“You can choose which you’ll have broken,” Arram suggested. “Your wrist or your little finger. Right before examinations, too! The little finger would heal faster, of course, but all broken bones hurt for a time after they’re healed, did you know that?”
He deposited Diop outside the hall and waited to see what would happen next.
The older boy rubbed his freed hand, his mouth quivering. “This isn’t over!” he threatened like a villain in one of the old stories Arram loved to read.
Perhaps it was the knowledge that a god owed him a favor. Perhaps it was simply that he’d had enough. Arram didn’t know what caused him to shrug and say, “Do your best—if you think it’s useful. If I were you, though, I’d concentrate on my marks. From what I’ve been hearing, you’ll be lucky if you don’t have to retake half of your courses.”
He turned and walked back into the dining hall.
That day, and throughout examinations and the Midwinter festivities, Ozorne lived with all of their belongings in a spare room of the suite shared by Lindhall’s runners. He took it in good part, to Arram’s relief. The truth was that the normally proud prince was so happy to be a part of Lindhall’s large staff that he could have joined Arram on a pallet in the workroom and still have been happy. Arram was simply glad not to be forced to deal with the two older boys anymore.
With examinations over, it was the best Midwinter Arram had celebrated yet. A large mahogany chest, ornamented all over in intricate carvings, was given to him by Master Cosmas the day before the holiday began. It had come all the way from the Yamani Islands by way of Arram’s family in Tyra. It was a perfect mage’s piece, filled with boxes of different sizes that fitted together perfectly inside. Arram quickly learned that such boxes could be switched around to use more room or less and leave space for other things. The chest was from his father, who now studied silk weaving in the Yamani Islands. The rest of his family had placed smaller gifts in each box, to let him know they remembered him.
There were gifts that made him happy from his masters and from Varice and Ozorne. He had done the same for Varice and Ozorne, he thought, but when he gave Prisca a book on the great queens of the Eastern Realms, wonderfully illustrated, her thank-yous were less than enthusiastic. Her own gift to him was a set of five linen handkerchiefs. Admittedly, he was forever using up handkerchiefs and ruining many, but the gift didn’t seem very…romantic. She hadn’t even embroidered them.
“Perhaps she isn’t good at embroidery?” Ozorne suggested. They were in one of many galleys rowing to the imperial palace for a Midwinter party hosted by his mother, and Arram had mentioned his disappointment.
Varice sniffed. “Arram can do better,” she said.
“Better embroidery?” Ozorne asked, startled. “Sewing, I’ll grant you, but—”
Varice tapped him on the shoulder with the sweet-smelling wooden fan Ozorne had given her. “Don’t be a dolt,” she told him sternly. “That shirt doesn’t fit you.”
“I love Prisca!” Arram protested.
“Do you?” Varice asked as the wind blew a drift of rain under their cover. “Weren’t you saying just the other day she hardly seems to listen when you talk to her?”
“I try to discuss things she likes,” Arram said, defending his ladylove.
“And she says you don’t know what you’re talking about. I know that much,” Ozorne said as their boat docked. “Forget about her for tonight anyway. I know Mother will have invited a number of people our age who will take our minds off of everything. Not to mention the splendid food and music!”
He was right. It was a glorious party. Not only was Princess Mahira smiling, but she also deigned to dance. Twice she accepted Master Chioké’s hand, and once she did a solemn weaver’s dance with Prince Stiloit, second in line for the throne. The prince might have danced with the princess more, Ozorne confided to Arram, but he chose instead to take three dances with Varice.
She was blushing heartily when she rejoined her friends after that third dance. “Apparently it’s right what they say, about how bawdy seafaring men are!” she told them as she fanned herself vigorously. “The jokes that man told me!” She grinned.
Arram and Varice returned early, near midnight. Ozorne remained to join his mother and the emperor for other Midwinter celebrations. Varice collapsed against their boat’s cushions with a sigh of relief and made no attempt to hold a conversation until they were halfway across the river. Instead they were bundled under a couple of blankets—the rainy night had gotten colder—and listened to the river and droplets on the canopy.
