[participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]

I’ve changed my mind. I do not want to do this anymore.

The Silaraon City Academy assistants are scrubbing the vomit off the floor from where Ezio lost his breakfast halfway through the test when his stomach couldn’t take the roiling mana anymore. My own stomach is tying itself in knots in anticipation of the torture I’m about to heap on my body. Why did I agree to this again?

“You sure there’s not a gentler way?” I ask Ezio for the fourth or fifth time in the last few minutes. I’ve lost track. I’m too busy convincing myself not to hyperventilate. It’s a good thing Mikko isn’t here to make fun of me, although the thought of forcing him to take this stupid test alongside me finally brings a wan smile to my face.

He wipes his perspiring face off with a towel, gives me a truly miserable look, and slowly shakes his head. “Not without more expensive equipment. A tiny borderlands city like this can’t afford the fancier, non-intrusive tests. Perhaps if you go to the capital someday to sit in on the mage exams . . . well, not likely. No, no, Nuri, don’t take offense. I didn’t qualify either, despite top notch scores. I was top of the regional circuits, but I didn’t have any noble backing. I’m quite capable; I just lacked pedigree.”

I nod along like I have any idea what he’s prattling on about.

He scowls at me. “You have no clue what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Uh, all I really got out of your explanation is that pain is inevitable, but it won’t get me anywhere in life.”

Ezio laughs bitterly. “Not a bad lesson. Unintended, and a touch cynical, but it’s better to be practical about your prospects. No sense fostering false hope. Well, go on then. You’ve seen how it’s done, just like you wanted. Your turn now.” He coughs, wipes off his mouth again, and mutters so quietly that I barely hear, “for all the good that did.”

“Can I see your scores before I try the test?” I ask as he hands me the gleaming metal apparatus.

“No. You’ve already received your condition, as agreed,” Ezio says. “So stop stalling and start screaming.” He smiles, all sharp edges in his pale, pinched face. “It’s unprofessional of me to say so, but I’m going to enjoy watching you writhe after you made me suffer like that.”

I examine the mana gauge again, amazed that it’s capable of causing such agony. It’s a simple rod that splits in the middle into two prongs. Each of the rods lead to a metal ball the size of my fist: the transmitter, and the receiver.

All I have to do is to take in the unaspected mana through one node, circulate the energy through my channels, and deposit whatever remaining mana that I manage not to lose through leakage or mismanagement into the other node. The difference between the initial and final mana capacities is my raw score, which is then converted into a curve based on previous readings throughout history, if I understood the explanation correctly. I’m not sure how it updates in real time, but Ezio insists it’s a modern marvel of magic.

I take a deep breath, grasp the testing tool in each hand, and grind my teeth as I try to work up some courage. “What if I don’t score very well? Are we sure this is worth it?”

“It’s not about where you start,” he intones in a tired voice. “Every good [Instructor] will tell you that it’s about how you apply yourself and where you end up. Long term goals, Nuri. I’m sure you’ll be terrible at first, and I’ll take an alarming amount of unprofessional pride in seeing the low numbers. And then we’ll get to work fixing you, and you’ll be proud to boast one day that you trained under Ezio, [Scholar Nonpareil].”

I can’t help myself. “Is that really your Class?”

“Just start the bloody test!” Ezio roars.

I close my eyes, squeeze my hands around the testing nodes, and heave at the mana in the reservoir. White-hot pain erupts across my palm, eating away at each fingertip, invading the skin and bones of my wrists and elbows. I bellow in agony, twisting and fighting against the flood of corrosive torment, but I discover that I can’t let go of the testing apparatus even if I want to.

Fear flashes through me. Is this really just an elaborate trap?

The flow of mana holds me in a vice grip, bound in place by some additional element of magic that Ezio never told me about. I groan in primal terror, like an animal caught in a trap, and I almost forget that this is a test of control.

The thought flashes through my mind, bringing me back to the task at hand. Control. It’s just like my glass training orbs. Trembling like lighting has struck my limbs, I nonetheless force my tortured channels to absorb as much of the mana as I can. I circulate the energy, greedy now not to allow a single drop to spill, and it courses through me like a torrid flood. My muscles seize and spasm, and drool starts to dribble down my chin, but I grind my teeth together and keep working the energy from one side of the testing apparatus to the other, forcing the receptor to fill until I can’t hang on anymore.

