The Academy Journals Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 3)

by Garrett Robinson

  Theren seemed impressed at first, but quickly became bored. Soon Ebon practically had to drag her from room to room, following behind Albi as she grew ever more relentless in her advances towards Kalem. At last he felt he had to end it. He interrupted her just as she was explaining the history of a painting hanging in the main hall.

  “It has grown too warm and stuffy in here,” said Ebon, fixing her with a sharp look. “Why do we not step out into the courtyard to cool ourselves?”

  Albi glowered. “I suppose, if my brother is uncomfortable.”

  “He is,” said Ebon. “Come.”

  Outside, the frosty air was indeed a welcome relief from the heat of the manor’s fireplaces and torches. Ebon sighed, watching his breath waft up into the grey sky. Before them lay the wagons, arranged in neat rows, canvas roofs covered with a light dusting of snow.

  “When does Matami mean to bring the wagons back home?” said Ebon.

  Albi turned from Kalem, whose eye she had been trying to catch, to stare daggers at him. “Who knows, or cares? He will take them home when he leaves the Seat. I have heard it will be soon, but nothing more exact.”

  Ebon frowned. A thought tickled the back of his mind—something important that he could not place. Something about the wagons, full of spices for the High King, soon returning home to Idris. All under Matami’s command …

  It came in a flash. If he and Mako had been right in their suspicions, Lilith might have been in league with Matami and Shay. Now she writhed under the knives of Mystics who sought to learn where the artifacts had gone.

  But what if they lay before Ebon’s very eyes?

  Albi was caught up in some whispered conversation with Kalem. Ebon snatched Theren’s elbow and drew her aside.

  “What has gotten into you?” she said, shaking her arm from his grip.

  “The artifacts. What if I was right before, and Lilith was in league with my uncle? If she stole the artifacts and brought them to him, and he means to take them back to Idris …”

  Ebon trailed off, letting his eyes rest upon the wagons. Theren followed his gaze, and then gave a start. “You think they are here?”

  “They could be. Who would think to look for them? He could have done it under my aunt’s very nose, planning to bring them home to my father.”

  “There is only one way to find out for sure.” Theren gripped his arm, dragged him towards the wagons, and opened one of the back flaps. But the wagon held nothing.

  “Search the others,” said Ebon. They split up and went wagon to wagon down the line. But one after the other was empty.

  “What are you doing?” Albi appeared at his elbow, and was now looking at him as if he were mad.

  “Where are the spices?” said Ebon. “All the goods you brought from Idris? They are not here.”

  “Of course not,” said Albi, rolling her eyes. “We have delivered them already and are waiting for the wagons to be refilled before leaving.”

  “Are they all empty?” said Ebon. “Has anything come in, mayhap, to bring back to Idris? Anything recent?”

  Albi looked skyward in thought, and then opened her mouth to reply.

  “What in the darkness below do you wretches think you are doing?”

  Matami pounded through the snow, approaching them with fury blazing in his eyes. He seized Ebon’s shoulder and shoved him away from the wagons.

  “Leave off!” cried Theren, going to Ebon’s side. She scowled up at Matami, who tried to loom over her, though he was only two fingers taller. He raised a hand to strike her, but that was a mistake. Theren’s eyes flashed with light, and she put forth a hand. Matami reeled suddenly, struck by an invisible force. Albi screamed.

  “Guards!” cried Matami. “Take her!”

  Drayden men in chain shirts, holding spears and with swords on their belts, streamed into the courtyard from the manor and the gatehouses. But they balked upon seeing Ebon there with his friends.

  Matami seized one of the guards by the arm and shoved him towards the children. “I told you to take her! Vile little witch—you shall be flogged for this, and the boy as well.” His sharp, dark eyes fixed on Ebon. “And you would be wise never to return, nor should you have come today. Spare the family further disappointment from any association with your feckless, worthless self.”

  Still the guards seemed reluctant to move. Theren’s hands remained raised, and her eyes held their powerful glow. “I see only one worthless wretch here. Why do you not try to take me yourself? You call Ebon a disappointment, but at least he is no coward.”

