I felt pretty confident in my choice. “It seemed like the most important thing to have in the spire was an escape route.”
Vellum waved the circlet. “And you thought you could improve on a decades-old design, did you?”
I nodded. “With respect, yes. Return bells are still useful, but there are always places for improvement.”
“And how much have you tested this new design?”
I winced at that. “Well, I haven’t tested this specific—”
She cut me off with a wave. “So, let me sum this up. You decided the most important thing to bring with you was an emergency exit. However, that was boring, so you made an untested change to the core functionality of the item. If you made it incorrectly, the item is completely useless, and you potentially won’t know until you are in a life or death situation. Is that about accurate?”
I took a deep breath. This was not going well. “I have tested the individual components before, and I am reasonably confident that this method of combining them will work.”
She waved a hand. “Enough of that. Where’s your teleportation anchor?”
I…hadn’t made one of those.
But I still had the one from the original bell, and in theory, since I’d moved all the anchor rune from the bell over directly…
I wasn’t sure if it would still work, actually.
I pulled out the anchor and handed it to her. She glanced it over, turning it in her hands, and then handed it back to me. “A standard anchor. Passable.”
Should I tell her I didn’t make it in the class?
She has to know, doesn’t she? But she didn’t say anything.
“I…” I stammered.
“I’m not done talking to you.” She handed the circlet back to me. “I’m disappointed, Cadence. You made a number of mistakes here, not the least of which was your choice of item. I mentioned in the scenario you were going up with climbers — undoubtedly, one of them would have a bell.”
I started to open my mouth to object, but she waved a hand.
“Just listen. In spite of that, a return bell was not a terrible option — if you had experience making them, and the skills to make one on your own.”
“I’m not going to fail you for transferring mana out of an existing item for the test. Nor will I fail you for stealing mana from the tiles. Those were both valid strategies, and clever ones at that. But when you’re only allowed to bring one tool for something, it’s important to make certain it works. There is a time and a place for experimenting, but it must be done in a safe, controlled environment. If you had truly brought this item into a spire, you would have been gambling with not only your life, but the lives of others.”
I couldn’t help myself from interjecting. “I also wouldn’t have gone into a spire with one item.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I believe you wouldn’t. I’ve seen a number of other items you’ve built, and as we’ve discussed, many are creative. But your particular brand of excess has another flaw. As you grow more powerful, you’ll find that having too many items causes them to interfere with one another.”
I nodded. I’d studied that a bit, and taken it into consideration with the placement of my multiple shield sigils to make sure they didn’t cause any problems with each other. “I can consolidate down to a smaller number of items as I grow more skilled.”
Or, I could just keep storing things in the Jaden Box. But she didn’t need to know that.
“Be that as it may, this test was about preparing one item, not many. In that regard, you have failed. Not because you are a poor Enchanter — in fact, your item shows a higher degree of skill than most of the class. Your failure is in judgment.”
I winced. “I…see. So, I fail the class, then?”
She shook her head. “No. You fail this exam. Your score for the year going into this test was a ‘B’ average. I will give you enough points for this exam that your final score is a ‘D’. Failing you out of the class would only make you more likely to make mistakes in the future. And thus, this once, I will be merciful.”
I took a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”
She handed me the circlet. “You can thank me by taking that to the Divinatory and finding out if it works. It won’t change your grade, but I know your habits, and I don’t want you using it inside the spire until you know for certain that it’s functional.”
She was right, of course. “Yes, Professor.”
“Good. With your terrible performance today, I expect to see you back in my office next week. We will be going over some fundamentals, since you clearly haven’t paid enough attention to them up to this point.”
I tucked the circlet and the anchor away in my bag. “I’ll be there.”
“Good.” She turned away from me without another word. “Next… Mister Wydmore.”
I found myself slouching as I walked toward the Divinatory.
I’m such an idiot sometimes.
I didn’t even deserve to pass that class.
I should have told her about the anchor.
Failing the test bothered me, but the worst part of it was that I hadn’t even admitted to Vellum that I hadn’t completed the whole item while I was there.
She had to know, didn’t she?
I could…just tell her.
I failed the test anyway…would she lower my grade further?
The dishonesty of omitting the information was grating on me, but I couldn’t stand the idea of failing the class entirely because I confessed a new bit of information, either.
Non-standard solutions were second nature to me. Even cheating at one of the exams deliberately didn’t really bother me.
But I hadn’t meant to “cheat” there. There had been no clever trick, no bizarre lateral thinking solution.
No, I’d forgotten something pivotal to passing the test, and I’d effectively lied about it.
That was different.
Did she know?
Would she care?
I thought about that until I was all the way inside the Divinatory’s doors.
“Hullo!” Researcher waved. “You’re looking glum, Arbiter. Did you forget something?”
I frowned. “…I…sort of? How’d you know?”
Researcher gave me a sympathetic look. “Casting knowledge spells always takes out a part of me, and it’s awful. Especially the bigger ones. I feel so…wrong.”
Oh, she doesn’t know what happened. She just…associates losing memories with the idea of sadness in general.
It was probably a characteristic of her being a knowledge elemental, but in spite of the miscommunication, I appreciated the sympathy.
And, in truth, I didn’t really feel that differently. The idea of losing my memory was awful. “Yeah. I’m glad I don’t have to pay that cost when casting spells.”
The elemental turned away with a sad look. “I…wish I could get an attunement like yours, so I could cast spells safely like you do.”
I felt a pang of guilt as I realized I’d just inadvertently made her feel worse. “Sorry, Researcher. I wish you could have one, too…” I pondered that for a moment. “What’s stopping you?”
She turned back and blinked at me. “What do you mean?”
I considered for a moment. “I know you’re a summoned version of a spire monster, but couldn’t your original take a judgment? And if she did, wouldn’t you benefit from it?”