In any case, it felt good to know that I was not drawn into something messy involving destiny or whatever other insurmountable forces. These, as far as I know, stereotypically involve orphans, oppressed and all kinds of ‘destined’ ones. And as I had already met Fate, I was now feeling extra cautious about any ‘sudden events’. Unwittingly, I had developed a phobia of being involved into some grand scheme of things.

Feeling somewhat anxious, I kept looking around as I followed Matthew. It was surprising how many levels, floors, branches and blocks were actually built into this huge cavern. That reminded me about how Khazad-dûm, before it became Moria, was described in Lord of the Rings - a massive bustling and shining underground kingdom. Without dwarves, kings and balrogs, of course. Or rather, I did not seen one, yet.

“Marsh.” - I interrupted Matthew who was cheerfully recounting a centuries-old history of the crystal-carving workshop in front of us.

“Sir?”

“Actually, I have been wondering about how I should refer to you. As a ‘he’, ‘she’ or ‘heshe’?” - I explained, before elaborating: “You see, I have not interacted with one of your kind for a long time.”

“You have met the others! Where…?” - he got surprised.

Crap, did that mean he was some sort of unique mutation?

Thankfully, he did not focus on that and continued: “But in my case, I have a case of split, half-fused personality. Mentor said that it is related to magic and lifeforce resonance of the two siblings’ animi that ended up as one. I’d found from the Web that biology knows of a similar, simplified condition called genetical chimerism. I seem to have something similar, but, uh, magical. So, sir, answering your question - for now just call me as a ‘he’. Mattea is different, and so should be referred to as ‘she’.”

Somewhere behind the buildings, a magic ceiling light dimmed. After a few seconds, a new one rose from below, taking its place to illuminate the area.

I nodded as if I understood what he was saying. He was surprisingly straightforward about himself..

“Interesting, I think the cases I know about were different. I appreciate your openness.” - we reached a wide tower, that seemed to reach all the way to the top of the cavern.

Since Matthew had no issues discussing his condition and he was not pursuing the matter about the ‘similar cases I had met’ (the ones I had no idea about, to be honest), so I asked more: “You said, you are different?”

He nodded, as he reached out towards the door: “Well, yes. As Matthew I prefer books, history and languages. Mattea, on the other hand, gets me into alchemy and combination of magic and technology.

Unfortunately, it seems to be impossible to get Internet deep into the mountain. It’s impossible to even make a chain out of WiFi boosters and even electrical wiring is out of the question. Magic and electromagnetic fields resonate in some way I can’t accurately measure and calculate, resulting in all sorts of annoying phenomena.

Mattea could elaborate, but when her explanations reach the levels of spins, orbitals and energy transfers, I get confused even though all that stuff is in my mind. For me, it’s enough to know that everything involving anything more complex than basic electric circuit is affected by magic. Or in some cases, affects magic, right?”

“You are the one who organized the mobile signal coverage in my room?” - that was a surprisingly hands-on application of one’s talents.

“Heehe, sir, you are overpraising me.” - he grinned and proudly explained, still not opening the door: “Mentor helped with that one. We had to climb all the way to the top of signal tower to attach carefully engraved signal transmission plates and then make a relay point on the nearby peak so that it would not interfere with anything.”

“Impressive work.” - I agreed. Then an idea came into my mind: “Ever thought about using shielded wires?”

“No idea, sir. Might be difficult to work with.”

---

Just as Matthew was going to continue talking, the door flung open, almost knocking into him. From the tower, rushed out several people dressed in wide, grey capes. Covered by the folds of the fabric, they had something hanging on their waists, resembling a shaft of some kind of weapon. One of them, a tall dark-skinned woman with long braided hair, stopped when she saw Matthew.

“Oh, Marsh! Not Mattea time yet? Do you know where’s Headmaster Wiseman?” - her voice was slightly rough as if she had been shouting for a long time. She seemed to be a bit older than Matthew. Late twenties, I guessed.

“Sandra.” - Matthew raised his hand to greet her: “Mentor is busy for now. Something happened, in addition to the the earthquake?”

Sandra’s face was grim as she ground her teeth: “Two people died. During the last quake, there were three. We can’t hide that for much longer, too many witnesses. And Marshal has found something he urgently needs to tell Headmaster.”

Five dead… Hm, so that thing earlier was not a specially aimed assassination attempt, but a part of something greater?

Matthew’s smile disappeared as he heard the news. Looking grave, he pulled out a bronze disc from his pocket. It seemed to have several sections and concentric rings. It took me a moment to recognize that device - that turned out to be an old-fashioned astrolabe. Pretty rare thing to see outside of museums and random enthusiasts’ collections.

Matthew shifted the rings on the astrolabe and started mumbling something. Meanwhile, I observed the woman called Sandra. I heard silent jingling as she moved, and from the slits in her grey cape, I glimpsed the shine of polished metal. Chains, big and small plates linked together. Mentally continuing the pattern by taking into account her heightened body heat, I deduced that she was actually wearing an armor. And a pretty heavy one at that.

While I was scrutinizing her, she was also looking at me. She raised her hand, touching a golden chain hanging from her neck. The movement revealed the metal bracer that extended from her forearm to cover the wrist. Exquisite engravings and gold inlays were distinctly Near-Eastern-inspired, with repeating geometric patterns creating a characteristic look. Persian or Arabic, something like that.

After a moment, she lowered her hand.

