Blue Fire

by Amity Thompson

  “Tressa only,” Sylvia interrupted. “No ‘Lady.’”

  Jerroth grimaced, but his tone stayed perfectly polite. “Tressa means no offense, I am sure, but merely wonders why the Kyer allows a man disdained by Dragonsridge to hold a position of power. Wouldn’t that hamper Kyer relations with the capitol and with other branches of military?”

  Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. Sylvia’s sour expression changed to one of approval. She underlined the already-encircled Dragon. “A well-thought objection, and it highlights how draconian ways are counterintuitive to human. As the Seneschal operates entirely within the Kyer, the dragons believe Dragonsridge’s opinions do not matter. Shamino possesses the skills best for the position; he becomes Seneschal. The end.”

  A long pause. As the students exchanged incredulous whispers, I wondered. Did the Dragon Mages really forget their social ties? Could they? Everyone in the room was, like me, near sixteen years of age. Sixteen years of memory and training and life. Could they be forgotten?

  I knotted my fingers together in my lap. The Dragon Mages who’d been part of the Kyer for decades, maybe they’d ignore my faults. Those in this room? Not so much.

  Sylvia cleared her throat. “Moving along. Structure. There is no one in power below Shamino. All Dragon Mages are considered equals, and respect is gained from merit and involvement. The Kyer’s way of life is not dictated by blood, or wealth, or connections.”

  “My father sent me to a bunch of crazies,” the blond boy from before whispered to his seatmate. He slunk lower in his chair.

  Sylvia wrote Council of Elders across from Dragonmaster and Seneschal. “The dragons elect each Dragonmaster as they elect the Seneschal. Among themselves, dragons have no king. In fact, they select us a Dragonmaster only because they recognize the human need for authority. And some of you will be pleased to learn that they do consider Dragonridge’s opinion before appointing the Dragonmaster.”

  “There’s no order without rank,” a girl muttered. Loudly.

  “Trainees who cannot accept this will never find a dragon willing to bond.” Sylvia clapped her hands. “Time for our first exercise. Class, line up according to rank.”

  Everyone sorted themselves. There were no discussions, no disagreements. Tressa moved to one end of the room and Jerroth took the place beside her without hesitation. Paige, staring at the floor, went to the opposite end of the line.

  I stood separate, like an idiot. Eyes lingered on me. Baronets were low, so… the end? I slid between Paige and the wall.

  Paige pulled me to her other side.

  “But I’m a baronet,” I whispered in the silent room. Someone snickered. Tressa’s bracelet fell to the floor. Quiet laughter danced across her face as she scooped it up.

  Paige turned blotchy. She murmured, so quietly I could barely hear, “Please. Father is a fool, but I beg you do not deepen my humiliation.”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  Sylvia spoke before I could tell Paige that I truly didn’t understand. “Jerroth, Paige, you are now seatmates. Take the table at the front of the class. Tressa, Adara.”

  I shot Paige a look of apology, but she didn’t see it. Tressa’s face glowed with amusement as I took my seat.

  “You poor thing,” she murmured. She sounded sincere despite her amusement. “How remote you’ve been in the mountains. Don’t fret about Paige. She seems a meek mouse, but she has a venomous bite. And don’t worry about yourself. The others have already forgotten your blunder. See?”

  The other trainees were fixated on Sylvia trying to argue the now-irate blond boy into sitting beside a flushing girl.

  “Impossible, if you ask me, with their families’ feud.” Tressa didn’t go into details, but she did study my face. I tried not to squirm. The almost-haughty arch of her brow softened. “Oh, Threepines, you really don’t know anything, do you?”

  I looked away.

  Tressa’s hand, soft as calfskin, covered mine as she leaned in to whisper. “Tell you what. I know everyone and everything. I will take care of your education, for clearly it was neglected. Stay by me, and you will succeed.”

  I blinked. Could it be true? Tressa was offering to be my… friend? Tutor? What was she proposing? “Why help me?”

  “Why not?” Tressa leaned back with a shrug. “Mother says those in positions of power must help those less fortunate. Besides, I’ve taken an interest in you, Threepines—no. That will not do for a friend. Adara.”

