Rebel Elements (Seals of the Duelists)

by Giacomo, Jasmine

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, we’ll need to fish it all out. This much of anything could overwhelm her. I hope it’s not dirt; this soil isn’t healthy for her without the right additives.” He left the greenhouse and found a thick Y-shaped twig on a dormant, leafless shrub and snapped it off. Back inside the glassed structure, Bayan slid the stick along the inner edge of the pitcher and hooked a stringy fragment of its contents. Both he and Calder stared in fascinated disgust at what he lifted from Bituin’s pitcher.

  Bayan tipped his head, examining the stringy substance. “That’s meat.”

  Calder glanced at all the overstuffed pitchers. “That’s a lot of meat. Someone doing a good deed and feeding the plant for us?”

  Bayan pursed his lips in doubt. “Most students know how much to feed her by now. Something else is going on.”

  The messy work began. The pile of half-digested meat next to Bituin’s stalk grew bigger as the pair emptied out her pitchers with slotted spoons borrowed from the kitchens. But as Calder fished for meat chunks in Bituin’s uppermost pitcher, with one foot braced on the wall and one on Bayan’s shoulder, he found an unexpected item. He drew it out and let it dangle for Bayan to see.

  “The missing attacker… did he wear a braided leather belt?”

  The Hexbird’s Prize

  Doc Theo nudged the partially digested meat on his desk with the end of his quill. “You say Bituin’s pitchers were all stuffed with this?”

  Bayan nodded. “That’s right. We pulled about half a man’s weight out of her.”

  Doc Theo frowned at the reference.

  Calder stepped forward and handed Doc a worn length of braided leather. “We also found that.”

  The chanter picked it up and examined it. “A belt?”

  Bayan cleared his throat and perched on the edge of Doc Theo’s desk. “We were wondering, Doc. Could you test this and see if it’s—if it used to be—a person?”

  The chanter studied Bayan with a sober look, then observed the scrap of meat again. “You think this is the missing attacker?”

  “The man I fought wore a braided belt like this one. Then he vanished. Somewhere during that night, he died. Maybe someone thought feeding pieces of his remains to Bituin would be a good way to get rid of the body.”

  “Did you get a good look at the man?”

  “He was a blond Akrestoi villager. I’ve seen him sitting in on our training classes.”

  “Blond Akrestoi narrows it nicely.” He selected his Northern Common crystal. “Now,” he continued, holding the crystal over the strip of meat, “I hain’t tried anything like this before, so I cain’t say it’ll work. This meat’s been stewing in Bituin’s digestive sap for at least a day.”

  He began to chant. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the meat began to subtly freshen.

  “Bhattara,” Bayan breathed, gulping. His stomach rebelled against the idea that people were acceptable seerwine pitcher food.

  Calder stepped back from the desk and turned his head. “That’s the nastiest thing I’ve seen all year.”

  “Worse than Eward’s stinky smallclothes after Bean Stew Night?” Bayan asked.

  “Well, maybe not quite that bad.”

  “Is there any way to tell who this used to be?” Bayan asked Doc Theo.

  The man shook his head. “Not even if you brought all the meat from Bituin’s pitchers. Where did you put it?”

  “In a rubbish barrel we borrowed from the kitchens.”

  “Take it to the headmaster. No dawdling. I’ll show him this healed bit, too. And I’ll check with the Village, see if they’re missin’ any villagers.”

  “Thank you.”

  Calder and Bayan left the Chantery and headed back through the big tunnel toward the dining center and kitchens. When they arrived back at the glasshouse, however, they couldn’t find the barrel they’d filled with partially-digested human flesh. They checked with the cooks, but none of them had seen it, either. They searched for it in several unlikely places, but eventually gave up and returned to the glasshouse.

  “I don’t believe it. We lost a dead man.”

  Calder swore under his breath. “That’s the second time he’s gotten away. The dead shouldna be allowed to cheat like that.”

  Bayan had a worrisome thought. He tugged Calder’s arm, drawing him close as he walked away from the glasshouse.

  “Someone is hiding something.”

  “You mean besides a mostly digested body?”

