“The Faceless Monks have more power than any of those pathetic noble families you read out! How can you not talk about them?” A small part of Ash shriveled; why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? But a bigger part of him was fueled on by ale and the memory of power flooding his veins. “Don’t you think it’s a little strange that you don’t cover the origin of the most powerful group?”
Dapod slammed his book onto his desk so hard that a metal candle-holder toppled, clattering to the stone floor. “That’s it! Get out! You are never to show your face in this class again, and if I get my way, you’ll be thrown out of the Institute before nightfall.”
Ash remained sitting, his hands clenched into tight fists, knuckles white. The rest of the class stared at him, gaping.
“Get out!” Dapod bellowed.
Ash scooped up his parchment and stormed toward the door. Rage squeezed his chest, making it hard to breathe, and red clouds distorted his vision, but he managed to contain himself until he burst through the door. He slammed it shut behind him and hurled his armful of papers at the nearest wall. He slammed his fist against the rough stone wall until bloody scratches covered the side of his hand, only then did some of the rage collapse, turning into dull despair.
He rested his aching forehead on the cool stone. His throat tightened around a hard lump that threatened to burst out of his mouth as a loud sob. He’d ruined it. He’d made an enemy of the only person who could tell him about the Faceless Monks. He took a rasping breath and with shaking hands gathered his belongings.
He hung his head and shuffled away from the classroom where he could just hear Professor Dapod’s voice droning on. Without realizing where he was going, his feet led him out into the main avenue. He continued in a dazed state to the student dormitory building, up the stairs, and into the room he shared with Loren.
The door clicked shut behind him and papers fell from his limp arms. He staggered toward his bed and fell, face down, onto the mattress. He let the suffocating sobs escape, muffling them in his pillow which rapidly became soaked with tears.
42
Heavy hammering on the door roused Ash from a dazed half-sleep. He bolted upright, and his hand dropped to his knife. The wooden door to the dorm room shuddered as someone thumped on the other side, speckles of dust floated down from around the edges.
Ash swung his legs over the side of his bed. “Who is it?” he said, voice husky.
“Professor Archibald. Open this door immediately.”
Ash opened the door to reveal Archibald, red faced and trembling.
Archibald pushed into the room and spun, glaring at Ash. His hair stuck out in jagged spikes and his crumpled shirt hung in disarray. “What were you thinking? Professor Pulmen and I put our reputations on the line to sponsor you and on your first day you get banished from class?”
Ash’s head spun; a pounding headache battered the insides of his skull. His mouth tasted like dirt, and rolling nausea sloshed in his stomach. He folded into the nearest chair and hung his head, doing his best to keep from throwing up over Archibald’s shoes.
“I can’t believe it,” Archibald said. “At lunch I hear from Professor Thimble that you’re already ahead of some of your classmates and now I’ve got Professor Dapod pushing me to expel you!”
Ash’s heart fluttered and his head flew up, making his vision spin. “No!”
“He speaks,” Archibald said, crossing his arms over his heaving chest.
“I’m sorry,” Ash said. “I went out for lunch and—”
“And drank too much! On your first day when you’re already behind. Yesterday I thought you were one of the cleverest students I’d ever come across. Now I’m beginning to think it’s the exact opposite.”
Ash swallowed the bile that had collected in the back of his throat. “It was a mistake. I just asked Professor Dapod a few questions…”
“When he told you to be quiet. I know exactly what happened and it doesn’t change anything. You were allowed to enroll under exceptional circumstances, and instead of keeping your head down and working hard, you disrupted the class.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Clearly! Professor Dapod is on the Council. If he manages to convince the others, he could throw you out of the Institute for good.”
“No!”
Archibald huffed. “Lucky for you, Professor Thimble was impressed with your display and she’s managed to oppose Dapod. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t pushing to revoke your funding, and your position at the hospital.”
Ash massaged his temples. “All I did was ask a few questions. This isn’t fair.”
“Enough! I don’t want to hear any more. I came here to warn you that if you step one more toe out of line, Professor Dapod won’t have to push for your expulsion. I’ll gladly do it myself.”
Archibald strode for the door, ripped it open, and stomped down the hall without closing it behind him.
Ash took a shaking breath. Archibald was right; how could he have been so stupid? He should never have had a drink at lunch, but he’d been so happy that he’d managed to channel heat. If Dapod had just answered his questions, none of this would have happened.
Hurried footsteps echoed through the open door and Ash looked up in time to see Loren dash into their room, his arms full of bowls and bread and fruit.
“I just passed Archibald,” Loren said, dropping everything onto his desk. “I’ve never seen him look so mad.”
Ash rubbed his forehead, trying not to direct his rage at Loren, even though it was his fault he’d had anything to drink. “He is mad.”
“You’re not expelled, are you?”
“Nearly.”
Loren placed a bowl onto the desk in front of Ash. Steam wafted up from a brown stew, some of which had spilled over the side in Loren’s haste.
“Thank Talon,” Loren said. “When I saw him storming out I thought…”
Ash stared at the brown lumps floating in his bowl.
“I figured you probably wouldn’t be coming to dinner, so I brought it to you,” Loren said, voice wavering.
