Ix narrowed his eyes. “So in this incredibly boring analogy, you are fully blind, Lymond sees all and I… require spectacles?”
“Maybe you’re color-blind. That’s irrelevant and you know it. I’ve got a good point,” said Eric with some exasperation. He could already feel it giving way to a reluctant smile though.
“You mighthavea good point, but you’re notmakinga good point,” muttered Ix, but Eric could tell he was accepting it with some reluctance. “No, you’re right. He wields magic in the same way you breathe air. He is a being made entirely of magic who has never had to study it.”
Ix circled around the desk for his books, flipping them open to his pages of notes, which meant he was thinking of something. Pulling up a chair, Eric slid in opposite Ix and pulled one of the books toward himself. When Ix gave him a look, Eric said defensively, “I can read.”
Ix snorted and knocked their knees together under the desk. All right, it had been years since Eric had picked up an academic text and even then, he’d not been good at it. He worked better with real life problems, the kind that running an earldom required – the number of people he was responsible for, the amount of crops they were estimated to grow, the amount they needed to trade in exchange for metals and minerals not found in Marrawshire – but he’d studied alongside Ix. It would just take a bit of concentrating. And if something in here would help Ix regain his magic, it was a small ask.
An hour later, Ix was slouched so low his head rested against the back of the chair, his long legs sliding against Eric’s own as he grumbled about the effort of having to turn the pages with his own hands. And Eric had tripled, possibly quadrupled his knowledge of magic already.
“So as long as the chalk markings are correct, it is possible to open up the seam between the realms again?” asked Eric, deciphering Ix’s handwriting with ease of years of practice.
“Yes. The theory is not difficult, but difficulty lies in precision. Having enough control of magic to do it, and then enough power to keep it open,” said Ix.
“And since you expelled your magical half from yourself, the human half of you could no longer control it?”
Ix scowled. Understandable, no one liked to be reminded of mistakes like that. “Something like that.”
“But could you teach someone else to do it, and then they hold the portal open while you retrieve your magic?”
At this, Ix actually looked interested. He hooked his ankle around Eric’s, using it to leverage himself upright again; Eric grunted as he suddenly found himself dragged forward like a fish on a hook.
“Now that is a thought.”
“I’m known to have them, at times,” grumbled Eric, rubbing his stomach where he had fallen forward and hit the edge of the desk
“But who?” said Ix, mostly to himself and ignoring Eric’s plight. “I don’t wish to give this to the mages, they would immediately tell Father and if I asked Lymond, he would likely have to tell Jasper. Who knows what they would do with that knowledge? Besides, I know Lymond could claw a hole open to the demon realm, but I wouldn’t be able to trust him to keep it open safely like a doorway and he’d drive a hard bargain in exchange for using that much of his power, so I’m loathe to agree.”
Eric was grateful that his only family left was Petra and Aunt Geraldine. The royal family was always involved in this constant push-pull of power, politics, control; Ix trod a fine line between being loyal to his father and brother without giving them too much to hold over him.
“I take it you can’t draw the runes for someone else and only have them activate the spell?”
Shaking his head, Ix said, “Imagine the runes as differently shaped keys of magic, you must draw the runes and hold the image of them in your mind as well as fill them with magic.”
Eric was fast understanding why Pern wanted to wield magic himself. From the way Ix described it, a mage casting a spell was not so much a human using magic but a human commanding a demon to do it for him from lack of ability to do it himself. It seemed impressive only because most humans knew nothing about magic at all, but for the mages, it must seem so close to having that power within their own control, only to have to rely on a demon to execute it.
For Ix though, if Damian was not an option and the mages were not an option, there weren’t exactly many other options. Which meant that the reason for that growing thunderous scowl on Ix’s face could only be one person.
“You’re going to ask Ceronzar?” Even Eric winced.
Prince Ceronzar had never done anything to Eric, but he still found the other half-demon prince intimidating. He was the only one of the three princes who didn’t live at the palace, who shunned all courtly appearances and yet would turn up at official events at the worst time. Eric wouldn’t hear about him for months at a time and then a particularly vile rumor would surface.
“I’ve been putting it off,” muttered Ix. “He’s so…”
Eric didn’t think Ceronzar was evil, as such. It wasn’t as if he wanted to overthrow his father and become king, or demand sacrifice of a thousand virgins, or some such nonsense. It was just that the rules of humanity didn’t apply to him. Ix had traits and behaviors that people put down to being part demon but he still lived at the palace, had human friends, participated in human society, and none of that mattered to Ceronzar.
“Unpredictable?” offered Eric.
Ix snorted. “How kind of you. And I worry he would have the same trouble as Lymond, no control or theoretical knowledge. And I wouldn’t even be able to temper him or let him know if it was working because I can’t see my fucking hellsdamned magic right now!”
Eric walked around the desk, placing his hands on Ix’s hunched shoulders. So tense. He wrapped his arms around Ix’s neck, leaning forward until his cheek rested on the top of Ix’s head. “Ix. Ix, come on. We’ll figure it out.”
This was new. They didn’t do this. Well, not like this. Eric had calmed Ix down from his fits of temper many times over the years, he had a tried and tested number of techniques to run through. Usually, he’d drag Ix out for a swim or a ride, or divert his energy into a sword fight or game of battledore and shuttlecock. Occasionally he would bring up some contentious debate like whether the new opera was good or not, and allow Ix to run roughshod with his opinions until he quite exhausted himself. It felt strange to have known Ix for so long and still discover new things they could do.
Eric felt, rather than saw, Ix inhale a deep breath, then release it. He placed one hand over Eric’s and squeezed tightly, an acknowledge, a silent thank you.
“I would survive if I did not regain my magic,” said Ix eventually. “Not happily, mind you, but it is not a matter of life or death. It’s… useful to remember that sometimes.”
