The Exiled Queen (22 page)

That acid tongue is sweeter now, Han thought.

Fiona flung her hair back over her shoulders and turned toward the risers to look for a seat. Her gaze fell on Han and Dancer in the second row. She froze, going even paler than before. “Alister,” she whispered. “I don’t believe it.”

Wil took her elbow. “Come on, Fiona,” he said.

Fiona didn’t move. “What are you doing here?” Leaning forward, she extended trembling hands toward Han as if she were itching to close them around his throat.

Han rested his hands on the table in front of him, forcing himself not to make any defensive moves. “Your brother can fill you in,” he said, jerking his head toward Micah. “Now, d’you mind? If you come to class late, the least you can do is sit and shut it. I came here to learn something.” He tapped the cover of his book and raised his eyebrows.

Fiona continued to stare at Han as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

Wil tugged at her arm. “Let’s sit,” he said quietly.

Fiona finally allowed Wil to tow her to a seat in the back row.

She had barely settled into her seat, when Gryphon barked, “Alister! What does Kinley tell us about the risks and benefits of traveling in Aediion?”

Welcome back the acid-tongued master.

Han swallowed hard, sweat popping out all over. “I don’t know,” he said.

“No?” Gryphon sighed. “That is disappointing. Then, define Aediion for us.”

“I’m sorry. I — ah — I’ve not done the reading.” Han admitted. Instead, he’d been busy laying charms of protection around his room.

Somebody snickered. Out of the corner of his eye, Han could see Micah’s smirk of amusement. He could feel Fiona’s eyes boring into him like hot pokers.

“No?” The master tch’d. “Here to learn, but not, apparently, ready to learn. Do you expect me to do all the work?”

“No.” Han shook his head.

“Do you expect me to shovel knowledge into the gaping maw of your untried mind?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, sir,” Han said.

Gryphon leaned forward, speaking softly, but still loudly enough that everyone else could hear. “Are you certain you really belong here, Alister?”

“Yes, sir,” Han said, meeting the master’s eyes defiantly.

Gryphon paused, then, still glaring at Han, said, “Darnleigh? Risks and benefits?”

“Aediion is the world of dreams,” said a solemn, brown-haired boy whose wizard stoles were finely embroidered with boars’ heads. “With proper training, support from a powerful amulet, and a close connection with another person, it is theoretically possible to communicate across distances. That’s the benefit.”

“Theoretically, you say? Don’t you believe it?” Gryphon cocked his head.

“It is uncommon enough that some scholars say it is only a myth; others say that this was common before the Breaking, but rarely heard of since.”

“What are the risks that Kinley describes?” Gryphon prompted him.

“Well, Aediion can be enticing,” Darnleigh said, “because a skilled charmcaster can shape it to his hopes and desires. It’s possible to get lost in it, and never return to the real world. Also, you can become trapped if your amulet runs out of stored power. Finally, Kinley says that if you are killed in the world of dreams, you die in real life.”

“What could kill you in a dream, Stefan?” a pale-haired Northern Islander asked, rolling her eyes. “I’ve had a lot of nightmares, but I always wake up alive.”

“Magic,” Darnleigh said, tapping his forefinger on the page. “Only magic can kill you in Aediion.”

“What evidence does Kinley present?” Gryphon asked. “Why should we believe that he is telling the truth? Silverhair?”

“We shouldn’t,” the Northern Islander scoffed. “Kinley repeats legends from centuries past without question. His books are full of mythological monsters, like watergators and dragons, that no one’s ever seen.”

“Couldn’t they have once existed?” Gryphon said. “Perhaps they were destroyed in the Breaking. If so, is it possible that remnants of the high magic that was common before the Breaking persist in the hidden corners of the world?”

“There are no hidden corners these days,” Silverhair said. “No secrets anymore.”

“Kinley used primary sources,” Darnleigh said. “His sketches are based on eyewitness reports. He even conducted his own experiments to verify what he heard.”

“Experiments that no one has been able to duplicate in modern times,” Silverhair countered.

“Perhaps the problem is the tools we use now,” Darnleigh said, touching his amulet. “These are much more limited in scope than the amulets of old magic. The copperheads refuse to provide us with the tools that we need. We’d have to buy old flash on the down-low market, or use heirloom pieces.”

The debate heated up, swirling around Han, leaving him feeling ignorant and unread. His classmates would have heard these arguments since childhood. They shared a common anger and frustration that they’d missed the golden age of wizardry.

Han pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead, feeling out of his depth. He’d heard nothing of Kinley on the streets of Ragmarket.

Gryphon argued both sides of the question, refueling the discussion when it lagged. He didn’t pick on Han again. Maybe he figured his point had been made. The master also left the Bayars in peace. It seemed they’d be given plenty of time to study up.

Gryphon didn’t call on Dancer either, ignoring his raised hand.

Han fought down his anger. It was just a different kind of battle, one he’d have to learn to win. Since when had life ever been fair?

