“No.”
Though the word came from Ziary own lips, it was higher pitched and lacked the unnerving echo of Ziary’s voice. Ziary blinked, and the light in his eyes went out, revealing the gray of Osmund’s eyes.
“No,” Ziary’s voice said. “I won’t let you!”
“You don’t have a choice. This is my body. I won’t let you use it to commit murder.”
“Murder is a crime,” Ziary said. “An execution is justice.”
“No,” Osmund said. “It isn’t.”
The wings had become translucent and the sword vanished altogether. The winds calmed, and the clouds dispersed. The light around Ziary faded, and he floated to the ground, returning to normal proportions as his feet came to rest on the stone. The robes disappeared, replaced by Osmund’s student ones.
“You’ll pay for this, freak,” Regis cried out.
Osmund’s eyes glowed, but it faded after a moment, and Osmund looked away. Regis was blubbering. His face was red and covered in blisters. Jez couldn’t understand what he was saying. Many of the others had been similarly burned. Lina was crying as she ran her hand across the wound on her face. Her touch seemed to make it hurt more, and she fell to her knees cried out in anguish.
Someone must have gone to get the chancellor because Balud arrived a second later. He took one look at the burned bullies and called for an adept to take them to the healing district. Several students offered the injured shoulders to lean on and helped them walk. Lina wouldn’t get up, and they called for a stretcher. It arrived a few minutes later, and she was carried off. Balud glared at Jez and Osmund.
“Does anyone want to tell me what happened or shall I guess?”
“It was an accident, Chancellor,” Osmund said.
“You promised there wouldn’t be any more of these accidents.”
Jez stared at his friend. Osmund only nodded, obviously not intending to say anything more.
“They attacked him,” Jez said. “They hit him in the back of the head.”
“Yes, those boys will be punished too. I can ignore a fist fight in some back alley, but this wasn’t even a duel. You could have killed them. Osmund, you’ll be imprisoned beneath the tower. If there are complications with their healing, you will be held personally responsible.” He pointed at a nearby adjutant in a blue robe. “Go get Master Besis. I need Osmund’s power bound.”
CHAPTER 15
“What just happened?” Jez asked.
Osmund stared at him through the bars of the cell in the basement of the tower. It was in a bleak corridor. Although the walls and floor were made from the same black stone as the rest of the city, it seemed somehow muted, and lacked the shimmering quality of the stone outside. Even the lanterns barely seemed to dent the darkness. Osmund was sitting in a stone bench built into the wall. He kept his eyes down and his shoulders slumped. Master Besis had been apologetic as he locked him up, but Regis was the nephew of a powerful lord, and with Osmund having no connections at all, the chancellor had decided to deal with him harshly until the situation was sorted out. Besis had placed bindings around the cell that would keep Osmund from accessing his power, though he hadn’t been sure if those would keep Osmund from transforming.
“Ziary came out,” Osmund said.
“I saw that,” Jez said. “Who is Ziary?”
“It’s just like he said. He’s the sword of justice. He’s...” Osmund scanned the ceiling. “The afur passed down something to the limaph. It’s something grafted to our souls. Some call it a scion of the pharim. I thought I had him under control. It’s been a long time since he came out.”
“You can do it because you’re a limaph?” Osmund nodded. “You think I can transform into something like that?”
Osmund shrugged. “Maybe you can’t. It depends on how much of you is pharim. Master Rael thinks my line is the culmination of several different lines of limaph. Ziary can manifest himself if I’m not careful, but only about one in a thousand limaph have a scion powerful enough to do that.”
“That didn’t seem much like the pharim I’ve heard of.”
Osmund chuckled and leaned back into the darkness. “The pharim you’ve heard of are the watered down versions used in children’s tales. True pharim are creatures of absolutes, and the scions are only slightly less so. They are terrible if they think you’re opposed to their purpose. Ziary has no room for mercy.”
They both went silent at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. The chancellor’s hair was frazzled and his robe hung loose. He was breathing heavily and when he saw them, he let out a long breath and looked at Osmund.
“I don’t suppose you can tell me what exactly you did to them.”
“It wasn’t really me. I don’t have any control when Ziary comes out.”
“Fine. What did that thing you become do?”
“Ziary used the fires of justice to burn them with their own evil.”
“No dramatics, please. I need specifics. I’ll grant you they’re bullies, but I wouldn’t call them evil.”
“Chancellor I don’t know exactly how it works. I do know that if they didn’t have at least some evil, the light wouldn’t have burned them.”
“No matter what I try, I can’t heal their burns. I don’t suppose you know how to help them.”
Osmund shook his head. “It’s pharim power. I’m not sure it can be healed magically. It should heal naturally, though.”
Balud nodded. “What about Lina?”
“He hit her with a sword.”
“Obviously. In the others, I could at least dull their pain. I can’t even do that much for her. She screamed until her voice went hoarse.”
“Chancellor, I just don’t know. If Ziary’s sword isn’t a pharim’s weapon, then it’s at least close.”
Jez shook his head, but stopped himself before he actually spoke. Ziary’s sword was nothing like those wielded by the pharim. Lina would never have survived a pharim’s blade. He just had no idea how he knew that.