“Thanks,” Ash picked up the spoon and twirled it through the thick liquid but his stomach rolled and the thought of eating anything made a new wave of bile rise to his throat.
Loren hugged his own bowl close to his chest and ate. “I can’t believe you spoke to Professor Dapod like that. Don’t get me wrong, it was the most exciting history lesson I’ve ever seen, but he looked like he was going to kill you.”
“If you hadn’t made me drink…” Ash sighed and fell silent, pushing his anger down.
Loren looked away and two red splotches appeared on his cheeks. “You should eat. It’ll help you feel better.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Trust me. Missus Baker’s stew is the best hangover cure you’ll find outside of magical help.”
“Magic can do that?”
“So I’ve heard,” Loren said. “Or at least Avarie says she can do it. She never seems to get sick, so maybe she’s telling the truth.”
Ash pondered the implications of that kind of power as he lifted a spoonful of stew to his lips. He took a deep breath and shoved it into his mouth, swallowing before his stomach had a chance to react. It was surprisingly tasty and didn’t come back up again. He waited a few moments before taking another bite. By the time he’d eaten half the bowl, his stomach felt better and most of his anger at Loren had faded.
“So what did Archibald want?” Loren said. He mopped up the last of his stew with a crusty piece of bread.
“Wanted to warn me that Dapod is trying to get me thrown out of the Institute. And that if I do anything out of line, Archibald will throw me out himself.”
Loren winced. “I wouldn’t want Archibald mad at me.”
Ash nodded, scraping up the last of his stew. Underneath his anger and nausea, a small amount of guilt soured his stomach. Archibald had been nice to him, and now Ash had disappointed him. It surprised Ash that he could e
ven feel guilt, when so much of his being was filled with despair over Rae. But then, if he’d kept his mouth shut he’d still be taking history classes and maybe he could have learned something to save her. He’d ruined that chance too.
Ash let his spoon fall to the bottom of his bowl where it made a dull clatter. “I just wanted Dapod to answer my questions.”
“Why?”
Ash looked away, hiding his face from Loren’s piercing eyes. “Curious.”
“Right. I saw you; you were practically ready to leap out of your chair and strangle him. That’s more than curiosity.”
“I just wanted to know about the Faceless Monks.”
Loren’s face lost some of its color and he leaned back. “They make me nervous.”
Ash watched him out of the corner of his eye. “Exactly…”
“You want to know about them because they’re scary as Kaim?” Loren said.
“Don’t you? I mean they’re so scary and have so much power… shouldn’t we know more about them?”
Loren shifted in his seat, breaking eye contact. “I don’t know… I wouldn’t want to be mixed up in all that.”
Ash tensed. If he didn’t learn about the Faceless Monks then there was no point to learning magic; he wouldn’t be able to save Rae. “I just want to know the truth. Why we have to be scared of them.”
“You should be careful who you say that to.”
“Is it wrong to be curious?”
“About that. Yes.”
Ash sighed, his headache returning. If Dapod wouldn’t tell him about the Faceless Monks, he’d just find out about them another way.
They sat in silence for a time, both staring at their empty bowls.
Loren cleared his throat. “There is one person you could ask…”
Ash’s head flew up. “Who?”
“Professor Yarrow.”
“Who’s that?”
Loren looked out of their small window. Flickering orange lights dotted the darkness outside. “He lives in the tower on the east side of the Institute. I’ve heard he’s crazy, and apparently he’s trying to live up to every wizard stereotype ever created.” Loren shrugged. “He’s old, and I’ve heard he’s the most powerful wizard in the world. Maybe he knows something.”
Ash flew to his feet, his hangover falling off him like a worn cloak. “Thank you!” He strode for the door.
“Whoa!” Loren said, grabbing the back of his shirt. “You can’t go there now. It’s the middle of the night.”
“But—”
“Whatever this burning curiosity is, it can wait. You can’t go to the tower now. There are no lights and barely a path. You’d break your neck.”
Ash sighed and stepped away from the door. “Okay.”
“Good.” Loren let Ash’s shirt fall free. “Besides, we have more important things to think about.”
“Like what?”
“The fact that if I don’t learn heat channeling, I’m going to be thrown out of basic magic.”
Ash faltered. He forgot that most of the students weren’t preoccupied with issues like saving their sisters from certain death; they just wanted to get through exams. “Does it matter? Don’t you have a whole kingdom to go back and enjoy?”
Loren snorted. “If you’d ever met my mother, you wouldn’t say that. As long as I’m here studying magic and trying to land a wife then everything is okay. As soon as I’m not doing that, she’ll haul me back and try to set me up with some noble’s daughter.”
Ash raised an eyebrow. “Force you?”
“I’m not much good as an un-married son, am I?”
“But—”
Loren lifted is hand. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just say there was an incident and I’m here to redeem myself. So I need you to teach me whatever you did today. Otherwise, I’ll be dancing with sharp-tongued women and you’ll be searching for a new roommate that will let you borrow their books.”