“You’re a new Mentor, mister?” - her brown eyes remained steady.

I squinted my eyes, observing all the details: “Pleased to meet you, Lady Sandra.”. Was that an ornate axe hanging from her belt?

She raised her eyebrows: “Mister, you know of me?”

I looked at Matthew next to me: “Well, he did call you so.”

“Ah.”

We both stayed silent, until Matthew finished whatever he was doing.

He looked at us: “Sandra, sir, Mentor has given his location. Should we go now?”

I shrugged, Sandra said ‘Yes’.

---

Without the chance to visit the Depository, we moved back. However, instead of taking the stairs I had used to get here, Matthew led us in a different direction.

Soon, we reached a wide platform elevated above the ground. What I had not expected, was a continuous stream of octagonal platforms with handrails, running along a toothed rack rail. The loud clanging of cogs and wheels felt out of place, but by the looks of numerous passengers, that was a routine mode of transport. People were stepping on and off the platforms, barely paying attention to their steps and ignoring the fiercely glinting teeth of the machinery below.

Not sparing a glance, Matthew and Sandra stepped onto the platform that was passing by, and I hurriedly followed them. I wondered about the accident rate here considering the popularity of loose clothing. Imagination readily provided some extra grisly possibilities awaiting anyone careless enough to take a single wrong step. But I had to admit, that cog railway was significantly faster than using the stairs. Of course, as long as one did not run at full speed. Meanwhile I also understood what was the empty diagonal tunnel on the map Arthur had showed me.

People stepped off the platforms in front and behind of us, and soon we seemed to be the only ones still going up. After another minute or two, the railway curved as it reached the end of the line and that is where we finally got off.

Some twists of corridors, some stairs up and we were in front of the familiar heavy carved oak doors. However, our destination was not Headmaster’s office, so we had to pass through another hallway before we reached our destination. The door looked rather plain, except that it was made from dull blue marble. It was not even carved that well, looking rather rough and uneven. Instead of a handle or knob, there was a jutting vein of white quartz.

“Come in, Marsh.” - sounded from the inside after Matthew knocked on the cold marble.

Beyond the door were Arthur’s private quarters. Somewhat tired-looking Arthur was sitting in the armchair by the window. Quickly counting the doors and estimating the size of the room, I guessed that the layout should not be much different from my rooms. Even the style of the furniture was similar. Lots of good solid wood, leather and brass.

Arthur politely greeted me and Sandra and gestured for everyone to sit down. Sandra refused, and looked hesitantly at me and Matthew. Arthur waved his hand, signalling for her to talk. Standing straight like an arrow, she began recounting the recent events.

---

Three months ago, during a minor earthquake, three people were found dead. Originally presumed to be an accident, as all victims had no signs of foul play. However, just a while ago, two more were found dead.

Sandra pulled out a map which she spread out on the tea table between us. On the map was a detailed floor plan of the central cavern. There were marked five spots with red ink. They looked haphazard, and everyone was looking thoughtfully at the map. Sandra explained, that Marshal, whoever that is, suspected the pattern of timing and reducing number of deaths, and suggested a theory that everything is related to the anger of the Earth due to the recent magic changes in the world. In my opinion, it sounded like some kind of bad Feng Shui or shamanic ‘bad place’ theory.

I caught the gaze of Matthew who turned towards me, preparing to say something.

With a sigh, I tapped at the specific spot on the map I had located: “Simply third death today was avoided.”

Hearing such information, Arthur and Sandra perked up. Both furrowed their brows, as they patted their pockets frantically. However, it was Matthew who pulled out a pen from his pocket. And that was actually a correct guess. In a moment, the location of the failed death was marked down. That did not reveal anything much, even the distances were unequal. They were not even in a line.

Several minutes passed, while fingers hovered above the paper, tracing invisible lines. At last, Arthur snapped his fingers. He picked up a pen, and lightly traced the lines from one marked spot to another. Occasionally, the lines stopped and crossed outside of these spots, quickly forming a shape that was familiar for everyone.

“Star pentagon.” - Arthur slowly said.

Star pentagon or more commonly known as pentagram. A five-pointed star drawn with five strokes.

“Of course,” - Arthur continued: “There may be other options. But for now it seems that the people die at these ten geometric points. A simple, but adaptable and efficient way to gather and regulate energy.”

Sandra looked at the drawing: “Perhaps. Headmaster, you guess almost half of the points, isn’t it too early for a definite conclusion?” - She looked at me: “Mister, who survived?”

I parted my hands in a helpless gesture: “He just dropped from above. Figured there was some prank or harassment gone wrong. Or a plain, ordinary accident. Apparently, that is not so.”

“He?” - Arthur and Sandra asked together.

“Yes. Looks like a student, around sixteen years or so, red hair, green eyes.” - confirmed Matthew.

Arthur pondered for a while before standing up.

He looked at me: “I beg your pardon, Sir Victor, for being unable to accompany you to your Winstone Mansion today. As ashamed as I am to admit that, something that I do not approve of is happening in the Akadem. And I am afraid that it requires my full attention.”

I nodded, saying nothing. Arthur’s gaze stopped on Matthew.

He squinted his eyes for a moment, before he decided: “Sir Victor, if you do not mind… How about I let young Marsh to show you the manor? I can transfer the master key to you any time, and I believe, Marsh is competent enough to deal with any issues that may crop up.”

That suggestion sounded much better than rushing headfirst into some suspicious mess. For that simple reason, I agreed.