Clisantha sipped her wine to avoid looking at him. Her hatred of him deepened, with every breath she inhaled.
“And there’s one other thing. At the same time you announce that you will giving me the business, you will also announce our engagement.”
“What!” Clisantha stood up.
“Sit down,” Telmar ordered.
“There is no way I would marry you,” Clisantha snarled, her insides twisting with disgust.
Telmar rose. “You will marry me, Clisantha, or you will suffer the decline of your reputation.”
“Then I will suffer it,” Clisantha hissed.
“You would prefer to be humiliated?” Telmar threw back at her. “You would prefer for your downfall to overshadow your achievements? You want people to look at you like some shallow scut or laugh at your attempts to do business? You wouldn’t remain part of the peerage, Clisantha. You wouldn’t be able to buy seats, let alone tables, or consult on affairs or champion products at the gallery. You’d be a disgrace. At least as my wife you will retain your status and the business will be… in the family.”
Clisantha clenched her fists. “You’re already married.”
“We’re about to start divorce proceedings.”
“Why?” Clisantha exclaimed. “Just so you can marry me? So you can take my business and inflict a personal suffering on me? Why?”
Telmar lowered to his seat and picked up his glass again. “When I was a younger man it was incredibly difficult to become a lord, more so than now. It required two years of study to pass the theoretical and practical examinations and at least three years shadowing a ward-owning magien. The magien I shadowed didn’t have any interest in me or respect for me, even though I scored high in the examinations. He didn’t allow me to do anything on the land. Not check crop variety or collect soil samples, check the animals or even speak to the serf family. He told me to stay in the hjuy with no explanation. When I questioned him, he told me he had seen the way I treated my mother and the other lords-in-training and that nothing I would learn would make me into the kind of person needed to manage serf families. He told me that he wanted no part in my training and no part in my success. When the end of the first year came, I knew almost nothing about looking after a ward and I failed. He had written me a report so scathing, I couldn’t train again for five years and that was after persuading all the other lords to my cause.” He sipped his wine. “I swore that I would find a way to repay his exquisite kindness and the opportunity arose first with his wife, and now,” he gestured to Clisantha, “his daughter.”
Clisantha crossed her arms. She expected that Father may have some enemies, but she had not been able to identify any when she came to Torak. “My mother may have chosen to marry you but I will not.”
“Do you think Orna wanted to wed me?” Telmar laughed. “No, no. I had to make myself the only viable option for marriage and then threaten her with ruin. With you, it’s easier because you’re so ambitious.”
So Orna didn’t think it important enough to share the information. “So that’s why you’ve been so keen to offer your advice and help.”
Telmar grinned, drained his wine glass and stood up. “I will be officially divorced in a matter of months and I expect you to announce immediately after. If you refuse you know what will happen.”
He put his wine glass on the short-table and walked to the door.
Clisantha stood, her arms crossed watching him, a ball of anger and hate ricocheting around her chest. He turned at the door.
“As you have no children, there will be no need to keep this house once you move in with me. The furniture can be processed through the business.” He grinned at her, eyes running over her body as he let himself out.
Fourteen
“As soon as you rise high enough you’ll feel a slight groove in the air. That’s one of the channels in which you can travel in the Academy.”
Nemma pulled herself into the air and almost lost her balance, as did Heleyna, Deron and a few of the other scholars. Stilling her mind, she pulled on the energy from the earth and directed it into her platform to steady it.
Terris floated over. “Are you alright?” He had started to grow his chestnut hair in an effort to braid it, and today he had managed to tie it back into a tiny messy ponytail.
Nemma nodded, rising higher and feeling her platform lock into an invisible groove a few feet from the ground. She glided forward and found that the channel kept her on a secure path, she no longer dipped or wobbled in the air. She turned and curved round in a different direction and the channel continued to keep her steady.
Terris locked into the channel and kept pace with Nemma, weaving around the other scholars in the training grounds drifting on their own platforms.
“As we are in the training grounds, the first channel you come across is low,” Govenyth Fabron continued. “The next one up is the minimum height at which you can travel around the Arc.” He rose from the first channel higher into the air, turning to face the many scholars. His blue robes twirled and settled around him as he continued to talk. “There are channels at various heights but the higher you go the more energy it takes to maintain your platform. The best way to keep it strong is to draw energy from the earth and feed it into the platform.”
“Let’s go higher,” Terris suggested, as other scholars rose up.
“You go ahead,” Nemma called, pulling out of the channel and lowering to inches from the ground. She paused, watching the almost see-through sheet of glistening light under her feet shift from a pale golden blue to a pale gold-green. The platform was the most interesting thing she had learned so far. She could feel her weight on the energy that she had created but it was light and almost as though it did not exist.
She released the platform and landed on the ground with a thump.
