“No.”
“You haven’t talked about them much, even to me,” she complained.
Growing up they had often confided and conspired together. His year away had created a gap in their lives. One you could bridge if you wanted. She’s here now . . . “Jason doesn’t have a very nice home to return to. He stays at the school all year round.”
“What about Hope?”
“Don’t start, please.”
“Ah, I forgot . . . Big Brother has an image to uphold as a stoic Welf. No teasing . . . forbidden. Verboten.”
This year is going to exhaust me, Heinrich thought again. He eventually nodded towards Landry and Ramirez. “Those two are in my class.”
Heinrich studied them for a time. Neither had on their colors. None of the students were allowed it until they arrived at the school. Fifteen, just like Heinrich, Landry already looked like some Real American Hero worthy of either his own comic book or a spot on a varsity football squad. When he finished growing he’d probably be fit for Hollywood. I’m taller than him, though much skinnier as well. Ramirez always looked like he’d spent the day playing soccer and often he had. Thick black hair windblown, he always smiled and laughed and knew more jokes than anyone in the class, including the perfect joke to diffuse a situation. I can get people to follow me, but I’ve never gotten people to laugh with me.
Victoria studied them too, but with a much different purpose than most fourteen-year-old girls. “Electromancer and Floromancer?”
“Right as always,” Heinrich ruefully admitted. Victoria’s senses for the Mancy were the best he had ever seen. The best anyone had ever seen. She could tell a person’s discipline just by watching them for a few seconds. Once she’s trained Mother figures it might be no more than a glance.
“And handsome too.”
Maybe she was a fourteen-year-old girl after all.
“What are their names?”
“Pocket and Estefan.”
“Estefan is the dashing, bronze-skinned gentleman?”
“Mexican-American, from Phoenix. Second-Generation mancer, his father works for ESLED, but is only an Intra,” Heinrich filled in. One skill required of every Welf was a keen memory for where and to whom each person had been born, and where they ranked among the complicated ladder of mancer society.
“And ‘Pocket’? What kind of name is that?”
“A nickname, his real name is Preston. First Generation, he lives by the beach in California. Surfs from what he’s said too.”
“They’re both very pretty . . .”
“Sister!”
“Now, now, Big Brother, Welf women like their lovers dour and well-bred, with no tongues if possible to keep our secrets, but we’re allowed to look at a cute surfer boy now and then.”
Heinrich held back a sigh. A Welf didn’t let a person know they’d scored a point if possible. Which is why the Foul Mouth’s ability to do so is so very vexing. Still, inside his own head he allowed himself to think yet again, this year is going to exhaust me.
*
A rightward turn followed quickly by a slow turn back to the left was the first sign the bus had arrived at the Asylum. The famous horseshoe turn that took traffic through the heart of the school grounds. What I wouldn’t give for a window!
Heinrich could imagine the scene: a bright, sunny September day, students running from place to place trying to meet up with friends or girlfriends, others checking into their dorms or grabbing class schedules, the exchange of jeans, skirts, and t-shirts for colors. At the Hall, a year’s worth of newly discovered music would be playing and Intras would be gathering to sample all the tunes they had missed from country to rap. At the Mound, Ultras would reclaim their rights among the trees and hilly ground as the school’s kings and queens, the newest group of Heps taking the very top for themselves and everyone else jockeying for position at favored spots.
Anticipation grew inside Heinrich as the bus slowed to a crawl and then slowed yet again to barely any movement at all. The bus driver finally turned to speak to them, “Get ready to unload, we’re in the queue.”
The students gave a cheer and even Heinrich allowed himself to show a pleased smile.
The bus buzzed forward, moved a few feet, and then stopped again.
Victoria bounced her knees, looking worried.
Another spot forward.
“One more to go, front unloads first,” the bus driver called.
Heinrich reached over to put a hand on Victoria’s shoulder. “Relax, Little Sister, this is home.”
“Home has only Welfs and servants, not nearly so many people,” Victoria nervously mumbled. “Home doesn’t test me and put me in a bedroom with strangers.”
