“Some of you may be wondering why manipulating instructors for evening training time is such a dire sin. I’m afraid the time has come for full disclosure on the danger of further attacks.” Master witten Oost sighed and let his head droop for a moment. “It both frightens and pains me to have to make this announcement, but I feel the time is right. I ask that you let the knowledge it imparts color your opinion of this hex’s seemingly minor infraction. The attacks that have occurred at the edges of this campus have been the result of a crazed anima caster.”
Pandemonium erupted among the audience. Some people screamed. Others shouted—some at each other, some at the headmaster himself.
Taban tapped Bayan’s shoulder. “And why aren’t you worried, then?” he whispered.
Bayan just shot him a glance that promised more information later. If there’s going to be a later.
The headmaster eventually calmed the room and regained control of the conversation. “Do you see, now, why I am so concerned for this hex’s misguided dedication to their training? We could have lost six good duelists last night—an entire hex, dead—because of their carelessness. Now, I ask you, what must be done? How can we convince them, convince the campus, that such self-guided classwork is to be avoided at all costs?”
Taban nudged Bayan aside and stepped forward. His dark eyes locked onto the headmaster. “Listen here, you,” he began. Bayan cringed at his cavalier tone. “I just got to this hex, and I’ll be knocked if I’ll let you tear it down and boot me out for one night’s indiscretion in the face of a danger I didn’t know about. All we were doing was practicing for our Avatar exam. You know as well as I do that this hex has shown constant improvement since they passed their Elemental exams last winter. If extra practice is what it takes to make Avatar, I’m there, boyo, anima casters in the hills or no.”
Taban paced the edge of the circular dais and spoke to the rapt audience. “I’m not afraid of the enemy. I’m not afraid of his magic. I’m an Elemental Duelist, and I’ll fight anyone who tries to invade my campus. With these lollygagging oafs as my hexmates, we can stop anyone. I dare you to find me an anima caster who can take on all six of us! I dare you!”
A stunned silence greeted Taban’s angry challenge. Bayan felt warm pride filling his chest and knew, at last, that his newest hexmate was where he belonged.
But Master witten Oost wasn’t finished. Turning his gaze on Taban, he stepped up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m afraid, son, that your hexmates haven’t been fully honest with you. And for your sake, that’s a good thing.”
The warmth in Bayan’s chest fled, replaced by an old memory and a sudden fear. Long ago, Master witten Oost had divined Bayan’s inherent Savantism. He was the only one who knew. Master witten Oost had given Bayan tacit approval for his condition, and in his subsequent relief, Bayan had forgotten all about the exchange. The cautious look Taban shot him brought back a rush of guilt.
The master’s eyes glittered at Bayan. “You see, I’m afraid that four of these six students have been doing far more than merely practicing their spells as they prepare for their Avatar exams. No, they’ve stumbled upon a dangerous, potentially lethal method they believe will amplify their chances of success. Isn’t that true, Bayan? You’ve been treading a dark and dangerous path. I’m surprised you’ve all survived this long, to be honest.”
Turning to his breathless audience, he spoke a single word. “Savantism.”
Again, the watching duelists and staff broke into demands and cries, standing, gesturing, begging for understanding. How could Bayan and his hexmates embrace such a wild and dangerous method? Surely they knew they could have killed one another, or other students, at any moment!
“Such a pity,” Master witten Oost murmured to Bayan. “All that love and adoration. All your young, trusting fans. All your proud people back home in Balanganam. The emperor himself, who went out into the unknown on your suggestion to include more students on campus. You’ve gone and betrayed them all. You bonded your precious, pure magic, your rare gift, to a tainted emotion. They’ll never believe in you again, Bayan. You’ve broken their hearts. You’ve ruined their faith. You’ve made the emperor look foolish in the eyes of his entire empire. There is no forgiveness for that.”
Bayan had been gritting his teeth more and more tightly as Master witten Oost spoke, a last-bid effort to keep his rage under control. He decided he couldn’t care about following the rules anymore. Not when his hexmates’ future lay on the line.
