She shook out of her reverie. Vergil was talking to her.


    “Come again?” she asked. He looked expectant of her, as if he’d asked a question she hadn’t caught.


    “Could I also learn magic?”


    “No.”


    “Why not?”


    Tallah raised an eyebrow and then pointed to his horned helmet. “You can’t generate the helmet’s effect at all. That means you’re impervious to illum, a blank. Without illum conductivity, which occurs naturally in most people, you can’t channel illum into effects. You can do it or you can’t.”


    Vergil deflated.


    “So it’s not just chanting out words and making things happen? I thought that’s how it worked.” He gestured weakly with his hands.


    Tallah raised her index finger and a flame flickered to life a few centimetres above its tip.


    “Channelling, or magic if you’d like, is all about transforming illum into an observable effect via a personal spark.” The flame on her finger changed colour from a playful red to bright blue, its contour sharpening. “The more illum you channel into an effect the stronger it becomes, up to a threshold.”


    The air began to sizzle and she put out the fire. She looked at her blistered finger and then stuck it in her mouth, reminded that she shouldn’t do demonstrations without her gloves on. She pointed with her free hand to a crystal vial on Sil’s desk and beckoned Vergil bring it over.


    He uncorked the healing potion and offered it without a word. Instead of drinking it, Tallah stuck her finger in and swirled the liquid around.


    “No point wasting a perfectly good mixture for a burnt finger,” she said.


    "Why did Master Ludwig call you an ash eater?"


    Tallah stiffened at that. The boy had paid attention to more than she gave him credit for.


    “Because he was being an arse and I let it pass. Call someone like me ash eater to their face, and you’ll be lucky to wake with the Sisters around you. I’ve burned cretins for less insult. It’s an elend insult.”


    He flinched at that and sunk back into his chair, chin tucked in against his chest. “I’m sorry. What should I call you then?”


    “Pyromancer. My specialisation is fire. I recommend you never cross my line of sight in a tight spot.”


    “And others can do… other kind of magi—channelling?”


    This was turning into a full blown lesson and she wasn’t sure she had the inclination for it. But, still, it wouldn’t hurt to acquaint him with some of the basics. It could only improve his odds of survival on his own later down the line.


    “Metal Minds, or Tempest Callers, are what we call the most dangerous of our caste, the lightning wielders. They can gleam surface thoughts so it’s best you act like your idiotic self around one.


    “Manipulators are oriented to kinesis and the application of force. You’ll never meet more alien minds than theirs.”


    Cow, Bianca retorted sullenly in the back of her mind. She ignored the jab.


    “You have the Vitalis practitioners who deal in blood and viscera. Poisons and flesh dolls. Nasty buggers. Pray you never meet one again.” She misspelled a word and cussed under her breath.


    Vergil wore his confused expression, “Again? I haven’t met any.”


    “You were under the helmet’s effect. Best you don’t remember what went on around you.”


    “Oh.”


    “Then you have Crepusculars. Difficult people to get along with. Hard to like. Hard to fight. Hard to stomach all around. They work with light and darkness, and have a penchant for stabbing you in the back when you least expect it.”


    He was now paying full attention to her, eager to drink it all in. Good. At least the boy knew how to listen properly.


    “There are some other smaller castes but they’re at best niche. Hyper-specialised on one particular effect to the detriment of any other utility. Most of these are employed and used by the Enginarium.” She straightened and cracked her back. “Anyway, all channelling functions basically the same. You’ll never hear any of us activating an effect. Best trust your eyes and your common sense. Anyone chanting out a spell is either misleading you, or an imbecile.”


    “Sil always chants something when she does magic,” Vergil said, a nasty little edge to his voice.


    “She’s a healer,” Tallah replied and wanted to leave it at that. The boy looked at her so expectant and leaned in so close that she begrudgingly went on. “Healing channelling is different from whatever we’re taught at Hoarfrost Academy. It’s a whole different School of Thought and the bastards refuse to share anything with the rest of us. They can get the same results regardless of how much illum they channel. The normal Laws somehow don’t apply to them. Selfish buggers.”


    She went back to work on her grimoire, meticulously writing in her observations and diagrams. Some things would need to be adjusted later down the line, what with her current abilities being diminished, but the core fundamentals of the new effect were sound. Once she worked out how to actually apply it without direct contact, she’d have a new weapon to add to her repertoire.


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    There was plenty of time for experimentation until Thaw and still a few days until the Descent when she’d have to quiet down and wait out the misery. Even with the certainty that Ort wouldn’t descend on this occasion, the worry that he might gnawed at her. Maybe she’d get on a cheese cart and take that woman in the hills up on her hospitality promise. Maybe if the cart could take her all the way over to Nen. Or to one of the Moons…


    Vergil hobbled away from the desk and went to where he’d set down the sword and scabbard. She’d told him to take them off for her test and now he did what Tummy had instructed him to.


    Good boy. A black eye was starting to darken on his face and that was certainly not of her making; and he moved with the careful steps. She’d watched him catch more than a couple of the smith’s love taps to the ribs.


    “Not that way, boy, you’ll get your wrists broken. No, not that way either. Don’t lock up your elbows again or I’ll break’em myself.”


