by Edun, Terah
Seeing Allorna’s ire, she held out a hand in protest, saying between chuckles, “I’m sorry—your face was so expressive when you saw the tower. I couldn’t help but imagine your thoughts.” She shouldered her knapsack and continued, “It confuses a lot of people. But not many are as annoyed as you were.”
“You’re a face reader, then?” said Allorna.
“Something like that,” replied the girl with a shrug. “Nicolea,” she said, this time holding her hand out for a shake.
“Allorna,” Allorna replied, a little stiffly.
“Are you here for Firecraft? If so, I’m headed that way. We can go up together.”
With a shrug Allorna agreed, thinking there was no reason why not.
They walked into class—held in a normal looking classroom on the fourth floor— and took adjoining desks near the door. Allorna had a nice view of the courtyard in between the three minis, as she privately referred to the miniature towers. When she returned her attention to the room, Nicolea had pulled out a pen and notebook, which Allorna could see was covered in scribbles and drawings.
She turned her attention to the Initiate who walked in at that moment. It was a woman. Rather than the typical robes of an Initiate, she wore breeches and a white tunic. More disconcertingly, she had purple hair. Allorna silently wondered if she was one of those free-spirited types, or if the purple hair signified something.
The woman began the lecture without ceremony. “I’m Initiate FireLancer,” she announced. “No need to rise or call me Ma’am. Initiate will do. In today’s lesson, we’ll focus on the use of fire as a weapon. Think of it as a refresher for your BattleFire class—or if you haven’t taken that one yet, a quick introduction to the subject.”
With that, she called up a fire orb in the palm of her hand. She began to toss it back and forth between her palms as she paced in front of the class. “Fire has been used in warfare for all of recorded history. Flares and burning arrows are used to reveal and reduce small targets at night, and have been for many centuries. A hundred years ago, flaming swords were invented as a means of inflicting further damage upon an opponent. Likan fire was used as an incendiary device from afar.”
At Allorna’s side, Nicolea muttered, “Not always,” as she drew something on her paper.
As the Initiate reached Allorna and Nicolea’s side of the room, she lifted a mauve eyebrow and looked directly at Nicolea. “You have something to say?”
“Well, yes, Initiate,” replied the redhead. “It’s correct to say that fire has been used as a positive agent as well as a weapon, right? Healers use it to cauterize wounds, and field sergeants use it for signals between camps.”
FireLancer nodded, with an approving look. “Yes, fire can be used for more than killing. Just like any element, its value lies in how the maker chooses to use it.”
She turned back to the class and peered toward the far back wall. A boy sat there slouched in his chair…and FireLancer tossed her fireball at him. Allorna flinched in horror, expecting him to start shouting in pain; he had seen the ball coming, and had automatically raised his arm to shield his face while turning to crouch in his chair.
The fireball dissipated in front of him. FireLancer directed her next question at him, speaking coolly: “You—bored boy. Can you tell me what just happened? Was the ball of flame merely light, or did I control the heat of the flame just enough to order it to dissipate before it reached you?”
The boy, seeing the flint in her eyes, gulped and replied meekly, “I don’t know, m—Initiate FireLancer.”
She nodded, still glaring at him. “Precisely. Do not make the mistake of dozing off in my class again.” As the boy paled and stammered an apology, to the rest of the class she said, “By the time this class is over, you will be able to tell the difference between an everlasting orb and a ball of BattleFire at a glance. This knowledge and the associated ability to act will undoubtedly save your life some day.”
Allorna released a sigh of relief that she hadn’t been aware she was holding.
Nicolea glanced at her with unreadable eyes, and turned back to gaze at FireLancer while closing her notebook. Apparently she won’t be scribbling in this class, thought Allorna, perhaps a bit uncharitably.
The rest of the class was just as interesting as the first few minutes. They learned that tiny changes to the chemical formula for creating an everlasting orb could turn it into BattleFire, a revelation that Allorna found both thrilling and frightening at the same time. The differences were minute, but were undertaken at every step of the process, and built upon each other to transform the meek to the destructive. Whether or not the students in her class intended to be practitioners of fire or chemistry at the highest levels, FireLancer required that they copy down the chemical formula for the everlasting orb—and its harmful variant—into their notebooks.
Allorna frowned and raised her hand towards the end of class. FireLancer came over and looked at her inquiringly. “I took a class today,” Allorna said, “in which we were taught to create the everlasting orb with our magical cores, not with chemistry.”
FireLancer answered her statement with a question: “Are you familiar with the three types of magic?”
“No, Initiate.”
FireLancer nodded, went back to her desk, and came back with a small sheet of paper. “Review this tonight. The short answer to your implied question is this: orbs can be created with both types of magic. If a chemist mixes the formula we’ve discussed with the right ingredients, he can create buckets of a lighting solution and distribute it to practitioners who can then infuse their own orbs with the liquid and the magic necessary to awaken it. That’s how Likan fire is made, for instance. If a practitioner were to create everlasting orbs from his or her core each time, it would be a painstakingly long process and, depending on their strength, might eliminate their core for days. There are benefits to both methods.”
