by Aaron Pogue
He shrugged, doing his best to look unconcerned, but he had to look away again.
I sighed. "I know you lost friends for spending time with me."
His eyes snapped up to mine, and there was something fierce in them. Offended. "You think so, huh? No, Daven. That's not it."
I let my hand fall from his shoulder. I frowned down at him, confused, and he frowned right back. "I lost friends because I saw the kind of people they were. For what they did to you. I lost friends because I walked away from them when I saw what a hero looked like."
"A hero?" I almost laughed, but he cut me off with a vicious glare.
"Yes. Because I saw you on your first day here. I saw you when you were torn and tattered and afraid. I saw you when everyone hated you and all you wanted in the world was to go away somewhere you'd be safe from all of it. And you didn't. You stayed. And you fought. You fought Archus when you didn't know half a seeming. And even after he made a mockery of you in front of everyone...." He trailed off, sputtering, then started again. "Even when Seriphenes locked you in a cell till even bell...."
He shook his head, and I saw tears in his eyes. "My father told me a long time ago that there are heroes, Daven. And that they're usually not noble-born, and they're usually not much to look at, but that if I ever found one I should bind myself close to him and study at his sunburned feet." He sniffled, and wiped a sleeve at his nose. "And you were everything he ever described."
I fell back onto the edge of my bed. "Themmichus...I had no idea. I thought you were just...."
"Nice," Themmichus said. "You thought I was just nice. Because I'm little. You probably thought I could use a big strong friend, for that matter." His lip curled in disgust. "I fought for you, Daven. My name holds power, even here. I fought the Chancellor for you. I wrote home to tell my family what a remarkable warrior you are, and my sister has nearly fallen in love with you just from secondhand stories. My father sent a letter of complaint to Seriphenes that nearly got Archus expelled. I thought you were a good man. We all did." His shoulders rose and fell, and his face was flushed. His eyes flashed fire.
I hung my head. "But what am I supposed to do?"
"You're supposed to fight," he said. "Not in storybook wars. Not in stupid, bloody battles. You're supposed to fight the bullies and the powers and your own self-pity and become a real-life hero."
I looked at my hands. I couldn't raise my voice above a mumble. "I haven't seen you much, these last few weeks."
I felt his nod. "You haven't made the time," he said. "I thought it would pass. I thought you would find your spark, call your power, and then things would change."
I took a deep breath, but it did nothing to ease the tension in my chest. I let it out in a weary sigh. "I'm sorry, Themm. There is no magic in me."
"You haven't even been here a year," he said. "You cannot know that. Most of us have schooling all our lives before we ever come to study here."
"It's not about schooling," I said. "The Chancellor said so. It's about my heart. I don't belong here."
"Then change your heart," Themmichus said. He was begging. "You said it yourself. You have so much more to offer."
I should have met his eyes. I wanted to. I couldn't. "I'm sorry, Themm. I can't. I have tried and tried and tried." I thought of long black days trapped in a closet, desperate for any trace of light. "I can't."
He didn't answer. For a long time he stood there, towering over me despite his size. And then he turned, without a word, and left.
I sat there for a while feeling empty. He had been my only friend at the Academy. In some ways, he had been my only friend ever. He had believed in me. I wanted to go after him, to tell him I was sorry, to make it right.
But I couldn't. It had nothing to do with pride. It had to do with...well, with the world as it was. I would not stay here. Not now. I was going off to war, to take the king's amnesty. Anything else I said to Themmichus would ring hollow.
So I rose, said my good-bye to the open door, and took my travel pack from the armoire. I stuffed it with three sets of sturdy clothes from the commissary. I almost put the sword belt back in the bag, as it had been on our disastrous flight from the capitol, but a flash of memory was enough to stop me. I sighed, long and low, and buckled the belt around my waist for the first time in months. The weight of it felt good.
And then I heard a knock on my open door. Antinus stepped through then raised an eyebrow as he cast a glance at the sword on my hip. "I thought I told you to leave that in your room," he said.
