Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4)

by Daniel Arenson

  "But—" Madori began.

  "Enough!" Professor Fen's bald head flushed red. "Madori, go to the infirmary. Get your nose taken care of. Then report to the stables and spend the rest of the turn helping the horse master. You may return to your classes next turn—if you've learned how to behave."

  As Madori stormed out of the class, her eyes burning, she heard Lari's voice rise behind her.

  "I say, some girls simply can't curb their temper . . ."

  When she was outside the room, Madori allowed her tears to flow. They streamed down her cheeks and dampened her robes, mingling with her blood. She heard the other students laughing inside the classroom, and Madori imagined them all mocking her. She leaned against the corridor's wall, her tears streaming, her chest shaking.

  I never imagined it like this, she thought. I miss you, Father and Mother. I miss you so much. I miss home.

  A lump filled her throat. She didn't want to go to the infirmary. She wanted to run outside the university, to hitch a ride with a peddler, to travel all the way home to Fairwool-by-Night. Why had she ever fought with her mother? Now Madori only wanted her mother to hug her, to smooth her hair, to tell her it would be all right.

  "I'm sorry, Mama," she whispered, voice hoarse. "I miss you. I love you."

  She walked outside, her sleeve held to her bleeding nose, and stood in the courtyard. Rainclouds were gathering and a drizzle fell. The columns and towers of Teel rose around her, marvels of architecture, and the domed library rose behind them, the world's greatest center of knowledge. Beauty and wonder surrounded Madori, but as rain and tears fell, she only wanted to return to her village.

  "I can leave," she whispered. "I can sell my books and uniform in the town, and I'll have money for food, and I can travel home."

  She let memories of Fairwool-by-Night fill her: her cottage with the garden of sunflowers and peonies, her horse Hayseed, her old bed and books, her rag dolls, her parents.

  But even standing here, she knew that something was missing from that image.

  There were no friends waiting for her at home. There was no future, no dream, not for her. Her parents had fought in the war; they had achieved greatness, and they had found peace in a quiet village and with each other. But she, Madori—what great things had she done?

  She took a slow breath. Her father's words returned to her.

  To survive, you only have to breathe the next breath. Breath by breath.

  She took another trembling breath.

  She was still here. She was still surviving, still at Teel.

  "When you went to war, Mother and Father, you suffered too. And you could have gone back home, but you kept fighting." She laughed weakly. "You fought armies. I can handle Lari."

  She nodded and wiped the blood off her face. A smile trembling on her lips, she decided to skip the infirmary. She headed straight to the stables, and when she stepped into their shadows, her smile widened.

  For several hours, she tended to the horses—and she hugged them, and she whispered her fears to them, and they were her friends.

  And I have human friends here too, she whispered. I have Tam and Neekeya and Jitomi. My motley crew.

  When she left the stables, she felt better than she had in turns. She would stay, she vowed, no matter what. She would not let Lari drive her away.

  "I swear to you, stars of Eloria," she whispered to the cloudy sky, imagining those stars hiding beyond rain, cloud, and light. "I will become a mage."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN:

  SUNLIGHT AND MOTLEY

  The bells of Teel University, high in the northeastern tower, rang the end of the turn. Madori's parents claimed that thousands of years ago, the world would turn, that night would follow day in an endless dance. The bells of Teel—like the hourglass her parents kept at home—tracked the old days and nights. With Moth frozen, Timandra now basked in endless daylight, and Eloria hid in eternal shadow, but still the bells rang, forcing the old cycle upon the university. Madori supposed she was the only student here used to such a routine; each turn was the same twenty-four hours her parents used back home.

  Rubbing her sore shoulders—she had worked her arms down to the bone in the stables—she stepped into the eastern arcade, the dormitory for first year students. For a moment she stood in shadows, staring ahead. Here was the long, covered walkway that formed one of the cloister's four facades. A colonnade of many columns rose to Madori's left, affording a view of the cobbled courtyard and General Woodworth, the old elm tree. A long succession of archways rose above her, engraved with ancient runes. A brick wall, lined with doorways, rose to her right. First year students were moving back and forth, stepping in and out of chambers. Sounds of laughter, gossip, and even crying wafted down the arcade.

