Directorate School (The Directorate Book 1)

by Pam Uphoff

  "And practicing Spanish." Ra'd glanced at Azko's . . . "Straight A's. Hardly surprising."

  "Sensei Arvi recommends sending me down a level. And he says I'm not suitable for any of the teams."

  "Huh." Ebsa shrugged. "You're a freshman, nowhere to go but up. Don't sweat it, if you wind up down a level. Martial Arts drill is Martial Arts drill. You'll be away from the Action Apes until they move you back up. You're an information junkie. I'll be shocked if you don't wind up on an info team."

  Heak was nodding. "I got about the same. I wish I'd started in the lower classes, and got better at the drills and the firearms before I got to the Advanced Martial Arts."

  "It's the speed. I suspect anyone who can do it gets evaluated at the advanced level first." Ebsa eyed Paer. "How'd you do?"

  "Well enough, apart from Magic. And Not Suitable for Action Team Training, but that's a good thing, in my opinion." She shrugged and clicked off her comp. "I've spent too much time on horseback to be really good academically. But I just got off the comm with my Dad, and he says I can invite you all to Paris for the weekend. We get Monday off too, you know. We could all stay at Versalle and see the sights."

  Ebsa thought of his bank balance—teetering—and winced. Airfare? No way.

  Paer punched his shoulder. "Stop shaking your head. Dad's sending a limo, we'll take the new corridor direct to Paris."

  "Oh. I hadn't realized they'd opened it. Did I miss the news?" Ebsa swallowed. No reason to be nervous, it's just like a trans-dimensional gate, only milder. At least that’s what everyone says.

  "No, they are still working on the road tie in on both ends. But the corridor's in place and being used by official vehicles."

  Heak bounced on her heels. "A limo! And a corridor. And Paris! Score!"

  Paer grinned. "Dinner at Government House and then we'll head for Versalle, and sleep there, where we can come and go without quite so many security checks."

  "Government House. Versalle. Double score! You in, Nighthawk?"

  "Umm, sure. Not that New York hasn't been enough of an adventure."

  Ra'd scowled. "Maybe I can avoid my family."

  "In your dreams." Paer grinned. "Qamar will hunt you down."

  "So long as she's the only one."

  "We can leave this afternoon. Have dinner in Paris. Are you all in?"

  The limo was not excessively long. But it did take the six of them comfortably, in a U shaped passenger section that did indeed have a stocked bar.

  "Soft drinks. My father thinks I'm still fourteen." Paer shrugged. "And I'll no doubt get a lecture about my grades."

  "Were they really that bad?" Nighthawk opened a bottle of lemonade. "I mean, I know I've got holes in my education. But I'd have thought you'd have had a private teacher and all that."

  "I did. And I spent as little time as possible studying, and barely kept up to par. All my time was spent on horseback. Now I'm realizing that probably wasn't the best long term strategy. I, umm, don't have very good study habits." She was definitely pink.

  Embarrassed to have to admit to lower grades around all of us moaning about anything under four.

  "If we get into Team training, we'll be begging you for riding lessons . . . Hey! Do you have a horse here?" Ebsa brightened. "I'm barely a beginner. I need to keep up what skill I've got or I'm toast."

  "Oh, no. Dad said I'd better hit the books this first semester, and maybe in the spring . . . I really miss riding." Smirk. "But since we're staying at Versalle, we can ride all we want, this weekend."

  Ra'd rolled his eyes. "Twelve hours a day is her usual."

  Azko and Heak swapped glances.

  "I took a few lessons when I was ten." Heak looked intimidated.

  "Never been within ten meters of a live horse." Azko's mouth turned down. "No wonder I didn't qualify for the team training."

  "We shall rectify that problem tomorrow morning." Paer glanced out the window. "It's sunset in Paris, already. But I won't guarantee that I won't take a quick ride after dinner."

  The limo slowed, turned into a construction zone. They were building a road system that, in theory would prevent any dangerous backup through the corridor. Obviously not close to finished, but the limo bumped over the rough, graveled worksite, and took aim at a tall metal arch.

  "I heard they're putting in some pedestrian corridors in between some cities, contracts all signed and everything." Paer's hands clenched.

  She's never been through one, either.