I met his eyes for a long moment, and he nodded. "Not your room anymore?"
"Not for long," I said.
He nodded again. "I expected something like that when I heard the news. You're going off to be a soldier?" He didn't really wait for my nod. He leaned against the doorframe and breathed a little sigh. "You have been a good student, Daven. A remarkable one, even if you never changed a thread of reality. It was my honor to teach you our principles, if not our secret workings."
I felt tears sting my eyes. They weren't really for Antinus, but he was the one who got them. "You have been one of three kindnesses in this place. I thank you for taking the time and risk of teaching me. If we ever cross paths again, please consider me your friend."
He smiled, then solemnly we shook hands and said serious good-byes. Then he turned and retreated down the hall. Finally alone, I felt a fever of excitement and fear stirring in my blood, but as I turned to survey the little room I realized it was time to go. Now. With my heart set on a course of action, I couldn't stay here a moment longer.
I waited only long enough for Antinus to leave the hall. Then I took the washed-leather purse Sherrim had given me in Sachaerrich, still heavy with the weight of unspent pennies, and tied it on my belt. I slung the heavy leather pack over my shoulder and cast one look over my little room. In the blink of an eye I was ready to go, with everything I needed hanging on my back, and some weary flicker of hope in my heart for the first time in weeks. In an instant I exchanged one future for another in my mind, in the space of an hour I rebuilt my whole world. I don't know how I was able to do it so quickly, but I saw only suffering and frustration here, and I saw glory and freedom in the King's Guard. At last I had an easy choice.
I slipped from my room, turned left, and opened the little wooden door at the end of the dormitory hall. It opened onto the front courtyard, one none of the students ever really visited. As I stepped out into the late afternoon sun, I remembered why.
The Academy's front gates loomed, massive and scrolled with deep, curling runes that whispered with a dark, foreboding power. I felt the immensity of them from a hundred paces away, the finality of them, and a shiver chased down my spine. I took a step in their direction, and for a moment I thought I saw an image among the twisted curls that covered the gates. A face, lost in the intricate sigils. For a heartbeat it was Themmichus. Then Claighan. And then it was gone, and I knew it all for my imagination.
But it was enough to stop me. I stood beneath the gates, staring at them across a great dusty distance. Then I took a deep breath, and it settled in my chest like a heavy weight. I closed my eyes, turned in place, and returned to the Dormitory.
This time I didn't enter through the side door nearest my room. I went around to the main entrance on the south wall, and down the building's central hall as wide as a boulevard. Halfway down, on the right, I approached the familiar door to the office of the Kind Father.
I knocked as I entered, and the old priest looked up from his place behind a desk scattered with papers and open books. His eyes widened as I entered. "You're three days early."
"I'm here to say goodbye," I told him. "I don't care if he can't really hear me. I just need to say it."
He held my eyes for a long time, then shook his head. "You may have better luck than you expected," he said. "But you will have to wait."
I frowned. "Why?"
"Because he is awake." At those words I was in his office in an instant, and halfway a
cross it before he continued solemnly. "And he is not here."
I stopped, but I had come far enough to see the truth of it. I could see into the room, and the bed was empty. I looked to the Kind Father and the question was clear in my eyes.
"This afternoon," he said, rising and coming to meet me. "He awoke shortly after lunch bell. And an hour later they received official word from the king about the war. When I sent notice to the Chancellor that Master Claighan was responsive, they came immediately and took him to a war council."
"Among the Masters?"
The Kind Father nodded. "The king has given them an ultimatum. They have three days to decide where the school will stand."
I chewed my lip, my mind racing, but then a thought struck me. I frowned and met the priest's eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"
He nodded to the pack on my back, to the sword on my hip. "Because you look like you're about to do something stupid," he said. "And because all the other students will have heard as much from their fathers. I thought you should be advised. Wait until the Masters make their decision before you make yours."
I held his eyes for a long moment, wondering why Themmichus hadn't told me. And then I knew. I nodded. "It would make no difference," I said. "The Academy is no part of my decision."