“Well . . . there’s no Mother either.”
Victoria brightened up. “What will I do with my free time?”
A final bit of movement and then a final stop. “Make sure you don’t leave anything behind or you won’t ever see it again!” the bus driver yelled to be heard over the moving of bodies and the scuffling of feet, “And no pushing! Act like adults!”
A crowd of students waited for them outside. Four buses per hour for about two hundred students at a time. Plus those milling about for some entertainment, or a familiar face to make an appearance. Teachers keeping a watchful eye as well, though Heinrich wasn’t sure of their names since they were younger and likely only taught Intra students.
The teachers tried to keep some order but failed. Most of their commands went unheard. “Don’t stop! Keep moving! Bi’s, Tri’s, and Quads to the Scheduling Room for your class and dorm number! Singles to Testing! Ultras, please don’t make trouble, clear out! Change into your colors as soon as possible!”
Victoria gave a little gasp at the sight.
She had never attended a normal school before, outside of birthday or holiday parties or business functions they were dragged to . . . and even then, this was likely the most people she had ever seen together in one place. Heinrich reached down to touch a shoulder again, “It’s okay.”
“I’m fine . . . it’s just . . . so many mancers, Big Brother . . . so many different faces to place all at once.”
Ah. Victoria’s gift with Elemental Awareness again. I wish she wouldn’t bring it up so often. Every Welf knew that no gift was without a cost. “We should take you to Testing and get it over with.”
She gave him a funny look. “Why would I need tested? I know what I am . . .”
“For the sake of tradition at the very least,” Heinrich teased, “and so Mother will stop secretly hoping you’re First Tier at the very most.”
She sniffed at the mockery. “I suppose we must then . . . what are Welfs without tradition?”
“And to prove you’re right and that Mother is wrong?”
“Of course!”
Heinrich led her through the crowd. Along the way, they stumbled upon a number of familiar faces.
Ramirez had locked a kiss on Debra Diaz, his girlfriend and fellow electromancer, and he wasn’t letting go unless someone brought out a hydraulic spreader. The two had been a couple almost from their first day at the Asylum, though Heinrich had never understood the connection. Not that he minded a pretty-boy jock being out of competition for the other girls in their class, but . . . Ramirez could have done better for himself. Diaz was at best cute with a nice heart-shaped face, a bit overweight too on a stocky frame, though very likeable even if she was only a First Generation mancer.
Debra seemed to realize she hit a homerun with Estefan and babied him constantly. Glared and fought off other girls from being around him constantly too. Maybe that was the connection . . . one couldn’t tell with electromancers. His father had a saying about them, ‘when their currents sync up, get out of the way of the sparks’.
Ramirez and Diaz sparked their way through the crowd, bumping back and forth as they kept locking lips.
Victoria blushed at the public affection. “Is that allowed?”
“Encouraged, Little Sister. The te
achers love playing matchmaker.”
“How are they breathing?” Victoria whispered to herself.
Heinrich kept pushing through the crowd, all around him friends and couples reuniting. No sign of his own little group. He didn’t expect Hope and the other girls until later in the day, but he wondered where Jason could be? Maybe one of the teachers had him at a task . . . or he lost track of the time and was working out in the Gym. Corpusmancers never missed a chance to work out.
A group of three older teenage girls hugging each other popped out from the crowd, mostly from the crowd avoiding them. Heinrich did the same, almost dragging Victoria the other way. No one dealt with the Three Queens unless they had to, not even a Welf . . . not even two Welfs. They were . . . troubled girls.
The sudden change in direction sent Heinrich tripping over Pocket Landry. Landry caught him and held him up. “Running away from the other royalty?” the other boy asked.
“Sorry,” Heinrich explained, “didn’t want to risk it.”
“Don’t blame you, them three are wrong.” Landry noticed Victoria holding Heinrich’s hand. “Didn’t know you had a sister, dude.”