  They fell silent, and watched the arch. The nose of the limo entered, they accelerated with a jerk and thump . . . the light dimmed a bit and they rolled from rough gravel to pavement. Turned onto a road, turned onto a busier road . . . and a vision of the sun's last blink as it sank beneath the horizon.

  "That's it? I mean, there wasn't hardly any . . . anything." Azko peered around. "This really is Paris! One! That was slick!"

  "Yeah." Ebsa gulped. "So . . . how powerful are these Fallen magicians, anyway?"

  Nighthawk snickered. "Powerful enough that you really need to stop antagonizing us."

  Ra'd eyed her. "You lot are very . . . peaceful."

  "Umm, no, we've as many warmongers and criminals and rapists and murderers as you do. Even the most powerful. The gods have clashed, both individually and with armies to back them up. The Old Gods that we know are dead, Edmond Vice was put down by an army unit after he started a rape-torture-murder spree. The God of Art, Marty Beta, was killed by the Senior Sister seven years ago, when he kidnapped one of the younger witches and her twins."

  There was a general scramble for comps.

  "Wow, so recently." Heak.

  "What's a Senior Sister?" The Information Junkie.

  "The strongest, oldest witch. Head of the Pyramid." Nighthawk grinned at their flying fingers. "A pyramid is a group of witches, banded together for mutual support, education and training for their daughters and so forth. A pyramid generally has a good spread of ages and abilities. Three to six generations, depending on the survival of the oldest, and long or short generation times."

  "What about the other gods that are missing?" Ebsa asked. "Mercy and Virtue? And umm, Peace?

  "Well, Mercy is reverse bubbled . . . umm, that's a dimensional effect, with a ten thousand to one time dilation, then Xen layered them, so she's like, frozen. Looks like a statue. Barry Virtue did that to himself, a thousand years ago, when the comet struck. No one knows where the statue has been moved, this time. He's got a church and they worship his 'statue.' The good gods figure he's stuck and can't get out, and good riddance. Pax went wherever you Oners and your Auralian allies went. From what I've heard, also good riddance. Umm, who else is missing?

  "They didn't say anything about the God of Eternal Youth, in the history class." Trust Azko to keep track.

  "Richie? He lives on Rip World, that's one of the empty worlds we're colonizing. That's Richie Xi, for you scholars."

  Ebsa tapped in the information. "How about the Goddess of Logic?"

  "Karista. She teaches math and logic at the University, and is married to Charlie Alpha. He's one of the Tellies who escaped to the fourth exile world. I think he's the last one alive. Umm, you know there were five exile worlds?"

  "Yeah, and you guys have found two others, right?"

  "Right, and probably that weird Purple World that is Earth's ally? We think it was one too. We occasionally have people with blue or purple hair show up. Do Oners?"

  Shaken heads all around.

  "Must have been an unintended side effect, when they were trying for something else." Heak sounded dubious.

  Nighthawk shook her head. "The old gods said it was a fad in designer kids, and that in the Exile the parents of the purple kids banded together and mostly went to the same world. Which sure seems like the only way that world could possibly happen."

  "Huh. Designer kids." Ebsa thought that over and really didn't like the idea at all. Although in a crude way, that's what I am. Mom picked the strongest Oner she could get clo
se to and seduced him to have a powerful child. That's what a lot of Servaones and Halfers do. But there's a lot of random stuff happening there, and one likes to think there is at least a little fun, if not fondness, involved. And the children are loved for themselves, not because they've got the latest fad in hair color.

  And I'm strong enough. I can pass all of this. I can do the Info Team training. I can. He tugged nervously at his best clothes. An inexpensive suit bought last year for a wedding. Sleeves getting a bit too short, pants legs ditto. At least Paer didn't laugh. And Azko's got a nice shirt on. Ra'd? The usual button down and to hell with what anyone thinks.

  He stared out the window. Paris, like New York, had been rebuilt on the four hundred year old ruins of a city destroyed by the nuclear war. All the modern styles from ugly concrete slabs to the Islamic minarets; the neo classical overly ornate marble and on to the anonymous glass pillars of the tallest buildings.

