Finally I gave up, crawling miserably in the dirt, trying to escape his attack, but a too-familiar force wrapped me in tight bonds and lifted me into the air. I was helpless against his magic, and he put me on display. He lifted me up high enough for everyone to see, and then with another gust of wind set me slowly spinning. Humiliation burned hotter than the searing wounds he had inflicted. Then Archus stepped forward, sneering up into my eyes. "You are pathetic, Daven. Go away."
I could not answer, whether from the spell or my own shame I do not know, but after a moment more my spinning broke our eye contact. For a moment I could breathe again. For a moment, I hoped it was over. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for an end.
It didn't come. Instead, I suddenly felt the cold tip of his blade cut into my right shoulder. He did it with that same textbook precision, pressing just deep enough to tear the flesh. He allowed my motion to do most of the work for him, slicing my skin open in a long, shallow gash as I kept turning. He waved the blade up and down as I turned, giving shape to the scar, sinewy like a serpent's tail. I felt blood wash down my back, felt sweat burn in the long wound, felt the presence of Archus like a cancer behind me. I heard sounds from the assembled students—some cries of outrage, maybe, but mostly catcalls and jeers and laughter at my humiliation. Archus was laughing, too, and the ring of boys closest to me roared.
A flood of emotion came—rage and fear and terrible shame—but behind it came a great thudding wave of pain and exhaustion that blended with the darkness of coming night and washed me into unconsciousness. I dread to think what indignities they might have done while I hung unconscious in their midst, but when I woke the ordeal was over.
When I awoke, I was in my room. I was in my bed, propped up against the wall, with my legs stretched out before me. It was dark, deep in the night, and there were no candles burning. There was enough light through the cracked door that I could vaguely see the figure leaning against my writing desk. Tall and thin, and idly toying with the sword I had taken from Othin. Its naked blade glittered in the thin light.
For a moment I thought it was Archus, and my heart quailed. I must have made a sound, because he looked up. I saw dark eyes narrow, and then he pressed himself up and stepped over to face me, the sword resting almost forgotten in his hands.
Seriphenes. He looked down at me for a long moment then nodded toward my shoulders. "Are you feeling much pain?"
I glared up at him. It dawned on me, though, that I didn't feel the agony Archus's torture should have caused. I felt a flush of relief, even gratitude, as I recalled the Kind Father's healing magic. I shook my head in a little no, rolled my shoulders to confirm it—
And cried out at a flash of searing cold fire across my back. I could feel the sinuous trail of Archus's cut. It didn't bleed, but it burned with a vicious chill. Seriphenes grimaced.
"I'm afraid our magic lacks the...finesse of the Kind Father's treatments," he said. "But you will live."
I ground my teeth against the pain. He smirked.
"It will scar. I thought perhaps...that would be for the best." His eyes glittered whenever he paused, and his nostrils flared. I took short, sharp breaths and regained my composure. As long as I stayed still, the pain gradually faded.
He watched me for some time and then nodded. "You know why I am here?" I shook my head. His eyes widened in surprise. "Truly? You have no idea?"
I took a slow breath, and then met his eyes. "Because your apprentice tried to maim me?"
"He did maim you," Seriphenes said coolly. "That I undid it does not detract from the effectiveness of his actions. Credit where it is due, yes?" I glared at him, but I did not speak. He nodded.
"I am here to speak with you about your role in the Academy."
"You and everyone else," I growled. "I'm not leaving."
He considered me for a moment. Then he nodded, one curt jerk of his chin. "So I have heard," he said. "And so you have shown. And as I'm sure you have been told, we cannot tolerate your causing trouble at our school."
"I am not the one maiming students," I said coldly.
He smiled, his lips tight. "Just so," he said. "And that is why Archus is currently on...suspension. And that is why he was not allowed to keep the weapon he clearly won." He looked down at the Green Eagle's sword, and his lip curled in distaste. He turned and placed it on the writing desk then wiped his hands clean and turned back to me. "And by the Chancellor's order, it is not even to be taken from you."
"I appreciate the Masters' generosity," I said. "Why are you here?"
"I am here," Seriphenes said, his words a little clipped, "because
someone
must tell you how a student behaves at the Academy of Wizardry, and Archus's little
stunt
has caused that burden to fall on me."
I met his eyes for a moment and shrugged. I had to fight down another yelp of pain at the motion, but I kept it hidden. "How about you let me get some sleep, and I'll ask Themmichus for some pointers tomorrow morning?"
His lips curled in a smile that never reached his eyes. He held my gaze for a long moment, and then began as though I hadn't spoken. "You are expected to comport yourself with civility, nobility, and dignity. You are to speak to the Masters, and to any teacher, with nothing but respect. You are to refrain from inciting
fights
or otherwise causing disturbances with your fellow students, and you are—in every possible way—to keep from drawing my attention."
Those last words fell from his tongue like shards of ice, and I nearly flinched away from them. I made myself hold his gaze, though, and after a moment he nodded.
"Of every ten days, you will set aside six for training with your personal tutor, two for lectures with the other first-year students, and one for personal training and evaluation by the Academy masters. Your remaining day will be left to your leisure, although I suspect you will need it for studying. Your first day off will be tomorrow, and you can spend it healing."
He half-turned toward the door as he rattled on. "Meals can be had at the kitchens north end of the Halls of Learning, and new clothes from the commissary," he nodded pointedly to my shoulders again, and I realized the fine shirt I'd worn from the king's palace was now in tatters. "If you have more expensive tastes you can also place orders there for goods from Gath, although...."
He didn't bother finishing the sentence, and I couldn't muster the outrage to glare at him. I only stared back at him. I did my best to look bored, while I groaned inwardly at the thought of six days a week trapped in a room with the horrible Archus.
