His pondering was cut off when Ilsa threw the book on the table where it hit the wood with a deafening boom. She smirked at his surprise and gestured him to pay attention.
«Like I said, there is no manual for this,» she said. «And I never tried something so foolish, either. So keep in mind that this is all pure speculation on my part, alright?»
Zorian nodded eagerly.
«The first thing I would do if I were in your place would be to stop relying on hands to levitate things,» Ilsa said. «Focusing the magic through your hands makes the process way easier, yes, but only for a certain category of tasks. In a very real way, levitating an object over your palm isn’t ‘true’ non-structured magic — the palm provides a reference point for the effect, which both guides it and limits it. If you mastered everything in Empatin’s book, you are familiar with fixed position levitation?»
Zorian took a pen from a box full of the next to him and made it float above his palm. After a second, he moved his hand left and right, but the pen remained hovering in the exact same spot in the air he left it in, stubbornly refusing to follow the movements of his hand.
«A flawless demonstration,» Ilsa praised. «But let me ask you this: does it not appear to you that fixed position levitation achieves its goal in a kind of convoluted, roundabout way? Why do you need an advanced shaping exercise to achieve something a simple levitate object spell can do as a matter of routine?»
Before he could answer, Ilsa reached out and twisted his palm sideways. The pen instantly fell to the table.
«Because using your hand as a reference point limits what you can do with the mana you’re shaping,» Ilsa said, leaning back. «Even though the pen appeared independent of your hand, it was only an illusion. A pretty baffling one too. Why would you bother? You basically put a limiter on the mana flow — making it dependent on the position of your palm — and then tried to subvert that very same limiter to decouple it from your palm.»
The book Ilsa threw on the table to catch his attention suddenly rose into the air. Ilsa didn’t make a single movement, but he knew she was responsible.
Not the least because she was grinning at him.
«Look,» she said. «No hands. Of course, this is just about the limit of what I can do without using any sort of gesture to help me out with the shaping. It is a hard skill to learn, but you probably won’t need it in its pure form simply for the sake of this ‘project’ of yours. You just need to reduce the degree to which your shaping depends on your hands and make it more flexible. Twisting your hand sideways shouldn’t have caused the pen to plummet down like a rock.»
«You just surprised me,» Zorian huffed indignantly. «I don’t usually lose control of my mana that easily.»
«I stand by my words,» Ilsa said with good-natured smile. «You are very impressive for a student, or even a regular mage, but you have a long way to go if you want to join the ranks of the truly great. But anyway, if and when you get some progress on that, you should try levitating some living being smaller than a human. Much smaller. Try insects for a start, then progress on mice and so on. All in all, it should only take you.. oh, about 4 years or so.»
If she thought he would be discouraged by that, she was sorely mistaken. Not only did he have his doubts about the accuracy of her predicted timetable, he really didn’t have anything better to do at the moment.
«I guess I better get started then,» was all he said.
Zorian’s eyes abruptly shot open as a sharp pain erupted from his stomach. His whole body convulsed, buckling against the object that fell on him, and suddenly he was wide awake, not a trace of drowsiness in his mind.
«Good morning, brother!» an annoyingly cheerful voice sounded right on top of him. «Morning, morning, MORNING!»
Zorian stared blankly at the ceiling above him, at a loss for words. That prediction he had made? He lost track of how many restarts had passed in the meantime, but the number was way bigger than 15. And nothing had changed since then — rare was a restart that lasted more than 3 days, and none of them went on for more than 5. Whatever Zach was doing, it was lethally hard and Zach was too much of a stubborn ass to give up any time soon.
«Zorian? Are you alright? Come on, I didn’t hit you that hard. Up, up.»
Zorian ignored Kirielle who was currently pinching his side with ever increasing vigor, staring at the ceiling while suppressing so much as a twitch. The pain was negligible compared to a couple of particularly nasty pain spells Kyron used on him during one of their ‘resistance training’ sessions. Thankfully, Kyron never used any of them more than once per restart. Kirielle slapped him a few times and then pretended she was going to punch him in the face. When he didn’t react to that, her fist stopped just before it would impact with his face.
«Umm… Zorian?» Kirielle said, actually sounding somewhat concerned. «Seriously, are you okay?»
Slowly, mechanically, Zorian turned his head to meet Kirielle’s eyes, keeping his expression as blank as possible. After a few seconds of silent staring he slowly opened his mouth… and screamed at her. She recoiled at the sudden outburst and let out a girlish scream of her own as her retreat caused her to tumble off the bed.
He watched for a few moments as Kirielle began to turn red from rage, and then he could no longer restrain himself. He started laughing.
He kept laughing even as Kirielle’s little fists started to rain down blows on him.
Zorian’s eyes abruptly shot open as a sharp pain erupted from his stomach. His whole body convulsed, buckling against the object that fell on him, and suddenly he was wide awake, not a trace of drowsiness in his mind.
«Good m—»
With an inarticulate yell, Zorian flipped Kirielle on her back and mercilessly started tickling her. Her shrieks reverberated through the entire house until mother came up to his room and made him stop.
«Good morning, brother! Morning, morning, MORNING!»
A short silence ensued, broken only by the rustling of Zorian’s blankets as Kirielle shifted impatiently on top of them.
«Kiri,» he finally said. «I think I’m starting to hate you.»
He was exaggerating, of course, but gods was this becoming annoying as hell. Amusingly, Kirielle actually appeared concerned by his proclamation.
«I’m sorry!» she said, hurriedly wriggling herself off the bed. «I was just—»
«Woah, woah, woah,» interrupted Zorian, fixing Kirielle with a mock glare. «My little sister apologizing? That doesn’t happen. Who are you and what did you do to Kirielle?»
Kirielle’s appeared dumbfounded for a moment, but her expression quickly grew stormy as she realized what he was implying.
«Jerk!» She huffed, childishly stomping her foot for emphasis. «I do too apologize! When I’m wrong!»
«When you’re backed into a corner,» corrected Zorian. «You must want some pretty big favor out of me if you’re this desperate to remain in my good graces. What’s the story?»
He really did want to know, too. She gave no indication she wanted something from him all those times he had been through this, yet it must be pretty important to her if she was willing to apologize to get it. That didn’t make much sense — Kirielle wasn’t really a shy girl, and had no problems with making her wishes known in the past. For a moment he was tempted to conclude he misinterpreted the situation but then Kirielle looked away and started mumbling something intelligibly.
«What was that?» he prodded.
«Mother wants to talk to you,» Kirielle said, still avoiding his eyes.