Bayan turned his furious gaze on the smug, plump teacher beside him. “I don’t need your forgiveness! I didn’t ask your permission. You’re not my father! I did this for my hexmates. We did this together! And it’s worked. It’s worked! We’re all Duelists Savant now. Test any one of us. Do it!”
Master witten Oost’s hand rose. Bayan couldn’t shake the seemingly irrational impression that the man was going to attack him. Before he could stop himself, Bayan launched through his invocations with a furious blast of blue mist and summoned a whirlwind that surrounded his entire hex, protecting them from the rest of the room.
“Bayan! What in sints are you doing?” Kiwani yelled over the roar.
Bayan couldn’t look away from Master witten Oost’s hard gaze on the other side of the whirling air. He let his anger bleed out into the spell, turning the wind dark as night.
“Aye, wonderful. Now we canna see,” Calder complained.
“Bayan, maybe you should stop,” Tarin called. “We’ll only get in more trouble.”
Bayan’s mind scrambled for the next step to his plan. Before he could come up with it, his spell vanished, leaving him and his hexmates unprotected from the shocked and angry gazes of the room.
“That’s enough, Bayan,” Master witten Oost said. “Fighting me will only make things worse for you. Now, did you or did you not employ Savantism in your training sessions?”
“We did.” Bayan met witten Oost’s eyes with a cool stare. “Except for Taban.”
“And whose idea was this? Which of you masterminded this epically myopic venture?”
Taban stepped forward with a smirk. “You know I’d love to claim this one, Master, but Bayan already outed me as a newnik.”
“It was me,” Bayan said, before anyone else could leap to his defense. “My idea. You know I’m a Duelist Savant. You’ve known it for a year. I just wanted to share the benefits of my gift with my hexmates.” Bayan winced as the admission flew from his lips. He knew from past experience that the instructors were practically itching to throw any discovered Duelists Savant from campus, terrified they’d kill other qualified duelists. Better that it be only him instead of his entire hex.
Master witten Oost stood tall in triumph. “Then let us pass sentence on this hex, and on its ringleader, for his wanton endangerment of his hexmates, in more ways than even he could conceive.”
Bayan waited, holding his breath. Kiwani squeezed his hand, eyes locked on the headmaster.
“Tarin Hajellis, Calder Micarron, Taban Solahan, Kiwani t’Eshkin, and Eward Raalgat: you are hereby held to barracks. Meals will be brought to you. You will be thoroughly tested by the instructors for signs of Savantism. If you are found to be free of wild magic, then you will be allowed to test for Avatar Duelist status.”
Bayan’s hexmates breathed sighs of relief, even sharing hugs. Bayan had rarely felt so alone in his life. Master witten Oost turned his head to Bayan. His eyes were merciless.
“Oh, no,” Kiwani breathed.
“Bayan Lualhati, Hero of the Kheerzaal. What do we do with you?”
Bayan gritted his teeth again at the headmaster’s mock-injured tone.
The hatred in Master witten Oost’s eyes retreated. “I propose mercy. Let us wait to decide Bayan’s fate. For indeed, the status of his hexmates’ magic is deeply in question, and the extent to which their magic may have been poisoned lies directly on Bayan’s shoulders, and should be taken into account with his punishment. Bayan shall remain in a cold house
until such time as his hexmates have been evaluated and the damage done by his actions can be fully explored.
“Teachers and instructors, I ask that you tell your classes to avoid contact with the four hexmates who have admitted to this reckless, selfish interest in Savantism, for their own safety.”
“There it is,” Kiwani muttered.
“What?” Tarin asked.
“Everyone will know soon. Our reputations are about to get massacred.”
Master witten Oost waved the elemental instructors forward. The six teachers, wearing expressions ranging from chagrin to shame to anger for their part in the debacle, separated Bayan from his hexmates and escorted him toward the edge of the dais. Bayan noted wryly that Master witten Oost had said nothing about meals being brought to him in the cold house.