Ash ran a hand down his face. The last thing he felt like doing was trying to teach Loren, but on the other hand, Loren had told him about the laws of magic and if it gave Ash another chance to feel the tendrils of power… Ash pushed the loose sheets of paper from his desk and set a flickering candle in the middle.
“Let’s make this happen.”
43
“You have to picture the energy as a physical thing,” Ash said.
“I can picture it as a bloody fire sprite for all the good it does me!” Loren said, shooting out of his chair and pacing across the room. “It’s useless.”
Ash sighed and rubbed his eyes. They’d been at it for what felt like hours and Loren was no closer to heating the rough pebble. Half the candle’s wax lay in a spreading pool across the desk, hardening white at the edges and glistening wet in the middle.
Now, even without trying, Ash could see the tendrils of heat licking off of the tiny candle flame. With a gentle push of his mind he reached out and plucked one into his hand so his fingers tingled and a warm ball of heat encased his palm.
“You’re doing it, aren’t you?” Loren said.
Ash snapped his hand closed, releasing the energy. “Uh… no.”
“You’re a terrible liar. I can’t believe you find it so easy and here I am just about killing myself.”
“We need to find a way to put you in the right frame of mind. It’s a matter of perception.”
“One class and suddenly you’re an expert.”
Ash shrugged; he did feel like an expert.
Loren slumped back into his chair and glared at the candle. “Fine. What am I supposed to do?”
Ash thrummed his fingers on the desk. “Maybe you just need some solid evidence to get your imagination going.”
“What does that mean?”
“Put your hand near the flame.”
Loren held his palm out toward the candle. “You better not give me blisters like Professor Thimble.”
“That was an accident. And mine hurt too you know.” Ash glanced down at his right hand where his skin rose up in painful bubbles. “Can you feel the heat?”
Loren rolled his eyes. “Of course I can. My hand is two inches from the flames.”
Ash eyed the candle. Red tendrils reached out and licked Loren’s hand, within easy reach if he could just open his mind enough to grab them.
“You have to trust me,” Ash said. “I can see the energy; you’re touching it right now.”
Loren’s frown deepened. “What does it look like?”
“Like red strings. You can feel the heat already, so just try to imagine that you can see it too.”
Loren focused on the candle, leaning forward so that the orange flame danced in his eyes. “There’s noth— wait! I think I saw a flicker!”
“Good,” Ash said. He was beginning to suspect that whether Loren actually saw the heat or not was irrelevant, only force of will mattered. “Now imagine yourself grabbing one of those strings.”
“But it’s gone… I can’t see it anymore.”
“That doesn’t matter. You can still feel it. You still know it’s there.”
Loren bit his bottom lip.
Ash hoped for both their sakes that Loren got it this time. He didn’t think there were many other ways he could explain the concept.
Silence had fallen across the Institute hours ago, broken only by the occasional drunken yell. The small candle did nothing to keep the chill night air at bay so Ash tugged the blanket from his bed and wrapped it over his shoulders.
It felt like he’d been at the Institute for weeks, not two days. Already, Falconwall seemed so long ago, and yet the pain of losing Rae was as fresh as ever.
He shook his head and focused on the candle. Red tendrils licked Loren’s fingers and Ash willed him to reach out and grab one.
Loren’s hand twisted and snapped into a fist around a single red string. His eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open. “I think I’ve done it!”
Ash kept as still as possible. The red tendril squirmed and twist
ed in Loren’s grip but he held firm. “You’ve got it. Now you just have to channel it into the rock.”
Loren’s face paled. “How can I channel it?! I’m barely sure I’ve even got it.”
“You have, trust me. You can feel it in your palm, can’t you?”
“It’s like a little ball of heat.”
“Exactly. Just take it and put it on the stone.”
“But Professor Thimble makes you use your other hand to heat the stone…”
“Let’s take it one step at a time.”
“Okay. How do I take it to the stone?”
“Like you would anything else. Imagine that you’re holding a string and you’re going to put it on the stone.”
Loren moved his fist slowly toward the rock, his hand shaking. The red tendril stretched, becoming thinner but not breaking. Loren’s fist hovered over the stone and then he dropped his hand, clapping his open palm over the rock.
He pulled his hand back, face drawn. “Did I do it?”
Ash grinned back at him. To the untrained eye the stone looked normal but Ash could see a faint red glow of energy about it. “You did it. Touch the rock with your other hand.”
Loren reached out and stroked the pebble. “It’s warm!”
“Congratulations, my Lord. You’ve done it.”
“Don’t call me that,” Loren said, but a wide grin lit up his face. “I can’t believe it. I did it. I actually did it. I won’t get thrown out of class and I won’t have to go back to the Borderlands!”
“Whoa there. This was the easy version. If you want to impress Professor Thimble you’re going to have to channel to your other hand.”
Loren’s smile faltered. “But—”
“You can do it,” Ash said. “You just picture the heat like you did now, except you move it across your body to your other hand.”
“But that was exhausting.” Loren hung his head.
“It gets easier,” Ash said. “And now that you know what you’re doing, I can catch up on reading for tomorrow.”
“Catch up? You’re already ahead of most.”
Shadow of a Slave (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 1) Page 23