“You get a new student. Isn’t that the whole point of this place?”
Archibald chuckled and his thin, white hair jiggled. “Usually, yes. More students mean more money for the Institute. But how exactly are you planning to pay for yours?”
“I thought you charged what people could afford.”
Archibald sighed. “Look boy, if people show talent then we might let them in for a discount, it’s true. That doesn’t mean we let in every urchin who wanders off the street.”
Ash plunged his hand into his pocket and slapped his gold Mark on the table. “Here! It’s all I have.”
Archibald pushed the coin back across the desk with his index finger. “I won’t take your money. That’s not enough for even one subject, let alone books, supplies, and where will you eat and sleep?”
Ash spun, fighting to hold back tears.
The scrape of Archibald’s chair being pushed back echoed about the room. “Look, lad, I’m sorry. If you’d come three weeks ago you could have applied for exemption, we would have tested you and you might have got in. But there’s nothing I can do now.”
Ash’s mind raced, just keeping ahead of the panic in his chest. “How much?”
“Excuse me?”
“How much would I have to pay to start now?” Ash turned.
Archibald looked down at him, eyes filled with pity. “It’s not a case of how much. You can’t catch up, lad, it’d be a waste of your and everyone else’s time. Take your money and get yourself a decent meal, come back in three months.”
“How much?” Ash said. “There’s always a number.”
Archibald closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Even if there was a magic number of coins, how exactly are you planning on getting them?”
“You said medical wing. I’ll work there.”
“You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that. But you can’t just work in the medical wing. You’d get in the way, lad.”
Ash folded his arms across his chest. “The yellow stain on your teeth. I assume that’s from the yellowflower you take for your eyes. Of course lillyflower seeds would be better, but surely your medical professor knows that. Which means you can’t take lillyflower… an allergy perhaps? Probably not, more likely you have liver trouble which is why you’ve got those bruises on your hands. I assume they’re giving you milk thistle but then you probably haven’t told them that you’re still drinking.” Ash nodded to the metal flask standing on the corner of Archibald’s desk.
Archibald gaped, spluttered, and then fell silent, his gray eyebrows arched almost to his hairline. He fell back into his chair. “How…? What…?”
Ash’s mouth stretched into a predatory smile. “I’ll catch up.”
Archibald rested shaking hands on his desk and swallowed. “How did you…?”
“I’m a fast learner and I notice things.”
“What subjects do you want to enroll in?”
“History and basic magic.”
Archibald stilled. “Magic? Not medicine?”
Ash nodded.
“It would be up to Professor Pulmen… if he’s willing to let you work in the medical wing. And if he’ll pay you, of course, enough to cover the late admissions fee…”
“Where can I find him?”
“I’ll come with you.” Archibald stood and grabbed his glasses from the table. “I want to see his face when you do what you just did to me.”
Ash stepped back so that Archibald could lead the way.
“What’s your name, lad?”
“Ash.”
Archibald rested his wrinkled hand on the handle and looked back. “You, uh, won’t tell him about the drink, will you?”
“I didn’t see anything.”
Archibald chuckled and they stepped out into sunlight.
37
“Professor Pulmen,” Archibald said.
A thin man in a stained apron looked up at them from across the prone body of a boy. Younger students in face masks milled about the room, carrying basins and bandages. The scent of alcoholic disinfectant filled the air, thick enough that it made Ash’s head spin.
Ash blinked away the stinging fumes and studied the body. A gash dribbled blood from the boy’s arm but otherwise he seemed unharmed. A line of stitches held together one end of the cut, the thread led up to a needle held between Professor Pulmen’s thumb and forefinger.
“I’m a little busy, Archibald.”
“Stitches? Surely one of your students can handle that.”
Pulmen’s lips tightened but he nodded to the nearest student who took the needle and created a neat line of stitches.
Pulmen washed his hands in a bucket and dried them on a fluffy, white towel. He led them away from the bed and out into the corridor where the press of people eased and the disinfectant wasn’t so strong.
“What is it?” Pulmen said.
“This is Ash.”
Pulmen looked him up and down before returning his sharp gaze to Archibald. “What does he want?”
“A job. He wants you to sponsor him for late admission.”
Pulmen snorted and tossed the white towel into a waiting bucket. “Archibald. I don’t come into your office and waste your time. I would appreciate it if you—”
“He knew what medications I was on just from looking at me.”
Pulmen paused and turned back to Ash.
“He says he’s a quick learner,” Archibald added.
“They all say that.” Pulmen stroked his smooth chin with his narrow fingers.
Ash kept his face stony. He had to impress this man or his chances of getting into the Institute and saving Rae were gone. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched everyone who passed, hoping for some illness or injury that he could diagnose just by looking. But everyone seemed fit and healthy.
“Well?” Pulmen said. “Are you planning on impressing me by standing there mute?”
Ash cleared his throat. “No, Professor.”
“Call me Pulmen. Only Professor Archibald uses that kind of formal nonsense with me.”
“What would you like to know?”