My teeth grind together in torment. I’ve never felt anything like this, not even when I was eleven and Lionel and Mikko talked me into stomping on an ant hive. The angry swarm of fire ants had poured out of their nest and stung me all over to defend the hive. I would gladly live through that a thousand times over rather than wrestle with this mana torture device any longer.

With a cry of defeat, I release the mana and collapse to my knee. My fingers are frozen in place on the testing nodes, too fried to let go, but the pain finally stops. I let out a whimper like a dog that’s been kicked by a cruel owner, and sag down until my forehead bumps into the cold, tiled floor.

Ezio surprises me by tossing a blanket over me and awkwardly patting my shoulder with his hand. His voice is kind when he speaks. “That may have been the worst reaction I’ve ever seen someone go through in a mana test. Please forgive me; I didn’t think it would be that bad. I called for a mug of warm mulled cider and a sweet roll for you while you recover.”

“You threw up,” I mumble through numb lips, lifting my head to make sure he could hear me. Talking to the floor seems counterproductive. “Didn’t think my try would be all sunshine.”

“Ah. That was hubris writ large. I wanted a perfect retention score,” Ezio admits sheepishly, standing up and pacing over to his desk. He picks up a piece of paper, puts on a stylish monocle, and frowns. “Great. Three percent off. I have yet to log a perfect run in all my decades.”

“What’s a good score? Am I above average? I feel like I did pretty well, all things considered.”

“Indeed. There are several raw scores before the ratio is calculated and the curve applied. Shall I explain them to you now, or do you need more time to recover from your trauma?”

“Learning is its own reward,” I say weakly.

Ezio scratches the back of his head. “What a load of rubbish. But, absent medicine, a distraction will probably do the trick. Very well, let’s run through the basics. We measure in five main categories—there’s technically a sixth, but it’s for crazies only, mages who repeat the test three times in a row. Don’t even think about a triplicate test.

“Resistance is a measure of how difficult it is to allow mana within. This has little to nothing to do with defensive capabilities against mana intrusion, however. Contrary to popular expectations, high control correlates with low levels of resistance; the harder you have to work to overcome a high resistance score, the less likely you are to actually manipulate mana around you.”

“I don’t think I have a good resistance rating. That burned like drinking etching acid.”

“Is that the voice of experience speaking?”

I nod solemnly. “Don’t make bets in the glassworks while drunk—or at least don’t lose the bets.”

Ezio clicks his tongue. “Congratulations. My already low expectations for your intellectual rigor are dashed to pieces. Moving on to retention, the mana control test takes the starting and ending quantities of mana and provides the percentage loss while passing through a foreign system. That is, through your mana channels.”

I whistle in newfound appreciation for Ezio’s test results. “You only lost three percent? That seems extremely good, based on everything I’ve ever learned about how the body handles non-native mana.”

“Thank you for noticing, although it’s more properly a function of the soul, rather than the body. Most people reject unknown aspects, which makes even transferring the mana from one node to the other a spectacular challenge. Scoring over sixty percent retention means you’re likely qualified for magical studies. Anything over eighty percent puts you in a potential genius category, contingent on your other scores.

“As you may discern from my posting in podunk Silaraon, I am not, alas, a genius at magic. I’m good at what I do nonetheless. I specialize in studying artificial mana aspecting, thanks to my ability to handle almost any aspect equally well. I’m an ideal academic, but I have next to no capabilities in combat. Why, you may ask? The answer is in the next category: Speed. Calling me slow is an insult to slugs and sloths the world over. l am downright glacial, unfortunately. By the time I could free-form, say, fire mana into anything resembling an attack, an enemy non-mage could cut me to pieces with a dull spoon.”

“Slow and steady is a virtue, according to my ma.”

Ezio glances down at his notes and frowns. “Ember claimed you were an orphan. Was she simply tugging at my heart strings to get a better deal?”