FireLancer turned back to the class. “All of you: review the chemical differences in the formulae for the everlasting orb and BattleFire. I’ll test you in tomorrow’s class. Off with you, now.”
As she left the tower, Allorna stared at the sheet that the Initiate had given her, and had barely gone ten yards before she heard her name called from across the yard. It was Maride, on his way out of Penmanship. She raised her hand to acknowledge his call, waited for him to catch up, and together they walked downhill back to the gatehouse.
“God, I’m exhausted!” said Maride.
Allorna had pocketed the sheet and was surveying the school grounds. She turned back to him and said, “Exhausted isn’t even the word for it. Today was backbreaking.”
Unnoticed by them, Vedaris had dropped in on Maride’s other side, and now he said ominously, “Tomorrow’s going to be worse.” He began walking backwards, his brown eyes flashing hints of green in the evening light.
“Don’t say that!” Maride moaned.
Chapter 17
A few minutes later they reached the gatehouse, and Vedaris was still walking backward, laughing at Allorna and Maride. When they wondered how he could do it so easily, he said lightly, “Eyes in the back of my head,” which wasn’t really a lie. Unbeknownst to the other races, Sahelians possessed a vestigial light-sensitive organ at the base of the skull (the better to sense threats from above while flying), which was why he never let his hair grow long. It had saved him more than once.
Sitara and Sidimo were nowhere in sight when they arrived, but Vedaris thought he heard movement in Sitara’s room when he dropped his bags off on his bed. He had five pages to complete on the Dark Arts—joy!—and therefore some serious background reading to do. He took his texts with him into the living room below Maride’s room. It would be best to study at a desk by the light of a fire.
Sitara heard the other students come in. She’d been puttering around her room putting away the few books she’d acquired while trying not to think back on the conversation with Si
dimo about Saras. To take her mind off it—there was nothing she could do after all, not then and not now—she grabbed the book of poems she’d been given. It was supposed to be a text of folk poetry about the Northern Sea Lights. With that and an empty notebook, she decided to curl up in a chair in the living room and read. Vedaris was already there. She smiled; she was getting used to having the boys around.
As she read the poetry, the imagery of the vast northern tundra came to mind: icy drifts of snow and gusts of chill arctic wind. As she scribbled into the notebook, her thoughts on the climate and pertinent facts about the weather, she drifted off into her own little world.
After walking upstairs and entering his room, Sidimo sighed and decided to laze around a bit. But that soon palled, so he thought about his study assignment: two weeks, and two hundred pages to read and memorize the rules of being a healer. “I’d better get started,” he muttered. He had heard some of the other students leave their rooms and go over the bridge into the living room. He decided to join them there, at least for the hour before dinner.
Maride had ten texts to review before next Tuesday. Ten! He decided that he would summarize and review two tonight, and work on another in the morning. He was lucky the Initiates for his other classes hadn’t assigned homework; he had enough on his plate as it was. As he walked downstairs from his tower room, he was surprised to see the other students already hard at work in chairs and tables. Most were scribbling furiously or quietly reading, but Allorna was gesturing now and again. Maride smiled at her as he took his place.
As they worked on their projects silently, the bell for dinner came and went. No one was interested in getting up to trudge across campus, not even for a hot meal. Eventually, though, Sidimo spoke up: “We should probably consider stocking the kitchen downstairs with some basics—bread, meat, cheese.”
Maride, bleary-eyed from processing fifty pages written in a tiny, hard-to-read script, apparently by a crippled beetle, wearily agreed.
“I don’t have second bell class tomorrow,” said Allorna with a shrug. “I can stop at the market and grab some food.”
“Why not?” demanded Sitara. Then her eyes lit up. “Oh yes—the project, right?” Seeing Vedaris’ lost look, she quickly explained, “Allorna’s creating Likan oil. She’s supposed to take tomorrow and Thursday to gather ingredients.”
“Right,” said Allorna, “But my partner is getting the stuff we need from the market tomorrow.”
“If we can get back before the halfmark for the second bell class, I’d like to come with you,” said Maride. “I need some quills and blank notebooks.”
“Sure. We’ll leave right after first bell class.”
Sidimo had disappeared midway through their talk. He returned with a small clinking bag. “You’ll need some coins, right?”
Allorna, who knew he’d stashed money in his rucksack before leaving for the guard tower, accepted the coins with a simple “Thank you.” Vedaris snorted, but didn’t protest the courtesy. They all settled back into their previous tasks, eventually drifting off one by one to their rooms for a night’s sleep before their second day of classes began.
The next morning dawned bright and early. At first bell, they practiced their basic drills and katas; afterward, Maride and Allorna changed out of their fighting tunics and headed into town. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” commented Maride merrily.
Allorna snorted, “I’m sure it is somewhere. Here, it’s dreary and raining. What’s so beautiful about it?”
He just grinned, ignoring her annoyed tone. He liked the rain. When they passed farmers heading up the hill to the Madrassa, Allorna swore she saw one man give him the sign of the Wayfarer. “Looks like I’m not the only one who thinks you’re crazy for enjoying this weather,” Allorna said.
“Better this than the hot, sticky summer of Sandrin,” he replied.