“The pain seems to be subsiding on its own,” the chancellor said. She won’t die, but she’ll bear an ugly scar for the rest of her life. Her family won’t soon forgive you for that.”
“But her family isn’t that important, right?” Jez asked.
Balud raised an eyebrow. “Not important compared to Baron Dusan, but compared to a boy with no family? She may as well be a queen. Add that to the testimony of Regis and the others and things aren’t looking well for you, Osmund. Master Rael has asked for lenience, but I’m limited in what I can do. I have no choice but to banish you from the Carceri Academy.”
“What?” Jez cried out, but he took a step back when the chancellor’s eyes fell on him. He clenched his fists and stepped forward. “Chancellor, they started it.”
“A few punches and kicks don’t compare with throwing deadly magic against someone.”
“What if I vouch for him?” Jez asked. “Master Dusan is more important than Lina’s family, right?”
“If you were the baron’s son, and if he added his word to yours, then maybe, but as it is? No, I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be enough.”
“But...”
“I understand,” Osmund cut him off. “How long do I have before I need to be gone?”
“You’ll leave first thing in the morning. Master Besis will go with you while you prepare your belongings. You’ll come back here to sleep, and he’ll escort you to the edge of the city.”
Osmund managed a weak grin. “The protection master himself. I guess I’m honored.”
The chancellor chuckled. “Regis objected most severely. He wanted you to go alone as a way to shame you. I think he might’ve insisted on your execution if he could’ve found a way to justify it. I convinced him by saying that if you got it in your head to do harm, Master Besis would be there to stop you.”
“Do you really think I’d go after him?”
“Vengeance can do strange things to a person.” Balud shrugged. “Particularly to someone with a spirit o
f vengeance inside of them.”
Osmund looked down. “Ziary is a spirit of justice, not vengeance.”
“Say that to the half dozen children in my sick ward. No, I don’t think you’d go after him, but Ziary might. I’m sorry to see you go, Osmund, but I’m not sorry to have that thing out of my school. I’ll be right back. Besis is waiting upstairs.”
CHAPTER 16
Osmund didn’t have much, just a few changes of clothes and some sheets of paper. There were a couple of books in his room, but they belonged to the Academy. Jez gave him a handful of gold coins. Osmund tried to refuse, but Jez wouldn’t take them back. For his part, Master Besis just watched as Osmund packed all his belongings into a small travel sack. He slung it over his shoulder and looked at the protection master.
“Do I really have to go back to the cell?”
“I’m the only one the chancellor will trust to keep your powers in check, and I can’t watch over you all night. Even if it can’t suppress your transformation, the cell is specially prepared to dampen access to magic. Even Ziary would have trouble there. Aside from that, you are a skilled battlemage.”
“What if I just leave now?”
“The sun will set in a few hours. You won’t have time to make it all the way down. That trail is dangerous in the dark.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“What if you fall?”
Osmund shrugged. “Ziary can fly.”
Besis sighed. “The chancellor won’t like it, but since you’ve been expelled, he’ll have no real authority over you once you leave Tarcai. I’ll walk you to the edge of town.”
“Are you sure?” Jez asked. “Maybe I can talk to Baron Dusan. If he steps in...”
Osmund shook his head. “I’ve heard of the baron. I don’t think I’d like to be indebted to him.”
“He’s not such a bad guy.”
“Didn’t you say you barely know him?”
“Well, yes.”
Osmund stood up and walked to his window. He stared out over the city for several seconds. Jez walked up next to him, though he felt like a child next to a giant.
“And you’re from his lands, where it’s probably a crime to speak out against him.”
“I’ve never heard anyone say anything, but that doesn’t mean...”
“How many times have you heard people complaining about the masters?”
Jez threw a sidelong glance at Besis, but the master simply smiled. “Do you think we don’t know?”
Jez nodded. “All the time.”
“Exactly. People always complain about their leaders. They usually don’t mean anything by it, but they always do. If they don’t, you have to wonder why. Baron Dusan is not a man whose attention I want to grab.”
“But you’re going through Randak, aren’t you?” Besis asked.
Osmund nodded, and Jez looked at him quizzically.
“You are?”
“I’m from the Narian Isles, and Randak is the closest port.”
“Can you wait a little while? I want to write a letter to my father.”
“You could speak to him through the speaking stone,” Besis said.
Jez shook his head. “He doesn’t have a stone, and he never really trusted Master Dusan. I would send a letter with one of the normal messengers, but he can’t read, and even if I paid the messenger to do it...”
Osmund nodded. “He might charge your father to read it anyway. Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
Jez uttered a thanks and ran down the two flights of stairs to his room. He pulled a sheet of paper out of his desk and scribbled a letter mentioning everything that had happened to him, though he left out the part about Osmund thinking he was a limaph. When he looked over it, he frowned. It was barely legible, so he pulled out another sheet of paper and forced himself to write slowly. Satisfied that Osmund would, at least, be able to read it, he folded it up and stuffed it in an envelope. He dripped wax from a candle onto it, but didn’t bother to seal it. The ring Dusan had given him would only serve to upset his father.
