by Aaron Crash
“Let’s just get to class,” Jenny said. “A little cold rain won’t kill us.”
They hurried across the courtyard and into the tower. In her Flow magic class, she sat in her usual spot, near the door, so she could see everyone. Ymir and Lillee sat on the other side of the room. Between them were Daris Cujan and his comrades, the viscount and Odd Corry. The two Farmington boys would’ve required so much less work. They would jump at the chance of being a king, and without all the drama. As for Daris, she wanted to see him dead, floating facedown in the ocean.
All three boys had learned their lesson when it came to Ymir. They didn’t talk to him, didn’t even look at him. That single punch had done the trick.
Professor Issa Leel passed out wooden cups of water. Each scholar sat at their desk with the cup in front of them. Today was an important day, and Jenny should’ve looked forward to it. But no.
Professor Leel silenced them with a steady glare. “Today, we shall be putting to practice what we’ve been studying. I want you to turn the water in the cup into ice.”
Daris smirked and said something to Odd, who laughed under his breath.
A second later, Daris’s cup froze solid. He might be a murderous sneak, but he could do magic well. Odd and the viscount, Roger Knellknapp, closed their eyes to focus.
Ymir frowned at his cup.
Professor Leel drifted over to him. “Remember, Ymir, you visualize the ice as you draw from your dusza. You can feel the magic in you, can you not?”
The entire class went silent. Everyone was staring at them.
Ymir touched his cup and closed his eyes. “I hate this magic in me. But yes, I feel something. Cold, on my spine.” He paused, then said the verbal component for Flow magic. “Jelu jelarum.”
“Put that cold into the water,” the professor encouraged.
Ymir dropped his hands to his side, clenching his fists. His eyes opened, and they were as blue as Jenny’s.
She held her breath.
“Jelu jelarum.” He stared holes in the cup. Nothing happened.
Jenny felt too keyed up to sit still. She walked over. Most of the class joined her, but not Nelly. She rolled her eyes. Nelly’s cup was already iced over.
Professor Leel didn’t offer up any protest. “Go on, Ymir. You passed the Open Exam with an audience. I don’t think you care who is watching.”
The clansman didn’t say a word, though he looked uncomfortable. He’d added strips of leather to the shoulders and sleeves of his robes, and he wore the look well. It was as savage as he was.
Jenny touched his shoulder. “You can do this.”
He shrugged away from her touch. “I know I can. Leave me be.”
She snatched her hand back.
“Fucking magic,” he growled. The water in his cup moved, sloshing over the side. He had little control over his power, and he’d admitted to floating in his sleep, or getting visions sometimes, when he felt the icy fingers on his spine.
“Jelu jelarum,” he snarled a third time.
The water boiled over and the cup blackened. Steam rose into the chilly air of the classroom.
“No,” Professor Leel corrected, “don’t boil it. Freeze it.”
“I can’t!” The words burst from his mouth. “I can’t control this elkshit. It’s wild. I can feel how wild it is.”
“Control it, clansman,” Professor Leel snapped at him. “Control it now.”
He slammed his fists onto the desk. The cup jumped—it froze in mid-air with a sharp crack. The boiling water turned to ice that overflowed the scorched lip. It didn’t end there. His entire desk frosted over until it was like he was sitting in an ice sculpture. The already cold air plummeted several degrees.
The frost crept across the floor around him.
Professor Leel stepped back. Her Focus ring flashed. “Jelu inanis.” Moving her hands, she melted the frost but kept his cup frozen.
A beat of silence followed, then applause.
Jenny felt tears in her eyes. He’d done it, and so much more. He was a prize, a worthy prize, for Josentown.
But I want him! The plaintive cry filled her thoughts.
A second later, she could picture what Auntie Jia would say. Selfish girl! He is not meant for you! Remember your duty!
Jenny hated her duty, almost as much as she hated herself.
“You can all sit down.” The professor exhaled shakily. “Ymir has proven himself today...in some ways. He must learn control. Magic is as dangerous to the caster as it is to his friends if the spellwork runs wild. Raise your hand if you need my assistance.”
