by Guy Antibes
“I will, Master Pisan.”
Pisan glared at him before he did an about face and left. Ricky wasted no time locking the door. He had no doubts about Taribaldi and Pisan colluding to get him into trouble. He wondered what Frank was going to do.
~~~
CHAPTER EIGHT
~
R ICKY SIGHED AS HE STOOD IN FRONT of the science classroom. It was one of the few on the main level of the old castle. Everyone who had entered was older. He stood a head shorter than the shortest of them. A heavy hand clapped Ricky on the shoulder.
“Young Valian, were you waiting for me?” Master Mattia said. He wore a black tunic and black trousers. Bright polished silver buttons were the only relief to his costume, or was it a uniform?
“I was, Master Mattia.”
Mattia chuckled. “You remembered my name. Good. Enter my domain.”
Ricky walked through the open door and let Mattia pass him. He looked at the class and saw fifteen or twenty man-sized boys. Gil sat among them.
“Sit, young Valian,” Mattia said, rubbing his hands and grinning.
He opened his valise and withdrew a set of folders. All seemed identical. Ricky would have one of those in his hands soon enough, he thought as he took a chair in the back of the room.
The smells of the dining hall tinged the air. They were a few doors away and not far at all from the warden’s office. A new stew. Ricky thought he picked up the aroma of different herbs and spices.
Mattia snapped his fingers. “Attention!” The boys immediately stood up, arms at their sides, and their heads erect. Ricky rose after they did. Mattia grinned again. Ricky decided if he ever met a wolf, it would have that same expression.
“You may sit. I know you can smell your lunch, but I want you all to restrict its call. Discipline yourselves. We have much to do, but not a lot of time to do it. You notice the Tossan in the back. He is an accomplished sorcerer, the only one at the Home. We are lucky to have him. No one else is even close to his level. Don’t let his age fool you. He won a contest against Royal University students before he arrived.”
Ricky felt uncomfortable with the heads turning and the stares. He recognized a few of the boys and none had been friendly. Eventually, they turned back to Mattia.
“The boy doesn’t know about our afternoon exercises, and that is not a subject to discuss with him, yet.”
Ricky saw more than a few heads nod along with Gil as they turned to look at him. He felt like a curiosity sitting in the class, but he lifted his chin and nodded to Mattia, who had been looking his way.
“Good.” Mattia rubbed his hands again. “We enter a new phase with a new class. We will start with these. Battle plans. Think of it as a setting before battle. You will note that half the pages are printed, and the other half is blank. I want all of you to read what the folder contains and write what you think will happen, given the situation. I’ll give you the rest of the period. Put your name in the folder and your initial on each page that you write. I won’t tolerate cheating, and you can guess the penalty for crossing me.”
“Yes, Master Mattia,” the boys intoned.
Ricky pressed his lips together. This group had been together for some time, and they knew Mattia, so he didn’t just arrive for this class. Why start the class now? Mattia walked around the room, handing out the folders, a pencil, and a gum eraser.
“I want you all to succeed, so as a hint, a single page will not be enough. This is an exercise in creativity. Let the battle play out in your head and then set it to paper.”
Ricky received his folder last.
Mattia stood over him. “Everyone starts at the same point in this class, including you. The boys before you are the cream of the Juvenile Home. They are the smartest, strongest, and all are literate, just like you. Make me proud.”
Ricky nodded and smiled and opened his folder. Mattia drifted away to sit at the front of the class. He pulled out a book with a nondescript cover and read, looking up from time to time.
After reading the scenario, Ricky wondered how he should approach the problem. The setting gave the numbers and position of two opponents, Red and Green, and nothing else but a description of the terrain.
He tried to picture what might happen, but he couldn’t hold everything in his head, so he took out a sheet of paper and sketched the battlefield. The drawing made everything make more sense. Ricky closed his eyes and decided to make the Red Army the aggressors. He tried to imagine what they would do and found that he needed to define more.
What should he do? He thought of a performance and turned the scenario into a story. Ricky gave the commanders certain personalities so he could project their movements. Instead of magic, the opponents fought according to their peculiar thinking. That made it all easier.
He made sketches of the battlefield representing the progress of the battle until he had a story with a victor. What did Merry call it? A storyboard. He just had to describe his sketches. Ricky included his drawings with the write-up.
He wasn’t the first one done, but most of the boys still struggled with the scenario from the looks on their faces and their hunched shoulders laboring to figure something out.
“Finished?” Mattia said, looking up from his book.
“I am, Master Mattia. I drew out the battle first and then wrote the details.”
“You did?”
“I treated it like a sorcery performance.”
“I’ll be interested in seeing what you did. Dismissed.”
Ricky felt someone bump him and looked behind to see two more inmates with folders in their hands.
He left the room. There wasn’t much time before lunch, so he leaned against the wall opposite the doors as students began to crowd around the entrance, waiting for a cook to unlock the door.
Kela suddenly stood at his side. “I am sorry,” she said. “I still want learning.” Her Parantian still needed work.
Ricky grinned. “Don’t worry about it. We need to hurry. I think my afternoons may be filling up soon.”
