At the top of the stairs Rory, Seraph and Genevieve were chatting, elated by their success. Fletcher sunk into a chair behind them, hoping they would not notice him. He was in no mood to talk.
‘I think that maybe my fulfilment level is increasing!’ Rory said, full of joy. ‘I was doing pretty well! Maybe Malachi is going up in levels too!’
‘I don’t think you understand how fulfilment levels work, Rory,’ Seraph said mildly. ‘Your ability to perform the spell has nothing to do with your level. Fulfilment just impacts how much demonic energy you can absorb. Malachi will never go up in level. He will always be level one. Every demon remains at the same level for the rest of their lives. Even if your demon becomes stronger or bigger, that will never change.’
‘Oh . . .’ Rory muttered. ‘But why was Tarquin yelling at Fletcher about how Ignatius was a lower level than Trebius, if it doesn’t have anything to do with their power?’
‘Because it’s usually a rough guide. A level-seven demon is probably going to be stronger than a level six, just as a rule of thumb. It’s not a hard and fast rule. For example, a Felid will beat a Canid in a fight nine times out of ten, even though they are both level seven. Or look at Othello’s Golem. When it is full grown, it will be many times more powerful than a Canid, even though it is a level eight and a Canid is level seven.’
‘Right . . . never mind then.’ Rory’s face was glum once again.
‘Don’t worry, I’m sure you will go up in level,’ Seraph said, noticing Rory’s change in mood. ‘Major Goodwin told me it is very rare for a summoner to remain at the same level their entire lives. It is only the ones who never capture other demons or who are very unlucky in their natural fulfilment growth who stay that way.’
‘How am I supposed to capture other demons if Rook won’t let us go hunting?’ Rory howled, jumping to his feet.
‘Rory, wait. It’s just one year!’ Genevieve tried to reason, but Rory ignored her and left for his room in a huff. She gave Seraph an exasperated look and then followed Rory into the boys’ quarters.
Seraph bit his lip and sighed. ‘I’ve put my foot in it again. I was just trying to temper his expectations, nothing more,’ he muttered.
The room was silent then, as Seraph scribbled notes for their next demonology essay. Eventually, Seraph grew tired and snuffed out his wyrdlight, casting the room in shadow. He stood and began to walk to his room.
‘Wait,’ Fletcher said, holding up his hand. ‘I need to ask you something.’
‘Sure, what’s up?’ Seraph asked with a yawn.
‘What does your father do? I ask because I overheard Tarquin mentioning something . . . It was about taking your father down and it has something to do with his business.’
Seraph froze. Fletcher could see some kind of internal struggle, then Seraph relaxed and sat down in the chair next to him.
‘I guess if I know your secrets it is only right I tell you mine. Just promise me you will not breathe a word of this to anyone.’
Fletcher nodded in assent and Seraph continued.
‘I was born and raised in Antioch, the same city where Malik and his family, the Saladins, are from. Malik’s family do not own great tracts of forest and farmland like the other nobles, but rather they hold many businesses and properties in Antioch. This is because the city is surrounded by desert, where nothing grows and there is little water.’
‘So the Saladins are involved?’ Fletcher asked.
‘Not quite. My father took a risk. He bought up huge parts of the desert. It was cheap land, but virtually useless. I remember my parents arguing all night long when he spent all of our savings on it. Then one day, a dwarf came to visit us. He told us that the dwarves do not have the right to own land outside of what they were allocated in Corcillum, but he and his people needed it. The nobles would not do business with the dwarves, but perhaps we would.’
‘I knew the dwarves had something to do with it!’ Fletcher exclaimed, then realised how loud he was being and put a finger to his lips. For a moment he thought he heard a noise from the boy’s quarters. When they were confident no one was there, Seraph spoke again.
‘It turned out the dwarves needed metals and sulphur, in large quantities. They had surveyed our land and found deposits underneath the sand, deep underground. Without their expertise, we wouldn’t be able to extract it, but without our land, neither would they. So we struck a deal . . . they would help us set up the mines and lend us the money we needed to hire men and the equipment. In exchange, we would partner with the dwarves exclusively, not selling to anyone else. They process the materials and then we split the profits fairly.’
‘But why sulphur?’ Fletcher asked. Everything was starting to make sense.