Jenny returned to her desk, stared at her cup, and focused. She’d been doing simple cantrips like this since she was a girl, though she liked to create water out of thin air to soak her friends. Turning existing water to ice shouldn’t be too difficult.
Nelly sat sideways at her desk to watch.
Jenny felt her core of energy. “Jelu jelarum.” The water froze in her cup. She lifted weary eyes to Nelly. “See? Nothing to it.”
“And you didn’t freeze your whole damn desk,” the girl sniffed. She reached out and touched her friend’s cup. “Jelu inanis.”
The ice melted back into water, though it lost some of the volume from the transformation.
Jenny was surprised. “I didn’t know you could do Flow magic so well, Nelly.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Nelly said.
Could Nelly have slipped the parchment into Ymir’s room? No, she’d have no reason to. Ymir’s magic was what made him so special, and why the class had clustered around his desk.
Nelly might have her secrets, but they couldn’t be many. She was the daughter of one of Queen Lissabelle’s handmaidens and a fish monger, a drab, ugly man with a bad temper. Jenny knew Nelly well—the handmaiden’s daughter had no doubts about her duty. A servant of the Josentown queen, the girl wanted what was best for the queendom, since that raised her own prospects. She’d never be queen, and she had an older sister, another Firstborn, who would get her choice in men for the Tucker family. But it wouldn’t be someone of Ymir’s caliber.
It might be Nelly was as jealous of Jenny’s sister as Jenny was herself. If so, Nelly just might sabotage Ymir. No, that was unlikely.
Nevertheless, the Josentown princess would have to keep an eye on her friend.
Professor Leel had scholars collect the cups, and she talked more about theory, and their experience in the class. Most everyone had been able to freeze their cups, except for the dark-haired girl from the Scatter and the male Gruul, as well as a few other unlucky students.
“Remember, class,” the professor said. “The First Exam is in one month. Those of you who failed had best redouble your efforts. If you don’t pass the First Exam, you will not get a second chance. There are other universities, however.” Her eyes strayed to Ymir. “And those of you who couldn’t control your magic? Your fate will be the same.” She dismissed them and sat down at her desk at the front.
Nelly turned. “If Ymir fails, we might have to adjust our timeline. I have the components for the Lover’s Knot ready. It’s your call, my princess.”
“It is my call.” Jenny left it at that.
Nelly went to console the Scatter Island girl. Shockingly enough, Jenny had forgotten her name. She’d been so preoccupied of late.
She might as well go congratulate the main source of her preoccupation. She pushed through Daris and his comrades without giving them a second look. She grinned at Ymir. “That was quite a display.”
He was still sitting. He swiped a finger through the water on his desk. “It was a mistake putting me in Flow. You saw it. The fire came so easy to me.”
Lillee patted his hand and stood, slinging her satchel onto her shoulder.
Jenny laughed to hide her doubts. “Good thing you weren’t in Sunfire. You might have ignited the whole tower. How did it feel?”
Ymir stood. “I felt it. This dusza thing doesn’t want to be controlled. It w
ants to rage.” He furrowed his brow. “I’ve felt something similar before, in the heat of battle, where I lose myself to the chaos.” He finally found a grin. “But an angry warrior is a dead warrior, or so Grandfather Bear would say. A clear mind, a precise strike, is your friend when it comes to war. I will learn control.”
“You better,” Jenny said. “Four short weeks, and we have the First Exam. You have to pass, Black Ice Ring or not.”
“What are you doing tonight?” Ymir asked.
The lurid thoughts hit her. She imagined herself on her bed, naked, spread open for Ymir. Lillee would be next to them, her left arm bare. The elf girl would kiss Jenny as Ymir eased his massive uht into her. It might hurt. It would be worth it.
“Nothing,” Jenny said in a husky voice.
Ymir nodded. “Good. I’ll need your river deck tonight.”
“For a little gambling?” the swamp woman asked.
“For a lot of gambling,” the clansman said. “I have a plan to make my life easier. It seems I might be at the Majestrial longer than I first thought. I mean to make my stay comfortable.”
