by Gage Lee
Eric and Abi were exhausted from portal lag and were the next to leave. Clem left soon after, because she wanted to get her things squared away before the first day of classes. I looked around for Hahen and Niddhogg to see how their break had gone. When I couldn’t track down either of them, I did what all wise cultivators do when they’re feeling stressed and worn thin by the pressures of their lives.
I headed back to my room, threw my bags in the closet, and sat down in the middle of the floor to meditate. While the cultivation process wouldn’t solve any of my problems, the intense concentration would make me forget about them for a while. That was a gift to cherish, because there was nothing I could do until morning, anyway.
It took only seconds for me to sink into the deepest levels of meditation and look down at the Grand Design. It was nice to see the warped hadn’t returned. The absence of their creepy god’s tentacled shadow was extra special. For a time, I lost myself in the simple act of watching the Design repair the damage it had suffered. Things weren’t normal, not by a long shot, but nothing was falling apart at the seams, either.
The longer I watched the flow of lives through the pattern below me, the more strongly I felt that I’d get through this.
That sense of peace and well-being lasted until the moment a sharp jab to my ribs dragged me back to reality.
I jerked back from the unprovoked attack and saw Hahen waggling his pointy finger at me. “What if I’d been an assassin? Or a kidnapper? You’d already be dead or have your head in a bag.”
I blinked to chase away the firefly sparks that danced across my vision, and squinted at my little assailant. For the dim lighting to irritate my eyes so badly, I must have been in deep meditation for hours. Hahen was right to chide me for spending that much time in my head, but he didn’t need to know that.
“What if I’d been battling one of the warped?” I asked with a frown. “Or performing a scrivening experiment on the thread of fate that binds me to the Grand Design? You could have killed me.”
“If you were conducting either of those dangerous operations without someone to watch over you, then your untimely death would not have been my fault.” With a self-satisfied smile, Hahen snapped his fingers in front of my nose. “That’s how fast an assassin can kill you when your mind is elsewhere.”
“It’s nice to see you again, too,” I grumbled. Then I stood, bowed to the rat spirit, and checked the time. It was seven in the morning. I’d spent nearly twelve hours meditating. If Hahen hadn’t come along, I might have meditated right through my new clan members arriving. “And thank you for rousing me.”
Hahen clambered up onto my bed and crossed his legs while I hurriedly dug through my luggage to find a clean pair of casual robes and got dressed. I was surprised to discover that the shoulders were a bit tight. The belt was shorter than I remembered, too. It seemed unlikely that the housekeeping staff at Clem’s vacation home had shrunk my clothes, but it was just as unlikely that I’d grown enough to change the way my robes fit in the past couple of days.
“What has you in such a rush?” Hahen asked.
“A surprise,” I said. “You’ll be very proud. Trust me.”
Hahen raised a wispy eyebrow at that and cleared his throat. “Don’t tease me.”
“It’s worth the wait,” I said with a cryptic smile.
Hahen nodded thoughtfully and followed me out of my dorm room. We walked along in silence, the School shifting around us. We’d left the towers behind when I felt a slight pull on my attention. Rather than rounding a corner into the portal network station, Hahen and I entered the main hall.
Groups of sixth- and seventh-year students had gathered near the dining room’s doors, and their casual conversations ceased at the sight of Hahen and me. I ignored their stares as best I could, but the fact that our route had taken us past them, when there were much shorter approaches to the network, bothered me.
“You’re gaining quite a fan club,” Hahen said after we’d left the staring older students behind. “You must be on a lot of minds for the School to bend you toward their gathering when it was so far off our course. What did you do this time?”
“You’ll see,” I said and furrowed my brow as we rounded the corner. “Oh, great. She’s here.”
I’d hoped to gather my students before confronting the headmistress. She was a potential kink in my plan, and I’d been confident the presence of so many new tuitions would iron out any complaints she had.
Unfortunately, she’d beaten me to the punch and now I had to play defense rather than rushing for the goal.
Cruzal was deep in conversation with the portal operator, her piercing eyes flashing with irritation. The attendant, an underclassman I didn’t recognize, shook his head and pointed at something on his station’s screen.
“Good morning,” I said, forcing as much good cheer into my voice as I could muster. “What seems to be the problem?”
The underclassman practically gushed with relief at my interruption. “I was explaining to the headmistress that we expected your incoming guests. She insists no one informed her of any new students and wants me to refuse their transfer as a security risk.”
Cruzal’s withering glare would’ve floored me when I was a new student at the School, but now it was little more than the irritating buzz of a fly against my aura. “You’re bringing twelve students into my school without even asking permission?”
“My apologies, Headmistress,” I said. “The past couple of days have been very hectic. I fully intended to bring the students directly to your office once they’d arrived.”
She turned away from the grateful attendant and marched over to me, her high heels clicking on the marble floor with the sharp regularity of a metronome. Cruzal stopped just outside of arm’s reach and clasped her hands in front of her. “This is outlandish even for you, Mr. Warin. As I’m sure you’re well aware, the School of Swords and Serpents does not accept students during the second semester of any year. If these applicants of yours wish to attend, they can put their names on the waiting list and we shall see if there are any open—”
Cruzal continued to explain all the ways she had to block the students from attending the School. She listed the many, many rules I’d broken by even attempting to bring them to the School, then launched into an angry attack on me, personally.