  Warmth spread from her hand up my arm. Friend. My last friend had stood in line with the other villagers, urging me to leave before I set something else on fire and brought the nobles’ wrath on them all. If Tressa ever found out the truth… Honestly, I didn’t know what she could do. That scared me even more.

  But this is my chance. I can learn more from Tressa than from reading books. First One, I was terrified to hope for it, but maybe we’d end up as true friends.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. Tressa squeezed my hand, and for the first time that day, my anxiety faded.

  By now, the rest of the class had settled in their seats. The blond boy had stormed out, likely never to return.

  Sylvia resumed class, teaching about the Kyer’s egalitarian society. It took me half a Sphere to puzzle out the meaning of egalitarian, but my ignorance didn’t dim my hope. I had a friend.

  After class, only Paige left immediately. The others stayed, so I did as well. I kept close to Tressa. Everyone kept close to Tressa.

  “Goodness, I thought her condescending drone would never end,” Tressa said.

  Jerroth’s mouth twitched. Downward. “You shouldn’t speak of a teacher so.”

  Tressa drew a fan from her pocket and snapped it open. “On the contrary, in this ‘egalitarian’ utopia, I can speak of her however I please.”

  Light laughter from most of the others. I smiled, though I agreed with Jerroth.

  The hint of Jerroth’s frown became reality. The fan slid closed and Tressa put her hand on his arm. “While the Kyer’s ways are alluring, politics do not change because of a handful of dragons. Is it any wonder that the Kyer receives little respect?”

  “It’s prestigious enough,” Jerroth said.

  “Not at Dragonsridge.” Tressa tapped him with the fan. “And it controls the treasury.”

  Jerroth inclined his head.

  The conversation changed, and I tried to follow as best as I could. Then someone brushed my shoulder. “Threepines—isn’t that a holding in the Suldra mountains?”

  My stomach clenched. I’d really hoped I could listen in silence and not have a conversation of my own. “You’re Anastasi of…”

  The brunette smiled. “Riversbend.”

  “I’m sorry. I have a bad memory.” A nonexistent memory.

  Her smile widened. She was pretty, until that smile. Her teeth seemed to glint with a grin that huge. “Nothing to forgive! I was curious, however, how a mountain girl becomes so dark.”

  I clasped my hands behind my back. “Yes. Well. I love horses.”

  Thank you, Orrik.

  “Oh, I had hoped that was the case! Sometime we should go riding together in the valley.”

  I took a step backward, bumping into one of the tables. I’d seen many a donkey’s backside, but I’d never ridden one.

  Before I could respond, Tressa touched Anastasi’s arm. “Forgive me, Riversbend, but I need a word with Adara before she hurries to her next lesson.”

  Anastasi’s glinting smile dimmed as she bobbed and backed away. Tressa looped her arm in mine and gently steered me to the door.

  “Watch out for Riversbend,” she murmured in a low tone. “They’re a bunch of fortune-seeking opportunists. What did she ask you?”

  “To go horseback riding.”

  “Horseback?” Tressa halted, eyebrows raised. “Her? On a—Queen’s Jewels, I doubt she’s ever been on a horse. But clearly you have, and so she guessed, and… well.”

  I smiled. I hoped smiling was good.

&nbs
p; Tressa chuckled under her breath. “What a pretender. I wouldn’t be shocked if she suddenly started taking lessons. If she does, it only proves how desperate she is.”

  “To… ride with me?”

  All mirth vanished from Tressa’s face. “Oh dear, I never meant to imply that someone wouldn’t wish to spend time with you. But to ask you to go horseback riding? That’s not the order of things at Dragonsridge. Not for your first engagement. You see, Adara, she’s trying to use you. She’s already picked up that you’re my protégé. Don’t be offended. Be honored.”

  “Oh, I—I am. Very.” Tressa was allowed to call me her friend, but not Anastasi? And horseback riding was… bad?

  We had reached the door, and Tressa said a few goodbyes while keeping her hand on my arm. When the flow of people leaving lessened, she turned back to me. “Come to a gathering of mine on the twenty-ninth. The upstart will be there—rules say I must invite her—but I’ll introduce you to some people worth knowing. Don’t worry, you’ll learn the Game by-and-by.”

