Lillet Blan hesitated on the threshold.
The time to think twice was now, before putting herself into a situation that could get her into trouble. Too often, she suspected, people made foolish choices that they couldn’t take back, and then tried to extricate themselves from the problems that resulted. She’d spent her entire time in the repeating five days of looping time trying to finesse, sneak, and brute-force her way out of a pre-made situation. Admittedly, that had been thrust upon her, not caused by her own choices, but the underlying principle still applied.
Think now, avoid regrets later.
Then she knocked three times.
“Mr. Advocat?”
“Come in.”
She opened the door and stepped into the private office of the Magic Academy’s Sorcery instructor.
Advocat was tall and lean, with fine, sharp features, curling brown hair and goatee with just a hint of red, and the ornate outfit of a Court noble of a century ago, with a white ruff at his neck, lace cuffs, and gold accenting the stiff brocade. He looked like nothing so much as a stage devil, plainly dangerous at a glance and yet amiable in the way that it was perfectly plausible he was about to talk the protagonist out of their soul.
Since he was, after all, the devil prince Mephistopheles, his appearance was in all ways quite truthful. Which was how he liked it. Any idiot could lie, after all. It took wit and cunning to deceive with the truth.
Besides, magical contracts and bargains for souls had to be couched in truth to be binding. They couldn’t even be bent very far; a contract for a soul only held validity because of humans’ God-given free will. Too much bending of the spirit of the terms counted as the devil reneging on the contract, which left the human’s soul free and the devil stuck in Hell for millennia and their power base at risk from the sharp knives of infernal politics.
And devils with no expertise in truth-telling and fair bargaining ended up handing blank checks to magicians and soundly regretting it.
“Well, well, Lillet Blan,” Advocat said, the syllables of her name dripping from his tongue like they were a sweetmeat he particularly savored. “What can I do for you this evening?”
“You once told me that answering ignorant questions was part of your job description.”
He arched one elegant eyebrow at her. The very best of Court Society dandies would have cried themselves to sleep at the cruel perfection of the gesture and how ruthlessly it would have sent pretentious mushrooms fleeing.
“Do you have any idea how irritating that is, that you have memories of my words and actions that I don’t because time itself has unmade them?”
“Not as irritating as it was to Grimlet?” Lillet suggested…well, impishly seemed like the wrong adverb under the circumstances.
It was the right tone to take, because Advocat cackled with laughter, remembering not only his rival prince’s embarrassment but also the sheer entertainment value.
“Well, I can hardly disagree with that. And I doubt that whatever you have to ask will be as tiresome as the bumbling attempts of your peers to command devils without being consumed by their so-called servants. Really, I do wish Gammel would allow me to let one or two of the most inept suffer the natural consequences as an object lesson to the survivors. Unfortunately, letting a student perish in the act of summoning a devil is not the behavior of a responsible teacher. You have no idea how tiresome it is to content myself with the pride of turning out vaguely competent sorcerers from such hapless base material.”
Lillet decided not to comment, but instead sat down in the slightly uncomfortable visitor’s chair in front of Advocat’s desk.
“But I digress,” he said. “Ask me your question, Lillet Blan, and I shall strive to enlighten you.”
She took a deep breath. This was the point of no return.
Well, I’m a magician, and there’s no more magician-y character flaw than wanting knowledge that I shouldn’t have. If Adam and Eve had been magicians, the Garden of Eden story wouldn’t have needed a serpent.
“I want to know about the Philosopher’s Stone.”
“That isn’t exactly a question. Moreover, I would like to point out that of the two of us, you are the only one to have lain hands upon the actual artifact and, moreover, to have unbound its enchantments back into their component parts.”
“I know, and that’s what makes me curious.”
Advocat paced back and forth in front of the bookshelves. They were stuffed to overflowing with Sorcery grimoires and reference works, and there were sheets of paper slid in between books or even peeking out between pages, like notes that had been taken at various times. Lillet strongly suspected, though, that he’d never taken down a book unless someone was borrowing it, that the shelves were all for the sake of artful décor.
“I know that the Philosopher’s Stone requires all four fields of magical study in order to craft, and that it focuses and combines them in ways that exceed any work in any one field, no matter how advanced. But there was more to it. Like the old aphorism, the whole was greater than the sum of its parts.”