He ran back up and almost crashed into Master Rael. She was coming out of Osmund’s room and nodded at him. She didn’t bring up his study of theology, but he had a feeling she wasn’t one to give up. He found Osmund and Besis waiting for him. He handed the letter to Osmund and told him where to deliver it. Then, he walked with him to the edge of the city. The plains beneath them seemed to stretch out forever. There was an odd peace in the air, but Osmund was looking in the opposite direction and couldn’t seem to turn away from Tarcai.
“After you step off the caldera, you won’t be permitted to return,” Besis said. “The city’s wards will alert us if you try. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather spend one more night here and say goodbye to your friends?”
“I don’t really have any friends here, aside from Jez that is. Master Rael is the closest I’ve come, and I’ve already said all that needs to be said to her.”
Besis nodded and extended a hand. Osmund looked at it, somewhat surprised before clasping it. “Live well, Osmund Jecklson. I regret that you never studied under me. I would’ve been interested to see what someone with your talents could’ve done with the study of binding.”
Osmund inclined his head. “Thank you, Master Besis. Maybe in time, I’ll be able to come back.”
“Perhaps,” the master said, though Jez could tell neither of them believed it.
Osmund turned to Jez, and they clasped hands. “Thank you for your friendship. I wish I could’ve gotten to know you better.”
“So do I,” Jez said. “Live well, Osmund Jecklson.”
“Live well, Jezreel Bartinson. You are a good person. Don’t let them change you.”
“You know, we do try to improve people, Mister Jecklson.”
“And I try to keep Ziary under control. We both failed. Half a dozen students are in the sick ward. One is disfigured, and I am expelled. Guard yourself, Jez. There are few enough good men in places of power. The world could use someone like you.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Osmund nodded to each of them and headed down the mountain.
CHAPTER 17
Jez cried out as the practice sword whacked his thigh. A second later, another blow knocked his own weapon from his hand. Murus held the point of his weapon to Jez’s throat and sighed.
“I think you may be even worse than when you started.”
“I’m sorry. I’m having trouble concentrating.”
Murus sneered. “That’s no excuse. More than one swordsman has lost his head because he couldn’t be bothered to keep his mind on what he was doing. If you get in a duel, you must be able to fight at the top of your ability. Put everything else away. Your opponent won’t wait around for you to have a good day.”
Jez inclined his head. “Yes, Murus.”
“Go. Clean yourself up. You should have just enough time before your first class.”
Jez nodded and ran to his rooms. Servants in the tower had standing orders to have his bathtub filled whenever he returned from his training sessions. He didn’t have time to enjoy it though and barely spent any time in the water before getting out and throwing on his robes. He rushed to the building in the shadows district where his illusion class was held and took a seat. It was only then that he realized he was actually a few minutes early.
Jez’s thoughts were still on Osmund as the other students trickled in. No one sat beside him, and Jez realized that a myth had already started building around him. The binding and the painting were bad enough, but people had started associating him with Ziary’s attack.
Curiously enough, this class was not taught by an adjutant, but rather by Kerag, master of shadows himself. From the way the other students looked at each other, it was obvious he didn’t normally do this. His eyes roamed the crowd, pausing briefly on one boy who wore bright clothes instead of proper robes. The boy gave a sheepish grin, and Kerag sighed and continued looking over the class until his gaze settled on Jez. After a momen
t, Jez felt his face go red. Kerag only stared at Jez for a second but enough others noticed that they began throwing him sidelong glances and whispering to each other. Kerag cleared his throat and the class went silent.
“To the masses, illusion is the art of creating false images, and indeed, that’s what the street tricksters who perform in village inns do. A master illusionist, however, can use his abilities to deceive all twelve senses.”
“Twelve?” a boy in the front row asked.
“The five primary senses and the seven dealing with the different dominions. Those are much harder to deceive and are beyond the scope of this class, but keep that in mind. There are even people who specialize in the dominion of shadow who can make an illusion seem real even to an illusionist. Has anyone ever actually done illusions before?”
Three people raised their hands and Master Kerag pointed at a pudgy boy with a round face. It took Jez a second to recognize him as the boy from the reception who’d confused him with a duke’s son.
“Atrius, was it?” Some of the others snickered, but the boy nodded. “Come on up here.”
He pointed at the spot next to him. Atrius went red in the face and shrank back into his chair, but Master Kerag glared at him. He broke out in a sweat, but got up and walked next to the master.
“Show us what you can do.”
Atrius looked around. For a second, panic painted his features. Then, he took a few deep breaths and turned back to Master Kerag. “Can you have the class clap?”
Kerag wrinkled his brow. “Why? You haven’t done anything yet.”
A few in the class started laughing. Atrius went even redder but he lifted a shaky hand and held it before his face, horizontally. It gleamed with sweat and though he obviously tried, Atrius couldn’t keep it steady. Finally, he sighed and lowered his hand. The laughing grew quieter, though not because the students were laughing any softer. The two boys who were laughing stopped and looked at each other. They started to say something, but their voices came out too softly to hear. Atrius grinned and waved a hand, bringing their voices came back to full volume.
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