by B. T. Narro
“We did everything we could.”
Basen started into the bathhouse but stopped when Sanya spoke. “You must not want to go back to the house tonight.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Stay with me. I could use the company.”
He nodded gratefully. “I’ll meet you there if you finish before me.”
The Academy was the only place Basen had been that had showers. The aqueduct system was superior to any other. He learned that mages warmed the water storage twice a day, morning and evening. At this time, however, it was frigid cold. But he actually came to be thankful. He had felt tears swelling in his chest and the freezing water pushed them back down. Under warm water, Basen might’ve lingered and cried until morning or longer.
Only one lamp still burned, making the bathhouse nearly too dim for Basen to see. The long shadows on the walls terrified him more than they should have.
Sanya was in her bedroom when he arrived. She had on a fresh sleeping gown.
Basen motioned to remove his shirt. “I hope you don’t mind?”
She shook her head, her sad expression without change.
He squeezed into the small bed beside her. His undershorts didn’t extend far, and his bare legs touched against her cold shins. But she didn’t flinch, moving to rest her head against his shoulder instead.
“The sight of death is the worst thing to witness,” she said.
“This wasn’t the first time you’ve seen it?”
“Do you remember hearing news about my sister and mother?”
“Yes.” Basen didn’t know Sanya at the time, though he’d heard that her father, the head chemist in Tenred’s castle, had two daughters a few years apart. Sanya was the younger sibling. “You watched them die?”
“My sister.” She took a shaky breath. “My father killed her by accident.”
He gently slid his fingers between hers. “How in god’s world is that possible?”
“The tale of her death only begins what I’ve been meaning to tell you since I first saw you here at the Academy. I could see in your eyes that you were surprised I wasn’t a nasty shrew anymore. I feel it’s important to explain my past behavior, but we haven’t had the opportunity.” She squeezed his hand. “How unfortunate for it to finally come after such a terrible event.”
The warmth of her hand and the press of her cheek against his shoulder seemed like the only thing keeping him grounded in this world. Without Sanya, Basen felt like he would drift into a void, where depression and confusion would be his ground and walls.
It would’ve been strange for them to share a bed like this at any point before, but he could feel she needed the same comfort as he did. It was in the undertone of her words—the same fear she would slip into despair at any moment.
“Please go on,” he said.
“My father had unreasonable expectations for my sister. He thought that with the right training, she could become the most powerful person in the world. He wanted her to discover new energies, to learn psyche, to wield a sword, a bow, a wand…” Sanya sighed. “As you already know, my father was the king’s most valued chemist. His work involved inventing and producing potions that could help in the war. One, for example, removed flesh upon contact, causing unbearable pain and leaving a hideous green scar.”
“I’d heard of that one.” It had been used toward the end of the war, but even the chemists wielding it voiced their discomfort with its cruelty. There were plenty of other weapons more deadly. But it was used as a tactic of fear, to agonize and scar their enemies. Basen hadn’t known it was Sanya’s father who’d invented it.
“He experimented on my sister for years. None were designed to hurt her, although many did. He wanted to ‘open her abilities,’ a statement he used many times when arguing with my poor mother, who had no power to stop him. Eventually, he gave my sister a mixture that her body couldn’t handle. I watched as tremors shook her so violently that she couldn’t breathe. The king—your uncle—and a few others knew the truth about the experiments. My mother tried to have my father imprisoned, but he was too important to your uncle. Those who didn’t know the truth were told that my sister died from a seizure.” Sanya tucked her hair behind her ear as she looked into Basen’s eyes. “Is that what you heard?”
“I do remember hearing that.” He spoke in the same hushed tone as hers. Hopefully exhaustion would take them into sleep soon. “I’m sorry.”
She turned to lie flat on her back and let out her breath. “My father started experimenting on me soon after.”
“God’s mercy, Spiro must’ve been insane.”
“That’s an understatement. He taught me that if I’m not someone important, then I’m no one. I was forced to work hard every moment of every day. The potions he gave me made me feel all sorts of things: irritable, tired, energetic, scared. Each day would be a mystery, and I hated every moment. As a result, I didn’t treat others in the castle with any care, and it only became worse as I got older.”
“I wish I’d known.” Guilt found its way through his shock. He’d made no effort to help Sanya but had joked about her behind her back with the rest of his friends.
“There’s nothing you could’ve done anyway.”
“Your mother must’ve tried to do a lot.”
“I’m sure she did, but I didn’t get to see her much after my sister died because Spiro had your uncle keep her away from me except for one visit a month. He threatened me so I wouldn’t tell her about the experiments. But after a year, I finally found the courage to bring them up. I don’t remember much except that she seemed alarmed by the news and made me swear not to tell Spiro that I’d mentioned it to her. It was ten years ago at least, and it was the last time I saw her. I figure she must’ve tried to do something to help me and was punished for it. She might’ve died later that week…or years after, I don’t know. My father waited until I was twelve to tell me that my mother had passed.”