“So that was your impression, was it?”
“It was.”
“And why did you come to me? Professor Gammel is the most learned magician here and was responsible, with Lujei and Calvaros, for creating the Stone that you destroyed.”
“I don’t want to make him have to lie to me.”
Advocat paused in his pacing.
“You don’t want to make him lie?”
“Well, he would, wouldn’t he?” Lillet said chirpily. “The Stone is too much of a focus for ambition. I think he’s happy with this outcome, to the point I sometimes wonder if he had a hand in arranging it. He doesn’t want another Archmage on the loose, and I’m sure that he doesn’t trust the palace administration to responsibly use that kind of power. If I was in his shoes, I would want to make sure that the Stone was never recreated. And the last thing he’d want to do is encourage me in any way to think about it.”
“Oh, indeed. You, particularly?”
“Mr. Advocat, do you really want me to say it?”
“A devil encourage immodesty in a human? Surely you jest.”
Lillet made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle.
“There’s a good chance that with enough study, I could replicate it on my own. There’s a near certainty that if Professor Gammel does the Glamour work again, I could duplicate Grand Witch Lujei and the Archmage’s parts, and the Queen might command him to do that, given how much the government wanted control of the Stone. He would certainly lie, and see it as protecting his student and his kingdom alike. Whereas I think that you, Mr. Advocat, will tell me the truth.”
“That could prove dangerous to me. A device that could compel the obedience of even a devil prince as strong as Grimlet, that goes beyond mere Sorcery. Even Solomon’s Lemegeton isn’t as much of a potential threat.”
“There is that risk,” she agreed. “But I don’t think you’d fear that outcome, at least not compared to the benefit you’d gain from other, more likely results.”
“Such as me eventually controlling you as you hold the Philosopher’s Stone?” he suggested. His tone of voice openly invited her to consider this a teaching moment.
“Of course not. Such as building goodwill and leading me to trust you more than I ought to.”
“Hardly effective if you’re aware of the manipulation, is it?”
“Or all the more effective because I think I’m in control of the situation where I’m actually not.”
He tossed back his head and laughed heartily.
“Ahh, the entertainment value of your banter may be worth it by itself. Go on then. Ask, but be specific.”
“What is the nature of the power of the Philosopher’s Stone?”
“God. Now answer me, was that what you expected me to say?”
“If not, then certainly something similar.”
“And do you believe me?”
She paused, thinking for a moment.
“Yes, I do, but only in a very superficial sense. I…during the looping time, I was there when Amoretta’s flask was broken, and the angel within her released.”
Advocat visibly winced at that—as well he should, given his reaction when he’d been present at the event.
“There was a will present,” Lillet continued. “The angel’s own mind, of course, but there was more to it than that, a kind of overarching, guiding force that made it holy. The Philosopher’s Stone was equally beyond anything human, but it was just power, empty of any control besides what I or its past users did.”
Advocat pressed his palms together, a gesture that might just have been thoughtful, pensive, or might have been a subtle mockery of prayer.
“Very good, Lillet Blan. You have put your finger on it exactly. A man, a devil, a faery, even an angel, all are creations of God. You and I and that girl are all much more alike than any of us are to God, despite any of that ‘made in His image’ the priests say. We are, all of us, limited by the scope of Creation.”
“And the Philosopher’s Stone?”
“Creation is governed by natural laws, as you well know. Physical laws: fire burns, sharp things cut, liquids have no defined shape. Magical laws as well, that can manipulate or surpass the physical laws. That’s why we call it super-natural, above the ‘natural’ law.”
“Oh!” Lillet exclaimed. “That’s why the Philosopher’s Stone is so tied to Alchemy, even though it requires mastery of all types of magic. Glamour, Sorcery, and Necromancy are about summoning and commanding different kinds of spirits, but Alchemy is the study of the magical laws that make up Creation and manipulating them ourselves as humans, without needing spirits to act as intermediaries.”
“Someone has been paying attention in Dr. Chartreuse’s classes, I see. Perhaps it would have been better had our ghostly friend continued to distract him; my status as your favorite teacher could be in dire jeopardy.” He sighed theatrically, hand over his heart, and Lillet giggled despite herself.