  The government buildings were classical, but the ornamentation was subdued enough to allow the buildings to look formal and dignified. Government House was huge. The president's residence as well as a sizable chunk of his bureaucracy's offices. With the traditional guards on the black horses, black uniforms with purple piping, and more guards afoot. "Most of the security is electronic, of course." Paer waved at the guards. "But the response is with warm bodies." Her lips tightened.

  Half a dozen of those men's colleagues gave their lives for your father, and you were in the line of fire as well. Hard to see them as anonymous uniforms, after that.

  :: Yes. I try to not make their jobs any harder, or more dangerous, than I have to. I wish they didn't have to guard me at school. ::

  :: Hey you're good at that listening-in thing, aren't you? At least you're down to just two guards. ::

  :: At a time. They bought a house, fortified it, put in a command center, sleep in shifts, two cars, probably bullet proof. ::

  :: Yow! ::

  :: Yeah. I just hope I don't flunk out, after all that prep just to have me here. I mean there. ::

  :: Are you really worried about that? Sheesh, we'll extend our study hours. Can't lose one of the gang. Us guys have been meeting in the Old Library. I guess I just thought Ra'd would have told you. We'll add you, Nighthawk and Heak. We can keep after each other. Push, even when we can't coach. ::

  The limo swept around the turn in and stopped before the stone steps to the main door.

  Ebsa tried to control his breathing. "I'm not going to hyperventilate and faint, no matter how many times I've seen this spot on the news."

  "And in movies. It seems like half the thrillers have to have a gun fight right here." Azko shut up suddenly at Paer's glare.

  The steps were long, and there were a lot of them. "No wonder you're so good at running. You get exercise just living here."

  She snickered. "I'm so ticked that you've gotten faster than me."

  Ra'd snorted. "He's still slow. He's just not done in by a mere two kilometers anymore."

  Nighthawk sniffed. "Mere? Are you being sarcastic? When we get back, I'll challenge you to some serious endurance running."

  "Ha. Trying out for the Witch Olympics?"

  "And when we get into advanced Magic lessons, I'll show you what we mean by powerful."

  "Shhh! No bickering in front of the president." Azko's voice squeaked a bit.

  The tall man was brown haired and brown eyed like his daughter, very much a rugged and masculine version of his daughter. And older, of course, in that long stretch of middle years where Oners showed so little aging.

  Paer bounced forward and hugged him. Ebsa caught a faint echo of the slight energy flash of close relatives who hadn't been near each other for months.

  She also hugged the older woman at the president's shoulder. No flash.

  "Come and meet my friends. Well, you know Ra'd, but this is Heak Withione, Ebsa Clostuone, Azko Withione, and Nighthawk Swishdaut of Comet Fall."

  The President smiled and shook hands, and seemed especially taken with Nighthawk. "You look like your father."

  She blinked. "Well, I got my mother's coloring, but yeah, Dad's nose."

  The older woman was Cage, well, Qayg. The President's assigned Princess, reputed to be the most deadly woman in the world. She didn't look deadly, until she looked him in the eye. It was a bit of a shock, to know one was being assessed as a threat to be eliminated. By someone perfectly capable of tending to that matter personally and immediately.

  Ebsa fought down an impulse to find someone to hide behind.

  Ra'd got a nod, and a narrowed gaze from her. Heak and Azko, straightforward handshakes. Nighthawk got a long thoughtful look.

  And then a bouncy, spike-haired redhead breezed in the front door behind them.

  "Rael!" Paer pounced in for a hug.

  Ebsa got a slap on the head. "Good job on the grades, Brat!"

  "Hey, Nighthawk. Do you have any idea how much money I've lost betting you'd be beating up obnoxious Oners at a rate of two a week?"

  "Ha! Do you have any idea how hard I got drilled on proper Oner behavior and how to not project sex appeal?" Nighthawk grinned. "I've only come close to having to do something to one guy. And I may yet."

  Rael glanced at Ra'd.

  Snort. "Not me. I have better sense than to get fresh with an enemy agent."

  "I'm a student. I won't be an agent until later."

  "Likely story."

  Rael giggled. "The insult just passed right over your head, didn't it?"

  "What? Oh, you mean that he isn't drooling and kissing my feet? That's the effect I'm trying to achieve." Nighthawk shrugged. "And now that I think about it, why would I want to be judged by my looks? I'd much rather be judged by my brains, and of course, being thought dangerous, is even better." She inclined her head regally. "Thank you Ra'd."