Her voice was weak and rigid, as if about to break. “He claimed it just…happened naturally—her heart had stopped during the night. There was a funeral, but I never saw her body. Sometimes I feel hopeful that she’s still alive, yet I know she isn’t. I could see it in his eyes whenever I—” A sob interrupted her.
She turned to bury her face in Basen’s chest as she cried. He held her and murmured comforting words with little to no meaning, but it seemed to help.
It was hard to imagine this woman on Warrior’s Field fighting with men twice her size. But at least now he could see that his memories of the old Sanya weren’t the real Sanya. This woman in his arms was real—this determined, strong woman, who came out of a harsh childhood with no family or friends to show for it. He still hadn’t asked how her father died, but he didn’t care to know.
“I’m sorry,” she said, stopping her tears immediately. “It’s wrong to talk about people who died years ago after what just happened to your friend.”
“I don’t know what’s right and wrong in situations like this, so you should do whatever you feel comfortable doing.”
“As should you.”
“I would if I knew what that was.”
“I think it’s sleep, if you can.”
Although Basen felt emptiness inside his chest, his exhaustion was overwhelming. He closed his eyes and let it pull him into a fitful slumber.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Redfield bell tore Basen out of his sleep the next morning. He forced himself out of Sanya’s bed and dressed. She smiled sadly at him, and he nodded back.
They walked silently to Redfield, where Sanya followed him to one of the benches at the front row. He didn’t have the energy to climb any higher than that.
The rest of the students came to fill the empty space around them. The sun had just come up—normally breakfast hours would’ve just begun, but everyone was in the stadium.
As Terren walked to the center of the arena with his brow furrowed in concern, Basen realized this would be about Nick. Since the slaying,
it felt to Basen as if his body were a puppet awaiting commands he had no will to give.
“Those of you who awoke last night to have your campus houses searched are already aware of the sad and shocking news,” Terren announced as the stadium hushed. “Which I will get to in a moment.”
Basen had been awakened by someone pounding on Sanya’s door last night. A man he’d never met searched the house and asked about Sanya’s bloody clothes. After she and Basen explained that they’d carried Nick to the medical building, the man had told them they would be questioned by psychics later.
“The rest of your campus houses are being searched at this moment,” Terren continued. “Meanwhile, everyone here is to be questioned by psychics when I’m done with my announcement.” He paused for a breath, his narrowed eyes full of pain. “A second-year student, Nick Gallilo, was murdered during the night.” Voices cried out around the stadium in surprise and confusion. “The dagger that took his life was left in his room.” Terren beckoned toward a group of older men and women who looked like a mix of guards and instructors. One man lifted the weapon for display.
“As you can see,” Terren said, “the dagger is made completely of silver. There are no engravings, but the craftsmanship is of high quality. This is an expensive weapon and not a common one. If any of you think you’ve seen it before or have any information about it, tell the psychics when they question you.
“At this time, the gates to the Academy will be kept closed. Guards will watch each wall. You will need permission from your instructor to leave the Academy for visits to the cities, and visitors will be questioned by a psychic upon entering. The fourth day of evaluation week will begin after lunch, and the fifth and final day will continue as normal. We don’t believe the person who committed this act was someone within the Academy, but we do need to question all of you. So come and make lines like the last time you were here.”
*****
By the time questioning had concluded, it was already nearing midday. No one was taken away by guards, though many eyes were on Annah. Basen was questioned about the bloody shirt and pants they found in his room. Even after explaining what had happened, the psychics still asked him directly if he’d killed Nick.
He returned to his bench in the stadium after he was done. Sanya came to tell him she was going to train until lunch to distract her mind, then left. Effie came soon after and sat beside Basen.
“Why would someone do this?” she asked.
“I want to know as well, but I have no idea.”
“Did you see or hear anything?”
“No, just his screaming. It was too dark for me to even realize the killer had left his weapon there. I haven’t been back in his room since.”
Terren came to the edge of the arena with Reela at his side. “Basen, do you mind if we talk about last night?”
He nodded and followed them out of Redfield. They flanked him as Terren guided them north, cutting across Warrior’s Field.
“Tell us everything that happened as best as you can remember,” Terren said.
“I awoke to his screams, then I tried to get my wand.”
“What were his screams like?” Terren asked.
The question felt like a knife turning in Basen’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” Terren added. “But we can’t skip any details. There might be clues among them.”
Reela touched his back. “I’m sorry also.”
“His screams were…horrible.” Basen’s stomach turned as he tried to get the words out. “It was like he was in the worst pain possible. I went for my wand on the other side of my room, but it took some time to find because it was completely dark. He was still screaming by the time I got it, I believe, but then he stopped. I tried to gather BE for light, but I couldn’t feel it around me.”
“What do you mean?” Terren asked.
“It wasn’t there. I tried to pull it in, but…it just wasn’t there. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“Has this ever happened before?”