The training grounds surrounded a part of the Academy and consisted of sweeping open spaces framed by a tall lattice brick wall. Strolling over to the benches on the far side of the grounds, Nemma watched the other scholars rising higher into the air, their gray robes blowing out behind them as they picked up speed, becoming more confident. Now that she had gotten used to accessing her Gift, the sensations didn’t seem as overwhelming as the first time she experienced it. The air in the training grounds hummed with vibrations but Othmar explained that the vibrations tended to be stronger when first accessing the Gift. Now they felt mild, almost comfortable, like being rocked to sleep. Two scholars sped past, racing the length of the grounds and a moment later Govenyth Fabron shot over her head after them. She watched him berate the girls as they sulkily dropped down to the lower channel.
“Isa.” Terris ran up behind her and fell in step. “I know you have a… troubled… energy release. But you can’t keep on giving up on tasks so easily.”
Nemma shrugged. “I’m not giving up. I just didn’t want to go higher.”
“But you will have to travel higher in the Arc. It’s something we all just have to learn. We can’t choose not to take part. You have to be positive about your abilities.” He smiled at her.
Nemma knew he was trying to be encouraging, but he would never truly understand. “Thank you Terris but I don’t want you to concern yourself with my problems.”
Terris smoothed back loosened strands of his hair. “We’re all training together, Isa. We’re supposed to concern ourselves with each others’ problems. Remember what Puryth Mayea said?”
Nemma glanced at him. “Do you always do what you’re told?”
Terris hesitated. “All of our instructions come from the Sovereign, even if indirectly.”
They arrived at a bench and sat down. The scholars were moving further around the training grounds at different heights. They watched Deron wobble up to the higher channel, his brow knitted and arms held out to maintain his balance. He swooped to the far end of the grounds to catch up with Haleyna and Syra.
“You can go and join them, Terris,” Nemma said, softly. “I’m fine.”
Terris leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and entwined his fingers into a clasp. “Where did you live in the fourth quarter?”
Nemma sighed. “Does it matter?”
“No of course not, but... I wonder why you choose not to make friends. Is it something you do to protect yourself? Or something you don’t realize you are doing?”
“Maybe it’s because I don’t belong here.”
He rose upright to look at her. “You’re Giftborn, Isa. There is nowhere else you belong. I know you may have had friends and family in the city but the Gift makes you part of a bigger family.”
Nemma looked down at her hands.
“Listen,” Terris began. “You don’t have a true understanding of what it’s like in the Arc. Even though it’s technically part of Torak, it’s like a smaller city within a city. No one leaves unless they have wards to visit and people have to rely on each other. There’s a closer connection between magiens as a result of the disjointed family units. Those of us that train together will most likely know each other for the rest of our lives.”
“There’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to get by in the Arc with my ability. They may send me back to the city.”
Terris leaned forward on his elbows again. “Is that what the Puryth that examined you said?”
“Well… no but I don’t see what use I can be if my Gift is defective.”
“But you don’t know what you can do unless you make an effort,” Terris pressed. “Do you know what will happen if you don’t pass your training?”
Nemma shook her head.
“They will keep you at the Academy until the next training starts, which could be in a week or in eight months, and you’ll have to do it again. The Law is clear, all Giftborn must receive proper training.” He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to be stuck here forever, do you?”
Nemma thought about Puryth Mayea’s promise that she could leave after her training, but the longer she stayed in the Academy the more there was a chance of them finding out who she was.
She watched Govenyth Fabron gathering the scholars together. Although he was as fair as a Hanwyan, his rich, deep ruby hair made him very interesting to look at. Some of the older girl scholars giggled and acted childishly in his training sessions. Nemma had never seen anyone with red hair before. The Arc had such a mix of people that resided there, different skin colors, different hair colors. Everyone seemed to celebrate their own differences, talking at length about where they were from or how they care for their hair, skin, clothes... It was such a drastic difference to the Ryim or indeed Torak, and Nemma found she was glad for it. Here she did not stand out.
Govenyth Fabron looked over towards Nemma and Terris and beckoned them over. Nemma stood up but Terris grabbed her wrist.
“Isa,” he said, standing, “It’s worth trying hard even if it’s just to make sure you don’t remain here when the rest of us go. Dwelling in the past won’t help you to adjust.”
Nemma looked at him. That is what Mayea had said. Had Terris been told to spy on her? She pulled her wrist from his hand and headed back to the group.
***
Over the next few weeks Nemma tried to make more of an effort to talk to more people in the group so she would not have to speak to Terris too often. In Medics, she worked with Palyon, an older boy with floppy blond hair who secretly wanted to become a Puryth but knew it was a path mostly chosen by females. In Creativity she attempted to learn the flute with Terly, a young Osrenese boy. In Navigation, she raced Deron and Syra around the training grounds, receiving a harsh scolding from Govenyth Fabron once he caught up with her. Even though he grounded her for a week, the rest of the scholars congratulated her as soon as he was out of earshot and she found herself laughing along with them at Syra’s barely concealed tantrum.
In Sovereignity, she was paired with a Fayoran girl called Kamya. After sorting the relevant facts about the Sovereign into true and false piles, Kamya turned to her, confused. “How did you learn to read in the fourth quarter?”