Dude. People really say ‘dude’ . . . It never ceased to amaze Heinrich. “Yes, Victoria, this is Pocket, my classmate.”
Victoria curtsied to perfection, trying not to stare. “A pleasure, sir.”
Landry seemed taken aback about the extensive manners but quickly recovered. “Single?”
Heinrich nodded. “She still needs—”
“Holy fuckballs!” a voice interrupted as a short, brown-coated form pushed its way into their circle. Heinrich felt his blood pressure rise. “Pocket . . . what have you found, you magnificent son-of-a-bitch?”
King Henry Price punched his friend in the shoulder. Landry returned the gesture with a grin. “Missed you too, dude.”
Price had eyes only for Victoria. He pointed at her. “Are you seeing this?”
“Foul Mouth—” Heinrich gritted from clenched teeth.
“It looks exactly like Welf . . . but . . . it’s a little shorter and a little slighter and . . . it’s bright and pretty . . . and it has tits! I’m so confused right now . . .”
“—this is my sister, you will leave her alone or I swear—“
“A Welf with glorious ta-tas! I don’t know if I should be repulsed or get a stiffy . . .”
“—I will end you.”
“Maybe both . . . gonna go with both.”
Heinrich had dreaded this moment, had expected Victoria to be horrified, mouth agape, maybe even faint. He doubted she’d ever heard most of those words in such strenuous combination before . . . yet . . . yet . . . she had this funny little smile on her face like Price was a puppy or a kitten or . . . NO! NO! NO! some part of Heinrich screamed. He made sure his grip on Victoria’s hand was tight and surged through the rest of the crowd, escaping before Price could say anything else.
Yet he still heard a call from over his shoulder. “Nice meeting you, Welf Girl, be sure to see you later!”
*
The buildings at the Asylum were often massive and multipurpose. The Admin building, as an example, housed a student office for the Asylum, teacher offices, clerical and accounting rooms for Asylum business, the Testing Room, the Scheduling Room, the Infirmary, offices for ESLED, offices for the Recruiters, and meeting rooms for only the Learning Council to access. Most students weren’t aware of it but the Admin building actually had a large number of subterranean floors. Heinrich had visited them with his mother on a number of occasions . . . though not since he became a student.
He proceeded directly for the Testing Room, which was deep inside the first floor, past the student office and the Scheduling Room. Victoria kept up only through his refusal to release her hand. “I don’t understand the problem,” she said, “he’s such a little thing; I doubt he could hurt a fly.”
He ground his teeth together. Like I can admit to her that the Foul Mouth knocked me out with one cheap shot . . . “He’s a womanizer, he wishes me ill, and you are a prime target.”
“You mean . . . for . . . sex?” Victoria whispered like the word might be contagious.
“Yes, that.”
“But . . . do the teachers allow that too?”
“They don’t discourage it.”
“How . . .” she paused, apparently trying to come to terms with the idea that there might be adults who didn’t whip 18th century puritanical doctrine into you at every moment you brought up the opposite sex, “How . . . forward of them . . .”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“But . . . I can’t imagine . . . King Henry, was it? I can’t imagine many girls would want him. He’s so tiny, and cute, and very innocent . . . like the little parrot you had, squeaking out naughty words the stable-boys taught it.”
“You would be surprised.”
“Really . . .”
“Little Sister?”
“Yes?”
“Father and Mother might have taught us how to be students and mancers, but I’ve already found they did a horrible job at teaching us to be modern teenagers. Just . . . be careful . . . and stay away from Price.”
“If you say so . . . . . . . . . . . . . what’s a fuckball?”
Heinrich almost gave a cheer when he turned a corner and the Testing Room was in sight.
“I understand the f-word, and I understand ball, but I don’t understand how they go together . . . unless he was talking about his testicles.”
There was a line, but Heinrich wasn’t about to let that get in his way of finding a distraction for Victoria, because if she kept meditating on the origin of fuckball then Heinrich was going to die of shame. “Move it! Bi coming through! Message for Russell Quilt!”