Pulmen threw his hands into the air. “You’re not going to be much good to me if I have to prompt you for everything, are you? If you expect my department to sponsor your late admission you better have something damned impressive.”
Ash pushed his panic down. He turned and studied the corridor. People in masks streamed by, some entering the green doors that lined both sides of the corridor. As one of these swung shut Ash caught sight of a thin girl propped up in bed. Dark circles around her eyes stood out against her otherwise pallid skin.
He strode for the door. The girl could have one of a dozen illnesses but if he didn’t prove himself now, he wouldn’t get another chance.
Pulmen and Archibald followed him into the room. A student in a mask was already bent over the bed talking to the patient. She looked up with a start as the three walked in.
“Thank you, Alisa, please step aside,” Pulmen said.
Alisa glanced once at the patient and then stepped back against the wall.
Ash surveyed the room and snatched a cloth mask from the nearest table. He held it over his face and approached the bed. A chalkboard hanging from the end read Indigo.
Indigo watched him with wide, bloodshot eyes, then her gaze flicked back to Alisa. Her hands trembled where they lay entangled in her sheets. Several glass vials sat on the table beside her, but other than that, there were no hints as to what was wrong.
Ash swallowed. It was just his luck to pick a girl with a mystery illness, rather than a simple broken arm.
“Hello, Indigo,” he said through the mask. “My name is Ash.”
She barely blinked, just stared.
“How old are you, Indigo?”
“Fourteen,” she said.
Ash ducked his head to hide his surprise. She looked more like ten with her bones showing beneath her pale skin.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
Ash took a vial from the table and sniffed. “You’re giving her henbane for the pain.”
Pulmen waved his hand. “Anyone who’s ever had pain could have told me that.”
Ash nodded and turned back to Indigo. “When did you start feeling sick?”
She shrugged. “Fourteen days maybe.”
“Did you hurt yourself? Or get stung by something?”
“No.”
Ash gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay calm. He couldn’t blame the girl for not telling him what he needed to know. “Where are your parents?”
“Home, I guess.”
“They live in Pyrford,” Pulmen said. “They had to get back for the harvest.”
Ash lifted the girls eyelids and felt for her pulse; slow and sluggish. He frowned and ran a hand down his face, visualizing the medical books he and Rae had read, as well as all the illnesses they’d seen in Falconwall.
“Did you eat anything strange?” he said. “Like a plant?”
“No.”
Not poisoning then. His brain refused to work properly. He should know what was wrong with the girl, but his panic and anguish kept getting in the way of rational thought. He closed his eyes and pushed away everything until he was left staring at black space. Only then did he let ideas come to him, one at a time.
Animal venom? No. Poison? No. Sepsis? There didn’t seem to be any obvious wounds… and after fourteen days she probably would have died.
“Have you been near any animals?” he said.
“No.”
“It’s lucky she doesn’t have anything urgent or she would have died by now,” Pulmen said.
Indigo’s eyes widened.
Ash glanced back at Pulmen and bit his lip. The professor obviously already knew what was wrong so it couldn’t be anything too outlandish.
He closed his eyes again and let new thoughts wash over him. She didn’t seem to have extreme fever, and she was still conscious. No one else had caught it so it had to be localized. He let his mind run over maps he’d seen. Pyrford was mostly made up of low-lying fields that became swampy during the wet season.
“Is there water near your parent’s field?”
Indigo nodded. “Flooded last month.”
Ash grinned and stepped away from the bed. “She needs Pyrolium. She’s got nymphosis.”
Indigo’s lips trembled. “Is it bad?”
“You’ll be better in no time.”
Archibald’s face shone and he winked at Ash while Pulmen stood, mouth hanging open.
“How did you…?” Pulmen said.
“Actually, this was an easy one. I’m from Wichden, pretty much everyone gets nymphosis at one time in their lives.”
Pulmen’s expression turned to a scowl. “Hardly impressive then. That’s like someone from the Southern Isles diagnosing sea sickness.”
“You asked me to prove myself. If you’re not happy with that then tell me what you want.”
Some of the gleam left Archibald’s eyes and his gaze flicked between Pulmen and Ash.
“Internal bleeding.”
“Fire-rose.”
“Whispen bite.”
“Amputation.”
“Lung infection.”
They went back and forth for what felt like hours. By the end, sweat dribbled down both their faces. Ash’s face glowed but he refused to give in, throwing back an answer to every one of Pulmen’s questions. He ignored the ache in chest at how similar it was to the games he and Rae had played.
With each correct answer, the grin on Archibald’s face widened until he had to stifle a chuckle behind his hand.
“Excessive…” Pulmen faltered to a stop.
Ash put his hands on his hips and stared back.
Archibald cleared his throat. “Now, Professor; I think the lad’s proved his mettle.”
Pulmen scowled. “He’s an upshot with far too high an opinion of himself.”
“I can think of someone else with that problem.”
Pulmen sighed.
“Will you sponsor him?” Archibald said.
Pulmen stepped forward so he towered over Ash. “You’ll work here for at least ten hours a week. You’ll do exactly as I tell you. One toe out of line and I’ll withdraw my support.”