  “Someone probably killed him on the mountain, and now they’ve noticed that we discovered their method of disposing of the body, so they’ve stolen that evidence, too. We still have no way to prove that he ever existed.”

  “Well, you’ve got that pendant of surpassing boringness. But don’t forget what Doc—”

  “Hsst. Not here.” Bayan glanced around in suspicion.

  Soon, the pair met up with their hexmates at the Wood Arena, but Kiwani had not come.

  “She said she wasn’t feeling right,” Tarin explained.

  “After this morning, I canna blame her. She could barely summon a spark at all in Shock class, like how Bayan was when he hadna figured things out yet.” Calder grinned.

  “Thank you. It’s good to know I can serve as a bad example, if nothing else,” Bayan said.

  Kiwani didn’t attend classes the rest of the day. Bayan and the other boys in his hex waited on the lawn in front of the girls’ barracks while Tarin tried to coax Kiwani down for supper. A few girls leaned from their windows and taunted him.

  “Come to beat the poor girl down some more, have you?” Anneke called. “Bad enough she’s too scared of you to come out of her room. Why you’re still allowed on campus, I’m sure I couldn’t guess.”

  “Someone ought to file a formal complaint against you, you little muckling deviant,” a dark-haired girl yelled.

  “Let it pass,” Calder warned Bayan, but Bayan’s anger was already moving his feet.

  He planted himself in front of the broad side of the building. “Kiwani is my hexmate. I would die for her—”

  “Try harder!”

  “You ask her yourself,” Bayan shot back. “She’ll tell you exactly the same story I’ve been telling everyone!”

  “She won’t contradict you because she’s completely terrified! We’ve seen the way she stares into nothing, like her soul’s gone to the sints before the rest of her. That’s your doing!”

  “It is not. The Kiwani I know isn’t afraid of anything, least of all me. But you go to the headmaster and tell him your version of events you didn’t witness. Then you can sit there like a foolish, ignorant child while he tells you that he’s already talked with both of us, and he knows far more about the situation than any of you. Now why don’t you take all that hot air you’re wasting out the windows and aim it at each other? It’s still winter!”

  The girls in the windows grumbled. A few catcalled, while others slammed their windows shut. Meanwhile, Bayan heard Eward and Calder stifling hoots of laughter behind him.

  Bayan turned to them with an exasperated sigh. “I still don’t follow the Waarden rules for humor. I was just—”

  “Telling the truth,” Calder and Eward chorused.

  Tarin walked over from the barracks doorway a few moments later. Her sober expression told the boys what they didn’t want to hear.

  “We can fix her a plate, though,” Tarin said. “I hope she eats some. She’s just shutting down.”

  A stab of alarm went through Bayan. “If she shuts down too much further, I’m not sure they’ll let her stay with us.”

  “What a shame that would be,” Eward said, as they all turned toward the dining center. “After her turnaround with Bayan.”

  A shame indeed, Bayan agreed silently. If our duel hadn’t directly brought about the discovery of her blood secret, we’d all be getting along fine now. With Elemental exams looming closer by the day, we can’t lose another hexmate now.

  The next day, Bayan and his he
x walked to the dining center for lunch. Kiwani had not joined them for morning classes. When the hexmates were close enough to the dining hall door to smell the appetizing menu items within, a young newnik girl approached them with a note. “It’s from the Chantery.” Bayan and Calder exchanged glances. Bayan took the note and thanked the trainee, who scampered off. The others clustered around.

  “Is this about Bituin?” Eward asked.

  “Let’s find out. ‘Have found what you lost. Drop by when free.’”

  “Are we free now?” Tarin asked.

  “We’re hungry now, is what we are,” Calder answered.

  “Let’s run over. We’ll be back in plenty of time to eat before Instructor Mikellen lets us try to destroy the Earth Arena with Rising Mountain spells,” Bayan said.

  Together, they jogged through tunnels and along wooden walkways, down stone staircases and onto the stone platform that fronted the Chantery, below its second story of living rock. As they approached the front door, however, they heard raised voices inside.

  “That’s Master witten Oost and Doc Theo,” Calder whispered.

  Try as he might, Bayan could not make out the specific words in the heated debate.