“I do love to go to parties with Ozorne,” she confided. “But I love to return from them with you. Ozorne will talk all the way home. He doesn’t understand that sometimes you want to think about the lights, and the arrangements, and the lace….”
Arram, who could feel the fishes coasting lazily under their boat, smiled.
“And those little bites of papery bread around pomegranates and seasoned ground lamb with turmeric—just a touch. I’d like to try making that. The bread was the trickiest.”
“Like phyllo,” Arram suggested. He had never been interested in cooking before meeting her. He loved to help her with ideas, but the few times she had allowed him to assist her with cooking had not gone well, with aftermaths that involved scrubbing, scraping, and—once—repainting the wall of the kitchen they had used.
“Phyllo, exactly, only far more fragile! I’ll have to experiment.” The boat was drawing up to the dock when she said, “Will I ever have such wonderful friends as you and Ozorne again?”
Alarmed, he handed her to the boatman reaching for her from the dock. “Were you planning on getting rid of us?” he asked, scrambling up the ladder after her.
“No, no!” she protested as Arram cast protection from the rain over them both. “But a girl needs more than two friends in a lifetime.”
The midnight bells began to chime, signaling the change from midnight to the first hour.
“The Winter’s Crone is here,” Varice said, and shivered. Arram pulled the blanket up higher around her shoulders and tucked it in. She leaned against him and sighed. “But she brings good fortune, if we have the courage and stamina to seek it, and she holds the secrets to magic in her hands.” She sat up, excited. “And she must like us, because look at us! We rise and keep rising—all three of us with more masters handling our lessons than most who graduate with their certificates ever see. As long as we work hard and please the gods, we’ll keep rising!” She settled back against Arram’s shoulder. “It’s going to be a wonderful year. I can feel it in my bones.”
THE IMPERIAL UNIVERSITY OF CARTHAK
The School for Mages
The Upper Academy
SCHEDULE OF STUDY, SPRING TERM, 438 H.E.
Student: Arram Draper
Learning Level: Independent
Second Morning Bell
Stone Magic—Yadeen
Third Morning Bell
Fire Magic—Cosmas, breakfast supplied
Morning Classes
Reptiles—Lindhall Reed, instructors
Tribal Magic—Urukut Ahilep
Medicines—Ramasu, instructors
Lunch—Noon Bell
Afternoon Classes
Advanced Charms—Faziy aHadi
Illusions: Birds—Dagani
Plants—Hulak
Water Magic—Sebo
Supper—Seventh Afternoon Bell
Extra Study at Need
The day after the end of the Midwinter holiday, Ozorne treated his two friends to a boat ride from the university to the port city of Thak’s Gate, at the end of the Zekoi. The season wasn’t ideal for boat rides, but they bore the winter rains for the excitement of visiting the markets, which were open and booming, filled with people from all around the Inland Sea. They came back exhausted and happy, carrying their purchases under their waterproof cloaks.
When Ozorne and Arram reached Master Lindhall’s lodgings, they discovered he had pla
nned a surprise for them. One of the fourth-year helpers, a stocky young black woman whose expertise lay with reptiles, encountered them in the hall and snagged Ozorne’s arm. “Come and see,” she told him, dragging him into the rooms she shared with two other fourth-year helpers. “You know there’s only three of us in these rooms now, since Baaro went east to study herds.”
Confused, Ozorne nodded. Inside the main lounge, the other two occupants—one male, one female—lazed on broad couches and read. They waved as the woman, Nyoka, opened a door. She indicated the room beyond. “We did our best, but doubtless you’ll want to shift things around.”
Ozorne went inside; Arram followed. Someone had brought Ozorne’s things from his cramped quarters to these far bigger ones. He now had shelves, a good-sized bed, a proper desk and chair, and a standing cupboard in addition to his chest. It lacked only a window. “Much better,” the prince said as he dumped his belongings on the bed.
