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

by Garrett Robinson

  Adara nodded sagely at that, as though it were a great wisdom. Then she held up a finger. “Your last truth was a truth of the past, and I answered in kind. But the truth you have just told me is a truth of the present. So I will answer with my own. Tonight, a boy behind the blue door told me I was a fool for falling in love with you. He said you were a merchant’s son, a goldbag, and that you had tricked me into giving you my services without asking for coin in return.”

  Ebon frowned. “But that … that is a lie. I—”

  She stopped him with a sharply-raised hand. “I did not ask for your answer. That is the purpose of … this.” Adara waved a hand in the general direction of the goblets and the bottles. “And besides, I gave him my answer already. I told him he was a wool-headed steer, that I had heard complaints from many of his clients about his woeful lack of expertise in our trade, and that he likely received only half of the usual rate for his work. He broke down weeping and fled through the blue door. I hope he never returns. And now we have each told another truth.”

  They both took their time now, sipping gingerly at their cups. But they spoke no words, only met each other’s eyes. Ebon became aware of her foot atop his under the table. He twitched his leg. She moved her own in response.

  “Mayhap we should finish these goblets upon the bed,” he suggested.

  “Are you certain?” She gave him a coy smile. “We both know wine can trouble your performance.”

  “That is why I suggest we move quickly,” he said, standing from his chair. “Because you have never seen me well and truly drunk, Adara, and so I suggest you make use of me while you may.”

  She laughed easily and took his proffered hand to rise. Cups forgotten, they undressed each other piece by piece. Again she cared for him, and he for her. Then they took their cups and brought them to the bedside tables, huddling together under the warm fur blanket. But they did nothing else.

  “You did not come here to speak to me of Xain,” she whispered in his ear. Her hand traced the almost-absent lines of his thin, youthful chest. “He found you on your way. Why did you come to see me again so soon?”

  He sighed. “I came to ask a favor, though I have no great wish to do so.”

  Her hand slid lower. “I am amenable to favors. What do you need?”

  “We … I mean Kalem and Theren and I … and Lilith. Oh, yes. We have befriended Lilith. Not befriended, that is wrong. We are … in league with her. I suppose that is a poor way to put it as well. In any case, we need to know where Isra has gone. She is here on the Seat. There must be a trace of her. And you are a lover.”

  “Of course. I have many lovers I can turn to. Not—” She giggled, and Ebon snorted a bark of laughter. “Not lovers. That is not what I meant. Other lovers. Lovers like me, I mean.”

  He kissed her deeply. “There are no lovers like you.”

  “Be silent, flatterer. I will ask them. But I do not understand. Why were you reluctant to ask me this? It is hardly any trouble at all.”

  That sobered him, for the answer had been troubling him greatly. “At first my mind was taken by Xain and his threats. And then … I still fear for your safety, and more so the further you are drawn into all this. If Isra knew of your existence, I do not doubt that she would come for you just to hurt me. And between the amulet and our mindwyrd of Dasko, and now our investigation of Yerrin, I feel as though peril haunts my every step. And I walk well outside of the King’s law now, though I hate to do it.”

  “But you do hate to do it,” she said. “And that makes the difference. Now you have told me something of the future. I will do the same. One day—not soon, mayhap, but one day—I want you take me back to Feldemar, where I have not returned since I left.”

  He ran a finger through the hair on her temple. “Of course. I know not when, or how. But I vow that I will do it.”

  Her eyes shone with tears. “Dear, dear Ebon. Was that a truth? You do not owe me another one.”

  Ebon kissed her. “I will give you all of my truth, whenever you wish it.”

  To his shock, the tears broke, trickling down her cheeks. “One day I, too, may be able to do the same. I cannot yet. Not even now.” Then she pushed him gently back towards the side table. “Now drink.”