“No, I’m referring to my adopted mother. Reijo, one of the senior [Gaffers], took me in after my father passed on. I’m still close with his family.”

“A good man, no doubt, and a wise woman. I don’t know about slow counting as a virtue, but I appreciate the sentiment. Poor speed can be mitigated by high capacity, at least in a laboratory setting. I may take all night to test an odd form of mana, but if I never run dry, then the end result is roughly as fast as a high Speed, but average Capacity, [Researcher] performing the same test, since a smaller mana pool becomes a bottleneck.”

“Couldn’t people get around that by boosting regen? Even in the studio we have an infusion station.”

Ezio regards me with a superior smirk. “When your regeneration is so paltry to begin with, then yes, adding a few extra mana per minute may seem like a game changer. In the realms we work in, however, that’s barely a rounding error. No one regenerates fast enough to keep up with the quantities we require.”

“Fine, you win. My regeneration is trash tier. I get it. So, when do I get to see my score?”

“Patience. We still have one last measurement to cover.”

“[Teachers] talk too much. That’s why I quit school,” I mumble.

Ezio continues as though I haven’t said a single word, which I take as a good sign for our working relationship. He seems unfazed by my heckling, which makes me grudgingly like him a bit more. “Fidelity is essential. I saved it for last so we can dig in the most. Even if you show some talent at control, your suitability for more advanced concepts of mana manipulation rely heavily on Fidelity: that is, the ability to engage with mana without changing its signature. Adding anything to the mana is muddying the water. The closer the output mana is to the input mana, the better your Fidelity.”

I nod, my interest piqued now. “So, if the test mana changes its aspect, or shows signs of significant deviation, then I likely have low control. I’d like to think all the years of practice with glass will help me with building consistency.”

“Perhaps,” Ezio says politely, but he seems doubtful. “The mana signatures must match as closely as possible between the two nodes. You can certainly improve over time, but I’m not sure how much unrelated practice will correlate. Handling mana directly is key. High scores in the other categories, but poor Fidelity, will sink your final results.

“Incidentally, you mentioned the final term: Consistency. That’s for repeat test-takers to see how much sheer volume of testing they can manage back to back to back. You don’t need to worry about that result, however. Academies require special permissions to even obtain a mana test that’s capable of measuring Consistency, and even then, testing is usually restricted to graduates. I can’t test you for Consistency in good conscience. Perhaps in a half a decade of study, you might be ready. Maybe.”

“I get it. We’ll skip that one. Besides, Fidelity is the one I’m curious about. Adding the wrong elements, or too much flux, or leaving out an alchemical bit when I’m making a batch of glass can ruin the entire thing. Fidelity sounds like the most important of the scores.”

“And, I think, it will prove doubly important for you as an artisan,” Ezio agrees. “The most prized [Enchanters] in the nation all share an extreme Fidelity score. If you harbor any hopes of imbuing glass with mana, then you absolutely must learn how to work with it without warping the aspect or weakening the final result.”

My entire being lights up at the mention of mana-imbuing. If I learn nothing else from this arrangement besides the basics of improving my Fidelity, then my training with Ezio will be well worth Ember’s investment. I scan Ezio’s desk for an unused piece of paper, swipe one of his pens, and start scribbling notes. “Tell me how to train Fidelity.”

Ezio chuckles. “It seems Ember was correct that you’re keen to learn more about how to combine craftsmanship with scholarly magic. A fine career path, and certainly safer than hunting monsters. You’re lucky I found you in time.”

A shock like cold water to the face hits me at his words. Ember set me up! No wonder she keeps stalling about my training. She probably wasn’t ever going to teach me how to fight. As if she’s willing to part with a potential money-maker like a mana imbuer on her staff. As the thoughts swirl, my jaw clenches, and my shock transforms into anger.

“Why does everyone think they can manage my life better than I can? I’m not interested in ending up as a stuffy old [Scholar], or a lifelong [Glassworker]! Adventure burns in my blood. I want to do my part for Silaraon and fight. And that’s just the start. I want to see the world. I want to be famous! Do you understand me?”

“Let’s just stick to your scores,” Ezio says blandly, pulling a sheet of paper out from the mana test. Precise, printed lines show each category and score, as well as the final tabulations of the raito that will become my final ranking.

