“You’re welcome.”
“My GPA’s still higher than yours.”
I duck his attempt to smack the back of my head and shuffle Sten past him into the dim lab space. I’m sure Orok already checked as part of his forty-two seconds of speed magic, but I wrestle one-handed to pull out mirror dust and cast a spell to find any scrying enchantments or stuff that might be recording our presence here. I get nothing, not even extra levels of traps or security precautions.
Wow. They really didn’t think I’d get past the ward on the door.
I mean. Technically, I didn’t.
That’s not important.
This lab takes up most of the second floor, with one section farther down for lowerclassmen, and the rest segregated by half walls into individual lab spaces for students who get dedicated areas. Each one is neatly tucked away, most experiments and research locked up since the semester’s winding down. Huge windows throw hazy moonlight into the room, giving enough illumination to see by.
For comparison, the Evocation Lab, a floor down, is a quarter this size. And has one window.
“What now, O Captain, my Captain?” Orok sidles up next to me.
“Give me a sec. Here—hold him.”
I shove Sten toward Orok, but Orok lurches back with a shudder.
“I’m not touching it.”
“This one won’t bite you. I promise.”
“That wasn’t a fear until just now, thank you. No—I meant I’m not touchingdead flesh.”
I grunt. “Fine, gods; just don’t let him wander into the hall. Pretend he’s one of the people you have to tackle on the field, but corral him.”
That seems to register with Orok. He stands straighter, refocusing on Sten with the intensity that makes him one of the university’s top athletes.
Mildly confident, I release the corpse, who wobbles, only toward the wall, not the door.
I fold to my knees and scramble for other components, laying them out in a quick seeking spell. There’s still a magical trace left from whoever cast the ward on the door—and I know very well who cast the ward on the door—so I link to it, let it spread out to find more of the same signature.
A trailing vapor of glowing blue sizzles through the air, leading from the door to the third lab space on the left.
That blue glow vanishes when I scoop up the spell bits and climb to my feet.
The Nec Lab gave me a few spells to control Sten, basic first-year necromancy stuff, and I rattle one off now.
Could I have used one to keep him in place instead of makingOrok hover around him, doing some weird herding dance? Yes. Would it have been as fun? No.
Sten jolts into action, marching like a soldier for the lab space. He stops inside and his arms snap straight, at attention.
A huge chunk of skin—muscle?—falls off his body and plops onto the floor.
I grin. “Perfect.”
Orok gags. “You need help, Seb.”
In this space, the tops of the desk and worktable are mostly clear, a few stacks of papers, a jar of pencils. The whiteboard has some equations on it, spells that are just conjuration bullshit. But there’s nothing of importance lying around. I do have my limits, unlikesomepeople.
I recite the command spell for Sten, adding a few instructions—stayandmessy,followed byjump out and scare the first person who comes over here.
Sten shudders as the magic sinks in.
Then he bends and licks the desk, leaving a good amount of his tongue behind.