He knew his hexmates would perform well during their Avatar exams without him—except possibly Tarin. He glanced around to see if Kipri was in attendance, but couldn’t find the eunuch’s pompadour amongst the many hairstyles. He was likely the only one who could help Tarin focus.
Bayan reached the edge of the dais, surrounded by his instructors. Something small crunched under his foot. Puzzled, he managed a quick glance back, looking between two of his escorts at the surface of the dais for the object he had crushed.
It was a nutshell.
Old Magic Made New
Taban couldn’t believe his luck. His new hexmates had found a way to force Savantism, and no one had even noticed! Despite the Master’s doubts that any of them would prove fit for testing, Taban had an odd faith that they’d all be declared ready. He’d been in the midst of their Savantism for hours last night, as well as several nights previously, and he hadn’t noticed anything other than dedicated focus and truly impressive spell results. If they’d been at this for a while, as he believed they had, there had been ample time for them to implode or kill someone, yet no one—not himself, nor any other Avatar students, not even the instructors—had found their magic to be anything short of dramatically impressive.
He wanted in.
No one had excluded him from attending his new hexmates’ Savantism testing, so he bribed his way into the Wind Arena, trading some Aeolian perfume from a merchant in Peace Village to Instructor Wekshi for passage into the restricted test. She wouldn’t meet his eyes as he slipped past her, but her expression told him she was more likely to be on Bayan’s side than Master witten Oost’s.
Once inside, he made his way to the waiting area next to the arena’s inner archway. He saw Kiwani, Eward, and Calder staring toward the pebbled arena floor. He slipped in next to Kiwani. “Tarin’s turn?”
“Yes. Shh.” Booms and shocks erupted within, where Tarin flung roots, lightning and ice chunks in quick succession.
“If she canna pull this off… ” Calder began.
“She’s gotten her magic to start up, at least.” Eward’s sentiment seemed hopeful, but he wore an uncharacteristic look of doubt.
“Stop that.” Kiwani slapped his arm. “She’s doing fine, and you will too. I took care of it.”
“Shh.” Calder’s expression made Taban wonder if he’d been forced to eat a dozen lemons.
“Don’t give me that look,” Kiwani retorted. “It needed to happen, and it’s working.”
“But what’s it gonna do to your focus?” Calder asked. “There’s a reason she never asked any of us before.”
“This is different. This needed to happen, or the hex breaks. Your fear is exactly why I didn’t want you doing it. Look at you. Eward could have done it and been fine, but—no offense, Eward—Tarin’s a very competitive duelist, and so am I. She needed someone who could match her intensity. I stepped up. It’s done. Let’s focus on getting past this test, so we can take the one that matters.”
Taban squinted at her. “Did you do what I think you’re saying you did?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Aye.”
“No,” Kiwani repeated, glaring at Calder and Eward.
“Not why I came, though,” Taban said. “Kiwani, I want you to teach me what you’ve been doing. What you’ve really been doing.”
Kiwani’s focused gaze pinned him. “Are you mad?”
“Aye, like a fox. You’ve already been caught for it, and you’re not being booted from campus. I’m willing to buy into that if it’s going to make my magic that much stronger, the way it did yours.”
Kiwani stared at him. Her jaw worked, but no sound came out.
“He knows, Kiwani,” Eward said. “Might as well tell him.”
“He doesn’t know anything. He’s just fishing.”
Kiwani looked away, but Taban met Eward’s eyes, and the quiet duelist gave him a quick nod. Taban suppressed his grin and turned to greet Tarin as she jogged in, sweating and panting, from the arena. Her face was wreathed in an enormous smile.
“I did it! Did you see? Of course you did. I made it! They’re letting me take the Avatar test!” She threw her arms around Kiwani, who squawked in unladylike fashion as Tarin nearly bowled her over in excitement. “Thank you, Kiwani. Thank you. I won’t make you do it before the Avatar test, though. I know what I need to do, and I’ll do it.”
“Eward, you’re next,” came Instructor Staasen’s voice.