He nodded and headed for the door, but when he reached it he stopped and turned back to me. He hesitated for a moment, weighing his words. "I regret Archus's actions," he said. "But you should know he was on direction from me to convince you to leave. I have spread the word to everyone who will listen.
You should not be here
. I don't care about your pride or about Claighan's grand ideas. I want you gone, boy, and in time you will go. Until that happens...keep out of my way. Keep out of my way, and you may leave here alive."
With that he left my room. It was a long, long time before I fell asleep.
I spent the whole of the following day alone in my room, healing and sulking. Around lunchtime Themmichus came to knock on my door and even called my name before he gave up, but I did not invite him in. Eventually he went away.
The next morning marked the beginning of my first regular week of study at the Academy. I woke with the morning bell, washed myself at my basin, and shrugged into one of the worn shirts I'd brought from my days as a shepherd. The smell of sheep's wool and honest sweat had become part of the fabric. It should have been a touchstone, real and familiar, but it felt sharply out of place in this house of nobles' sons. I grimaced, but there was no time to replace it now. After my morning's lecture I could visit the commissary.
Lecture. I set my jaw. I sucked an angry breath in through my nose, and pushed it out again. Archus. I closed my eyes. There were soldiers looking for me outside these walls. I knew that much. The king wanted me in chains or worse. This place was my only refuge, but it was a kind of prison anyway, wasn't it?
I took another slow breath. There were opportunities here. They wouldn't come easily, but when had anything come easily? If I could survive this place, I would have magic to show for it. The king's cold dungeons offered no such benefits.
So I rose and reached for my door. But I stopped, a grim smile tugging at my lips. Then I went back for Othin's sword, sheathed it, and hung it from my belt. It was a long walk from my room to my appointed class in the Halls of Learning, and I drew looks from everyone I passed. I heard them talking, but I did not slow, did not look to left or right. I went to meet Archus with a weapon at my side.
In the end, I was late. I missed my turn, took a wrong staircase, and had to try three classrooms already full of students before I found my way to the right corridor. That meant Archus would be waiting already. It meant he would sneer and call me down for my tardiness. Fear and anger and irritation boiled in my stomach, but I forced them down. I took strength from the weight of the belt on my hip. I wanted to hesitate when I got to the door, to turn away, to draw it out. I didn't. I grabbed the handle and ripped the door open and stormed into the room.
And looked down on the startled face of Antinus. The young man who had once been appointed my tutor was sprawled across a chair on the floor below, flipping impatiently through the stiff leather pages of an ancient book. He met my eyes. Then I watched his gaze fall to my tattered shirt. Then to the immeasurably expensive sword on my hip. Then back to my eyes again. He raised one eyebrow. "In my studied opinion," he said, words slow and even, "you have come prepared for entirely the wrong kind of training."
I felt a flush burn in my cheeks, but it could not compete with the sudden rush of relief and excitement. I started down the steps. "Where is Archus?"
"Ah," he said. He nodded once. "Of course. Archus is not here. And I will not excuse an absence to be spent on so frivolous a thing as tracking him down and murdering him."
I ducked my head, offering meek acceptance. "Very well. I'll save that for my free time."
He laughed, and it was a sound warm and rich. He gestured me on down to a chair opposite him, and when I was seated he considered me for a moment. "In all earnestness, Daven, you must not go about dressed like that. I'm to be your tutor. Archus is suffering administrative reprimand for his part in your altercation. Leave it at that."
I looked away. "I cannot leave it at that."
"You can," Antinus said. "Or you will be cast out. And that would stain my honor." He put a bite into the words, and I ground my teeth.
"I understand," I said.
"Be sure you do," Antinus said. "I did not want you for my student, but you were assigned to me. And when it comes down to the truth, I believe you deserve your opportunity here. Many do not. I will do my best to see that you get your opportunity, and a part of that is restraining you against your wilder notions."
I nodded my head, trying again for meek. It did not come so easily this time, because there was less joking in it. I took a deep breath. "I'll do my best."
"I expect it of you," Antinus said. Then he leaned back, releasing me from his gaze, and laced his fingers together behind his head. "Now, let us speak of magic."
We sat for four hours, on the floor of the empty lecture hall, and we talked. He spent more time asking questions of me, as he had at our first meeting, but then he moved into explanations of his own. There was little new—much of what he said that first day overlapped things Claighan or Archus had said—but he was building a foundation. He took time to teach me the language, the terms we would use to discuss the complex and strange practices of a working wizard.
We broke for lunch. He led me through the maze of halls, and I was more careful to learn the path this time. We talked more as we walked, and he showed me the way to the kitchens. He took a plate and then cast a glance at me. "I'll see you back in class in an hour. Don't dawdle. If you hurry, you can drop the belt in your room, grab a bite, and even visit the commissary in that time.
If
you hurry."
I nodded and took my own plate to my room instead of following Antinus to the Gardens or seeking out Themmichus in the Arena. An hour later I found my way back to the room, dressed in a plain gray shirt that was nonetheless finer than anything I'd ever worn as a shepherd. Once again Antinus was waiting. He nodded at my shirt, at the missing sword, and then waved me on down.
I expected more discussion, or perhaps lecture, but instead he led me through an exercise meant to help me visualize my surroundings. I quickly recognized it for what it was.
"Oh," I said with a little laugh. "This is unnecessary. Archus told me of the need, but I am already able—"
"You're not," Antinus said. "If you were able, Archus would not have won."
I shook my head. "I don't mean I'm a wizard, but these tricks to help the mind's eye see—"
"Hush," Antinus said. It was not cruel, but it was final. He nodded. "You see the world as it appears to be. That you can do so strongly is not an asset. You must see the world as it is. Now begin again. Close your eyes."