‘Show me,’ he said, pointing at it.
Ignatius materialised as soon as Fletcher released him, as if he was eager to come out. He snapped at Rook’s hand, causing the man to jerk back with a scowl.
‘Well . . . isn’t this a turn up,’ Rook murmured, rubbing his chin broodily with long, spindly fingers. ‘All right, let’s find out what fulfilment level it is. Major Goodwin will want to know. We have never tested a Salamander before.’
Fletcher gathered up Ignatius in his arms and touched the demon’s tail to the fulfilmeter. It hummed into life. The first four segments lit up in quick succession. But then, to Fletcher’s shock, the fifth segment flickered almost hesitantly. Tarquin burst out laughing.
‘Hah! Salamanders are barely level five. And you thought you could take on a level-eight Hydra and a level-seven Felid with only a Golem to help you! That’s a two-level difference, you foolish pleb bastard.’
‘I thought you said our demons were out in order to scare the Shrike away,’ Fletcher replied, fighting to keep his rage in check. Nobody, not even Didric, had ever spoken to him in that manner. ‘Would you like to change your story?’
Tarquin spluttered, but was interrupted by Rook.
‘Silence! We will return to the summoning room immediately! The lesson is not over yet.’
The journey back to the summoning room was even more tense than the last. Othello was lost in deep thought, whilst Rory’s face was the picture of abject misery as he trudged at the back of the group. Genevieve tried her best to console him, but he stared ahead blankly, as if he could not hear what she said. Gone was the boisterous boy with his playful banter.
When they arrived, Rook had already instructed some servants to carry in a heavy column, which they struggled to lift upright. It was similar to the fulfilmeter, only instead of several gemstones, each segment was made up of a single red gem the size of a man’s fist. Rook tapped it nonchalantly, lighting one of the stones with each touch of his finger.
‘Your teacher preferred to do things the old way, powering the portal herself. But I consider the risks of entering the ether differently. This is a charging stone. One can fill it with mana, to use at a later date. It is one of the tools we use for powering the great shields over the front lines, charging it in the day so that we do not need to power them all night. But we will be using it for a different purpose. Together we shall keep it on a constant full charge and attach it to the portals we use when entering the ether. That way, if someone’s concentration slips, their portal will not close prematurely. We can’t afford to lose a Hydra now can we? They no longer exist in our part of the ether.’
Tarquin smirked and nudged Isadora. Seraph raised his hand.
‘Why are they extinct in this part of the ether? Surely we haven’t captured them all?’
Rook sighed dramatically and then nodded his head, as if he had decided to humour a stupid question.
‘See these keys on the edge of the pentacles? Those are coordinates, rough ones to the same piece of land in the ether. Every summoner for the past two thousand years has hunted the same land, capturing multitudes of demons. Of course, during that time we went to war with the orcs, not to mention the dwarven rebellions after that. Many of our demons died in battle, and we needed more to replace them. Soon the wild demons learned to stay away from our part of the ether, or maybe we wiped out all the rarer ones. Whatever happened, only a few species remain. Every now and again, a rare demon, such as a Griffin, will wander into the land. Usually it will be a demon that has been injured or is sick. Other times demons migrate over our tract of land, like the Shrikes.’
‘So that’s why we need the orc keys,’ Genevieve sighed, as realisation dawned on her.
‘We don’t need the orc keys!’ Rook snapped. ‘The common, weak demons are for commoners. Nobles inherit the older and rarer demons from their parents. It keeps everyone in their natural place. The orcs send nothing but low-level demons at us anyway, which just goes to show that their coordinates are no better than ours. It is a waste of time and resources trying to find out what their keys are.’
Genevieve bit her lip and stepped back, cowed by his sharp tongue. Fletcher did not understand why Rook was so against finding the keys. Surely it could benefit Hominum? But all the man seemed to care about was the petty imbalance of power and rank between common adepts and nobles.
‘Now, the charging stone will only have enough power to work with five students a week. So, until the tournament is over, the nobles shall be the only ones allowed to enter the ether. After that we shall see about allowing you commoners to use it.’
As Rory let out a sob of despair and the others began to cry out in protest, Fletcher could only think one thing.
I wish Captain Lovett were here.
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