  “We shouldna be listening to this,” Tarin warned. “He’s a Master. I dinna know he still argued over anything.”

  “Bah. We canna hear a thing. But we shouldna be caught trying to listen to this, either.” Calder backed up, looking up the stone façade of the Chantery. Most of the windows were shuttered against the chilly air, but one was open. Before anyone could advise him not to, he invoked Wood and cast Briarflame. Long, thin brown vines shot from his fingers toward the open window.

  “Up you go, mates.”

  The others grabbed onto the vines and began scaling the wall. Bayan looked over his shoulder as he ascended, wary of others entering the small valley of the Chantery and spotting them at their mischief. But he and his hexmates were alone.

  As Bayan scrambled across the window sill, the Chantery’s main door opened. Calder grasped the vines he’d made and flicked them as if they were whips. The vines shrank quickly and pulled Calder up and over the sill, slamming him right into Bayan’s behind. Bayan tumbled into Eward, who accidentally yanked on Tarin’s hair as he tried to keep his balance.

  Eward slapped a hand over her mouth when she cried out in annoyance. Everyone froze in the heap in which they’d landed and waited for what seemed like the inevitable appearance of Master witten Oost.

  But he didn’t stump up the stairs. He didn’t waft in through the window, either, or arrive in any manner whatsoever. After a while, Bayan dared to peek out the window.

  There was no sign of Master witten Oost below.

  “Either he’s a forgiving man, or somehow he dinna notice us, with all the workings of the universe cranking about in his mental scope,” Calder said.

  “Let’s talk to Doc Theo,” Tarin prompted. “I’m starving!”

  They headed downstairs. When Doc Theo spotted them coming down the stairs instead of using the door or one of the back tunnels, he gave them a sharp look, but said only, “Something I can help you with?”

  “We got your note,” Calder said quietly.

  “Kakios Phokapolou signed himself out from Peace Village the day Kiwani was attacked,” Doc said. “He had blond dreadlocks, and the Peace Village Chantery records rule out everyone else who left that day, ’cept for a missing fella named Imbar, who lived in the same boarding house as Kakios, and mighta seen something he shouldn’ta. I’ve spoken to Headmaster Langlaren—he didn’t seem real excited to get Bituin’s gift, but Kakios’ remains convinced him there’s an accomplice on campus.”

  “Master witten Oost said there won’t be any more attacks,” Bayan said.

  “Which is a relief, let me tell ya. But someone had to hide Phokapolou’s body. Twice. The instructors and hexmagic students are on alert; the headmaster’s organized them into patrols. And Kiwani ain’t never to be left alone.”

  “She’s alone now,” Tarin said. “She dinna want to come to lunch.”

  Doc Theo frowned. “You-all go right now and drag her to the dining hall. The best defense she can have is an alert hex who stays with her.”

  The hex left, tracing their path back to the girls’ barracks at a hungry run. Kiwani wasn’t excited about gaining four bodyguards. By the time the five of them reached the dining center, though, the meal was being cleared away, and they had to beg the cooks for leftovers.

  A day passed, and night fell, bringing a chill, damp wind across Akkeraad from the Godsmaw. The instructors worked the students mercilessly, demanding long hours at each elemental arena. The students endured the cold and the wind to perform every elemental cast of every spell they knew, until Bayan’s hex nearly dropped from exhaustion.

  That night, Bayan could barely keep his eyes open as he tried to answer an essay question for Instructor de Rood on which famous rebel was known for the quote, “The only antidote for duelists is steel,” and how that rebel perished. As he scribbled Helma de Rood’s name, a tapping at the window drew his attention. Kah fluttered outside, no doubt desperate to come in from the storm.

  Bayan let the crow in, since Calder and Eward had both fallen asleep at their desks. Bayan shut the window firmly against the strong winds that wanted into the room as well. Kah flapped his wings and smoothed his askew feathers for a while on the edge of Bayan’s desk and croaked his own name in a low, pleased way.

  “Shh,” Bayan warned the hexbird. “You be quiet and I’ll feed you some rye bread.”

  Kah glared at him through a bright ebony eye.