I saw the confusion in his eyes, but he didn't press me any further. Instead he spread his hands. "If you will wait in your room, I'll send a message to you when the Master is back. He will be back here."
I hung my head at the certainty in the priest's words. Then I shook my head. "No, thank you, Father." I left his office, took one step back toward the gates, and hesitated. I turned and headed the other way.
North of the Dormitory stood the sprawling Halls of Learning. Beyond that, in a courtyard that made a garden maze of long, low reflecting pools, stood a tower that rose seven floors above the earth. It cast a shadow across all the Academy, and at its top hung the ancient, eldritch bell that chimed the time for all the FirstKing's lands.
This was the Tower of the Masters. In six months at the Academy I had never set foot in it. I went there now. The doors of the tower were heavy oak, stained to black with age, and they swung open without a sound, without a touch, as soon as I approached. The tower had no windows, but firelight sculpted of magic traced in elegant scroll along the stone walls, a hand's breadth beneath the ceiling.
A small sitting room stood just inside the outer door, and beyond it a corridor three paces wide that seemed to run in a great circle around the outer edge of the tower. I followed it around to my right, unsure where to go. After a dozen paces I saw a stone staircase on my right climbing up to the higher levels, but the sound of voices dragged me on.
Another ten paces brought me to a pair of great doors on the inner wall. I heard voices beyond. The door was open only a crack, and beyond it I could see another antechamber, another pair of doors ajar, and beyond those must have been the council hall of the Master of the Academy, because I recognized their voices.
All of them, raised in outrage. My time in the Academy had been enough to teach me Leotus's sneering cackle and Alteres's airy wheeze. I heard Bennethis shouting himself hoarse, and the Chancellor calling for order. But it was the cold, heartless voice of Seriphenes that cut through the noise and settled them all to silence.
"Enough," he said. "Claighan, we have heard enough of your objections! Hold your tongue or we'll be forced to convene a council without you."
The Chancellor mumbled an objection to that, but the Master pressed on. "No, Chancellor. There is a time and place for his foolishness, but there are grave questions at stake here. We cannot be diverted by dragon stories when there is war on our doorstep."
"There is something worse than war," Claighan said. Though it was cracked with strain, I still heard dark foreboding in the old wizard's words. I took a slow step closer, quiet as I could, and prayed no one wandered down these halls to catch me spying.
Claighan stopped to catch a breath, and then he pushed on. "The dragons are waking. A gathering of forces is foolishness. I do not care about the politics. If the king puts ten thousand strong men in one place an elder red will burn them all to ash before the day is done. Consider the cost to our nation."
"So you vote against the king?" Seriphenes asked, and there was surprise in his voice.
"I vote for reasoning with the king," Claighan said. "He must be diverted from this action."
Seriphenes snorted in laughter, and I heard other chuckles within the council room. I pressed right up against the antechamber's outer door, though I didn't dare enter for fear of making some noise.
"That has served you well in your prior efforts," Leotus sneered. "Will you go tell the king to overlook a rebellion in his lands?"
"In our lands," Seriphenes said. "Pollix is a day's ride from here. Claighan's bedtime stories aside, we should be better served if the king did not bring his chaos to our door."
"But it is already decided," the Chancellor said. "Read the missive. The only question before us is whether we answer his summons or stand in defiance."
"We cannot war with the crown," Alteres wailed.
"Nor should we war with our countrymen," Seriphenes said firmly. "I do not believe the king will send his armies against us, no matter what we choose."
There was silence for a moment, then the Chancellor sighed. "We can claim neutrality in this. The king will not like it, but I suspect you are right, Seriphenes. He is unlikely to attack us directly."
Claighan grunted. "That is not enough. We cannot afford to let him draw this army."
"Be still!" Seriphenes shouted, and I flinched in spite of myself. I knew the outburst far too well. "Who could stop this king from calling this army? And what reason could we give him? That a Master he has despised anticipates some dark apocalypse? Have you even seen a dragon?"