Jenny knew that Ymir was proud of his accomplishment. Was that a good thing? Did he want to keep his dusza, or was he planning on shattering it into a thousand pieces?
It would be a shame for him to lose what made him so unique. For the first time, an idea dawned on Jenny, and it was so enormous, so life-changing, she couldn’t admit it to herself. Not at first. Then the idea set roots down deep inside her soul.
Chapter Twenty-Four
YMIR WAITED IN THE feasting hall for Lillee and Jennybelle. It had been an important day, using magic in his Flow class. However, he wasn’t going to waste the night pondering his dusza, not when he’d spent two weeks studying the river deck and a certain card game. Fourteen days of reading, practice, and work was on the line.
Not all of it was work. Every night, Lillee would take off her essess, and they would have sex, and each time was just a bit different. The elf girl had an expansive imagination and a filthy mind. She’d come up with any number of shocking things to say to him, and sometimes she’d toy with him, and sometimes she’d beg him to toy with her. Then she’d curl up with him in his room, under the bear blanket, and they’d hold each other.
He was getting used to the waves and the mist in his cell; he wasn’t cold, not with Lillee Nehenna around. Their lives were intertwining, and his little habits were becoming hers. It might’ve been perfect if they hadn’t had to work for Gurla, cleaning, sweeping, mopping, in the mornings before breakfast and in the evenings, before dinner.
Which is why Ymir had been studying the river deck so much outside of class.
Gatha, the testy orc librarian, had given him a leather book, written in Pidgin, that outlined the river deck and the game called Seven Devils. Basically, it was a great deal of math and probability, which he was learning about in his mathematics class, taught by Brodor Bootblack. The Morbuskor professor could be Gatha’s long-lost uncle given how surly he could be.
Yet Ymir liked his upfront manner. Professor Bootblack didn’t suffer fools, and he let them know exactly when they were being stupid. He was a lot like Korga, Ymir’s Classic Warfare teacher, though the Gruul woman was far less patient. Ymir himself didn’t test her temperament. Learning about Theran war was his favorite subject. And he liked the instruction he got on the curved Gruul swords. They seemed to be a favorite weapon across the continent. The Ohlyrra had slim straight swords, meant more for stabbing than slashing. They wouldn’t work as well on horseback.
Ymir impressed Korga by how well he could ride. Horses weren’t as big as the otelkir from his homeland, and they definitely weren’t as smart.
Yes, Classic Warfare was very interesting. He still hadn’t set foot in the Courtly Manners and Arts class, and no one had come after him. If they did, he would get the syllabus and teach himself. He could read far faster than the professors could talk.
He didn’t mind the Ages of Thera history course taught by the scattered woman, Nile Preat, who had a habit of looking at her various timepieces and cursing. As if time was her greatest enemy.
The Introduction to Languages with Siteev Ckins was good, if only because the professor gave him lingering looks. And she wasn’t shy about leaning down to talk to him, giving him a dazzling view of her dangling breasts. The coral golem in the corner did make him uneasy, but Ymir was growing accustomed even to that monstrosity.
Ymir figured that he would have to go to Siteev to figure out the archaic Homme word on the parchment. Was it sky? A mirror? Some other reflection? The Wolf moon wouldn’t appear in the sky with the other moons for another three years. He didn’t want to wait that long.
If he could create the Black Ice Ring, he could use it to destroy his dusza. He was going to try, regardless of the state of the heavens, to make the damn thing. It would be nice, however, to get as much information as possible before then.
Would Siteev help him? Probably. She was interested in him, in more ways than one. The clansman with a dusza, and one that was powerful enough to not only freeze a cup of boiling water but to freeze his desk as well. And it hadn’t been all that difficult. He hadn’t felt tired, or drained, or any of that, which was what Professor Leel had said would happen with scholars so unused to magic.
He’d like to get Siteev’s opinion on that as well. She might know why using his power didn’t drain him. The whole school seemed to be talking about what had happened. More than one woman came up to congratulate him. He thanked them, smiled, and then watched them walk away.