  EBON SCARCELY REMEMBERED STUMBLING HOME later that night. He had one vivid picture of vomiting into a gutter in the streets of the city. And the next day, he did not receive punishment for staying out late, so he guessed that he must have returned before curfew. But his next clear memory was waking in his bed with a terrible headache and a stomach that felt ready to spill itself onto the stone floor. He threw on his robe and ran to the privy as quickly as he could, where he spilled his guts again. Then he simply sat there for a while, leaning to the side so that his head was pressed against the frigid stone wall.

  A bell rang at last, signaling the end of breakfast and the beginning of the day’s classes, and so he stumbled out and down the hall. But he made one quick diversion on his way to Perrin’s room. He stepped outside and went to the place in the citadel wall where he knew Mako’s secret door stood. There he found the stone of alabaster, and under it placed a scribbled note on a scrap of parchment from his pocket.

  Morning’s class was slow and painful. Perrin often gave him a disapproving look. Next to him, little Astrea kept leaning away. Ebon guessed he must smell like wine, and mayhap vomit. But he managed to keep some level of composure. After years beneath his father’s roof, he was no stranger to drinking. And so his class passed without comment.

  The moment the lunch bell rang, he was out of his seat and hurrying through the halls again. He found a bench near the secret door and sat, leaning back against the cool citadel wall. He did not have to wait long before he heard a rustle in the hedges beside him. Mako stepped out of the shrubbery and fixed him with a hard look.

  “You are drunk.”

  “Not anymore,” said Ebon, squinting in the sun. “Now I only regret being drunk.”

  Mako sniffed. “It smells the same. I received your note. What is it?”

  Ebon stood from the bench—then swayed for a moment before he could recover himself. He crossed his arms over his chest, a perfect mirror of Mako’s stance, and met the man’s eyes.

  “Did you send a ransom message to Xain?”

  Mako blinked. “What in the nine lands do you speak of, boy?”

  Ebon sighed, feeling his shoulders droop. Mako was a good liar, mayhap among the best, and so it could be that he only feigned his shock. But the look of surprise on his face was good enough for Ebon, at least in his drunken state. “Never mind. Xain came for me last night, speaking of a ransom note. He thought it came from us.”

  He was about to sit back down on the bench, but Mako snatched his collar and dragged him to his feet. “What note? What did it say?”

  “I did not see it, Mako.” Ebon made a halfhearted attempt to remove the bodyguard’s hand, but he gave it up almost at once. “Whoever sent it is looking for someone—a woman—and thinks Xain knows where she is. But he said he would never reveal the secret.”

  Mako’s eyes glinted. “Does the woman have a name?”

  Ebon frowned. “Not that I know. I told you I did not see the note. Why? Do you know of her?”

  A pregnant silence stretched so long that Ebon quite forgot about his headache. But at last Mako released his collar, pushing him ungently away.

  “Never you mind, little Ebon. More important than the note itself is Xain’s mind concerning it. He says it came from us, and I doubt anything will convince him otherwise. But if the note bore the name of anyone in the family, he would not have come to you; he would have gone straight to the High King.”

  “I guessed as much myself,” said Ebon. “But Xain seemed most certain. Do you think this is something my father could have done?”

  Mako frowned. “Once I would have said he would never be so foolish. But he has since proven himself at least that much so. It still does not make sense, though, and for one reason: Shay c
ould never hold Erin without my knowing of it already.”

  “How, then, do we solve the riddle?” said Ebon. “Someone sent the note, and did so to drive a wedge between us and the dean—or, if they did not intend that, it has happened regardless.”

  Then Mako’s eyes lit, and he snapped his fingers. “They did intend it. It is one more step in their plan. An anonymous ransom note, sent to Xain in the knowledge he would think it was from us. Sent by the one who holds Erin in their clutches.”

  Ebon frowned, trying to work it out. “Then … then Isra sent the note?”

  Mako cuffed him on the side of the head, but not, mayhap, as hard as he might have. Still, it made stars dance in Ebon’s eyes, and he groaned in pain. “No, little idiot. The ones behind Isra. Yerrin. They are the only ones who could keep Isra’s hiding place from me this long. If anyone else were hiding her somewhere on the Seat—especially someone like Shay—I should have found her already.”