  Madori bit her lip. My new home.

  With a deep breath, she took a step forward, emerging from shadows.

  At once, all the sounds of conversation and laughter died. Everyone turned to stare at Madori.

  She raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and walked down the arcade.

  Let them stare, she thought. People have been staring at me all my life.

  She kept walking as eyes followed her. She was a half-breed. She was a freak on show for them. But she would walk with pride, as she always had—the girl with crazy hair, with the bronze skin of a Timandrian and the large, lavender eyes of an Elorian, with the famous parents adored or vilified across the world, with the fire inside her to learn magic—a fire none could tame. She walked by them all as they stared—Timandrians who whispered and gasped, Elorians who stood in shadowy corners. They were day and night, and she—she was the dusk.

  Halfway down the gallery, she passed by Sunlit Purity, Lari's quartet. The four were leaning against the wall, the door to their chamber ajar. They had hung a Radian banner upon the door, and as Madori walked by, they shot her dirty glances. Derin, the tall blond boy, muttered something about mongrels under his breath. The twins—Fae and Kae—snickered.

  "You stink of horse," Lari said as Madori walked by her.

  Madori paused and turned to give Lari a cold stare. "I had a doll that looked like you at home—all golden tresses and freckled cheeks." Madori smiled thinly. "I ripped off her head and used it as a ball. Do you think your head would roll too?"

  As Lari paled and covered her mouth, Madori gave her a wink and walked on.

  Farther down the colonnade, Madori reached an open door and saw her friends inside the chamber. She stepped in and closed the door behind her.

  "I'm telling you!" Neekeya was saying, standing with her hands on her hips. Her sword and helmet, shaped like crocodiles, hung on the wall behind her. "My pillow is magical! I brought it especially from home, and it always gives you good dreams."

  Jitomi was sitting on a bed, painting a dragon onto a vellum scroll; it looked like the dragon tattoo that coiled up his neck. "I have never heard of such magic." The Elorian's eyes gleamed in the shadows of his hood.

  Rummaging through his backpack, Tam groaned. "That's because no such magic exists. Her mother probably only told her that to get her to go to sleep."

  Neekeya stomped her feet. "My mother is a great warrior! She wrestled crocodiles every day before breakfast. She wrestled a magic crocodile once, and—"

  "Oh Idar's beard, here we go again!" Tam said, raising his hands in indignation.

  Standing at the door, Madori cleared her throat. The others turned toward her, noticing her for the first time. Neekeya reacted first. She raced forward, her necklace of crocodile teeth jangling, and pulled her into a crushing embrace. Madori—almost a foot shorter—nearly suffocated in the swamp girl's arms.

  "Air!" Madori gasped.

  Neekeya only squeezed her tighter. "I'm glad you're here! I was worried. So much blood . . ." She stepped back, holding Madori at arm's length, and narrowed her eyes. "Are you all right?"

  Madori nodded. "Bit peckish."

  "I have some frog legs. And toffy!" The Daenorian reached into her pockets and produce
d both items of food. "Would you like some?"

  "I was hoping maybe for some Ardish fare. Or maybe Qaelish food. Bread?"

  Ignoring the request, Neekeya touched Madori's cheek. "Madori, you listen to me. I'm a warrior. A real warrior. I used to wrestle crocodiles with my parents. If Lari attacks you again, you step back and let me fight her." She snarled, revealing very white, very sharp-looking teeth. "I'll wrestle her good! I'm not scared of her. She and her friends . . . they think they're so mighty, what with their beautiful golden hair and blue eyes, proud Magerians in their homeland. They don't like us outsiders, do they?" Suddenly tears filled Neekeya's eyes. "But we're just as good as they are. We passed the same trials."

  Suddenly Madori felt guilt pound through her. She had spent the past few turns focusing on her own misfortune—pitying herself, the girl torn between day and night. For the first time, Madori realized that Teel University was probably just as difficult for Neekeya. The swamp dweller—with her dark brown skin, heavy accent, and foreign ways—probably felt just as alienated here, just as threatened by the Radians.