“Oh,” she said, looking a bit deflated. “Can I read today?”
Ricky nodded. “I’ll meet you in the library.”
She gave another of her wispy smiles and left to join two other girls, who seemed to tolerate the foreigner.
~
Ricky held onto the thin novel he had retrieved from his room before Pisan might think of removing it again, waiting for Kela to show up.
“Is she coming?” Henni said.
“I hope—” He heard footsteps coming down the stairs. “There she is,” he said as Kela came into view. She had changed her clothes for some reason.
“I am sorry about running away,” she said.
“No, no, no, no,” Ricky said. “Let’s get started.” He looked at Henni. “Ready to chaperone?”
The guard nodded. “I’ll be here at all times.”
Ricky sat next to Kela as she began to read. They worked for an hour. It was obvious that she had continued to work on her diction while they stopped their sessions.
She smiled. “I am better, yes?”
“You are.”
“I think I should tell you a little more about me. My mama and papa were sorcery entertainers. We came to Applia to entertain with other Fisttians. My parents were good, but others so jealous, they killed mama and papa. The bad people took over mama and papa’s place in the entertainment…”
“Company? Entertainment company? We call it performance sorcery,” Ricky said.
“Yes, yes, I know.”
Ricky looked at her. “You are a sorcerer, too, aren’t you.”
“Like you.”
“Can you sing spells?”
Kela nodded. “I not know much, but I have more magic than songs.”
“You don’t know many spells, do you?”
She shook her head.
“I know some, but I am pretty much the same. More will and fewer spells. There is a book about sorcery that you can check out.”
> Kela put up her hands. “No, girls steal everything they want. Many of my clothes, stolen.”
“Then you can read them here. We can go through the spell book I found. When I have to leave in the afternoons, you can work down here with Henni. He won’t mind.”
“Won’t mind what?” Henni said from his desk in the foyer.
“She wants to study if I get called away.”
Henni stepped into the library. “You’ve been told this?” He looked alarmed.
“Master Mattia, my new teacher, says I’ll have my afternoons filled up.”
Henni worked his lip with his teeth. “They must be getting closer.”
“Who are ‘they’ and what are they getting closer to?”
Henni shook his head. “Not for me to say. Be prepared for a bit of a shock when you find out. That’s all I’ll say.” He put his thumb and forefinger to his mouth and twisted like he was locking his lips.
“Until then, I’ll work with Kela. Her parents were sorcerers, so I’m going to see how much she knows. We’ll practice out of sight. Is that acceptable?”
“Just so there isn’t any hanky-panky. You don’t want to see Henni fired, do you?”
Ricky chuckled. Kela wasn’t quite following the exchange.
“No worries,” Ricky said. He had a girl he was close to in Tossa, but he hadn’t been able to connect with her for weeks, now, and he had tried every night.
Ricky took Kela to the back of the library and pulled out the sorcery book.
“You can use this when you are in the library. Visit Henni when you can. He might even let you read to him.” Ricky felt like he was saying goodbye forever to the girl. He shrugged. “Keep at it, and you will do fine.”
“I will because I want to,” she said.
“You didn’t before?”
Kela shook her head. “Too sad over mama and papa. Fisttian sorcerers said they would kill me. I ran to constables, and they put me here to be safe. Fisttian sorcerers still entertain in Applia.”
Ricky sighed. Kela had the opposite situation he had. If he wanted to live, he had to leave, if Kela wanted to live, she had to stay. He would give her some tools, nevertheless.
They sat down by the back shelves. Ricky’s eyes drifted to the tiny line of the door that peeked through the stacks of books. He wanted to go through that door, but he couldn’t with Kela in the library.
He sighed. “Let’s go through this book. You read, and I’ll correct, and then we’ll see if you can do a spell.”
Ricky had been through the book twice and had learned most of it. He thought it would be a good test for Kela.
“What have you learned?” Ricky said.
“I can do this,” Kela said.
She took a deep breath and lifted her chin, singing in a high, clear voice. Kela raised her hand and produced a softly glowing column of light, a foot above her palm, three inches in diameter. It hung in the air. She grabbed it and set it on the table.
“It floats. Touch it.”
Ricky tentatively reached out his hand and felt a cool radiance. Her spell was extraordinary. He lifted the light at shoulder height and let it stay floating, anchored to the very air.
“Amazing.”
“There is nothing in this primer that compares, but perhaps you might understand it better than mere words,” Ricky said.
The illumination began to fade, and it seemed they plunged into darkness, but only because of the brightness of the light.
“Does it always go away like that?”
“Mama and Papa’s lights were much longer.”
A pity thought Ricky. Perhaps with some experimentation, he could get one to last longer. A light without heat. It figured that the spell would be an illusion, taught to her by performance sorcerers whose performances were mostly driven by illusion spells, but he had never seen anyone create an illusion that he could move. He had to remind himself that he really hadn’t seen a lot of spells. With all the talk about his power, Ricky still felt like he didn’t know as much about sorcery as he should.
They had worked through about ten pages when Henni called out. “Dinner in half an hour.”