  “Do you have a way of finding where Yerrin may be keeping her?” Ebon felt a wave of guilt as he thought of Lilith. Almost he spoke on and told Mako of the conversation with her. But then he thought of Theren’s insistence and held his tongue.

  “There are many ways of finding out, but I cannot know which will bear fruit,” said Mako.

  “Then I leave you to it,” said Ebon. “Only hurry, because the longer the search continues, the more energetic I think Xain will become, and if it is discovered that Theren holds the amulet of Kekhit, then we are all doomed.”

  Mako gave him a careful look. “I have spent some thought on that. There is a way to remove the amulet as a threat.”

  “There is?” said Ebon, frowning. “How?”

  “We could let it be known that Theren carries it. The faculty would catch her and imprison her—but you, having revealed the truth, would face no penalty.”

  Ebon froze. “I … but Theren would be …”

  “My duty does not bind me to protect Theren. Only you.”

  Rage coursed through Ebon’s veins, making him shake where he stood. “You will not do that,” said Ebon. “I swear that if you so much as breathe a word of it, to anyone, I will see that you suffer Theren’s fate twice over.”

  Mako cocked his head, and a little smile played at the corner of his mouth. “How very like your father you sound just now. But I take no orders from him, either, little Ebon. My duty countermands your rage, and your threat is shorn of claws or fangs.”

  “But you do take orders from Halab,” said Ebon. He took a step forwards, though he was aware how pathetic it must seem when the bodyguard stood a full head taller. “And if you should betray Theren, I will tell her everything. I will tell her of Matami—yes, mayhap she suspects, and wishes to say nothing, but I will not let the matter lie—and then I will tell her how you made me party to the murder, endangering me before the King’s law. And finally, I will return to the Academy and tell Xain all that I have told Halab, and more besides—the truth about Isra, and the amulet, and how you fled just before Isra took his—”

  With movements too fast to see, Mako spun him by the shoulder and kicked out the back of his knees. Ebon fell, his head slamming upon the stone bench, where Mako’s knobby fingers held him fast. He felt the sharp prick of a dagger on the back of his neck. Even as he gasped in pain, Ebon held perfectly still, terrified to move.

  “My duty is to guard you,” said Mako. “And to guard Halab. But Halab comes first, always, and you have just threatened to put her in mortal peril. And all for the sake of a girl who is no kin to either of us. Sort out your loyalties, goldshitter.”

  “They are clear to my mind, if not to yours,” said Ebon. “I trust that Halab would emerge from such a mess unscathed. I cannot say the same for you.”

  He heard a snort behind him, and though he could not see Mako’s face, he heard incredulity in the bodyguard’s voice. “You would sacrifice yourself for your friend.”

  “As easy as breathing.”

  “Be silent. I was not asking—I was seeing a truth for the first time.”

  The pressure on Ebon’s head vanished, as did the dagger’s tip behind him.

  “Very well, goldshitter. If you wish to live in foolish nobility, it its yours to have. I prefer life, and power, and a purse full of coin.”

  Slowly Ebon rose. The motion and the impact on the stone had made his headache twice as painful, and he grimaced as he found his feet. But though Mako had thoroughly trounced him, he still felt a small sense of victory.

  “Now then. It is of the utmost importance that you find Isra before anyone can discover that Theren holds the amulet.”

  Mako smirked at him. “I have told you already that I will use my every resource—and I have many of them. We know already that Isra must have used my secret entrance to get into and out of the Academy. I have placed a watch upon it, so that if anyone comes or goes, I will hear of it. Worry not, little Ebon. Your friend will not face the knives of the Mystics. And I will soon remove the problem of Isra from our lives.”

  He turned and vanished into the hedge. Ebon rubbed at the back of his neck and shuddered as he felt a little drop of blood. It felt very much as though a fox troubled his henhouse, and he had just released a lion to kill the thing. He had little doubt the fox would die—but what might the lion do after?