His thoughts were interrupted by Lillee. She was the first to arrive in the feasting hall. Singing a little song, she hugged Ymir and kissed his cheek. She was so proud of him.
Jenny walked up in her big brown boots with the big cuffs. She wasn’t in her robes but wore a big gray cloak, swept back to reveal her puffy-sleeved blouse and tight black leather pants.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” the swamp woman asked. She’d braided her black hair and wrapped it around her head like a snake. He took that as a good omen.
“I’m not certain of anything,” Ymir replied. “That is why it’s gambling. I do know something about reading men’s faces. We have a game at home which is part chance, part bluff.”
Jenny wrinkled her nose. “You mentioned that. It’s called something like ‘stone me, stick me, prick me’?”
The clansman laughed. “Not hardly, though we did play games like that with Red Elk girls, especially ‘prick me.’ My game was called stone, stick, moss, and mud, and it requires a single die, and a knowledge of the Moons, and the expression on a man’s face.”
The swamp woman shrugged. “You’ve tried to explain it to me, and I don’t get it. Which is fine. I do understand Seven Devils, and you do too.”
“I understand stone, stick, moss, and mud,” Lillee insisted in a quiet voice.
That made Jenny roll her eyes. “Well, Lillee, we all can’t be as smart as you, now can we?”
“Or as hot,” the elf girl said mischievously. “Why haven’t we had another dinner at your place? Ymir and I talk about that night. We talk about you.”
Jenny shook her head. “No, we have to focus. If I start thinking about that night, I’d have to go to my room for a little alone time. Nope. Gotta focus.”
“We do.” Ymir hustled the women out of the citadel and down the steps to the Sea Stair Market. Sunfire torches flickered their magical light on the rain-damp stone. Water trickled down gutters on either side of the steps. A thick fog covered the place. Muted lights glowed in the damp, and though it wasn’t raining at the moment, it felt like they were swimming through the thick fog. Woodsmoke and the scent of cooked meat, along with the pungent sting of liquor, filled the air around them.
Ymir went to the Unicorn’s Uht and pushed open the door. The tavern was packed with students from all the classes, drinking, eating, laughing, and, in some cases, singing. That made Lillee smile, and she sang harmony under their c
aterwauls. A few of the patrons smoked rolled kharo, so a sweet haze clung to the ceiling.
The barbarian went first, with the women trailing him.
On the left was a long counter where people stood, being served by several women with red faces, glowing with sweat. The women weren’t scholars, but older, one of them wrinkled and ancient. A stained glass window showed the unicorn on the sign out front chasing after a collection of mares with coquettish smiles painted on their equine lips. Underneath the window, barrels of all shapes and sizes were stacked. The barrels were kept in place by stone, shaped to hold them. Ymir bet Form magic was involved in the construction, and maybe the window had been built by the earth sorcery as well.
Through a trap door in the ceiling, plates of food were lowered, and the women bartenders brought them to the counter where they were collected by hungry scholars. The kitchens had to be above. He couldn’t be sure, since the whole place was so hot and loud. A fireplace popped and cracked in a stone hearth built into the northern wall.
To the right were tables and more private booths, all full of chattering scholars, mostly human, mostly women.
Ymir pushed through to more tables near the back where groups of scholars had piles of shecks stacked in front of them. Seven cards from the river deck lay in the middle of the copper coins.
At one table, three upperclassmen, a rich boy and two girls, played with silver, and Ymir approached them. All were from the Sorrow Coast Kingdom, judging by the embroidered crests on their velvet shirts under their school robes: tridents, fish, and a single sailboat riding a wave.
Ymir caught the man’s eye, a brown-haired man with a soft jawline, which he tried to define with a sparse beard. “You have three players, but I’d like to try my hand at this game. Would you mind?”
One of the women, a big girl with a big chest and wide hips, laughed loudly. “It’s the barbarian with magic! Promise me you won’t cut my head off if you lose.” She pointed at the hatchet sheathed on his belt.