“Mr. Advocat, don’t be silly.”
“But it’s so much fun. You’re quite right, of course. The Philosopher’s Stone is the Great Work dreamed of by alchemists, the closest they can come to understanding the nature of God.”
“It’s kind of sad that they think that,” Lillet said, and that drew a long, cackling laugh from Advocat.
“On the contrary, I find it absolutely delicious. Even Lucifer himself did not have the arrogance—or perhaps merely the ignorance—to believe he could stand as a true equal to God, but your humans in your pride and your limited imaginations truly believe that not only is your moral authority equal to His, entitled to your rebellions great and small, but that you could be truly His equivalent if you merely had access to more power. As if the nature of Divinity was no different than being a better magician.”
He smiled broadly, clearly savoring the thought of human folly and no doubt recalling specific incidents in the past. His teeth were very fine and white, and a little sharp, just a hint that he was a predatory creature whose feast was human souls.
“Mr. Advocat, that was not nice.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“’Not nice’?” Really, Lillet Blan, you have been spending entirely too much time with that delectable little toy of Dr. Chartreuse’s. Not that I blame you in the slightest. Indeed, I feel quite the touch of envy at how you work her corruption through the temptations of that so succulent flesh.”
“Mr. Advocat!”
“Psh, fine. Even you have no sense of humor when it comes to her. That’s why true love is so tiresome.”
“Not for us,” Lillet shot back, smiling—no, smirking, and giving the lie about her not having a sense of humor about her relationship with Amoretta.
Advocat pressed his fingertips to his forehead and groaned audibly.
“For a student seeking advice from your teacher, this is hardly a seemly way to behave.”
“It’s shady advice the head of the Academy probably wouldn’t want us to be talking about, though, so it’s probably okay for me to be a little out of line?”
“If this were a test, that excuse would barely win a passing mark, and only if I was feeling generous—which, fortunately for you, I am.”
“So you’ll tell me more about the Philosopher’s Stone?”
“Indeed. As you suspected, the Philosopher’s Stone does not truly allow one to use the power of God. Rather, it gives its wielder the ability to manipulate the substance of this Creation on a fundamental level. Space, time, matter, energy, all of these things can be directed at the wielder’s command. The power is, of course, not infinite.”
Lillet thought it over, hunting for an analogy.
“So it’s like a chess game, then. Ordinarily, you’re bound by the rules of the game: a certain number of pieces, limited moves, and so on. But the Stone would allow manipulation of the game in ways the rules don’t allow: move the opponent’s pieces, transform all of your own pieces into queens, things like that. Whereas the true power of God changes what the rules are: creating a new kind of piece, or the shape of the board, or making a third side to the game, or whatever He likes.”
“Succinctly put, though a bit imprecise.”
“So why does the Stone require all four magic types, then? By that definition it truly does seem like the supreme work of Alchemy alone: the ultimate ability to extract and manipulate the natural laws of this world—no, wait, that isn’t right, is it?” She frowned, thinking it over. “With Alchemy, you still operate within the natural laws. You’re just combining them and employing them according to your will instead of what already exists in Nature.”
“I did say that your chess metaphor was imprecise.”
“I still don’t understand, though. How does it work?”
“Let me ask you a question, then: do you remember the story of Eden in your Holy Scripture?”
“Of course, and—oh. ‘And replenish the earth, and subdue it; and have dominion over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.’ Are you telling me that that was meant literally?”
“The blessing of God is the power of dominion over His creation, given to you humans.”
“Then you’re saying that’s what magic is?”
If she hadn’t already been sitting down, she’d have done so with a thump.
“You do know how amusing I find it whenever one of your priests executes a magician, don’t you? But no, it’s not so simple as all that. The power of the Philosopher’s Stone is the blessing of God. But that blessing was revoked. Certain events intervened since then. Humans decided that they didn’t need to obey God’s strictures, and could decide for themselves what was right and wrong. Of course, I seem to recall a certain allegorical tale about how they got some bad advice on that point, and another allegorical story about how they rose up in rebellion and built a tower to ascend into the heavens, only to be smashed down.”