  Madori patted the taller girl's arm. "Thank you, Neekeya. You're right. We all passed the same trials. Every one in this room is just as smart, strong, and worthy as the Radians. We're all outsiders here, all far from home. And we'll face Lari and her gang together."

  When she left Neekeya's embrace, Madori took a closer look at the chamber. It was small, no larger than her old bedchamber back at Fairwool-by-Night. Four beds took up most of the floor space, each carved of pine and topped with a mattress and woolen blankets. A large desk held scrolls, books, ink pots, and quills. A vellum scroll bearing an Elorian prayer hung upon a wall—presumably Jitomi had hung it up. A golden crocodile statuette, its emeralds eyes gleaming, stood upon the window sill—a Daenorian artifact, no doubt belonging to Neekeya. Meanwhile Tam was busy hanging up a painting from home; it showed the towers of Arden's royal palace.

  Madori had no charms to add to this room, no mementos from her own home, nothing to make this chamber a new home. There was the dagger she kept in her boot, the one with the antler hilt, but she decided to keep this weapon hidden; she might yet need it, roaming a university rife with Radians. She reached into her pocket and fished out a copper coin, change from the meal she'd shared with her father at The Dancing Wolf tavern. It was a coin from Arden, showing Queen Linee—Tam's mother—on one side, and a raven—the sigil of Arden—on the other.

  This is my memento, she thought. A meal with my father, a last memory of my old life. She placed the coin upon the shelf beside Neekeya's crocodile figurine.

  Three of the beds already seemed claimed; her friends' packs, cloaks, and other belongings lay upon them. Madori made her way to the fourth bed, which lay under the window, and sat down. The straw mattress crinkled but seemed comfortable enough. Tam's bed lay to her one side, Jitomi's to the other.

  Again, she thought, I'm between night and day.

  She was about to kick off her boots and change into her sleepwear when chants rose from outside.

  Madori froze. Her fingers tingled and her pulse increased.

  The chants echoed outside in the corridor, dispersed and unorganized, and Madori could not recognize the words. But soon the voices, one by one, solidified into a single mantra. Madori sneered and leaped to her feet.

  "Radian rises!" the voices chanted. "Radian rises!"

  Boots stomped and the voices echoed across the hall. The floor shook beneath Madori. Above the chant rose a high, pretty voice—Lari's voice.

  "Fellow students, do you wish to preserve the purity of sunlight? Do you wish to cast out the filth staining our fine university? Join the Teel Radian Society! Join us, receive your pin, and help banish the darkness."

  Madori raced toward the door.

  "Billygoat, wait!" Tam cried and tried to grab her. She slipped out from his grasp, yanked the door open, and raced outside.

  Lari was marching up and down the columned gallery, chin raised. Her cronies marched around her. Many students had stepped out of their chambers; some gaped in silence, but others were marching with Lari and her group, chanting the cry.

  "Radian rises! Radian rises!"

  Lari raised her fist. "Join the Teel Radian Society! We will bring purity to magic. We will drive out the dark-skinned heathens, the nightcrawlers of darkness, and the mongrels of impure blood. Radian is purity! Radian is light!"

  While Lari spoke, her friends were handing out Radian pins and papyrus pamphlets. One scroll fell and fluttered toward Madori's feet. On it appeared a drawing of an Elorian—the fingers clawed, the eyes cruel—feasting upon a Timandrian baby, ripping out its entrails with fangs. Below the drawing appeared the words: "Cast out nightcrawlers, mongrels, and heathens. Radian rises!"

  Lari pinned one of the pamphlets to the wall. "Join us!" she cried. "Join me, Lari Serin, at the Teel Radian Society."

  Madori had heard enough. With a growl, she made to leap forward, intending to throttle Lari. She felt ready to kill the girl, then flee into the wilderness.

  Hands grabbed her.

  "Madori, please!" Tam said, tugging her back. She thrashed in his grip, but Jitomi and Neekeya soon joined him. The three grabbed her arms and legs, holding her back. They stood in the doorway of their chamber.

  Hearing the commotion, Lari turned toward them. A bright, toothy grin split her face.