She shrugged. The city weather hadn’t been so bad. The numerous street fights between locals and incoming sailors, with the reassigned task of port duty as a result, had downright sucked, though. As a trainee, and on the bottom rung of gardis trainees at that, she had had to run all the messages from the port guards to the gardis halls and vice versa. The task was supposed to help the runner commit both protocol and the streets of Sandrin to memory. It did that, and gave many recruits heatstroke at the same time.
They found the fresh foods market easily enough. “I’ll get some fruit, meat, and bread,” Allorna said.
“Great, the scribe is just over there,” Maride replied, pointing to a small tent with a neat table set up before it. They met up later, when they’d completed their various tasks, and on their way back before third bell, they split up for their respective classes.
When Maride arrived in Intro to Research, he found that an active discussion had already begun. Initiate Barinum, sitting at the head of the table with two other students, motioned for Maride to join them. “Ya, Maride, blessings upon you.”
“Thank you, Initiate. Morning blessings to you,” he replied, as he shifted his bag to his side and prepared to gather class materials from his rucksack.
“No need, no need,” said Barinum with a chuckle. “This is just a discussion for those who arrive early.”
“Early, sir?” said Maride politely, with a quizzical look.
A girl with blonde streaks in her brazen hair answered, “Some Initiates start classes on Madrassa time—a full 10 minutes after the first bell, to give students time to travel to and from other classes.”
“Yes,” said Barinum, with an appraising look. “This isn’t a school requirement, merely a courtesy that some Initiates prefer to extend. For those who arrive early, I am happy to discuss research techniques prior to the formal beginning of class.”
“I understand, sir,” said Maride. “If I may ask a question, then?”
“Certainly,” replied Barinum.
“What is your opinion on the languages of the lost peoples, and the position of the School of Research—Magical and Dormant—to provide an answer to the unsolved code?” said Maride.
Barinum blinked, a bit surprised, then rubbed his chin. “Hmmm…an astute question, and one that will take much longer than the half-minute we have left before class to answer. Suffice it to say that I believe that, one day, it will be one of our researchers who will unlock the key to those texts. How? I cannot imagine…”
At that moment the bell rang, and the students who had filled the hallway filed in to begin the day’s lessons.
Across campus, Sitara had already begun a session’s work with Bella. She scrubbed vigorously at the snails that had latched onto the mare’s water trough while Bella lazed in a corner of the stall. Her tail flicked occasionally to ward off an errant fly. “Gods,” thought Sitara miserably. “At least I’m not hot.” That thought went through her head just as she stumbled, falling half-in, half-out of the trough with her arms submerged.
“Careful!” snapped Bella. “You’re getting my water dirty.” Spluttering, Sitara wiped her face and flicked a lock of wet hair from her eyes. She looked over her shoulder, decided not to comment, and went back to scrubbing.
When she finished, she threw her brush into the scrub bucket tiredly. She needed to get Bella’s golden grain, and then “class” was over. As she rose, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Tavis was standing on top of the stall’s door, staring. Just staring. She hadn’t heard him get up there, and Bella hadn’t said a word…so she hadn’t noticed, either.
A flicker of unease went through Sitara. Why didn’t he say anything? Apparently Bella thought he was a creep too, because she calmly rose from her seated position and told him to buzz off. Two minutes later, that had had no effect. “You’re in my way, you big ape!” Bella sneered as she approached the stall door.
Tavis flicked a brusque glance at the flying horse, jumped down from the stall door, and opened it with a flourish, as a young gentleman should. Sitara wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic…but
he was certainly no gentleman. His aura didn’t vibe that way. As she exited the stall carrying the bucket, he reached down and plucked it neatly from her hands. With a frown she lunged for it and said, “That’s quite all right,” very firmly. She wouldn’t have minded normally—her arms were awfully tired—but the way he’d grabbed it was rude.
Tavis, ignoring her pique, swung the bucket to his other hand, leering at her while saying, “Nah, I don’t mind. Not after that show you just gave me.”
Her shoulders stiffened and her cheeks flamed. She’d been bent over the trough the entire time. She glanced around, hoping no one else had heard him, then lunged for the bucket one more time; but he was faster, pulling it away. The grip that landed on her rear end wasn’t unintentional, she was quite sure. She skittered back from him, whirled around, and walked quickly to the stable granary as if she had meant to the whole time. His laughter followed her down the hallway.
“He can keep the bucket,” she muttered furiously. It wasn’t Bella’s, anyway; it belonged to the stable. The brush was another matter, though, she thought with a sigh. She’d have to retrieve it later.
Sidimo sat quietly in Emergency Aid, reviewing the text on the Human heart before the day’s class. He turned the page to a diagram of the system of chambers and the arterial network, and found it fascinating. As the students filed in, he had to admit to himself that going to school at the Madrassa wasn’t so bad. How they’d arrived here was another matter, one that he’d have to discuss seriously with Maride and Allorna soon. The new student rosters were already on their way to the capital. It would take weeks to arrive but it was only a matter of time before the gardis came to claim Maride and arrest his co-conspirators.
The day passed slowly, with Sidimo’s thoughts repeatedly returning to the subject.