  That night, Theren went to place her mindwyrd on Dasko for the final time. All the afternoon they spent together in the library, she bounced in her armchair. Her leg would not stop twitching back and forth, and a smile played constantly at her lips. Ebon grew irritated after a while, but how could he tell her to stop? She had borne the greatest burden of guilt out of all of them, and she deserved every feeling of elation.

  When at last dinner had gone by, she led them out onto the Academy’s grounds. Ebon and Kalem kept careful watch for anyone drawing too near as they went. No one did. Theren had little mind for anything or anyone other than Dasko, but Ebon was afraid that fate would play some cruel joke, and that someone would catch them in their crime even as they prepared to stop forever.

  But they reached the meeting place without incident, and there they found Dasko waiting for them. He stood as they entered, and while Kalem stood lookout again, Theren went to him.

  “After we are done here, you will forget you have seen us, and if asked you will say only that you went out for a walk on the Academy grounds, alone. When I tell you we are finished, you will enter the citadel. You will find Xain, and you will tell him your head is spinning, and that your memory plays tricks on you. You will tell him you saw Isra.”

  “Yes,” said Dasko.

  “He should not be so certain,” said Ebon quietly. The faculty had to believe that Dasko was under mindwyrd, and therefore his memory needed to be shaky and unclear.

  Theren glared at him, but turned back to Dasko after a moment. “You will tell Xain that you think you saw Isra, but you cannot be certain.”

  “Yes,” said Dasko.

  Theren released a great heave of breath.

  “We are finished.”

  “Yes.” Dasko stepped past her, making for the gap in the hedge. He was almost gone, almost out of sight, when Theren took a half-step after him and called out.

  “I am sorry.”

  “Yes.”

  Then he was gone.

  THE NEXT MORNING, EBON FELT his heart in his throat as he approached the dining hall. He found Theren within, already sitting with a plate of food, but Kalem was nowhere to be seen. Theren had great bags under her eyes, and her fingers were twitching. Ebon wondered if she had slept at all the night before. Very soon now, they would learn if the scheme had worked. Quickly he fetched his own food and joined her at table.

  “Have you heard anything?” he said.

  “Who do you think I speak to, other than you and Kalem?” said Theren irritably. She stabbed her spoon into her oatmeal. Ebon smirked at her words—until he realized how true they were, and how he, too, had precious little conversation within the Academy unless it was with
his two closest friends.

  It seemed an age before Kalem arrived. When he did, they tried to wave him over to the table, but he only waved back and set off to get food. Theren gave an angry growl and made to go after him, but Ebon urged her to remain seated.

  “Let us make no more commotion than we must,” he said. “Waiting a little while longer will not change the answer.”

  At last Kalem joined them at the table. The moment his rear touched the bench, Theren seized his arm to drag him close. “What have you heard?” she said. “Has the rumor flown yet?”

  “Let go of me,” Kalem groused, pulling himself from her reach. “Am I your only source of news? There are hundreds of students in the Academy.”

  “Pretend, for a moment, that you are indeed the only one,” said Ebon. “Now speak, and quickly.”

  “Yes, the rumor has flown. They are saying that Dasko was found under the influence of mindwyrd, and suspicion has fallen upon Isra, as it should have.”

  Theren gave a happy cry, slapping her hand down on the table. Ebon quickly tamped down his own smile, leaning in to hiss at her.

  “Be silent. We are trying not to draw attention, remember?”

  Theren grew quiet, but she could not remove the smile from her face. Nor could Ebon blame her for that. She tore through her breakfast and stood at once, grinning down at them.

  “I fancy a walk upon the grounds. Do either of you care to join me?”

  Ebon waved her off. “We are still hungry. Go and enjoy yourself.”

  But just then, Lilith appeared behind Theren. Theren turned to leave and ran straight into her, forcing her to take a step back. Lilith winced and seemed for a moment as if she might fall, but Theren gripped her arms and held her upright.

  “Lilith! I am sorry. Forgive me.”

  “It is nothing,” said Lilith, turning aside as her dark cheeks grew darker still. “May I sit with you for a moment?”