Chosen seriously. He’s likely my best choice.
“It’s worth a shot.” Angelique flipped her satchel open and rooted through its cavernous innards. After blindly fumbling for a few moments, her fingers scraped the mirror’s familiar heavy, engraved handle, and she dug it out.
Angelique studied the mirror’s dark reflection—it was impossible to see anything given the forest’s darkened surroundings and the late hour—then burrowed around in her satchel for the starfire crystal she’d tossed back in it.
With the soft glow of the crystal lighting up her face—so Clovicus wouldn’t think she’d been kidnapped or something—Angelique tapped the spell that buzzed under the mirror’s surface, directing it to Clovicus.
She didn’t think it would actually reach the Lord Enchanter, so she was holding it sidewise and nearly dropped it when the spell took, and Lord Clovicus (squinty eyed and with ruffled hair) filled the mirror’s surface.
“Hello?” he croaked in a rusty voice.
“Lord Clovicus, good evening!” Angelique corrected the angle of the mirror and nearly slipped off Pegasus’ side as she struggled to fix her posture and hold the starfire so it lit up her face.
“Angelique.” Clovicus rapidly blinked and slightly shook his head. “Is something wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing is wrong—at least, not anymore,” Angelique said. “But I need your counsel on an issue of magic, and given that I am hiding my abilities from my traveling companions, I need to talk to you now while they are unaware of my absence.”
Clovicus ruffled his bright red hair, the faint silver streaks at his temples catching the glittering light of the fireplace she could see over his shoulder. “Ah. I understand. What is it that you want to know?”
Angelique recited everything she’d learned—from Faina and the likelihood she was under some kind of spell or magical compulsion, to the constructs that had attacked them, and the lack of a mage nearby.
By the time she finished rattling it all off, Clovicus had gone from only half awake to alert and pensive.
He frowned—his hair mysteriously tidied again and his expression clear. “You,” he began, “attract trouble, don’t you? No wonder Evariste suited you so well as your master. That rascal is nothing but trouble.”
Angelique pursed her lips. “Lord Enchanter Clovicus…”
It seemed, however, that he wasn’t done. “I’m not wrong, am I? No matter what part of the world you go haring off to, you manage to meet a royal—most likely one that is cursed or knows someone suffering from a curse. The chances of that happening are quite slim, and yet you’re the only magic user to encounter them! By the time you finally take your test as an enchantress, you are going to have more fieldwork experience than the majority of the Lord Enchanters and Lady Enchantresses I work with.” He brightened. “You could hold workshops! ‘How to be a productive enchantress: Step one, eviscerate the Council.’”
“Clovicus!” Angelique half-laughed—amused to hear someone besides herself see the ridiculousness in the situation, but knowing she needed his advice before returning to the likely already-worried Snow White and her handsome-and-not-cursed warriors.
“There we go—I’m glad to see you crack a smile for once.” Clovicus’ grin was roguish and unapologetic. “It really is unlucky—for you, that is—that you seem to keep finding yourself in these types of situations. But I won’t say it hasn’t been to our advantage—and an enormous boon for the continent. But these constructs. It’s impossible to know for certain just by your description. There hasn’t been a mage in the Veneno Conclave that has held a talent for such thing in a long time. It was thought to have been lost with the ways of old magic. However, black magic is capable of a great many things—most of which we don’t know.”
Angelique hunched her shoulders. “I was afraid of that.”
“I’m happy to say that all is not lost, though,” Clovicus said. “I would imagine your instinct that you are dealing with a particularly powerful black mage who is doing this all from a distance is the correct assumption.”
“You don’t think it could be a less powerful mage is using an artifact charged with Evariste’s magic?”
“No,” Clovicus said. “It’s the actions of the constructs themselves that makes me suspect you’re dealing with a being of great power. Most constructs aren’t reactive like the ones you described. They wouldn’t have fled from the light because constructs are mindless. They would have marched to their doom. It would take a mage of great skill and experience—at least equal to myself, if not greater—to create such a spell.”
“Huh. I’m not sure what