    Tummy had been as relentless as she knew he’d be.


    “By my oaths, are you trying to fall on your sword already?”


    It had been an entertaining afternoon for Tallah. She’d half-expected the boy to sulk after getting back, but he had the sword out and was going through some of the stances that Tummy had taught him. There was a kind of grim determination on his face that got jotted down in the mental schematic she kept of the boy.


    When Tummy had given her a first taste of his teaching methods, she had ended up throwing a full-blown, explosive temper tantrum at him and got slapped back to her senses so hard that she sulked for days. It took Sil hauling her back there by the ear.


    “When we’ll go outside Valen,” she found herself saying as she watched him, “Sil and I will be rather different than how you’ve seen us so far. There’s very little room for sentiment out in the wild and we don’t take kindly to distractions or delays. I will defend you but I won’t baby you.”


    For as determined and enthusiastic Vergil had proven with Tummy, he was still scared of her. Any hesitation on his part could prove dangerous at the wrong time.


    Time she fixed that. He had been compliant with their wishes and they’d not been kind to him in return.


    “I expect that you learn well what Tummy teaches you. I won’t tolerate you endangering Sil when we’re out there.”


    Now that’s a peculiar reaction, Christina noted with interest.


    Yes, it was.


    Vergil had stopped dead with his sword’s point lowered to the floor. Tears welled up in his eyes and he tried to wipe them away. It made it worse.


    “Hardly a reason to bawl,” she groaned. “What’s the matter with you?”


    She had never had much patience for crying children, not even with Rhine’s own ill-fated son. If Vergil was going to start doing that out of the blue, she’d rather he was somewhere where she wouldn’t see or hear him.


    And Sil was occupied…


    “Stop that,” she demanded, temper rising. “You were fine until a moment ago. What’s gotten into you?”


    He sniffled and tried vainly to get back to his exercises. She wanted him less scared of her, not more.


    “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Just… Sorry.”


    He did not stop. Tears blinded him as he tried to swing the sword like Tummy had show him. He managed sheering off a candle’s top. Wax scattered in fat droplets. The more he tried to compose himself, the worse it got.


    Tallah caught his wrist when even she could see that he’d end up hurting himself if he kept it up.


    “Stop this. Are you scared of going outside the walls?”


    Sobs turned into wracking crying. The uneven light of the fireplace masked him in devastating misery.


    “I-I got them all killed,” Vergil hiccuped. He was fighting in vein to keep his voice from cracking. “I t-told them I’d protect them. I only got them killed.”


    She raised an eyebrow. What was he on about?


    His friends from the cave, Christina provided. The ones you incinerated. He thinks they died because of him.


    They were beyond help, Bianca put in. The girl was screaming on the fire and the other two were wargged. Killing them quick was a kindness.


    Tallah felt that wasn’t what the boy needed to learn just then.


    “You couldn’t have done much in your state. Anyone taking the Guild’s coin faces the risk it brings.” She tried to sound kind but only managed to be dismissive. It reflected on his face. “I don’t expect you to protect anyone, least of all myself or Sil. We’re quite capable on our own I assure you. As far as I’m concerned I’ll only need you to wear the helmet.”


    That made it worse. How?!


    “For pity’s sake, stop that.” She slapped him and wrenched his sword away. “I don’t have the patience for th—”


    “I’ve been such a fool. Tummy’s wasting his time on me.” He gritted his teeth so hard that Tallah heard them gnashing together. Left without his weapon, he balled his fists and repeatedly slammed them down on his thighs. “I thought I was clever. I thought I had something figured out. I was so fucking stupid.”


    His sudden burst of whatever this was brought her up short. First time she’d ever seen genuine anger from the lad. Impotent rage did not suit him well.


    “Pardon?”


    “I hate feeling like this.” Vergil stared down at his hands as if willing them to still. “I don’t know how to deal with this guilt.”


    “It really wasn’t your fault.”


    Vergil rounded on her and a wild-eyed desperate boy stared through his eyes. She took a step back and nearly ignited a fireball at the ferocity in that grimace.


    “I don’t feel anything about their death. Not a thing. I killed them and I don’t feel it ripping me apart. What’s wrong with me?!”


    Ah. This was Aliana’s work through and through, just one in a number of insurances the priestess would have built in him. Most people would be happy to be unburdened of their guilt and failings, but Vergil seemed made of something much different. Despite herself, Tallah was impressed.


    A day with Tummy had taught him exactly how little he knew. And he’d made it into a grievance with himself. It would keep cascading if she allowed it to.


    Fascinating, Christina whispered. Let’s see what he does.


    “What’s done’s done. No amount of prostration is going to change what''s happened.” Tallah lifted his sword and poked him in the shoulder. “What I’m curious to know is what you’ll do next. I’ve already killed the rats. There’s no revenge left for you.”


    You’re being a cow. He’s going to start crying again. Bianca radiated disapproval. Not of the boy, but of Tallah pushing him.


    Vergil measured out his words, still regarding her with that impressive intensity. A child, yes, but one who could be nourished to grow into… well, who could say into what exactly? An itch in the back of her mind suggested she bring out the chalice again but she ignored it.


    Much more interesting to see the changes filtering through him.