  "I said enemy. Not dangerous. Ebsa's the dangerous one."

  They all looked at him. Ebsa squirmed.

  "He beat me in the Martial Arts sorting trials."

  All the adults looked boggled.

  "You're kidding?" Rael had gone serious.

  "Not at all." Ebsa buffed his fingernails and tried to look like he was faking modesty. "Well, it was after he'd gone six rounds with other fighters. I'd really hate to face him fresh."

  "You'd done just as many rounds. You won because you fought smart." Ra'd shrugged. "There will be another sorting this winter. It'll be interesting."

  "Painful, more like. For me." Ebsa followed Paer through another door . . . "One. It's just like in the vids." Bloody huge banquet table . . . Thank the One I decided to wear the suit, however ill fitting.

  Paer was the perfect hostess. Well, of their short stretch of table, two seats down from the President at the head of the table. She casually used all the array of cutlery, carefully in plain sight so they could see which one to use on which food and how. And she dropped an occasional, "Oh, carrot bisque!" But they mostly had to bite blindly into each offering. Ebsa's mother was a damned fine cook, and he knew, at least in theory, what the wild array of utensils were used for. But if she'd ever cooked at this level of elaboration, he hadn't seen it.

  Azko leaned close and whispered. "I'm not sure I want to know what this one is."

  "Uh oh. I hope it's some sort of berry." Ebsa bit down. Paused and swallowed carefully. "Because the other possibility is caviar." Thank the One, Mom never served me the good stuff!

  "Fish eggs!" Heak whispered, trying to not giggle.

  From the crinkled corners of all the adults' eyes, Ebsa suspected they were getting more enjoyment out of their guests' reactions than the superb meal. There were probably less than fifty people here. A few ambassadors, including the one from Comet Fall, a few bureaucrats, spouses, Director Urfa had come, and his princess, who looked bored and indifferent. And guards in plainclothes, mixed in with the guests.

  A stunningly gorgeous one, Princess Xiat, sat across from them, with a subdirector from Interior Relations.

  "So you're all hoping
for Information or Exploration Teams?" Subdirector Izzo was a short, fit-looking blonde. "Quite understandable."

  Xiat snorted. "Izzo's from Homestead. He claims he avoided Paris until he got desperate."

  "I'm a country boy at heart."

  "Homestead's got a lot of big cities." Ebsa protested. "Er, sir."

  "Yeah, but my father's a wildlife biologist, so I was raised in the wilds."

  Nighthawk looked him over. "I'm surprised, with that background, you didn't get on a team."

  "Oh, I'm one of the odd fellows at Interior who didn't go to Directorate school. I started as a policeman, went to law school in Cairo . . . I never quite understood how I wound up in Precog and Divination. And only my desperation to leave Precog can explain why I actually moved to Paris."

  He's the duelist from the Assassination attempt. The one the cabal was setting up to be the fall guy. After they'd killed him. Except he won the duel. And the Princess, I recognize her from the vids, too. Wow!

  "Precognition and Divination? Didn't you come up through the Criminal Investigation track?" Azko was indulging his information addiction.

  "Nope, analysis. Mind you the police work was useful. It gives one a greater appreciation for what one is trying to prevent. And you're 'one of us' to all the people in the criminal investigation branch. But I prefer analysis."

  Paer nodded. "We'll be getting the introductory class next semester. In fact us late comers will be getting intensive directorate specific classes from now on out, now that they've sorted us out."

  Azko nodded. "It's not so bad, if you start earlier. We get the special classes more mixed in with the normal college requirements. Heak and I are freshmen."

  Paer sighed. "So we won't be graduating together, but maybe we'll be working together, down the road."

  "Still hoping to get across?" Xiat's eyes' crinkled. "Want to research foreign horse breeds?"

  Paer blushed as half the people in the vicinity snickered.

  Izzo looked past her, at Nighthawk. "I haven't heard much about Comet Fall horses."

  Nighthawk hesitated. "Well, the Exiles brought a lot of them with them. Plus we've got native wild horses, and did a fair amount of cross breeding. After fourteen centuries of uneven industrial progress, they've pretty well fallen into types, for various purposes. We don't much bother with pedigrees, or registration."