—old leaders fall and new leaders rise. In times of war, you must seize the opportunity for power lest your enemies take it from you.


    “In times of war…” The phrase feels familiar. Then she remembers: it’s from Maska’s Testimonium. Although she doesn’t recall the line about seizing power. “Do you mean me? I have to lead? How?”


    *


    Valerie weaved her way to the front of the gathering, her eyes set on Anwen beckoning her to join him. Whispers followed her. She felt the eyes of the gentlemen following her too, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine.


    Gathering her skirts, she stepped up to the stage and into the light of the silvertree, and that tingle in her spine rushed through her whole body.


    Oh, the things she could do.


    What a difference it made to look down on the audience instead of up at the stage. To stand in the spotlight, not fade into the dark. To be the centre of attention—not to endure the Patriarch’s interrogation, but to show these ignorant men her true self.


    “Good evening, gentlemen.” She curtsied, then turned to Anwen. “Master Anwen.”


    “My dear,” he said, “perhaps you could show us a light?”


    Easy enough. She lifted her hand and created a tiny spark that floated in the air. Even that simple display caused a ripple of consternation.


    Anwen squinted at the light, then turned back to the audience with a grin. “You see! Magic—a spontaneous creation, Lady Valerie’s will made manifest. Now, I would like to test a theory with you all, right here on this stage.”


    He snapped his fingers and his assistant reappeared, rolling out a chalkboard on wheels and carrying a yardstick. It came to a stop between Valerie, Anwen and the marble plinth, giving the absurd impression of a miniature classroom where the silvertree seedling featured as a leafy decoration.


    Anwen cleared his throat. “My hypothesis is that the silvertrees generate a magical field of sorts, something like a magnetic field. Beyond that field, magic cannot be performed and so this light cannot exist. I further hypothesise that the extent of that field increases with the tree’s age. This is a very young tree, so the size of the field should be small. Lady Valerie, can you send your light over this way?”


    He indicated to his left, towards the other side of the stage. Valerie focused, and the spark shot past Anwen, briefly illuminating the brass buttons on his waistcoat, before disappearing by the point where the velvet curtains draped over the edge of the platform.


    “There!” said Anwen. “You see the exact spot here—the light vanished.” He hurried over to mark the spot by drawing a line in white chalk. “Now, my lady, the other direction…?”


    Her side, then. Valerie recreated the speck of light and flicked her wrist. It shot off to her right, making it a little further past the velvet curtain before vanishing.


    “Ah ha!” Anwen marked the spot again in white chalk, his assistant pulling back the curtain so that everyone could see. “Now, if we measure the distance to the tree…”


    He used the yardstick to measure the distance from each mark, then recorded his results on the chalkboard. Valerie watched the audience while he did it. She saw many frowns, but no outright disgust or fear. The atmosphere was one of intense interest.


    “You see,” said Anwen, “the measurements are identical. Lady Valerie, if you would kindly raise your light into the air…”


    Valerie looked up. A chandelier hung above them, and a motif of winged infants and fluffy clouds painted the ceiling. She didn’t think her magic could reach it.


    Besides, she had a better idea.


    “Why don’t we think a little bigger?” she said.


    She held out both hands. This time, instead of a single spark, she created a dozen motes of light, then another dozen, a stream of glowing particles that she sent out in every direction. Each particle vanished the moment it passed beyond the silvertree seedling’s reach. The effect was a dazzling sphere of light emanating out from her fingertips.


    An appreciative murmur rippled across the lecture theatre. She glimpsed Avon below the front of the stage, the light playing over his face, his eyes alight with an expression she had never seen before—awe. Her stomach flipped.Stolen story; please report.


    “Wonderful!” Anwen exclaimed.


    She let the light motes fade to find Anwen jabbing up at the air with the yardstick.


    “Exactly as I thought!” the old scholar enthused. “Well done, Lady Valerie, a beautiful demonstration. Gentlemen, we have witnessed the first proof of my hypothesis. A little difficult to measure that last display, but the radius looked about the same, yes? About ten feet? So, yes, a small field, as I predicted. We have also demonstrated that the field is spherical. So you see, as long as you have a silvertree and a willing practitioner, it is possible to not only study magic, but also to measure its effects. I am sure this experiment will be of great interest to the Society. Thank you.”


    He bowed, taking her hand, and Valerie curtsied too. She looked out at the sea of faces before her. Several still looked dazed. For a moment, she could have heard a pin drop. Then the audience broke into hearty applause. Her heart soared.


    “Excellent work!” Lynwood leapt back on stage and shook Anwen’s hand. “Fascinating, thank you, Master Anwen. Now, gentlemen, do you have any questions?”


