He stirred and moaned. Madori pulled back, shocked at herself, raising her fingers to her mouth. She had kissed him! He was lying here sleeping, and . . . and . . .
She had never kissed a boy. One time back at her village, not long before leaving to Teel University, the brewer's boy had kissed her cheek and almost her mouth, a quick peck which had made her cheeks flush. But this—this had felt real, a kiss of compassion and excitement.
His eyes opened and he blinked a few times, struggling to bring her into focus.
"Madori," he whispered. "Why? Why are you sorry?"
She lowered her head and clasped his hand. "I'm sorry for Timandra, for the pain you experienced here. I'm half Timandrian. This is half my home. And . . . you came here, to our lands, seeking knowledge and magic. And this happened."
He smiled. "If you kiss me again, I will think it worth it."
She felt her cheeks flush and cursed herself. But she kissed him again. And it felt just as right.
Yet suddenly her eyes were damp, and a lump filled her throat, and she thought of the song she had sung—"The Journey Home." For a long time, Madori had thought that song meaningless to her, thought that her home lay hidden, a place she still had to find. But perhaps her home had always lain behind her old village, beyond the dusk, in the shadows of Eloria. Perhaps she had had to travel into sunlight to realize her home lay in moonlight.
"Someday, when we're mages, we'll return home," she whispered. "Our home lies in shadows . . . to the darkness we return."
She sat on his bed, then lay down beside him, placing her head against his shoulder. She laid her hand on his chest, and he stroked her hair—the stubble on the back and sides and the long, silky strands that framed her face.
"Do you remember just lying on a hill, watching the moon?" he said. "Did you ever imagine faces on it, dream of mountains and valleys?"
She nodded, smiling to herself, remembering her summers in Oshy. "Always. And do you remember the stars? I had a book of constellations, and I'd try to see them all in the sky. I used to imagine that the stars were distant worlds, millions of them, so far away I could never reach them. I imagined that I had a ship that could sail through the sky, and I visited every world, meeting dragons and clockwork soldiers and wise elders with long white beards."
"In Ilar we believe that the stars are great, distant flames, each borne by a great warrior." Jitomi smiled wryly. "In Ilar, most of our tales are of warriors, assassins, swordsmen, spies. Imagine me there—a thin boy who prefers to read books over swinging blades. My father thought me weak—no better than a girl, he said. You can imagine why I wanted to explore the lands of sunlight."
Madori thought back to her own kingdom of the night, the great land named Qaelin, a sprawling empire of crystal towers, pagodas as large as all of Teel University, and a little village by a starlit river. She nestled against Jitomi. "So when we graduate, come with me to Qaelin. Forget about Ilar if your people don't respect you. Forget about this land of sunlight. We'll both go to Qaelin, two mages. We can live by the river, imagine faces on the moon, and seek the constellations."
Robes fluttered and Professor Yovan shuffled toward them, clucking his tongue.
"Now now, little boy," said the professor, pointing at Madori. "You must let young Master Jitomi get his rest." The old man tossed his beard across his shoulder and rolled up his sleeves. "I've healed most of his wounds, but he's still weak, and he still needs more healing." He touched the scars on her cheeks, the ones Lari had given her. "Did you heal these wounds yourself, little one?"
Madori nodded. "I did."
The old healer beamed. "Excellent work! Since the first lesson I taught you, I knew you were a great healer, little boy."
"Girl," she said.
He snorted, fluttering his lips. "Same difference. Now get off that bed and let me do my magic."
Professor Yovan was rolling his sleeves back down, and Jitomi had fallen back asleep, when the Horns of Teel blew again.
* * * * *
When Madori stepped back into the cloister, answering the bells' call, she found the place transformed into a nightmare.
General Woodworth, the great elm tree, had been cut down. Where it had grown now rose an iron statue, twenty feet tall, depicting Lord Serin clad in armor. The tyrant was facing east toward the distant lands of night, his fist against his heart, his second hand holding his sword. From the galleries—four rows of columns that surrounded the courtyard, leading toward the dormitories—hung great banners of Radianism, depicting the sun eclipsing the Elorian moon. The old wooden stage was draped with more banners, and a podium rose upon it, displaying the sigil in gold and silver. Worst of all, soldiers surrounded the expanse, clad in black steel, holding pikes and shields.