  She wanted me to go to a party. The last ten minutes had me hopelessly confused. How could I survive an entire evening?

  Tressa gave me a small squeeze. “Please?”

  It’ll be worse to offend her. I needed the Kyer to be my home. I needed to pass as a noble. So far, Tressa had been a forgiving teacher. “I’d love to.”

  Chapter Seven

  “The Dragonmaster’s returned!” Anastasi said as she joined our table in the dining hall.

  I’d become Tressa’s ‘sweet, quiet friend,’ so I sat with her at midday. By some strange calculation, Anastasi sat with us, too. Every meal, the gossip taught me—and confused me—as much as my tutors did.

  Tressa frowned at Anastasi’s announcement. “Where did you hear that?”

  Anastasi smirked and pointed across the room. “Overheard it just now.”

  Two women talked over their meal, hands waving with excitement, jewels flashing on their fingers and wrists. Dragon Mages. Sometimes jewelry was the only way I could tell noble from commoner at the Kyer. That and hairstyle. My scalp still ached from Tressa clawing loose my braid two days earlier. She’d threatened to cut it all off if I ever played such a joke again.

  “The Dragonmaster is here to scold the Seneschal,” Anastasi continued as she stabbed a piece of broccoli. “His handling of the wounded left much to be desired.”

  “Nonsense,” Jerroth said. “That occurred weeks ago. If the Dragonmaster had any such intentions, he would have chastised the Seneschal immediately. He certainly would not have allowed it to become gossip.”

  That ended the discussion. One, because Jerroth’s family had taken positions in the military for generations. He knew this sort of thing. Two, because whenever someone mentioned the Seneschal, Tressa looked as if she’d bitten into something rotten. Only Anastasi dared upset Tressa.

  A few minutes later, a boy wearing a red armband came to our table. He handed each of us a sealed envelope.

  “Ugh. This will be tedious,” Tressa murmured as she glanced at her letter.

  I opened mine: the Dragonmaster requested my presence so he could welcome me in person. There was no mention of my situation, and I suspected the words were identical to everyone else’s letter. A new flood of chatter began, but I didn’t listen. My stomach had grown heavy at the thought of meeting the man who’d given me so much. I excused myself.

  “Wait, Adara!” Anastasi hurried after me as I left the dining hall. “I’ll walk with you. I believe we live near each other.”

  I forced a smile. Tressa’s annoyance with the brunette made a lot of sense. As I worked the Transportation spell, Anastasi told me her opinion on pretty much everything.

  Which was great. My smile-and-nod strategy worked flawlessly with her. By the time we arrived at my door, I had said perhaps two words.

  “Oh dear,” Anastasi said as she frowned at the plaque by my door. “I thought you lived on level one.”

  “No. Level two.”

  “Ah well. Exercise is good for the complexion, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose.”

  Awkward pause. I bit my lip with dread. Was it rude if I didn’t invite her in? I had nothing fancier than water to offer. And if she saw my apartments… Anastasi always dressed nice, an echo of whatever Tressa had worn a few days earlier, and my shabby things would shock her.

  “Well, I need to study,” I said. I reached to fiddle with the end of my braid—no braid. I put my hand on the doorknob instead. “Because of the summons, you know. I usually study after midday, but the Dragonmaster wants to see me soon.”

  “Of course,” Anastasi said. “You and Jerroth, the studious ones of our little group. So determined! Ta-ta!”

  I waited for her to take a step. The magic caught her and I breathed a sigh of relief. The rooms in this hallway were meant for nobles, which meant they didn’t have physical locks. I didn’t want anyone to know I couldn’t use magic to lock my own door.

  I went inside and lit a few candles. The familiar orange glow relaxed my eyes. I took the candelabra to the sofa’s table and sat.

  I hadn’t lied. My history tutor wanted an essay on the bread riots of 503. But more than that, before I saw the Dragonmaster I needed magic.

  I wiped my palms on my breeches and glanced at the corner of my living room. I had half a Sphere. Half a Sphere to create Light… which should have been created my first day.

  Bonding won’t happen until after we finish the Kyer class. That’s weeks away. Surely the Dragonmaster can’t get rid of me until then.

