"Dalliance."

  The voice was firm. The hand on his shoulder was firm. The expression on the face to his right was becoming a familiar one. Chores. Of course, they were chores, and he had agreed to do them, but he hadn’t realized when he agreed just how early he had agreed to do them.

  The sun had only just released its first few rays, barely shining down through the misty, mountainous forms of shard-hugging clouds. The floating islands above were scarcely visible at all through the gloom; neither were the silhouettes of the trees. But Mister Best, as usual, had already felled an entire tree by the time he decided to wake Dalliance.

  It was almost worse that he was being merciful about it. The mute evidence of his kindness made it impossible to simply hate him for an hour before coming to his senses. And still, Dalliance had enough irritation to be willing to go out on a limb.

  "What does a Royal Scholar do?"

  He didn't say 'Mister Best.' He didn't say 'sir.' He omitted every polite honorific he knew he should have used.

  Mister Best's voice, still slightly slurred with sleep, held no trace of offense. He simply smiled, setting a sizable split log on the stump before standing back and staring at Dalliance for several long seconds.

  "She spilled my secret," he said at last.

  "Was it a secret?" Dalliance asked.

  Mister Best gave a mute shrug. "Perhaps not. And yet, who really wants their history laid bare before their students? A man is entitled to some privacy."

  Dalliance returned the shrug. It wasn’t on purpose.

  "Such is life," Mister Best said simply. "Suffice it to say . . . Royal Scholars seek a deep understanding of the workings of the world and the application of its secrets. For example, one may know that steam rises off a boiling pot, but it was Royal Scholars who first synthesized—that is, put the pieces together—that information with the knowledge that heated materials expand, such as water into steam, to develop the hot air balloon. This, in turn, led to the development of the modern airship through the use of Aeromantic enchantment."

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Similarly, consider the thaumic token. It was Royal Scholars who discovered that voltaic magics could pass readily through copper and silver. And it was through their careful experimentation that we found such magics live in every human body, not simply in the bodies of sorcerers."

  "I don’t know if this is pertinent to you, Dalliance, but suffice it to say, scholars look for understanding, because knowledge is power. We provide our understanding and context to the Chancellor. I would have ranged far and wide, interviewing experts on different topics, recording my findings, presenting them to my peers, and then, finally, to His Excellency.”

  “Would you have liked it better than this?"

  A deep crease marred Mister Best's brow. "Between you and me," he said quietly, "I’ve often wondered . . . Morality would have lived her best life in that environment, I think. But I don’t believe my wife and I would have been happy. And there are those of you whose lives I have managed to . . . conspire . . . no, that’s the wrong word. There's a word for a clever plan that came to fruition . . . anyway. I have saved some of your lives. You would be dead, I think."

  “Contrive?” asked Dalliance innocently.

  His teacher looked Dalliance in the eye, looking faintly proud.

  "On the whole," he said, "it was probably for the Best."

  "I’m right behind you." She spun around, her face agape with confusion. She didn’t seem to see anything. This wasn't surprising; Dalliance was in a tree.

  He cast [Whisper] again, his voice a slow, careful thought. The spell was cheap on mana, and his natural air affinity had been enough to let him try three times that day. Once he'd allowed a little mana to recharge, it had caught on the second attempt. That successful casting had raised the skill from 'untested' to 'practicing', and a new skill was so much easier to train. He'd waited until he was almost asleep, after watching his mana points crawl back hour after hour, had finally relented, and eventually caved, withdrawing some of his own soul’s mana back from his transfer token with solemn promises to future-him to pay it all back later.

  This time, for only ten mana, he successfully cast it again, the wind bearing his thoughts to Morality Best. She was at her window, as she was many nights, looking out toward the treeline while brushing her hair. Her stillness, like a statue in the moonlight with the exception of her hands, was a little unnerving.

  [Whisper]: "Thank you."

  She dropped her hairbrush.

  He went to sleep with a smile on his face, and for the first time in a long time, he woke up with one too.