  Matami bared his teeth, and he turned to the guard beside him, grasping for the man’s sword.

  “Stop this madness!”

  Halab’s shout pierced the courtyard, ringing in Ebon’s ears. He turned to see her behind them, standing in the gateway leading to the street. But she did not meet his eyes, for she never removed her furious gaze from Matami.

  Ebon’s uncle blinked, and his hands froze halfway to the sword. “Sister,” he rasped. “These three—”

  “Silence your weeping sore of a mouth.” Halab came forwards, pushing the children firmly aside to stand before them. A finger pointed at the guard beside Matami, who straightened to attention at once. “You there. Jarrah, is it not?”

  The man bowed at once. “Yes, my lady.”

  “Strike my brother in the stomach, and do not be gentle.”

  Matami’s mouth gaped in protest. Jarrah hesitated only a moment, but then he saw the resolve in Halab’s eye. He turned, driving his mail-covered fist into Matami’s gut. Matami gasped, his breath leaving him, and fell to his knees in the snow.

  “Get him up,” said Halab. Jarrah dragged Matami back to standing. “And now put him back down.”

  Again Jarrah punched Matami, and this time the man whimpered as he fell to all fours in the snow. Ebon winced, averting his gaze. But beside him, he saw Albi watching their uncle with her chin held high, eyes bright, a grim smile playing at her lips.

  Halab stepped forwards and seized Matami’s collar, dragging him back to his feet and staring into his eyes. He could not meet her gaze, but turned every which way to avoid her.

  “Sister,” he said, still gasping from Jarrah’s blows. “I only—”

  “You are only a sniveling, spineless wretch,” said Halab. “You dare to call my dearest nephew worthless? Know this: I value his life more than yours by a wide, wide margin. His friends are my guests—my guests, Matamiya, and yet you dared to order violence against them. Thank the sky my guards are wise and did not follow your madness. Even our servants prove they are worthier than you.”

  She released his collar, folding one hand into the other and twisting the ring on the middle finger of her left hand. Matami sagged in relief, probing at his tender stomach. But then Halab removed the ring, and struck him in the eye with her own balled fist. He cried out and fell again, clutching at his face.

  “I have always been able to tumble you, and I see nothing has changed,” said Halab, her voice dripping with scorn. “Were you anyone but my brother, I would throw you to the King’s law, or mayhap mete out her justice myself. Never lay eyes upon my nephew again. Now begone.”

  Matami reached up towards the guards, seeking their help to stand. But Jarrah and the others stepped away, lifting their gazes from him in contempt. So he scrabbled on the ground until he could stand and then, without a backwards glance, slunk away between the wagons. But from the moment she banished him, Halab turned away, ignoring him, and she looked upon the children with sorrow. Absentmindedly, she shook out the fist with which she had struck Matami.

  “Dearest nephew, and you, my guests. I thank the sky above that I returned when I did. This was unforgivable.”

  “Matami’s conduct, mayhap, but not yours, dear aunt,” said Ebon.

  “He is right,” said Kalem. “Think nothing of it, I beg you.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then Ebon drove a sharp elbow into Theren’s ribs. “Ow! Oh, er … it is no great worry. I cou
ld easily have bested him in a fight.”

  “You should never have needed to,” said Halab, shaking her head. “This is my household, and his dishonor falls upon my own head.”

  “You cannot be responsible for Matami, Halab,” said Albi, smirking. “He has always been such, or at least as long as I have known him.”

  Halab sighed. “He has never enjoyed being the youngest of us. It clouds his thoughts, leading them to anger more easily than is desirable. I assure you, his intentions are not so bad as they seem—though of course, intent matters little when one’s conduct is so wretched.”

  Kalem stepped forwards and gave her a bow. “I hope I do not speak out of turn, madam—but for me, he is more than overshadowed by you, in whom intent and conduct are united in honor, and both warm the heart.”