For a moment Madori thought she had entered the wrong place. This seemed less like a university and more like a military camp.
When all the students stood in rows, the horns fell silent and Professor Atratus stepped onto the pulpit. He no longer wore his ratty old robes, the ones with the fraying hems. His new robes were darker than the night, hemmed in gold. Lari rose to stand at his side, wearing a golden tiara and holding a scepter, its head shaped as the eclipse of Radianism.
Across the cloister, everyone stared—other professors, Timandrian students with Radian brooches, and Elorian students with their snake pins. After a long moment, Atratus spoke, his voice so loud—magically amplified—that Madori started.
"Students of Teel. Fellow professors. I have some news that may upset—or delight—you. Headmistress Egeria has been accused of a terrible crime." Atratus sneered. "We all witnessed it at this very place only last turn. She stood upon this stage, vowing to defend Elorians—our enemy, the enemy of every pure-blooded Timandrian. Treason!" He pounded his fist into his palm, and students jeered across the cloister. "For her treachery, the illustrious Lord Serin, God of Sunlight, has sent forth his troops to protect us. Egeria has been sent to the capital in chains to stand trial for her crime." Some students gasped at this; others cheered. Grinning like a wolf over its prey, Atratus continued. "My great lord has named me, his humble servant, new Headmaster of Teel."
Madori could barely remain standing. Her head spun and Tam had to grab her lest she fell.
It's over, she realized. My dream to become a mage, my hope of surviving here—gone.
A drum beat and the sound of hooves rose from behind. Madori spun around to see two burly black horses—each twice the size of Hayseed—pull a wagon into the courtyard. The driver seemed almost as beefy as the horses, his frayed robe stretching tightly across his board shoulders, his hood revealing only a stubbly chin and thin lips. Upon the wagon rose an iron cage roughly the size of the Motley's bedchamber.
Atratus spoke again, restrained glee twisting his voice. "All subhuman undesirables, those wearing the serpent pin of shame, are henceforth banished from Teel University. You will step onto this wagon, which will transport you to the border of Mageria. There you may go where you will, so long as you never more set foot upon the lands of glorious Radianism."
The cloister burst into chaos.
Students gasped. Some cheered. At once the soldiers stepped forth, marching among the rows of students, shouting out the names of Elorians.
"Shen Quelon!"
"Heetan Doromi!"
"Danong Fan!"
A few of the Elorian students glanced around nervously, then followed the soldiers toward the wagon. Other Elorians were too slow to budge; the soldiers grabbed their arms, manhandling them toward the cage. The names kept ringing across the university.
"Keshuan Hatan!"
"Maen Hao!"
"Jitomi Hashido!"
Standing beside Madori, the tattooed Elorian boy glanced at her.
"Don't go," Madori whispered to him.
Jitomi touched her cheek. Fear filled his large blue eyes—but courage too. "It will be all right. I—"
Soldiers grabbed him, tugging him away from her. Madori shouted. She tried
to tug him back. She leaped onto one soldier, only for the brute to shove her down. She landed hard on the cobblestones.
"Jitomi!" she shouted, a soldier's boot on her chest, pinning her down.
Jitomi looked at her, a sad smile on his lips, as the soldiers tugged him toward the wagon. Already they were shoving Elorians into the cage. One girl moved too slowly; a soldier backhanded her, spraying blood, and shoved her into the cage, slamming her against the bars. Jitomi climbed in solemnly, refusing to be shoved, holding his head high. He stood tall, staring at Madori between the bars, his face expressionless.
Finally twenty-five Elorians filled the cage, pressing against one another—the entire Elorian population of Teel. Madori still lay on the cobblestones, the soldier pinning her down, his boot nearly cracking her ribs.
It was Atratus himself who called her name, shouting it out like a curse. "Madori Greenmoat!"
The soldier lifted his foot off her chest and leaned down to grab her.
With a snarl, Madori hurtled a ball of air against him. With a clank of armor, the man fell.
"No!" Madori shouted.
Several more soldiers advanced toward her. She hissed and chose their armor, claimed the metal, and heated it. The metal turned red hot, and the soldiers screamed, pawing at the straps, trying to tear off the plates.