  "Look, friends!" she called out to the hall. "A swamp dweller, her skin like coal, a heathen and barbarian. A nightcrawler boy, a demon of darkness. A Timandrian boy, a traitor to his own blood. And finally, a feral little mongrel dog." She laughed. "The Radian Society will clean our university from their filth."

  Madori screamed and tried to leap forward again, but her friends tugged her back into their room and slammed the door shut.

  "Let me go!" Madori cried. "I'll knock her teeth in. I'll rip out her throat. Neekeya, you're with me, right? We'll attack her together."

  "And if you do," Tam said sternly, "you'll only give her words credence." The prince released Madori and walked over to block the door. He glared at her. "If you hit her, you know what she'll do. She'll act the victim, cry fake tears, and trumpet the news across Moth that you're a menace. And all of Moth would hear that news. You don't know the power her father has."

  "She doesn't know the power my fist has," Madori said, but she hated to admit it—though she fumed, kicked, and growled, she knew Tam was speaking truth.

  If I attack Lari now, I turn her into a martyr.

  "So what do we do?" Neekeya said, her voice hesitant. She let go of Madori and looked at the others, one by one. "Do we let her keep demonizing us?"

  The chants still rose outside. More voices were joining them. Madori's heart sank to realize that, when she had stormed outside screaming, she had probably just made herself look like the wild animal Lari was painting her to be.

  Jitomi spoke for the first time. The Elorian boy walked toward their table and slapped the pile of books. "What we do is study. The other students might call us barbarians. We will prove them wrong. We will prove that we can be smarter than them. We'll become more powerful than them. They want to banish us from their university? We'll beat them at their own game."

  Madori heaved a sigh and leaned against the wall. "How? I can't even levitate a simple figurine."

  "But I can," Jitomi said. "I know a little bit of magic. Neekeya does too. We'll work together. We'll learn to perform magic as well as Lari can—better than she can." He gestured at the door. "So let them chant. While they're outside parading like thugs, we'll open our books and study."

  Demonstrating his point, Jitomi opened one codex and sat down to read.

  Madori's body ached. She hadn't slept in over a turn, and she had spent hours working in the stables. She longed for a good half-turn of slumber, but Jitomi was right.

  Next class, I won't let Lari humiliate me again, she vowed. She grabbed a book too. She sat beside Jitomi, opened the tome, and began to study.

  CHAPT
ER TWELVE:

  CHAINS OF SMOKE

  Her eyelids drooping, Madori began the next turn in a new class: Offensive Magic.

  While Professor Fen taught Basic Magical Principles in a dusty chamber full of scrolls, vials, and sundry artifacts, this class took place in towering lecture hall with tiers of cold stone seats. There were no windows here; the light came from braziers that crackled upon the polished black walls. This looked less like a classroom, Madori thought, and more like the temple of a dark god.

  She sat at the back of the hall with her quartet. The stage below was still empty, and students in the lower tiers rustled, leafed through books, and mumbled spells. Stifling a yawn, Madori tried to remember what she had studied last turn in her room, but the knowledge kept fleeing her mind.

  "Who teaches this class?" she asked Tam.

  Sitting beside her, the prince shrugged. "I don't know. Offensive Magic? Must be somebody angry."

  Madori shuddered to remember her parents' war stories. They had fought the dark mages of Mageria during the great War of Day and Night. Mother still bore the scar along her arm, a coiling line like a serpent.

  I saw Magerian magic tear flesh off bones, Koyee had told her, flip ribs inside out, and crack skulls. I fought against siege towers topped with archers, cavalries of knights in armor, and great carracks firing cannons, but none frightened me like Mageria's black magic.

  Madori gulped.

  "And now I learn this magic," she whispered to herself.

  At her left side, Neekeya was whispering to Jitomi, "I have a ring of Offensive Magic. If I punch anyone while wearing the ring, it'll double my strength."

  Jitomi tapped his chin. "Maybe the ring is just sharp."

  Neekeya shook her head wildly, her black chin-length hair swaying. "No! It's magic. My father gave it to me, and he knows magic. I—"

  "Hush!" Madori elbowed them. "Class is starting."

  A door creaked open below and a shadow stirred. The students all fell silent, straightened in their seats, and stared down. A tall, balding man entered the room, wrapped in black robes.