Andrew Rowe - Sufficiently Advanced Magic

Second, and more importantly, I couldn’t go back in through the same gate. The Gate of Judgment could be used precisely once per person. Next time I entered the tower, I’d have to use one of the other, far more dangerous entrances. The ones designed for climbers who were intent on reaching the top of the tower.

If I wanted to survive going into the deadlier parts of the tower, I’d need to learn how to master my attunement. Even Vera, who had an attunement that wasn’t built for combat, had proven that she was vastly more capable than I was. I couldn’t have possibly survived that spire guardian room without her — and that was just a single room on the first floor .

Now that I’d completed my Judgment, my highest priority was to train. To study. To get stronger.

And when I was ready, I’d start climbing to the top to save my brother.

I decided that I’d eventually try to write up my notes on the tower rooms and publish them for future tower entrants. I wanted to do anything I could to try to prevent others from failing their Judgments.

But for the moment, I had more far more pressing concerns.

I’d seen a lot of flashy magic over the years. My father and mother were both expert combatants, and I’d seen both of them absolutely demolish people in structured combat tournaments.

But neither they, nor anyone I’d ever met, had a fraction of the power that Katashi did. Visages could — and had — leveled cities. It was very likely that what I’d seen in his battle with Keras was just a fraction of his power, probably to prevent collateral damage.

If I’d just made him angry, I was in very serious trouble.

I headed toward the celebration tent, but I didn’t feel much like celebrating.

There were two Soaring Wing guards at the entrance to the tent. They gave me cautious looks as I approached.

One of them, a woman with a blue attunement mark glowing softly on her right hand, gave me a hard look. “Where’d you come from?”

I pointed at the exit where I’d emerged.

“Huh. Haven’t seen anyone come out that gate in years.” She narrowed her eyes, and then waved her rune-marked hand over my forehead. Looking at her partner, she said, “It’s real. He’s attuned.”

The other guard nodded, turned toward me and gave me a friendly slap on the shoulder. I winced — I wasn’t much for physical contact — but I tried to give him as pleasant of a smile as I could manage.

“Congratulations, kid. You should go get yourself a drink! If your test was anything like mine, you probably need one. And don’t let anyone hassle you about your attunement.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

It occurred to me that I hadn’t actually checked which attunement I’d picked up. I didn’t exactly have a mirror.

“Uh, thanks.” I turned my head from one guard to the other. “Can I go in?”

“Oh, ‘course you can. Gotta make sure you fill out your papers before you leave, too. That’s in the back.” The woman gestured toward the back of the tent, where I could see some tables stacked with paperwork. Bored looking adults were manning the tables, giving instructions to the teens my own age sitting or standing nearby.

In the middle of the tent, though, people were celebrating. Newly-attuned teenagers were dancing, carousing, and some looked to be having their first taste of alcohol.

I stepped in, looking around.

“Congratulations! Need a drink?” An older teenager holding a tray of wine glasses lifted it in my direction, but I shook my head.

“Not much of a drinker.” Belatedly, I added, “But thanks.”

The teenager nodded. “Suit yourself!”

I continued to make my way in, bypassing the celebrants and heading to the back tables. Some of the adults turned toward me. One of them pointed, and another stood and approached me.

She was a heavy-set woman, maybe in her thirties or forties, beaming a bright grin at me. I did my best to smile in return, but my best probably wasn’t very good.

“Hello, and congratulations! I see you just finished your attunement. You’re welcome to join the celebrants for a bit before you sign your papers, if you’d like.”

I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’d rather get this over with.”

Her smile diminished by a fraction, but she maintained a cheerful tone. “Of course, of course. I’m Professor Edlyn. From the look of that mark, I’ll probably be seeing you in my classes in a few weeks.”

I absently brushed my fingers against my forehead. “Oh, uh, great. I’m Corin Cadence. I haven’t actually seen my attunement yet.”

I took a glance at her own attunement — the one she had visible, anyway. I did notice she was wearing a glove on her right hand, and of course her clothing could have covered other marks as well.

It was a Shaper mark, like my father’s, but less complex. I’d seen several variations on each attunement mark, but they always had a core symbol at the center that looked the same. I didn’t know enough about how attunements worked to understand the variations yet.

She raised an eyebrow. “Cadence? As in House Cadence?”

I nodded silently.

“Oh dear. I — well, you should come have a seat, and we’ll get you sorted out.”

That wasn’t a good sign.

I followed her to a seat at one of the nearby tables, trying to ignore the looks that followed me from both newly-attuned and adults.

The professor slid a group of papers in front of me, but I didn’t look at them immediately. “What’s this all about?”

Professor Edlyn gestured at the papers. “Your enrollment paperwork for the Lorian Heights Academy of Arcane Arts. As you’re probably aware, all newly attuned are required by law to serve two years at the academy.”

I nodded. “Followed by two years of military service.”

“Largely correct, although those subsequent two years can also be spent in other approved government roles, such as tower expeditions. Only Lorian Heights can provide you with the education you will need to properly utilize your attunement.”

Of course, because it’s the only option available to me.

Every kingdom treated attuned differently. In Caelford, they had only a single year of mandatory university training, after which students were generally given apprenticeships. Their focus was on attunement-augmented manufacturing, developing both advanced military technology and everyday conveniences that were improved by attunements.

In the Edrian Empire, attuned were sent straight to the military, where they served for a minimum of six years. From my understanding, that duration was often extended, either at the behest of the attuned or by the will of the empire.

In Dalenos, attuned were sent to serve the church. Of course, the Dalen military also served the church — Dalenos was a theocracy — so many attuned still ended up with military-style training.

Valia had the best deal, as far as I was concerned. I only needed to sign away four years of my life, not all of them.

Of course, the nature of the attunement was also relevant, and I still didn’t know mine.

“Can I ask which attunement I have?” I made a little gesture, pointing at the mark on my forehead.

“Of course, dear. You have the Enchanter Attunement.”

I winced. If she noticed, she didn’t give any sign, she just continued talking.

“The Enchanter Attunement will allow you to create magical items and manipulate existing items. It’s very valuable for the development of new technology and providing useful tools to other attuned.”