  From the corner of his eye, Ebon saw Theren roll her eyes. But Halab put a hand to her breast, cocking a head as she smiled down at Kalem.

  “Now here is one whose courtesy cannot be held in too high of esteem, and whose silver words could charm the heart of a carrock. I thank you, Kalem of the family Konnel, and am reminded of my own words, when I looked forwards to more favorable meetings with your family. From this day forwards, I shall call no meeting more favorable than ours.”

  The boy flushed and retreated behind Theren’s shoulder. Ebon smiled at Halab. “Now we must be going, dearest aunt. The day wears on, and the Academy holds a Yearsend feast.”

  “You cannot leave after this,” said Halab. “I had meant to attend business in the palace, but I will postpone it. We can hold our own feast to atone for today’s unpleasantness, though it will be on short notice.”

  “Please do not trouble yourself,” said Ebon. “Dark times have fallen upon us all, and nowhere more so than in the Academy. But now that they have passed, it would do us well to draw together and spend this Yearsend in each other’s company, so that the healing of our hearts may begin.”

  Halab inclined her head. “Your words are wise, dearest nephew. Already you have learned much at the Academy, and you do our family a great service. I hope we may see each other again soon.”

  “Of course we will.” Ebon stepped forwards to kiss her cheeks. “Farewell.”

  Kalem held forth a hand. But Halab used it to pull him close into an embrace, and then did the same with Theren. “Visit whenever you wish. I am at your service, and the manor is yours.”

  Theren raised an eyebrow. “And what of the goblets and silverware within the manor?” Ebon snatched her sleeve and dragged her away.

  Albi said her farewells last, primly shaking Theren’s hand and giving Ebon a hug. But Kalem she kissed on the cheek, much to his embarrassment. “I hope to see you all again soon,” she said, though she never took her eyes from Kalem’s.

  They left at last, setting out into the streets and winding their way back towards the Academy. As the manor vanished from sight behind them, Theren was first to break the silence.

  “Your aunt was a kind and honorable woman. I have heard very different things about the Draydens. If they were all like her, I imagine your family’s name would be no terrible thing.”

  “You are right,” said Ebon. “I have been disliked all my life because of my family name. Halab has been my only consolation. I think she tries to guide my kin in the right direction. But they resist her, as Matami clearly shows.”

  “She is not the only one,” said Kalem. “Your mother also was very gracious, and your sister most polite.” His cheeks reddened again, and he avoided their eyes.

  “Polite indeed,” said Theren, smirking as she pushed his shoulder. “And you were most charming in turn. See to it that you do not charm yourself into her bed.”

  “Theren!” cried Kalem, looking as though he might be ill. “She is a child.”

  “She is nearly a year older than you.”

  “I am a child!”

  But Ebon ignored them both, for his thoughts were preoccupied by what Kalem had said. Yes, his mother had been kind to his friends. Yet throughout his life, she had never been kind enough to protect him from his father. Never did she participate in Shay’s cruelty, but she never spoke against it, either. Today she had been concerned at the thought of Ebon witnessing Vali’s death. Did she not realize that that had disturbed Ebon nowhere near as much as the hatred and scorn of his father?

  Theren seized his sleeve, startling him from his thoughts. He blinked as he looked at her. “What?”

  She pointed past him. “There. Look at that cart.”

  Ebon followed her finger to a wooden cart down the street, loaded with several crates. Beside it walked a man in dark grey instructor’s robes, while two of the High King’s guard flanked the cart on either side. And looking closer, Ebon could see that the instructor was Dasko.

  “THAT IS DASKO,” SAID KALEM.

  “Hush!” said Theren. “We can see that. Get out of sight.”

  “Why?” asked Ebon. But she and Kalem were already scampering behind the edge of a nearby shop, and so he followed. The alley they ducked into stank, and Ebon covered his nose with a sleeve, reluctant to touch anything. “Theren, what are you doing?”

  “Are you not curious what Dasko is doing out here, or what is in the cart beside him?”

  “Curious? Certainly,” said Ebon. “But not enough to skulk about like some thief.”