“There’s no window,” Arram pointed out.
Ozorne shrugged. “Who needs a window when you have a scrying mirror?” he asked. “I’ve gotten very good at finding the lake and the woods at Mother’s home whenever I want.” He led the way into the sitting room the four shared. “This is wonderful!” he told them.
Nyoka took Arram’s arm. “Now come. You’re dripping.” She towed him across the hall to the room that belonged to Lindhall’s personal assistant. He was not there. For that matter, his collection of gaudy drapes and brightly colored bowls was gone as well. Instead the bed was covered with plain red blankets and pillows, the floor with a brown rug. A desk fitted with shelves above it stood beside a tall set of bookshelves already partly stocked. There was a chair and a padded stool big enough to sit on. A table stood by the window. Branches of candles stood on the desk and table.
And on a lesser table, tucked into the space between the bed and the door, was Preet’s cage. The minute she saw Arram she began to twitter and sing.
Arram looked at Nyoka, trembling. He knew what he thought, but he wasn’t on the level that Lindhall would require from his assistant. “I don’t understand,” he said.
The door next to the desk was already open. Now Lindhall entered. “My assistant, like several others among my group of students, is off to…”
“Amar District,” Nyoka told him with a smile. “He forgets details about human beings,” she explained to Arram. “Master Lindhall has asked me to take his tasks, but he can’t have a woman living in the assistant’s quarters with him alone. People will talk. I’ll be across the hall. If he shoves in here in the middle of the night, just come and get me.” She grinned cheekily at Lindhall. “Though we did rig a summoning bell. Except he seems to have misplaced his end.”
Lindhall tried to frown at Nyoka. “I’m sure it’s in my study somewhere.”
Arram looked at them. “Is it on wire?”
“No, cotton cord,” Nyoka said.
“Better still,” Arram told her. “I could probably find wire, but cotton should be easier.”
Lindhall raised his eyebrows. “There are hooks in the hall between our doors. Hang up your cape—silly things. Useful only for shedding water. Hang it up, and you can come try.”
It took Arram only a few moments to apply Master Hulak’s spell for finding a particular plant. The leading end of the cord had gotten trapped under two fat books on songbirds and a cold teapot in the master’s study. With the problem solved and Nyoka chuckling to herself, Arram retreated to his new home.
Lindhall followed him. “I promise not to be in and out,” he assured Arram, “but I did want to draw your eyes to this. I had it made over the holiday.” He picked up a piece of cloth from the desk and offered it to Arram, who took it. It was a blue pouch with a long, thick cord attached. The bottom bulged flatly. When Arram put his hand inside, he found a wooden rod was attached to the sides near the bottom, while at the bottom itself was a wooden disk to hold the sides apart.
Arram smiled at the tall Northerner. “For Preet?”
Lindhall smiled back. “You know what she is like if you leave her at night. I now feel free to inform you that if she is left completely alone during the day, she raises a very similar amount of noise.”
Stricken with guilt, Arram said, “Master, I’m sorry!”
“Which is why I did not tell you before,” Lindhall replied, waving off the apology. “Apparently sunbirds are very sociable. From all I have learned, and you may read that book as a start on what we know of immortals that fly in general”—he pointed to one of Arram’s new bookshelves—“sunbirds do not strike out on their own. They remain in their original flocks, or when a flock is deemed too large, they separate into smaller ones. To Preet, you are her flock. Other humans—Ozorne, Varice, one or two of my students, myself—will do, but in fact she wants to be with you. I have sent notices to your teachers and to the cooks that Preet will be with you throughout the day. Unless, of course, Master Sebo takes you underwater.”
Preet made an ugly croaking sound. Picking her up to tickle her chest, Arram noticed that she had grown since their first meeting. She now filled his palm and reached the middle knuckles of his hand.
Lindhall was chuckling. “She doesn’t mind splashing in her water dish, but apparently walking into it is not to her taste.”