“Yes, sir!” He’d done it; he’d actually got into the Institute!
“Get out of here,” Pulmen said. “You’re getting in the way of more honest students.”
Ash dragged his feet to the door, exhaustion and relief battling inside him.
Back out in the sunlight, Archibald grinned at him. “Good work, lad. Don’t mind him; you’ve just ruffled his feathers. But while you two were having your little contest, I took the liberty of noting down the books you’ll need for history and basic magic.” He handed Ash a crumbled piece of parchment with a long list of titles scribbled across it.
“Thank you,” Ash said.
“Some of those can get expensive mind,” Archibald said. “But there’s always the library. It’s the big building on the main square, you can’t miss it. And you’ll be wanting these.” He handed Ash a sheaf of papers.
“Thank you. For everything.”
Archibald waved him away. “I’m just doing my job. Now you’ll also need to get accommodation. I recommend you stay in the dormitories; they’re not fancy, but they’re cheap.”
“Perfect.”
“Good. Just go down this street, first left, second right, first left. You’ll know it when you see it.”
Ash scampered away. It took all the way to the end of the street before thoughts of Rae squeezed the joy from his chest. For just a second, he’d forgotten that she wouldn’t be joining him; that instead of the whirlwind adventure they’d planned together, he was here to find vengeance.
38
Ash crossed the street, weaving between brightly-clad people that he assumed were other students, to a building with a carved wooden sign reading ‘Student Dorms’. He pushed against the thick, oak door and it squeaked in protest until he made a gap big enough to squeeze through. He dragged his bag in after and let the door slam shut behind him.
Stairs spiraled upward on his right; a wooden handrail worn smooth by countless hands followed it up. Voices echoed from somewhere above and strange blue orbs lit the stairs.
“Can I help you?” A thin-faced woman stood in a narrow doorway to Ash’s left. She clasped a sheaf of papers in one hand and raised an eyebrow.
“I was told to come here for a room.”
Her lips thinned as she looked him up and down. “And were you planning on paying for that room?”
Ash bit back a sharp reply and pulled the gold Mark from his pocket.
She held out her hand. “I’m Professor Hardy; head of the dormitories. One Mark will cover food and accommodation for one semester.”
Ash looked down at the coin. “All of it?”
Hardy put her hands on her hips. “Yes, all of it. And it’s a good deal, let me tell you.”
Ash sighed and held out the coin, he’d have to find another way to get books and supplies.
Hardy took the coin and it disappeared into a fold of her cloak.
“Proof of enrollment?” Hardy said.
Ash made non-committal noises as he shuffled through the sheaves of paper Archibald had given him.
“Well?”
“Just a second. I’m sure it’s— here!” He tugged free a scribbled note attesting to his enrollment with a flourishing signature at the bottom.
Hardy glanced over it. “I’ve got the perfect roommate for you. Follow me.”
Ash’s stomach jumped. “A roommate?”
Hardy stopped, perched on the third step and looked down over her shoulder. “Of course. You don’t think one Mark would get you a private room as well?”
She harrumphed and continued up the stairs.
Ash hurried to catch up, his sho
es clicked on the wooden stairs.
“We have rules here. You break those rules you’ll be removed. No refunds.”
Ash’s eyes caught on the wooden column that ran up the middle of the stairs. Carved people, animals, flowers, covered every inch of it.
“We expect quiet after ten at night. People will be trying to sleep. You must maintain your grades and continue to be enrolled…” Hardy’s voice droned on but Ash barely heard her; dormitory rules were not at the top of his mind.
“Here we are,” Professor Hardy said, turning left off the stairs and entering a narrow corridor.
Ash looked over the railing and his stomach lurched. They were at least three floors up.
He hurried after Hardy who had stopped halfway down the corridor.
She nodded to the door. “This is it. Remember the rules.”
She marched back toward the stairs.
Ash stared after her until her head disappeared down the stairwell and then he turned to face the door. A rusted, metal number 11 had been nailed into the timber.
Ash lifted his hand and rapped twice. The knock rang hollow in the room beyond.
Shuffling, followed by a curse, emanated from the room and then the door flew open. A tall boy with dark hair stood on the other side. Stubble lined his chin and his dark clothes seemed out of place after all the rainbow colored, jewel-studded students Ash had passed outside.
“Yes?”
Ash tapped his chest twice with two fingers. “I’m Ash. Apparently I’m your new roommate.”
The boy’s face split into a grin as he returned the gesture. “A fellow Northerner! Thank Talon. I was worried they were going to stick me with another southern dandy. Come in!” He held the door wide.
Ash stepped through into a small, square room with two thin beds against opposite walls and a mismatched desk pushed up against each one.
“I’m Loren,” he said, pushing the door shut. “Welcome to your new home.”
Ash placed his bag down on the bed not covered in rumpled clothes. A narrow window looked out onto the main avenue. People in bright clothes wandered back and forth across the street.
“Come on then,” Loren said. “Who are you? Where are you from?”
Shadow of a Slave (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 1) Page 20