"I have seen a dragon," Claighan said, and a stunned silence fell in the room. There was a rustle of movement, and Claighan said, "On our doorstep, as you say."
"I am not interested in the drakes that play in the forested hills around far Cara," Seriphenes said. He tried to make it cutting, but he faltered.
There was grim confidence in Claighan's answer. "I do not ask you to be. I ask you to consider the threat of an adult black no more than a day's ride from here."
"Impossible," Leotus cried, but Seriphenes did not answer.
Alteres spoke up. "I had heard rumors," he said. "From out of Pollix. In the Sorcerer's Stand?"
"Indeed," Claighan said. "I have seen it with my own eyes. It has a summer lair among the cliffs at the heart of the woods. And there are more. I've found signs of them among the hill breaks to the west, and in the highlands to our east. There are new stories of serpent strikes among the sailors of the channel, and I have stood in a shadow dark as night while an elder blue flew above me beneath the Drakespines to the north."
"Impossible," Leotus said again, but his voice quavered now. My own pulse raced, and I felt a weakness in my arms and shoulders. There had always been dragons in the histories and stories. The king's own father had killed a drake with his own hands before rising to the throne. But never so many as Claighan described. Never all at once.
"I lay no stock in the stories of fishermen," Seriphenes said, dismissive. "Nor in the tales highlanders tell. None of our histories describe any manner of dragon habitat there. The Drakespines, perhaps. It is a remote range, far from any significant populations. An ideal place for an elder to take refuge through the long years."
"And the Sorcerer's Stand?" Alteres asked. "You have an answer for that?"
"I have an answer," Seriphenes said, and Daven heard dark victory in his voice.
"No," Claighan said, his voice barely more than whisper.
"We shall settle it ourselves," Seriphenes said. "Three answers in a single action."
"No," Claighan said. "Don't be a fool. This is no hatchling drake—"
"I don't care if it's an elder legend!" Seriphenes said. "We are the Academ
y of Wizardry. We are the greatest power in this land. I'm tired of you slandering our power over guesswork and lies."
"The histories are clear," Claighan said. "Dragons do not obey our workings. We may not be able to harm them at all. That's why we must—" Seriphenes cut him off.
"I have seen the power in the Chancellor's hand," Seriphenes said. "I have seen my own terrible strength. Even yours, Claighan, is sufficient to make armies tremble. Tell me not of the histories. Did the wizards of yore have an Academy such as this to train them? We have unlocked mysteries and powers man has never known before. We can face a single scaled monster."
"You are a fool," Claighan said. "And soon to be a dead one."
"Claighan!" the Chancellor said, softly chiding, but Seriphenes cut over him.
"Leave him be," he said. "He is broken and sick with delirium. He speaks out of a melancholy. Does anyone else here truly believe we, combined, cannot answer the threat of a dragon?"
No one spoke. Claighan grunted, but he couldn't seem to find the strength to argue anymore. When Seriphenes spoke again, his words dripped with satisfaction. "Then, as I said, three answers in one. We shall settle Claighan's nonsense with incontrovertible evidence. We shall exterminate the threat of a dragon on our doorstep. And we shall demonstrate the power of the Academy to the king, before we stand in defiance of him. We shall hang the black beast's head above our gates, and let the king find soldiers willing to face a force capable of that action."
Silence fell on the room. After a time, Alteres spoke up. "Are you all agreed, then? Would you really stand in defiance of the king?"
"We will," Seriphenes said, before anyone else could answer. "We are the Masters of the Academy. Who is a king to call us like hounds to heel?"
No one answered that. I heard Claighan give a weary sigh, but he'd lost the strength to fight them. I stood there, stunned, leaning against the wall beside the open door.
And then a hand like tanned leather closed around the edge of the door inches from my ear. I startled back a step as the door swung silently open and a figure slipped through it. He was furtive, and I knew in an instant that he, too, had been eavesdropping on the war council, from within the antechamber. Likely he'd been the one who left the door cracked so I could listen in.