Arram stroked Preet’s head. “Don’t worry, I won’t take you into the river.” He looked up at his teacher. “I can’t thank you…This is so wonderful….”
“You need not thank me. I have sick rabbits and lizards whose cages must be cleaned,” the master replied. “Whenever you are free, you should check the sickrooms to clean out those areas that need it, and refill such dishes as require it. During the day, gather up old teacups and dishes and set them on a tray outside my door for the floor’s servants to take away. And occasionally I will require help around here.”
Arram could hardly breathe. Work with the sick creatures? Help Master Lindhall? He felt as if he had gone to the Divine Realms.
“At least, now that you are here with Preet, you will have a proper bed and you will be able to sleep until dawn,” Lindhall said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the menagerie, as my other helpers say. Now, off to supper with you.”
Arram hurried to meet his friends, Preet chuckling from inside her new pouch. It was going to be a splendid term.
—
The three friends spent most of their free time during the remainder of the term in Lindhall’s domain. Varice worked on medicines at the direction of the older students, who told Lindhall of her precision with the measurements. It may have looked like work, and for Arram and Ozorne it sometimes smelled like work, but they thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
Prisca sent Arram a couple of notes asking if he wished to accompany her into the city. Once she stopped by. He was always too busy to go with her. He offered to show her around when she visited, but one look into the room where they had a group of snakes and lizards sent her on her way. Arram would have gone after her, but he had a number of tasks to do. He’d also discovered that Preet didn’t care for her.
Before the friends knew it, the free week was over. Their spring term schedules arrived the day before classes began. Reviewing his, Arram saw only one change. He was now taking advanced charms with a specific teacher, someone named Faziy aHadi. It was an old name from western Carthak—female, he was pretty sure.
Together with the schedule came marks, always a matter of slight discord between him and Ozorne. Arram was unhappy to find more sixes and sevens for the last term, but not surprised. Diop had worn on him, and the arrival of Preet had distracted him in December. He would just have to buckle down this term.
Over breakfast Ozorne noticed that he had a mark lower than Arram’s, though he ranked higher—as usual—in illusions. His marks for war magic were also high. He joked about it being good that he knew Arram was cleverer than he was, but his eyes sent a different message. Arram shrugged. Ozorne would feel better in a week or so.
He left his f
riends early so he could perform his day’s chores for Lindhall and get a good night’s sleep. Unlike them, he still had Yadeen’s class and the one with Cosmas before the school day began. He wished Ozorne studied with Cosmas as well, but Ozorne now took fire magic later in the day, with Chioké.
With the new term they had some new workrooms in which to meet with instructors. These were separate buildings on the western side of the School for Mages, beside the service road used by tradesmen to bring goods to the mages and kitchens. All three of the friends had been excited about this the day before: they had to be moving ahead if they were to be admitted to the rooms where the mages did their deepest spell-work.
Arram’s first experience in one naturally was with Yadeen. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but the long, bright place with windows set near the ceiling was not it. The tables and counters were polished light-colored wood, as were the tall stools. Stones were arrayed in tidy square boxes on shelves six and seven layers high on both sides of the room. Cabinets supported the counters. Braziers stood in each corner, supplying warmth—the morning was cold. One also supported a teapot.
Arram produced Preet for Yadeen to look at, but if Preet intrigued him, he showed no sign of it. He simply ordered Arram to place her near a working brazier so he could juggle unencumbered.
Arram was all thumbs when Yadeen tossed him a piece of amethyst in place of a fourth ball, but it seemed that at least one irregular object in the circle was the rule for the first half hour. For the second half, Yadeen introduced him to the art of magically breaking a crystal the size of his fist into many tinier crystals—or at least, attempting to do so. Arram reached the end of the hour sweaty, without removing so much as a speck of crystal with his Gift. Even worse, he could have sworn he heard Preet make a rude noise when he stopped. He was wistfully dreaming of life as a peddler or beekeeper. His wrists were so tired that they ached.