Heinrich slammed through the door, Victoria dragged behind him like a confused puppy that had never been out on a hunt before, anxious of the approaching test but also excited by the energy of the environment. “Shouldn’t we wait our turn?” she asked politely.
Welfs wait for no man, neither mancer nor mundane, Heinrich thought, echoing a maxim of his father. Most would think it patrician hubris but it had given a satisfying fruition to Heinrich often enough that he guided his own star by it. “Mr. Quilt,” he greeted the Head of Testing, “I’m in need of your attention.”
Quilt already had a small brown-skinned boy standing before the testing apparatus, with its thirteen glass balls, the inactive anima inside each of them just waiting for a spark to return to life. Quilt was not one of Heinrich’s favored teachers, he wasn’t even sure that Quilt counted as a teacher. More of a servant of the Dale Woman’s recruiting organization really. Heinrich was not a fan of Ceinwyn Dale, not after she allowed the Foul Mouth to get away with assaulting Heinrich that first day.
He had stepped out of place with Price and Price likely deserved an apology for Heinrich’s unkind comment on his size, but physical violence was uncalled for and Price should have spent the first night at the Asylum in the Holding Room, or at the very least suffered a week or more of Forced Remedial Study.
Just because she’s a Dale she thinks she can put herself beyond the social order. Even Welfs only dared to think they were at the top of the social order, not beyond it. Being on top of the social order brought forth responsibilities, being beyond it . . . the Dale Woman puts her crusades before everything else, no matter the societal cost of her actions.
Even without the connection to Ceinwyn Dale, Heinrich would not be pleased with Russell Quilt. His Testing Room was filled with personal memorabilia of questionable nature and the layout of the testing devices resembled a pile of scrap, not any organizational method Heinrich was aware of.
Quilt turned away from the brown boy. “Your sister, V.W.?”
Victoria immediately advanced, again like an excited puppy. She performed a curtsey so precise that their etiquette instructors would have been very proud, though she had decided to give Quilt more worth than Heinrich would have by dipping to the height award
ed to professionals. “Victoria von Welf, awaiting your instruction, good sir.”
Quilt smiled at her. Everyone smiled around Victoria. “Ian here is next, but if you wait in the corner I’ll see you in a minute, V.V.”
Heinrich sniffed, but he supposed it was only fair. At least the conversation on fuckballs had ceased.
Victoria backed up into the corner with her brother, where they fought for space among the clutter of figurines and containers filled with playing cards. “Everyone is so nice here,” Victoria whispered. “I was worried . . . but everyone is very nice here.”
She might see auras, but she’s not keen to see the truth about people. How could she think the Foul Mouth’s antics were adorable? Heinrich felt another wave of nausea sweep over his stomach.
Quilt went through the same test he gave to Heinrich the year before. Testing had been horrendous for Heinrich, one of the worst experiences of his life. There was nothing to be done about it and yet . . . the shame a firstborn would bear if he had ended up in the Third Tier like Uncle Wolfgang. It’s bad enough that father is only a cryomancer . . . if I hadn’t measured up then the whispers about our blood thinning would have surely started . . . about the Mancy abandoning us for more favored bloodlines.
But it had all turned out as expected, the clues given from several of his brushes with accidental anima discharges over the years accurate. A necromancer. Just like Mother. She had actually broken protocol by coming to the Asylum for a meeting and pausing to request a private word with her son. Her praise had been effusive. She even hugged me . . .
“Do the crystals correspond to each discipline, good sir?” Victoria politely inquired of Quilt.
Quilt turned back to her, distracted. As always, the Head of Testing had started at the bottom with corpus-anima. During Heinrich’s test, each unlit crystal had been a victory of sorts. A necromancer, he had congratulatory thought when it ended, the best and brightest. Only being a geomancer would have been equal and there Heinrich dodged a bullet. Three years training with the Foul Mouth under that reclusive Plutarch instead of with a genius like Mordecai Root.
King Henry Short Pack One (The King Henry Tapes) Page 7