My fingers flex and open, but I’m not about to hit my tutor just because he got pulled into things. I let out a weary sigh, and nod my assent. “Let’s get this over with, master Ezio. I’ll be a model student for a week, as long as you don’t stray from academics.”

“Deal. Any preference on which category we review first?”

“Fidelity,” I answer immediately. “I need to know if I have any chance at seriously training with a master.”

“You aren’t even past the first threshold. You have plenty of time to grow. But as requested, your score. Fidelity is at seventy-two percent.”

My gut clenches, twisting into a knot at the number. “I’m doomed. There’s no way that produces usable results.”

“This is your first test, Nuri. You are establishing your baseline. That’s all. And your score is an exemplary starting position. We’ll make good progress.”

“My baseline is so far off from perfect,” I whine. “You are at ninety-seven and you still complain bitterly. Don’t feed me a load of broken glass and try to pass it off as exquisite art.”

“Remarkable! You really have no idea, yet you’re up in arms over a number you didn’t know existed an hour ago.”

“No batch that’s nearly thirty percent off would ever be remotely acceptable. Even if I—”

“Stop comparing everything to glass, Nuri. I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to make a vase, so don’t try to tell me how to do my job,” Ezio snaps. He sighs and straightens his black silk robes, calming himself with some effort. “You achieved an excellent score, and with my help, you have a chance at surpassing the eighty-percent mark within a year or two—if you’re willing to work harder than you ever dreamed possible!”

I groan and slump forward. My hands cover my face as another wave of disappointment rocks me. “Two years? What kind of scam is this?”

Ezio slaps the mana test score sheet down on the desk, making me jump. His eyes narrow, and his cheeks are turning pink with outrage. All of his previous composure evaporates in a flash. “Just how lazy and entitled are you? Combine an eighty-plus rank with a decent first threshold, assuming you live that long and I don’t put you out of your misery myself, and we could walk into any shop in the Capital and get you an apprenticeship. But do go on bemoaning your hard lot in life.”

“Fine. Two years still makes me angry.”

“Wait until you hear how abysmal your Capacity is. Then you’ll really be upset.”

I wince, but the embarrassment of my outburst has already made me a bit meeker. “Sorry. Keep going through the categories. I’ll try not to whine. Too much.”

Ezio clears his throat and reads the rest of the test results as though nothing ever happened. “Capacity: twenty-nine. Retention: seventy-one. Speed: fifty-seven. Resistance: nineteen. Remember, that’s actually a good thing; lower is better.”

“Well, throw me a party,” I grumble. “At least I don’t put up much of a fight against foreign mana. Woohoo.”

“That’s valuable if you want to use a variety of mana aspects. Enchanted items respond more readily to your touch. Don’t despise a good score simply because it’s not the one you want.”

“Do you have any enchanted items? I would be extremely interested in practicing with them.”

“The academy does, but their use is restricted to graduates.”

I sigh ostentatiously. “Sounds like a money grab.”

“Yes, by all means, let’s allow untrained, clumsy oafs like you to get their grubby hands on objects of unparalleled power. That sounds promising for my long-term health!”

“Just because something’s smart doesn’t mean it’s not also self-serving.”

“Are you still on about that?” Ezio says, a note of astonishment in his voice. “I thought we already settled that so-called dilemma earlier.”

“You can redeem yourself by being the best teacher I’ve ever had. Now that we’ve got that stupid test out of the way, when do we begin learning?”

Ezio tilts his nose up and adopts a haughty tone. “I’m already the best teacher you’ve ever had. And I’ve been teaching all day; it’s not my fault if you aren’t learning. Now, if you had, by some miracle, been paying attention, you would have realized that we did not, in fact, finish the testing and its implications. We still have to see your aggregate score and your ranking on a curve vs other mage aspirants.”

“We don’t really ’have to’ do anything. Why don’t you save that particular bit of ego-killing information for later on in the week, so you can cut me back down to size once I excel at all the other studies we cover together. Because I will excel.”

Ezio cracks a slight smile and shakes my hand. “Well, when you put it that way, that does sound rather appealing.”