“My parents taught me,” Nemma answered, cautiously. The other scholars happily talked about themselves often but when they asked questions she tried to stick to the truth as much as possible.
Kamya nodded. Her skin was a dusky cream color, a little lighter than Nemma and she spoke with a prolonged sound in many of her words. ”So your parents were not from the fourth quarter? They couldn’t have been if they spoke properly and were able to teach you to read.”
Before Nemma could answer, Govenyth Entora called their attention to the front of the study room. She was an animated trainer who managed to interest the class just from her own enthusiasm.
“So tell me the first five facts that you know are true,” she called out, gesturing with her arms.
As the other scholars called out their answers, Nemma thought back to her childhood. Mother and Father had not spoken much about their life before the Ryim but it had always been clear they were not like the other people that lived there. They said they grew up separately in the Western Realm and fell in love at the Hannaw/Osrien border but that was all she knew. She had no idea how they came to be in the Ryim.
“The Sovereign can travel anywhere in the Realms almost instantaneously,” called Kamya.
“Yes!” Entora cried, pointing at Kamya and throwing a spark of blue energy into the air. “Two more!”
Nemma thought back to the night before she left the hut without permission. Father had talked about leaving the Ryim. And they had mentioned friends—they had never talked about friends before. She had tried so hard not to think about that night and now she couldn’t remember much about it.
“The Gift is the Sovereign’s reward to those of a pure heart,” another called out.
“Yes!” Entora exclaimed sending another spark in the direction of the speaker. “We’re all special to have received this Gift from the Sovereign.” She walked to the center of the study room. “That’s not to say that our friends and family who aren’t Giftborn are not pure of heart, it just means we have been called into service.”
Nemma barely listened to her as she continued. She had no interest in the Sovereign and his callings. It was a lie. The Thaide that had attacked her and her family were not pure of heart. Her family was killed because the Thaide were annoyed to be out in the Ryim.
After lunch they were led to a huge circular building in the center of the Academy that they had never entered before. It had been avoided during their tour and no one had mentioned it much. It looked plain on the outside with smooth ash walls. Inside seemed like a shell. It was a huge round tall tube with dark gray walls and the ceiling was missing. They could see the blue sky high above them. Nemma’s feet sunk into the spongy floor and a faint burning smell hung in the air, almost like the poa stones when they burned too long. The whole group hushed, quietened by the new environment. They were tiny in the large space.
“This is combat training,” Syra exclaimed in an excited whisper. Gasps and exclamations tittered around the group.
“How do you know?” whispered Haleyna. Since the day they gained control of their Gift the two had become inseparable, giggling and whispering, wearing the same hairstyle and sitting next to each other. Innogen guessed they were probably very similar, which was why they argued on the first day. Nemma found it fascinating.
“I heard about it,” Syra replied, staring around the hall in wonder. “Father is a top-rank magien, remem—”
A tall man in a white cloak with blue swirls entered and walked to the center of the space. His dark brown hair was tied back into one and a beard shaped into a semi-circle prevented his thin and angular face from appearing too harsh, but his expression was stern.
Nemma’s skin prickled as her Gift came alive involuntarily. The Thaide looked at her and she took a tiny step back, her heart in her mouth. He was the first Thaide she had seen since entering the Arc.
“Circle,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.
Nemma took a few deep breaths
as she and the other scholars made a circle surrounding him and a few long moments passed as he turned, rotating to face each person in the group.
“The kind of combat training you get here is for you to understand how to use the Gift in different ways.” He rotated around the group, all eyes transfixed on him. “Unless you become a Thaide there will be little reason for you ever to use any of these techniques. They’re not to be used to attack or hurt anyone. That’s against Sovereign Law. Is that clear?”
The group nodded.
“I understand you have started platform training.”
The group nodded again.
“The Gift is the ability to manipulate the energy of other things, through the use of your own energy. Tell me what energy you use to create a platform.” The Thaide stopped in front of a slim girl called Ioh.
She gulped and her cheeks reddened. After collecting herself for a moment she answered “Earth energy.”
“Why?”
This time she answered straight away. “Because it’s a stable energy and it helps the platform to stay intact so it can take weight.”
The Thaide nodded and continued rotating. “However, Earth energy is difficult to manipulate to use in combat. So Thaide draw energy from the air. Air energy is flexible and quick and easy to manage.”
He stopped in front of Terris, who straightened. “With that in mind, what do you think can be the challenges of using air energy?”
“It can be uncontrollable,” Terris said.
The Thaide nodded again and continued turning. “We will start with learning how to create a shield.” He swooshed into the air on a platform and some of the scholars stepped back in surprise.
“Access the Gift,” he said, looking down upon them.
A series of vibrations materialized in the hall.
“Now pull energy from the air around you to create a ball of energy in front of you, don’t focus on the ground.”
Deviants of Giftborn (The Etherya Series Book 1) Page 20