“I should have you expelled,” she snapped. “After all the trouble you’ve caused, Mr.—”
I decided this had gone on long enough. I didn’t want to battle Cruzal. We worked better as allies than enemies, but I could not allow her to derail my plans. The sooner she understood how things had to be, the better for all of us.
“Not Mr.,” I corrected. “Elder.”
That was maybe a teensy bit premature, but I was done playing games.
There was no jinsei behind the words, but the way every eye in the room turned toward me, you’d have thought I’d dropped a lightning bolt. The attendant’s mouth hung open, and even Hahen eyed me with a mixture of awe and dread. Cruzal’s expression wavered between disbelief and anger. When she opened her mouth to argue the point, I interrupted her with a raised hand.
“I apologize for not contacting you earlier,” I said with a long-suffering sigh that told her just how busy I’d been, “but my promotion only came through yesterday. I’d hoped to present the students to you at the same time I explained my new position, but it seems you had other ideas.”
Cruzal’s face went white, hectic red spots dancing on her cheeks. The anger in her eyes was so ferocious my serpents were halfway manifested before she got control of herself again.
“I’ll need time to verify what you’ve told me,” she hissed. “But there’s something you seem to have missed about these unusual circumstances, Elder Warin.”
Cruzal’s color had returned to her face, and the wicked quirk to the corners of her lips told me she’d found another way to disrupt my plans.
“And what is that, Headmistress?” I asked respectfully. She a
nd I had worked together before. Her anger made little sense.
She steepled her fingers and nodded to me in a very weak show of mutual respect. “A clan elder implies a clan. The previous Shadow Phoenix members were all lost, as I understand. I assume the students you’re attempting to bring to my school are their replacements.”
“Correct,” I said. “They are the young men and women that I trained and saved from the clutches of the false Inquisition. I’m sure you remember them.”
That time I put some jinsei behind my words, and it was nice to see Cruzal flinch at their force. It would be hard enough to be taken seriously as a clan elder at my age. If I didn’t start acting like one, I’d run into roadblocks everywhere.
“Yes,” Cruzal said, “well, as I’m sure you’re aware, there is a tradition here at the School of Swords and Serpents. New students must pass through an induction by Mama Weaver. What will you do if she doesn’t assign them to your little clan, I wonder?”
The headmistress clearly intended her counterattack to put an end to my time as an elder. Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable.
“My students won’t be going through that process,” I said firmly. “If they accept membership in my clan, they are members of my clan.”
Cruzal looked away from the jinsei burning in my eyes. Beads of sweat broke out across her brow. But the defiance was still in her eyes when she returned her gaze to meet mine.
“What makes you think I’d allow your students to bypass such an important tradition?” she asked. “The other clans—”
“No,” I corrected her, “the other clans do not abide by the same rules. The Disciples of Jade Flame bring their own students. If they can bypass tradition, so can I.”
Cruzal and I glared at one another for long seconds until a beep from the portal network broke our staring contest. I took advantage of the opportunity to try to talk some sense into the headmistress.
“You gain nothing by fighting me,” I said calmly. “I understand that you were insulted because I didn’t reach out to you before I put all this in motion. But you have to believe I had no choice. Things moved quickly, and if I hadn’t responded immediately, I’d be—”
A dark fury burned behind Cruzal’s eyes. “It’s not always about you. The School is in a precarious position. Your plan will only add more fuel to the fires burning all around us.”
“If it’s money you need, my students and I will make sure you have whatever you need,” I offered. “All you have to do is let some new kids join your school.”
Cruzal considered her answer for a long moment. Her eyes flicked from me to the portal and then back again. Dark threads of anxiety and fear aspects wound their way through her aura, making me wonder why she was so afraid of me and my students. Finally, her shoulders slumped, and she waved a hand dismissively at the attendant. “Fine,” she said, “let them through. But, Elder Warin, I would speak to them before you say a word on their arrival.”
I rolled my eyes and nodded. It wasn’t like I was afraid Christina and the other students wouldn’t want to join my clan. “As you wish, Headmistress Cruzal,” I said. “Please remember that I’m agreeing to this out of courtesy and a desire to put our disagreement in the past. You don’t have the authority to command me, and we both know it.”
Cruzal pursed her lips and watched the attendant tap a few keys and twist a lighted crystal dial. An ominous rumble shook the floor, and writhing threads of violet and silver light stretched from the edges of the portal toward its center. In the span of a few seconds, that illumination wove itself into a flat silver disc that shimmered and then vanished.
The now open portal revealed a cluster of students who looked so much older than the last time I’d seen them. They were gathered in a high-ceilinged chamber with a red carpet covering its stone floor and golden pillars holding aloft its painted ceiling. Towering mature dragons, still in their humanoid forms save for their wings, loomed behind the students. One of them raised its hand and called out, “Greetings from Shambala, Elder Warin and Headmistress Cruzal. We hope we have found you well.”