  Right? Except Dragonmaster Merram had arranged all of this for a blue mage.

  I began with deep breaths, stilling my mind as Zoland had taught. I cupped my hands… and, like so many times before, my quiet mind began to babble. Duke So-and-So’s territory contains this baron’s, and when he married So-and-So… Last week, did you hear, this girl began to court this boy, it’s a scandal… And in 503 the Marquis of Elderdown raised taxes on wheat…

  “Sometimes, I do focus,” I told my hands. “I do. And yet, even then you’re empty.”

  The Time Sphere formed. I changed into a nicer, embroidered blue shirt with some black breeches. A quick glance at the waypoints in Mountain One—the ‘Public Mountain,’ everyone called it. Instead of apartments, it had gardens, a theater, rooms for entertaining, a fancy dining hall, ballrooms—all places I never went. And, of course, the Dragonmaster’s Quarters.

  His door was open when I arrived, revealing a foyer where red-banded children played a game on the floor. An older man sat behind a desk. As I approached, he consulted a large book. “Trainee Adara?”

  I nodded.

  The elderly man slowly stood and showed me to an adjoining room. Groups of maroon chairs clustered around small tables holding illustrated books. It clearly was a room to keep petitioners comfortable until the Dragonmaster could meet with them. The man poured me a glass of water from a crystal decanter in the room’s corner and asked me to have a seat.

  The glass shook in my hand as he returned to the foyer and shut the door. I took a sip; my mouth still felt dry. Any moment, the second-most-powerful man in Drageria would appear. Any moment, I’d meet the man who had given me my identity.

  Is there anything I can do for the Kyer to convince him to let me stay?

  On the walls, portraits frowned at the room. Each Dragonmaster’s eyes seemed to narrow as he or she examined the bastard halfblood. Blue or no, I had nothing to offer them. Not unless I could curl their painted edges with a well-aimed fireball.

  The door to the study swung open. I jumped so badly that my water sloshed all over the chair. “Pigsh—sho sorry, I’ll get a towel—”

  “Easy. It’ll dry.” The man in the doorway chuckled. “There are no dragons here to eat you, and they don’t mind a little water anyway.”

  I flushed as I turned—and blinked. I’d expected the Dragonmaster to be looming and, well, Orrik-like. Instead, he looked nice. Like, have-a-chat-while-sipping-a-w
arm-drink nice. White streaked his short brown hair, and his eyes were a soft hazel. I guessed him in his forties or fifties. He wore the Kyer uniform with an impressive amount of silver trim, but other than that…

  “I look better with a dragon behind me,” the man said, pointing. Sure enough, a fiercer version of him hung in the waiting room. Then he took a step backward. “Come in. And please, call me Merram, and leave out the bowing for today.”

  I nodded. My best skill.

  The Dragonmaster’s study also took me by surprise. It had the required massive desk and hard, wooden chairs. Glass shielded the contents of the bookcase, and dragon tapestries covered the walls. But piles of paper towered on the desk, threatening to topple off entirely, and the bookcase was missing enough books for the contents to lean this way and that.

  Merram patted one of the piles as we took our seats. “Your tutors speak highly of your efforts. They are appalled by your ignorance, of course, but you have exceeded my expectations. In most areas.”

  The rest lingered in the air, and I squirmed in my seat. “My magic.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve been trying, I really have—”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Merram held up a hand. “Zoland says you memorize everything he gives you, down to hand gestures. In fact, the cumulative reports of your instructors lead me to believe you are quite intelligent.” He paused, and something flashed across his face, some emotion I couldn’t quite catch. It wasn’t a good one. “The problem remains, however, that the only mages allowed at the Kyer are trainees, bonded, or spouses. You must figure this out, Adara.”

  This was a great opportunity for a grave nod. “If my Gift doesn’t work…”

  “You have two months to prevent that if.”

  I swallowed. “I understand.”

  Some of the severe lines on his forehead softened. “Zoland says he has a few more ideas to try, so let’s stay positive. And to relieve you of some stress, I’ve adjusted your schedule. Dancing can be learned later. Same with history. We need you in the present. Here’s a complete list.”