“You’ve never used your magic at the Home?”
Kela shook her head. “Warden told me it forbidden.”
“Unless you are around me. We will have another session tomorrow. Some reading in the novel and some work with the book. It wouldn’t hurt to have you know Parantian sorcery terms. You head up to dinner first. I’ll follow.”
Kela blushed and nodded. “I go first.”
She left Ricky standing at the back of the library. He lit a sorcerous light, and although his light didn’t burn things, it still gave off heat. He’d never thought to touch one as he did now. Ricky had learned to create real spells and illusions, but for him, real spells were easier to work. Perhaps that was why students learned them at the academy. If sorcery students cast illusions, there would be less burned bodies. Ricky did have the ability to move his spells without touching.
He pulled the books off the shelf and moved it out of the way. Even if he had a few moments, he would see if he could open the door.
He ran his fingers along the door’s crease. He pushed, but nothing happened. Ricky examined the hinge. It appeared to open outward, but he didn’t have anything to pry the door. Time was fleeting, so he hurriedly put the shelf back and soon walked into the dining hall, just about late for dinner.
Ricky smelled the same stew that had made his mouth water for lunch. He took his tray and sat at the corner of one of the tables by the wall. He had too much to think about to worry about someone coming up and hitting him from behind. As he watched, it looked like pushing and bumping were always part of dinner. Everyone purposely bumping everyone else was something he hadn’t noticed before, since he was always intent on finishing his mediocre meals.
Kela looked at him and barely nodded when she made eye contact. She and another girl had just finished. Franken Pestella glared at him from across the room. Even from the grave, Lord Taranta had set persecution in motion. He sighed. He wouldn’t worry about Frank just yet.
Ricky tried to prioritize his activities. It seemed that he was on his own, now that the power-link with Loria stopped. Could their absence be the cause? No, the Baron’s sons had no such trouble communicating with their wives. It had to be affinity. Loria must have been swept off her feet by one of the broomball champions that had just entered Doubli Academy. He could think of no other reason.
He went back to his room after a dinner he barely tasted and tried to link with Merry and even Baron Mansali. He ran out of luck. Ricky was stuck, but was he? What could Saganet do for him from Tossa?
Ricky had to work with what he had. He felt he could trust less than a handful of people, but he couldn’t rely on anyone for anything. He thought of Master Hisso, the teacher of basic skills, the warden, since she knew Effie, Henni, and then Kela. Not many among the hundreds at the Home.
His real enemies were Master Pisan, Guard Taribaldi, Franken, and Antino Pacci, the Duke’s man. He tried to put Gil in that group, but he didn’t fit. There were antagonistic inmates, but they probably acted the same way to everyone else. He didn’t trust Master Risticca, the history teacher, and Master Mattia. They had agendas, but Ricky didn’t think they centered on him.
Ricky had three goals, survive the Home, see what was behind the library door, and help Kela. He suddenly laughed. He hadn’t realized it, but he was defining the battleground, just like he had done earlier in Master Mattia’s class. He’d have to write down his strategy, but that was for another time.
If he were going to battle, Ricky would have to make sure he was physically fit. The weather was turning sour, so the gardening sessions were sometimes called off. He devised a new exercise routine to perform in his room and spent the rest of his waking day coming up with a suitable plan.
~~~
CHAPTER NINE
~
“I ’M NOT GOING TO SHARE MY COMMENTS, but yo
u can come up and take your work at the end of class. I’m a little disappointed in most of the work. You need to show more creativity if you want to rise in the ranks. This course is to teach you how to think strategically. We will do something similar at the end of the class to see how good of a student you are and how effective of a teacher I am.”
Mattia went into a lecture about perspective. The message seemed pretty obvious to Ricky, but the other boys appeared to soak it all in. Saganet had talked about the same kind of thing when they discussed who got to write history. Ricky had further proof of the disparities of those who described history when he read the old books in the library.
Perspective was not fixed or immutable. Two people could see the same thing or hear the same words and come away with different impressions. Perhaps that’s what made politics as toxic as it was. Taranta’s point of view certainly didn’t match up with Saganet’s, nor did Master Risticca’s history align with Ricky’s understanding.
He suspected he would have swallowed Risticca and Mattia’s version whole if he hadn’t been exposed to Saganet’s point of view. For the first time in his life, he realized that education could be a dangerous thing.
Ricky would have to work hard to keep his thoughts to himself at the Home. He felt like a stranger among other strangers. He still had to figure out what kind of stranger he would like to become. Ricky had an idea what the truth might be, but even then, the margins of the truth could be different from what he expected.
As Mattia’s talk of perspective continued, it seemed to be designed to support his point of view. Ricky took a few notes, making a cryptic reminder to understand enough of his instructor’s version of things so that Ricky could parrot the correct thinking. He didn’t see Master Mattia as a person who would accommodate much dissent, and Ricky didn’t agree with all his teacher taught.
The lecture ended. Ricky made sure he was in the middle of the line, taking his report. He didn’t want to discuss his paper with the teacher. He found his folder from the messy pile the students made finding their work.
“Valian, stay behind,” Mattia said.