"I will not leave!" Madori shouted. She chose the air beneath her and shoved herself several feet above ground. She hovered, gazing at the crowd. "I am the daughter of Torin Greenmoat, a hero of Timandra, a warrior of sunlight. This sunlight flows through my veins. I will stay at Teel. I will become a great mage." She stared at Atratus across the crowd. "You cannot deny my Timandrian blood. I stay."
Atratus grinned—a horrible grin that seemed to split his face in two, stretching from ear to ear, revealing all his crooked teeth. He thrust out his palm, driving a ball of smoke and dust her way. The projectile took the form of a snake, hissing, fanged, its eyes blazing white. Madori tried to block the attack, but the snake tore through her defenses and wrapped around her.
She crashed down, writhing, the smoky serpent crushing her. Its fangs drove into her leg, and she cried out in pain.
"Chain her!" Atratus shouted, voice rising like steam, his amusement and hatred coiling together. "Chain her and toss her in with the others."
The soldiers tugged her to her feet. A fist drove into her cheek, and she saw nothing but darkness. Her chin tilted forward, and the magical serpent still wrapped around her torso, hissing, licking her with an icy tongue. She tried to struggle. She screamed, kicked, blasted out magic. But she was only one girl; she could not resist them all.
Chains clamped around her wrists, binding her arms behind her back. More chains hobbled her ankles. The guards dragged her toward the wagon.
"Look at me, Timandra!" Madori shouted as the guards lifted her. "Look at me and behold your shame! I curse you in the name of darkness."
Smirking, the soldiers shoved her into the cage. She thudded against the other Elorians, and the cage door swung shut. The lock was bolted, sealing her within. Blood dripped down her forehead, and she tugged at the door and bars, but they wouldn't budge. The cage was so crowded she had no room to sit; the Elorians pressed against one another like matches in a box.
The driver cracked his whip, and the horses began to move, tugging the wagon out of the cloister. The Radian students began to cheer, tossing mud and refuse onto the wagon. An egg flew through the bars and cracked against Madori's face. A rotten potato followed, spilling its liquid onto her. Every student they passed shouted in mockery, and one tossed a stone; it slammed into Madori's shoulder.
"Goodbye nightcrawlers!" the students chanted. "Radian rises!"
As the wagon trundled across the courtyard, Madori—covered in trash and blood—stared between the bars, and all her rage drained away. Chained, beaten, broken, she could only stare in stunned silence. Her eyes fell upon Tam and Neekeya; her friends were standing among the crowd of Timandrians, hugging each other, their faces pale and their eyes wide. Neekeya was weeping and Tam was shouting something toward Madori, but she couldn't make out his words.
She raised her eyes. Upon the stage, rising from the crowd, stood Lari Serin. The princess pouted mockingly at Madori, drew a fake tear down her cheek, and waved.
The wagon passed under the archway, and the doors of Teel University slammed shut behind Madori, forever sealing its secrets, knowledge, and magic.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:
GLASS AND STRAW
Cam stood in the rocky field, military tents surrounding him, and stared dubiously at the contraption.
"Are you sure this will work?" he asked, hearing the doubt in his voice. "It looks a little . . . wilted."
The camp bustled around him: troops marching between tents, smoke rising from a hundred cooking fires, swordsmen drilling in the dust, archers shooting at straw targets, and squires polishing the armor of knights. They had been camped here at Hornsford for several turns now, guarding the bridge from Mageria. Even from here, a couple miles away, Cam could see the tip of Sunmotte Citadel upon the western horizon.
You muster there, Serin, he thought, grimacing. Twenty thousand of your troops drill for war. Soon you will try to cross Hornsford Bridge . . . and I'll be waiting.
He returned his eyes to the contraption that swayed in the fields before him. The two dojai—assassins and spies from the darkness of Eloria—called it a hot air balloon. To Cam it looked more like a giant, half-inflated sack of wine.
He turned toward the two dojai who stood beside him. One was small, no larger than a child, clad in tight black silk. Many daggers hung on belts across her chest, throwing stars were strapped to her legs, and her large Elorian eyes gleamed in the sunlight. The second stood seven feet tall, his chest broad as a barrel, his long white hair flowing in the wind. His eyes, though also large, were narrowed to mere slits, mimicking the line of his mouth. A massive katana, large as a spear, hung across his back.