“Mr. Advocat, are you telling me that Lucifer’s fall, the expulsion of humanity from the Garden of Eden, and the Tower of Babel are the same story, just told allegorically to focus on different parts of actual historical events?”
“I believe that I am indeed telling you that. The great early kingdom smashed down for its sinful pride—I believe there’s another allegory about that—leaving the desert wasteland you call the Ancient East…only it’s a bit more ancient than you believe, as the lost kingdoms of that era were built upon the fringes of fallen Babel.”
Lillet let out a long sigh as the implications sank in.
“And the end of that story, how humanity was punished by being divided into different tribes with different languages and scattered to the corners of the world…it wasn’t just language that was lost, but knowledge, including the knowledge of magic, which was literally fragmented.”
Advocat shook his head.
“Not just the knowledge, the blessing itself. Magic was sundered, and humanity’s ability to manipulate and command the very substance of Creation was stripped from them.” He shrugged. “Now, you’re left doing it bit by bit. The power you could once exert directly, you can now only exercise by proxy, whether by commanding or bargaining for others to do it for you, or by extracting latent power from the substance of the world.”
“Then the Philosopher’s Stone is…an attempt to put magic itself back together into what it once was.”
“Correct. Of course, it isn’t a perfect restoration. Specifically, it’s still a tool. You cannot command those forces yourself, but create an external object that allows such manipulation.”
“Meaning that it can be transferred from person to person, and it also implies inefficiencies in the mana conversion since some of the power put in has to fuel the Stone itself,” Lillet mused. “If there was a way to combine the four magics in a Rune, it wouldn’t be necessary to—“
She broke off sharply. Not two minutes ago she had been literally told that God Himself had broken the power of magic into its components, and here she was speculating about how to effectively undo that!
Hubris.
It wasn’t the kind of arrogance that had led humans to put themselves on God’s level. It was just a casual, immediate desire to explore what was possible. But it was still pride, the thoughtless belief that the exercise of power was its own justification without pausing to consider the consequences.
And she was talking to a devil…
She glanced up at Advocat, but his expression was…well, not of innocence (that would have just been silly), but his ordinary impression of smug superiority without any particular suggestion of buried purpose or insinuation.
But then again, there might not have been any. With someone like Advocat, the immediate “trap” might have been mere casual communication, his ordinary way of interacting without specific purpose, or it might have been meant purposefully but as a decoy for what he was trying to accomplish, which might have been just to plant a seed that wouldn’t bloom for decades.
There was a reason Mephistopheles was so much more dangerous than a brute like Grimlet. It wasn’t just his intellect. It was his ability to play on multiple levels, considering long-term outcomes instead of momentary passions.
“So why aren’t we taught about this? It wouldn’t really change the debate—magicians would point to magic’s origins as divine grace for why it should be practiced, while enemies of magic would point to how humans misused the power and that it has already been partially suppressed by God’s direct actions. But at least they’d be arguing over the truth.”
“What makes you think people don’t know? Oh, yes, the precise specifics aren’t commonly tossed around, but the alchemists’ descriptions of the Philosopher’s Stone are generally accurate. As for scripture, well, it tells the stories in such a way that you’ll learn the lessons the priests want you to learn.”
“That’s something you have in common with them.”
“Indeed, that may be so. The only eyewitnesses to the Fall are the angels, the devils, and the dead. The other side has chosen its methods to tell their messages about the past, and the dead aren’t talking. That just leaves the testimony of devils, and that is, if I do say so myself, highly suspect. Do you trust what I’ve told you, Lillet Blan? Am I freely offering you knowledge as your teacher? Or have I shaded things to accomplish”—he bent at the waist, looming over her—“ulterior motives?”
Lillet blushed, and bolted upright. She hugged her grimoire to her chest reflexively, the pose defensive. The reaction made him toss his head back and cackle heartily.
“Mr. Advocat!”
“Really, it’s quite a relief to know you can still be unnerved.”
“That doesn’t make it polite.”
“Expecting consideration from a devil, now, are we?”
“No, of course not,” she said, then paused just long enough to flash him a broad smile. “From a teacher during office hours.”
The laughter that echoed through the small room was his loudest of the evening.