    Traditionally, when presented with a paper for discussion, the esteemed members of the Society Biologica had the opportunity to question its author on the particulars of his study. She had rather hoped they would skip this part.


    She recognised the first gentleman to raise his hand.


    “Lord Gideon.”


    The Duke of Hennich, Grimmauld Gideon, fixed his gaze on her with a scowl, then turned his attention to Anwen.


    “An astonishing performance,” he said, barely disguising the contempt in his voice. “But how do you know the witch wasn’t faking?”


    Her cheeks flushed scarlet. Valerie caught Avon’s eye, suppressing a grimace. His expression gave nothing away.


    Fortunately, Anwen answered. “An understandable concern, my lord. Of course, I know Lady Valerie to be an exceptional and highly trustworthy individual, but I wouldn’t expect the Society to take my claims at face value. No, first of all, I will note that Lady Valerie was not aware of the precise experiment I intended to perform here tonight and so could not have prepared any trickery even had she been inclined to do so. It would also be quite the feat to produce these exact matching measurements by eye alone. However, if Lord Avon permits it, I would encourage any of you scholars to repeat the experiment in order to verify my results.”


    Valerie looked at Avon. The rest of the audience did too; he raised his voice to answer them.


    “If any scholar wishes to repeat Master Anwen’s experiment, you’re welcome to come to me. My witch performs only at my command.”


    That got a few chuckles. Valerie’s face couldn’t get any hotter, and she quietly drew on her magic to calm herself.


    Lynwood pointed at another gentleman. “Lord Becket.”


    A trim little man with beady eyes cleared his throat. “Ahem. Master Anwen. I must inquire about the title of your essay. You say relationship with human women. What of the silvertrees’ relationship with human men? Or are these trees exclusively of the philogynous persuasion?”


    Valerie had no idea what that meant. Anwen again answered the question, explaining that anyone could receive the blessing, but that women were particularly suited to it. She didn’t bother to correct him. The questions that followed became increasingly tedious and technical, Valerie struggling to keep the boredom from her face.


    Until, that is, Titus raised his hand. She tensed.


    “Master Titus.” Lynwood nodded. “Our final question, if you please.”


    “My question is for Lady Valerie.” Titus’s eyes bored into her. “Do you agree that women are particularly suited to magic?”


    Why would he ask that? Valerie hesitated. She felt that there must be some trick here, some strategy that she couldn’t discern. Her eyes met Avon’s, and he gave a slight imperceptible shake of the head. The atmosphere in the lecture hall wasn’t hostile exactly; she sensed curiosity in the faces of the men peering at her, but also disquiet. Titus had violated some unspoken rule by inviting her to speak.


    “Thank you for your question, Master Titus,” she said. “I know that we both know the answer. I learned from Master Anwen that a good natural philosopher is curious about the world and everyone in it. They don’t assume that they know everything. They look for knowledge outside of their own domain. I think that’s one of Drakon’s greatest strengths. You know there is wisdom to be found outside the Empire, if only you’re willing to listen.”


    Some of the gentlemen shuffled their feet. She sensed them getting restless.


    “Answer the question, woman!” someone called.


    “Do you agree?” she asked. “Is there wisdom outside the Empire?”


    A few people jeered under their breath, but more nodded. Both Titus and Avon were staring at her, ferocious and tense.


    She ploughed on, undeterred. “So you agree. Some of you, at least. I hope you’re angry, then, that your people destroyed so many Maskamery books during the war. You burned down our libraries. You killed the priestesses. Master Anwen has been reconstructing a thousand years of knowledge piece by piece, when any one of us could have told you that anyone can learn magic. There’s no difference in capability, only in character. Before I met Lord Avon and Master Anwen, the only character I saw in Drakon was cruel and callous. If you want to be worthy of learning magic, it’s up to all of you to change that.”


    Dead silence followed. Even Anwen looked lost for words; he stared at her, then at Lynwood. She swallowed. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. Would they understand? Would they listen?


    “Jonathan,” said Avon, his voice quiet but heard by everyone. “Shall we wrap this up?”


    “Yes,” said Lynwood hastily, stepping forward. “Gentlemen, thank you! Do stick around for drinks. Let’s have a round of applause for our esteemed speaker, Master Anwen Fairburn!”


    The scholars clapped, the dusty sound dulling the tension in the room. Anwen shook her hand vigorously, promising that he would meet her later, then Valerie stepped down from the stage and straight into Avon.


    He drew his arm around her waist. “Well done.”


    “Are you sure?” Her heart was thumping. “Was that last part too much?”


    “Perhaps,” he acknowledged, “but we do need to challenge preconceptions—”


    “James! You sly fox!” Lynwood slapped Avon on the shoulder. “What a firecracker your girl is! Allow me to introduce my father-in-law, the Duke of Glost.”