  “I want to follow him,” said Theren. “It is the first day of Yearsend. Why is he not on holiday?”

  “A student died only yesterday, Theren,” said Kalem quietly. “No doubt the faculty have much to look after.”

  “This far into the city? No, there are too many questions. Come, and let us have answers.”

  Theren darted out from the alley, for Dasko and the cart had turned down a side street. Ebon and Kalem hastened to follow. From building to building they scuttled, keeping always in the shadows, though in truth Dasko and the High King’s guard did not seem overly cautious. They never looked about—and why should they? They were in the middle of the street. It was not as though they moved in secrecy.

  Soon Kalem grew impatient. “This is folly. Clearly they are up to nothing nefarious, and the Yearsend feast will be starting soon.”

  “Leave if you wish,” said Theren. “I mean to see where they are going.”

  Kalem clearly considered it, and Ebon was almost tempted. But just as he had resolved to leave, the cart pulled to a stop, and the guards took position at its rear. It had halted in front of a modest stone dwelling, two stories like the Drayden manor, but nowhere near as lavish. But Ebon noted that none of the other buildings on this street had doors accessible from this side—their front entrances were all on other sides, other streets. It gave the home a sense of isolation, and there were few passersby.

  Theren drew them farther out of sight into the alley. “Sky above,” she breathed. “Why are there so many guards?”

  Ebon blinked, for at first he could not see what she was talking about. But then he looked again. There were two more guards from the High King’s palace, one at each of the building’s front corners. Near the home’s front door stood two figures in regular clothing—yet when Ebon looked closer, he recognized two instructors from the Academy, neither wearing their traditional dark grey robes. Then Theren pointed to the roof, and Ebon saw two red hoods silhouetted against the sky. Mystics, standing guard from on high. Bows were slung on their backs.

  “What is Dasko doing?” said Ebon. “What could possibly justify this many guards?”

  “Never mind their number,” said Kalem. “Why three different groups? What would the High King, the Academy, and the Mystics all wish to guard?”

  “What indeed?” grated a harsh voice just behind them.

  Ebon jumped and turned around, heart in his throat. There behind them stood Dean Forredar. Kalem gave a little squeak, and Theren’s face grew stony. But Xain ignored them both, instead casting all of his ire upon Ebon. Ebon, for his part, tried to match the wizard’s gaze.

  “Why are you skulking ab
out here, Drayden?”

  “We are on our way to the Academy from my family’s manor.”

  “Yes, your manor,” Xain sneered. “I know it is close by. That is why I chose this place for my home. How do you like it?”

  Ebon glanced over his shoulder, at a loss for words. “Your … home? This is where you live?”

  “I am only recently returned to the Seat, and have been searching for a suitable dwelling. When I found this one, I knew I had to have it—so close to the Drayden manor, where I can keep an eye upon the scheming of your kin. Keep foes closer than friends, as they say.”

  “It seems a sturdy house,” said Kalem, his voice cracking.

  Xain ignored that. “I have a warning for your family, Ebon. Tell them to be on watch, for they are being observed. Too long did they plague me when last I dwelt on the Seat, and too long did they keep me gone after they drove me out. Now I have returned, and I have the High King’s favor. The days of their power in Underrealm are numbered.”

  “I had nothing to do with whatever quarrels you had with my family,” said Ebon. “I mean you no ill will.”

  “Ill will? What does your will matter? You have been raised as one of them. Doubtless you have joined their schemes without even realizing it. So whoever your master may be, tell them what I have told you.”

  “I have no master.” But even as Ebon said it, he thought of the task Mako had given him, the counterfeit uniform he had delivered in the dead of night. He shook the thought away. “Nearly all of my kin hate me anyway.”

  Xain looked to Theren and Kalem then. “As for the two of you—you would do well to quit this boy’s company. No matter what he has told you, you cannot trust a Drayden. Walk by his side, and one day you will find yourselves alone and friendless, betrayed in pursuit of some long-festering scheme.”