Taban wished him luck. Anything to get closer to that secret power he held. Anything to get him to share it.
~~~
That night, Calder had a private tutoring session with Master witten Oost, which left Taban and Eward alone in their room. As soon as the other Dunfarroghan left, Taban abandoned all pretense of studying Avatar forms at his desk.
“Listen, Eward. I know you’re cautious about me. I understand that, especially now that I know what you’ve been hiding from the world. But doesna my willingness to be in just as much trouble as you are say something about my dedication to this hex? If you all pass the Avatar test—now that you’ve permission to take it—and I don’t, what will you think of your caution then? You have to bring me in, whether you want to or not. There’s no risk anymore. Everyone knows your secret, and you’re already being punished for it. You need me, and I need you, if we’re going to make Avatar together.”
Eward pursed his lips. “You’re a greedy bastard. A self-serving liar. Bayan only brought you into the hex because he needed something you had. Just a trade. Why should I call you my hexmate?”
Taban recognized the testing tone in Eward’s voice. “I am a greedy, self-serving, lying bastard. But I’m your greedy, self-serving, lying bastard. It’s in my best interest to get this hex as far as it can go. I’m in it. My future is your future as long as we’re on this campus. I see that. Do you?”
Eward gave him a reluctant grin. “I have to. My Savant emotion is hope.”
“Your what, now?”
Eward explained the fundamental procedure of creating a Duelist Savant from a mere duelist and told Taban he’d need to look inside himself for the emotion that drove him the hardest. Bonding his magic to that emotion, one spell at a time, was all there was to forcing Savantism.
Taban frowned in suspicion. “It’s that easy?”
Eward grinned. “It’s not easy at all. It’s just simple. You must hold to your emotion despite the magic. Force them together. They don’t want to unify, but that’s the whole point. You must take control of yourself, of your emotion, of your magic. Savantism is making the weak and dangerous parts of yourself into the strongest, most powerful parts.”
Understanding washed through Taban, leaving him chilled but energized. He’d been doing that nearly his whole life, beating his fear into crazed excitement, his shame into pride. He had made himself the man he was through hard work and sheer will. Taming his desire to be in control by controlling his magic and his emotions at the same time sounded like a delightful challenge.
He rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Where do I start?”
~~~
Bayan’s stomach growled again, louder and more painfully than it had all day.
He grumbled under his breath, not wanting to waste precious moisture talking to himself. The instructors had installed him in a cold house—luckily, it had been one of the close batch, and nowhere near Treinfhir’s hideout—and left. No one had visited all day. No water, no food. He had come to realize during the day how much Treinfhir had depended on the kindness of his hex. He hoped that Eward or Kiwani still took the outlander something to eat.
Bayan sat in the faint light of the moon that shone through the small round window next to the door. The stove shed its relative warmth on one side of him. He’d managed to kindle its fire with the flint and iron tucked behind the stovepipe, but he wasn’t sure his wood supply would last the night. He eyed the rumpled pile of bedding on the straw and rope cot. Tired of sitting in the chair, he stood and shook out the blanket, flicking bits of straw and a few small insects around the room.
Settling the blanket onto the low mattress, Bayan hunted down one of the bugs. He found a beetle, fat and black, with red under its wings. As soon as he knew it had seen him, he performed the anima bonding motion Treinfhir had taught him, and the tiny insect responded, letting Bayan into its senses. Bayan grinned. It was good to have some company. He let the creature climb onto his warm palm and lifted it up to eye level. The insect turned to him, antennae waving. A faint sense of not-predator emanated from its tiny nerve bundle of a brain.
“At least someone still trusts me,” he murmured. “I don’t suppose you can find me some water out there? No, probably not.” While Bayan had learned a few basic motions and defense spells, Treinfhir hadn’t yet taught him any non-instinctual animal spells. Even if the beetle could find water, the creature wouldn’t know how to bring it back to Bayan, even in magnified spell form, and Bayan couldn’t help it understand what he wanted.
Traitor Savant (Second Seal of the Duelists) Page 22