazing with lightning. The sight had Marvel stumbling to his feet, ready to run. His mind whirred through a series of terrible scenarios.
He's here for me. Baylin lied. Of course, they could sense the kind of magic I was using. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead.
"Baylin, you must come at once," Darius thundered. "There has been a warlock sighting on the grounds. About half an hour ago, some thirty mages felt…"
He cut himself off the moment he saw Marvel, whose heart kicked into overdrive.
Somehow, without Marvel even seeing him move, Darius was in front of him, glaring down with sharp suspicion.
"Marvel Satis, what are you doing here?"