The Law of Reversal had many, many derivatives. It was used to lower temperatures in crucial chemical reactions. It had numerous safety applications, dampening sounds, light intensities and velocities in wide-ranging circumstances. But Aubrey knew it was a notoriously delicate area to work in. Some magicians chose to specialise in reversal spells, making it their life work and gaining well-paid positions adjusting spells for industry and the military.
I could get in touch with the Magisterium. I'm sure they have some reversal specialists on staff. He grinned. Or I could improvise.
He started humming happily. It'd probably take too long to contact the Magisterium, anyway.
In a reversal spell, as for most serious magic, one of the most important aspects was the magician's choice of language – or combination of languages. Aubrey decided that using Chaldean may be useful, as that ancient civilisation's taut and structured syntax was well suited to grappling with the sometimes tortured inversions that a reversal spell dealt with.
He glanced at the open door to Maurice's office. He caught George's eye and gestured. George nodded, then steered Maurice away, giving Aubrey a chance to dart into the tiny room.
Ten minutes later, he surveyed the blotter in front of him, satisfied. He'd scratched out a spell that he was sure would be able to lift the magical tower from its foundations.
He folded the coarse paper and left the office. Behind Maurice's back, Caroline rolled her eyes at him. Aubrey was happy to come to the rescue. 'Maurice,' he said, interrupting a story about floating crockery, 'would you like to come flying with us?'
Maurice started, then shook his head. 'I'm not one for adventures. I'm the one who stays behind and cleans up the mess.'
'And a fine job you do, I'm sure,' George said.
'You're sure about this?' Maurice said to Aubrey.
'As sure as a magician can be.'
Caroline patted Maurice's arm. 'I think that was meant to be reassuring.'
'It was? I don't mean any disrespect, but I've seen many magicians in my time.'
'Ah,' George said, 'so that means you've seen plenty of things go wrong.'
'True enough.'
'Well, Maurice, I'm offering this place a chance.' Aubrey put a hand on the brickwork. 'It can stay as it is, falling into disrepair until someone feels it'd be a good idea to pull it down and put up an office block. Or we can go ahead with my plan and give it a great and noble chance. It might be its last adventure, but it'd go out with a blaze of glory.'
Maurice cracked a grin. 'Aye, it would be that. The old place deserves a chance to live again.'
Aubrey bowed to Caroline. 'Care to come for a spin in my building-mobile?'
'I'd be delighted.'
Maurice hobbled toward the door and paused just before exiting. 'Just do your best to bring it back in one piece.' He closed the door softly behind him.
'What now?' Caroline asked, and Aubrey realised she hadn't been present for a major incantation.
'It's simple, really. Just move to the wall and stay quiet. Don't distract me or interrupt.'
'Unless he's in some sort of life-threatening situation,' George said.
'What do you mean?'
'Never mind.' Aubrey shot a dark look at his friend. George chuckled and put his hands in his jacket pockets.
Aubrey stood as close to the centre of the building as he could, his back against the curving balustrade of the stairs. He settled his feet, feeling that a solid grounding may be important in this undertaking. He took the blotting paper out of his pocket and studied the scratchy Chaldean script as his pulse began to beat faster. All seemed in order. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind. Tiny misgivings nipped at him, but he shook them off. I can do this, he thought. I will do this.
He opened his eyes. He took a deep breath, let it out, and took in another. Then he began.
The Chaldean syllables were dense and agglutinative. They felt like blocks of stone as he growled his way through them, but he kept an even, unhurried rhythm, never allowing one syllable to slur into the next. He was careful with the variables for capacity and area of effect. He made certain that the connection between the earth and the tower was established and controllable. He didn't want the tower fizzing off into the heavens. He felt sweat on his brow as he moved on to limit the rate of reversal, inserting a constant to maintain a steady increase in the rate, one that he could monitor and adjust as necessary.
The final syllable was his signature, a cobbled-together Chaldean version. It was subdued, without the flourish that Aubrey often embellished his work with. When it left his lips, he threw back his head and flung out his arms. The syllables echoed around the open space of the tower. He hoped he presented a dramatic picture, or an impressive one, at least.
The floor beneath his feet trembled. A fine rain of dust fell from somewhere above, accompanied by a patter of dry pigeon droppings.
Aubrey let his arms drop to his side. The walls trembled, vibrating with magical power and a groan went up from underneath the floor. It was an old sound, but it wasn't a sad one. It was as if a giant were stretching and greeting a new day.
The tower lifted a few inches, then dropped back with a crash.
'Aubrey?' Caroline said. She and George were still standing with their backs to the wall.
'This first part may be a little rough.' He waved a hand and did his best to appear as if he'd had enormous experience with levitating buildings.
George looked sceptically at him, but they eased themselves to the floor. George sat, splay-legged, Caroline rather more elegantly.
The tower lifted again, then shuddered, and Aubrey hastily joined his friends on the floor.
The walls flexed and strained, creaking mightily. The tower seemed eager to be off, but through the window by the door Aubrey could see they hadn't moved. He stretched out his magical awareness and found that the building was pulsing with power. The reversal spell had worked, but the building still hadn't taken flight.
Puzzled, Aubrey went over the spell in his mind, looking for any errors he may have made, but found nothing. The groaning in the walls grew louder and from beneath the floor came a grinding, snapping sound.
He stiffened and realised that he'd overlooked something very important. His spell had encompassed the whole building – but from ground level up. He'd forgotten about the cellars.
He started to climb to his feet, ready to begin constructing a cancellation spell, but at that moment the floor shook; then with the sound of splitting timber and the screech of metal being torn apart, the tower wrenched upward and Aubrey was thrown to the floor.
He landed awkwardly on his back. All the air was driven from his lungs and, for a moment, his body refused to drag in any replacement. All he could think about was breathing again, but his body remained uncooperative. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, he gasped and managed to drag in a sweet and precious breath, then another. He sat up, dazed and shaking. Through the windows, he could see the Library wall opposite. It was sinking.