  “Well, I’d have some half-digested Akrestoi for you, but someone stole it. So we’ll both have to make do.” Bayan snorted. “I can’t focus on this stupid question anymore. I’ll get your bread now, and you eat it and don’t wake anyone up, deal?”

  He reached over and slid open his desk drawer, fumbling for the heel of rye bread he’d saved for Kah. The bird, impatient as ever when it came to food, hopped onto the edge of the open drawer, and bobbed his head down among its contents.

  “You’re not going to starve to death in the two heartbeats it takes me to fetch the bread, you crazy bird.” Bayan tried to fend off Kah’s flapping feathers as he reached for the bread at the back of the drawer.

  Kah raised his head, holding the plain black pendant in his beak. The chain hung limply through the pendant’s metal hoop, ready to slip free into the drawer.

  “Not that! Give it back!” Bayan experienced a rush of adrenaline as he snatched at the smooth black pendant that had caught the crow’s greedy eye.

  Kah did not seem interested in giving back his prize. He flew high into the room, perching on a lamp hook. Bayan threw an abandoned sock at the creature, and Kah squawked around the pendant, flying toward a different perch: the top bunk. Bayan jumped up, pressing a foot against the edge of Calder’s desk, and leaped up onto the top bunk.

  “Oi,” Calder said sleepily, fumbling for a textbook Bayan had nudged next to his head.

  Bayan whipped the top blanket on Eward’s bed over Kah and leapt to the floor with the snared bird in his arms. Kah cawed, fluttered and snapped his beak while Bayan slipped a hand inside the blanket and felt around for the pendant. Sure enough, Kah had dropped it in his struggle for freedom.

  Bayan palmed the trinket, then opened the blanket, and Kah stomped out. The bird paced back and forth, squawking and rustling his wing feathers, before flying to the window sill and demanding in no uncertain terms to be let back out into the storm.

  “Fine.” Bayan cracked the window open. “Don’t steal my things next time.”

  “Kah,” called the bird, tilting his head and eyeing Bayan with what must have been the most affronted avian expression the hexbird could manage. With a final click of his beak, the bird flew out into the rain and vanished into the night.

  Bayan returned to his desk to put away the pendant, all the while grumbling about the ingratitude of hexbirds. As his hand ope
ned to release the pendant into in the drawer, his thumb brushed a rough spot on its surface. He squinted, studying the pendant’s planes in the bright lamplight. The once-smooth black surface was marred by a deep beak impression, the edge of which had caught Bayan’s thumb.

  This isn’t stone.

  Bayan tried using his fingernails and even a small knife on the black substance coating the surface of the pendant, but it didn’t want to come off. He stood and held the pendant against the lamp’s flame, hoping the substance wasn’t flammable.

  “Is that for homework?” Calder asked sleepily.

  “No. The pendant from the assassin has some kind of coating on it. I’m seeing if I can get it off.”

  Calder came over to see. After pressing his nails against the black substance and sniffing at it, he said, “I have an idea.”

  Soon, white-hot sparks danced atop the pendant as it rested in an iron dish on Calder’s desk. Bayan waved away a cloud of pale smoke as Calder dabbed at the top of the pendant with the sock Bayan had earlier thrown at Kah. He cleaned off the last bits of the black coating before it cooled again to a hard substance.

  Bayan eyed the sock, then Calder.

  “You don’t have to wash it,” Calder said.

  Bayan picked up the pendant and tilted it in the lamplight, examining the pattern revealed on its surface.

  I’ve seen this before. How could that be?

  A memory surfaced: he’d just killed a man, or thought he had. Surveyor Philo sat beside him, picking through jewelry. One of the rings had the same mark as the pendant. “The vagaries.”

  “What?”

  Bayan sat on his bed and explained how he recognized the sigil from Philo’s vagary ring.

  Calder frowned. “If someone attacked you before you even got here, was Kiwani really the target during your duel?”

  Bayan shook his head. “I lived in a swamp no one had ever heard of. They couldn’t have been after me.”

  “Then what’s the connection?”

  Bayan’s brain refused to function further. “I have no idea.” He flopped onto his mattress and scrubbed at his tired eyes.

  But Philo might.