"Oh, you silly king!" said Nitomi, the smaller of the pair. "Of course it's looking a little wilted. It's not inflated yet! Once inflated it'll be the size of ten elephants! If you skinned them, that is, and sewed their skin together into a balloon." She tapped her chin. "Do you think it would float though? You know, because elephant skin is really thick and wrinkly, and besides, I like elephants and wouldn't want to skin them. Do you have elephants in this army of yours? I want to ride one! I rode a panther here—you know, we have lots of those in Eloria—but an elephant! With the trunk and all. Do you think their trunks can hold a sword? I can try to train one, maybe a whole army of swordsman elephants—I mean, swordselephant elephants. I mean—"
Beside her, the giant dojai groaned and covered his ears. "Qato hurts."
Nitomi looked at her companion, then slapped her palm over her mouth. She spoke between her fingers. "I've gone and done it again, speaking too much. My mother always told me: Nitomi, your mouth will fall right off. I've never seen a mouth fall off before, but once I think I saw a lizard's tail fall off, and—"
"Nitomi!" Cam said, interrupting her. The only way to have a conversation with the little dojai was to interrupt a lot. "Focus. The hot air balloon. Are you sure you know how to fly it?"
Her face brightened. "Of course I do! I've seen loads of hot air balloons! I—"
"Seen?" Cam asked, grimacing.
She nodded, grinning, and hopped around. "Oh yes, I've seen many paintings of them!"
Cam groaned. "Paintings?"
Nitomi nodded again. "Oh, they're so beautiful. I used to look at them all the time as a little girl. I can't wait to be in one myself! Hey, Cam, do you know how to fly hot air balloons?"
He gripped his head. "Nitomi! Idar's beard! You're the dojai here. You're the Elorian. You're the one who brought the hot air balloon here all the way from Eloria. How would I know how to fly it?"
She placed her hands on her hips, raised her chin, and glared at him. "Well, you're a king. You should really know these spying th
ings, Camlin, especially since you intend to use this spy balloon to spy on the enemy. I mean, who do you think I am?"
"A spy!" he shouted. "Isn't that what dojai are? Spies and assassins?"
She looked down at her black silks, many daggers, throwing stars, and grapple, then back up at him. Her eyes widened. "A spy! That's what I am! Oh my, I did wonder why you brought me here. You know, I always thought dojai were just sort of sneaky and quick, but spying! That explains a lot." She turned toward Qato. "We're spies, Qato!"
The giant Elorian groaned. "Qato knows."
During the conversation, the hot air balloon had continued to inflate. The fire burned inside the basket, filling the balloon with more and more hot air. Soon the basket began to float, ropes tethering it to the ground.
Quick as a gazelle, Nitomi bounded into the basket and grinned. Qato followed, silent and grim; the basket dipped several inches, brushing the ground.
"Come on, silly!" Nitomi said, gesturing for Cam. "Step inside. We can't do all the spying for you."
Cam groaned. "That's the whole idea of me hiring spies."
Nitomi nodded vigorously. "And see? We brought you a hot air balloon. We've earned our keep. And I'm not flying without you! My mother always told me: Nitomi, if you ever meet a king, you can't fly off in a hot air balloon without him! Well, at least, I think she said that. She might have been talking about how I'm full of hot air, and how I'm not supposed to talk so much around a king, but I reckon I've already done a lot of that around you, so it's too late, and now you have to fly with me."
Cam couldn't argue with that logic. Sighing and rolling his eyes, he stepped into the basket and untethered the ropes.
The hot air balloon began to rise.
Cam leaned over the edge of the basket. Every foot ascended revealed more of their camp. The tents stretched out in rows. Between them, troops were drilling, sharpening swords, cooking meals, standing guard, and all awaiting the bloodshed. The balloon rose higher, revealing the edges of the camp: horses in corrals, palisades of sharpened logs, women washing clothes and pots in the river, engineers arguing over the construction of trebuchets, and dozens of supply wagons traveling along the road through the plains of Arden, bringing in supplies. Beyond the men rolled the vastness of the world: fields of swaying grass, hills speckled with boulders, copses of elms and birches, and the Red River flowing across the land.
Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4) Page 20