“No. Ever since I learned how to gather bastial energy, I’ve never had trouble with it. There was a strange smell as well, I’m remembering now. I don’t know if it’s related, but it was an odor I hadn’t smelled before that made me think of improperly mixed potions.”
Basen described the rest of the incident as he walked across Warrior’s Field between Terren and Reela and soon realized they were headed to the dining hall. He looked behind him to see others coming out of Redfield and walking in the same direction.
Most people are going to suspect me, being Nick’s roommate and being questioned by the headmaster with a psychic.
Although, it had seemed that everyone had their suspicions set on Annah earlier. He wondered if the small psychic was capable of doing the damage he’d seen. It made him realize something.
“I think it was a psychic,” Basen said.
“Why do you believe that?” Terren asked.
“Nick screamed as if being tortured, then he stopped suddenly, yet his only injury was his slit throat. Psyche is the only explanation for what I heard—a psychic pained him to keep him from fighting back, probably after Nick saw him or her come in through his window, then the killer slit his throat and left through the window.”
Terren and Reela looked to be deep in thought.
“Perhaps,” Terren said. “Reela, did Rek ever tell you anything about psychics being able to keep mages from using bastial energy?”
“No, and I don’t see how it could be possible with psyche. I think it was something else.”
“A potion, perhaps?” Basen suggested.
“That’s something I’ll need to consider,” Terren said.
They arrived at the dining hall, but the headmaster stopped at the open double doors. “Thank you for your help, Basen. However, I might need to speak with you again after I talk to other instructors.”
“I don’t mind, but you don’t need to have a psychic with you. I have no reason to lie to you, which Reela can confirm.”
Terren put up his hand to show that he didn’t need Reela to tell him. “I believe you. No more psychics. Eat and try to get your mind back to evaluation week. There will be time for grieving later. You should feel no guilt for this.” Terren walked back the way they’d come.
Basen looked at Reela, giving her a chance to leave him as well, though he desperately hoped she would stay. He hadn’t been alone with his thoughts since Nick had died, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face them.
She surprised him by hooking her arm around his. “I won’t leave you alone.”
He clicked his tongue as he realized she could feel his emotions. “That’s embarrassing. It doesn’t seem fair that you can tell what I’m feeling.”
“It certainly isn’t, but I can’t help it.” She formed the same half smile she’d worn most of the time he’d known her.
They were the first ones in the dining hall, so there was no line. Soon they were seated with their food, and Basen realized how hungry he was. As he ate, he told Reela, “I wish we could’ve determined it was a psychic so at least we have some thread to follow. How can you be certain psyche can’t be used to prevent mages from gathering BE?”
“The only way a psychic could stop a mage is by breaking their concentration either by pain or some other feeling. It’s like trying to stop someone from breathing. There’s nothing we can do to the air to make it impossible, but we can cover their mouth and nose or choke them or—”
“I got it,” Basen spat out before she could turn his stomach by mentioning anything else he didn’t want to hear.
“Sorry,” Reela said. “The point is psychics can’t remove the bastial energy or destroy it, and I don’t see any other way to prevent a mage from gathering it. Mages are stronger than psychics in terms of the distance and speed with which they can pull and push bastial energy.”
The more she spoke, the more Basen realized how little he knew about psyche. “I thought psychics did do something to t
he bastial energy and that’s what causes their subject’s change in feelings.”
“Somewhat. Every living creature produces bastial energy. Every emotion changes the way the bastial energy emanates. Psychics like me have learned to read those emotions, like fear versus calm, in the same way you can see how a square is different from a circle or red is from blue. We can sway emotions by changing the pattern the energy takes to match the emotion we want the person or creature to feel. So all we’re doing is making small adjustments to the energy in your body. Meanwhile, mages like yourself can pull in bastial energy from the air from ten to fifty yards away depending on the strength of your mind. Psychics don’t learn to manipulate energy in the same way; we don’t have the strength to pull bastial energy toward us and form it into a cluster, and we don’t have any control over sartious energy, so we can’t make fire. If anyone could prevent you from feeling BE around you, it would be someone who can take all the BE in the area and direct it somewhere too far away for you to reach. This person is most likely a master mage.”
“That would make sense, except there was a smell when I felt no energy. It was as if the energy had been changed to something that held an odor.”
Reela hummed as she thought. “I don’t know anything about that, but I am no expert in understanding bastial energy. I’m sure Terren will speak to those who are, and he’ll find out who did this to Nick. I never got to know him well, but from the few times we met I could tell he had a good heart. I don’t know who would want him dead.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me, either.”
*****
For the rest of the day, Basen followed Penny’s casting instructions with little will to compete. He was a shadow of what he’d been the day before, unable to concentrate on anything for more than a few moments.
It was a relief when the day finally came to an end. He was so eager to go home, get into bed, and wallow in his sadness that he did the one thing he swore he would never do again given the choice. He skipped a meal.