Cruzal and I both bowed to the dragons, who returned the gesture. “Greetings from the School of Swords and Serpents,” Cruzal said. “We welcome these new students into our sacred grounds.”
“Jace!” Christina called from her position at the front of the students. She bolted forward and her companions followed. A split second later, all twelve of them had arrived at the School. Their excited chatter filled the room as they gathered around me in an exuberant crowd.
I kept my promise to Cruzal and didn’t say a word. I smiled at each of them, gave them hugs, and then held a finger to my lips. When they’d quieted down, I nodded to Cruzal.
“Welcome to the School of Swords and Serpents,” she said pleasantly. “I have one question to ask each of you. You are free to answer it as you see fit, but it must be answered.”
The students waited expectantly, frowns creasing their features. The dragons watched from the other side of the portal, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed in suspicion. They weren’t sure what was going on, but their promise to protect the School and its residents made them cautious.
“You,” Cruzal said, pointing one lacquered nail at Christina. “Do you come here of your own free will to join the Shadow Phoenix clan and accept Elder Warin as your leader?”
“Yes!” Christina called. “Of course!”
The headmistress looked like she’d just bitten down on a slice of rotted lemon. She frowned and pointed at the next student, but was interrupted by the remaining eleven nodding and shouting their agreement in an excited jumble.
“Yes!” they all called out together
Cruzal sighed. Whatever anger she’d harbored against me leaked out of her in a rush. There was almost a sense of relief in her expression when she looked at me and nodded. “Very well, Elder Warin,” she said, “please bring these students to my office this afternoon. We’ll get them enrolled and discuss the details of our arrangement.”
I stepped forward and offered Cruzal my hand. “Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate your cooperation.”
Before Cruzal could respond, an unfamiliar voice snapped through the room.
“Headmistress,” a woman said, “we deliver a message from a quorum of the clans.”
Cruzal and I both looked at the newcomer with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. She was a seventh-year student wearing the robes of the Disciples of Jade Flame. To her right stood another seventh-year student in robes that identified him as a member of the Resplendent Suns. A second pair stood slightly apart from them, the man and woman wearing robes that marked them as members of the Thunder’s Children and Titans of Majestic Stone, respectively.
The look on Cruzal’s face told me this was far from usual. She did her best to maintain her composure, but her worry was obvious. Maybe this was what had her on edge all morning. “I await the will of the clans,” the headmistress said.
The Disciple stepped forward, her robes slithering across the floor behind her. I’d never seen the woman before, but there was something familiar about her. Maybe it was the arrogant set of her jaw or the way her eyes seemed to dismiss everyone else before her. The Disciples could be like that.
“Given the current state of affairs,” she began, “the clan seers can no longer provide the guidance once entrusted to them. Considering this unfortunate circumstance, the clans have no choice but to ensure their continued growth. I, Theodosia Reyes, as a representative of the quorum, proclaim the reinstatement of the Right of Primacy.”
Cruzal stiffened next to me, her eyes so wide I saw the whites all the way around her irises. The turbulence in her aura multiplied ten times. I had no idea what the Right of Primacy was, but it had spooked Cruzal so badly I couldn’t help but feel a chill in the air.
The other upperclassmen all spoke in unison, their voices eerily synchronized down to the syllable and exact intonation. “The quorum agrees. The Right of Primacy
is once again the law.”
With that, the four messengers turned their backs on us and walked away.
“What was that all about?” I asked Cruzal.
The headmistress shivered before she looked at me. “Believe me, this was not my doing.”
With a frustrated sigh, I rolled my hand in a “get on with it” gesture. The fact that a Reyes had delivered the message told me all I needed to know about who was responsible. “Fine, whatever. Tell me about this Right of Primacy. What does it mean?”
“The end of your clan,” Cruzal said, her voice shaking. “I’m sorry.”
The Clan
CRUZAL’S REACTION TO the quorum’s announcement put my nerves on edge. While I was certain she was being melodramatic, I didn’t have enough information to know for certain. I drew myself up to my full height, crossed my arms over my chest, and asked again, “But what does it mean?”
The headmistress took a moment to gather herself. She smoothed the front of her dress with the palms of her hands, taking a deep breath and releasing it to do the same to her nerves.
“Before we established the schools,” she began with a sigh, “the clans had few ways to grow their numbers. Some tried to expand by encouraging children, but that wasn’t a sustainable long-term solution. Wars, plagues, and other accidents could wipe out even large populations quickly.”
Christina and the other students fidgeted nervously as Cruzal continued her grim explanation. “Should we go?” my student asked.
“No,” I said. “This affects you. You need to hear it.”
While hiding the information would’ve been easier on my clan members’ nerves, keeping them in the dark was dangerous. Until I knew exactly what the Right of Primacy was, I didn’t want any of the twelve out of my sight.
“I’ll keep this brief,” Cruzal said. “Whenever a clan faced a potential loss of members, they would replenish their numbers by raiding neighboring villages. It was a crude practice, but also an effective one. Targeted attacks redistributed the number of sacred artists and prevented any clan from becoming too powerful.”