Though Gryphon clearly knew his stuff, Han couldn’t help comparing him to Speaker Jemson. Jemson’s love of history cascaded over you until you were neck-deep and drunk with it. But he made sure all his students stayed afloat.

You can’t control what Gryphon does, Han thought. What can you control?

You can come to class prepared, he thought. No matter what.

Gryphon allowed the debate to go on for a while longer, then raised both hands, palms out, to bring it to a halt. “All right, then, let’s try an experiment of our own,” he said. “Please turn to page 393.”

The passage was entitled Portal to Aediion and consisted of lines of spellwork, like free verses trickling down the page.

“Now, choose a partner—preferably someone you already know,” Gryphon said. “If you need a partner, raise your hand.”

Han turned to Dancer, who shrugged his assent.

Arkeda paired off with Miphis, and Fiona with Wil. Micah was left without a partner, since there was an odd number of students in the class.

“Newling Hayden,” Gryphon said, all of a sudden noticing Dancer. “Perhaps you should pair off with someone more experienced, like Bayar.” He nodded toward Micah. “I can work with Alister.”

Dancer shook his head. “No thank you, sir. I know Alister. I’ll stay with him.”

“If you insist,” Gryphon said, with a sour expression. “You’re with me, Bayar.”

Micah shrugged his indifference, but Han thought he looked relieved.

Is Gryphon just picking on me again? Han wondered. Did he want to be matched with me for some reason? Or did he want to match Dancer with Micah?

Or did it mean nothing at all?

“This should be easier than communicating across a distance. Face each other and take hold of your amulets,” Gryphon directed. “At the risk of being disappointed, I will assume that you have all stoked them with power in preparation for class.”

Han had done that, at least, storing magic during the long journey to Oden’s Ford.

“Now choose a location, a place you both know,” Gryphon said. “And don’t all go to The Crown and Castle. I want to hear about different places.”

Dancer leaned toward Han. “The fishing hole on Old Woman Creek,” he suggested. That was a place on the lower slopes of Hanalea they both knew well, where Han’s former employer Lucius Frowsley spent most of his time.

A place that, as wizards, they were now forbidden to go.

“Read over the entire spell,” Gryphon said. “Memorize it, since there’s no guarantee that Kinley will be available to you in Aediion. The first three lines open the portal; the last three allow you to close the portal and return to reality.”

The master gave them a few minutes to do that, waiting until they all looked up from their texts. “All ready now?” Heads nodded around the room. Some of the students looked pale and worried, some leaned forward eagerly, others rolled their eyes, like this exercise was a stupid waste of time.

“Read the first three lines to open the portal,” Gryphon said. “Quietly, now, so as not to distract your colleagues. Should you both be successful, you will meet your partner in the dream world. Notice your surroundings, because what you see is a reflection of you. Notice also that you can shape your appearance as you wish. Exchange messages with your partner and immediately return to the classroom. I repeat: don’t remain in Aediion longer than a few minutes. Once everyone has completed the exercise, you will report on your experiences.” He paused. “I know that some of you are skeptical of Kinley’s work, but I expect you all to expend some effort here.”

Taking hold of his amulet, Han read through the opening lines of the spell, while all around him he heard others whispering the words in a splash of accents.

For a moment he was engulfed in a swirling black nothingness. Then sunlight broke into his thoughts, streaming down through glittering yellow aspens, sparkling on the waters of Old Woman Creek. Leaves swirled and danced on the current. Han shivered; it was cold, colder than Oden’s Ford, and moments later he found himself wearing a fringed and beaded buckskin jacket of clan design, fleece moccasins on his feet. Amazed, he fingered the soft leather.

Was it real? It seemed very real—the wind swirling over Hanalea smelled of snow. It lifted the hair from his forehead and set aspen leaves chattering over his head.

He looked up the creek. Dancer walked toward him, dressed in leggings and the loose, soft, doeskin tunic he favored, carrying a fishing pole and a fish basket.

“What do you think?” Han said. “Is this it?”

Dancer shrugged. “Let’s see if we both remember it the same when we leave.”

They stood for an awkward moment.

“Gryphon said to exchange messages,” Han said. “I’ll say something to you, and then I’ll see if you remember it later. You do the same.” He thought a moment. “Cat Tyburn is sweet on you,” he said, keeping a straight face.

Dancer cocked his head. “Really? Why do you say that?”

Han wasn’t sure just why he’d said it, except that he knew Dancer wouldn’t forget it. “She’s shy,” he said. “She has trouble speaking her mind.” Right.

“Fiona Bayar fancies you,” Dancer retorted. “She can’t take her eyes off you.”

They both burst out laughing. Han’s spirits rose. It felt good to be back in the Fells, on familiar ground, even if only in the dream world.

“We’d better go back,” Dancer said.

Han took hold of his amulet, ready to speak the closing charm, when the air before him rippled like the surface of a pond as the wind catches it. It coalesced and hardened, displacing light, until the image of a person stood before him.

It was young man, a half-dozen years older than Han, expensively dressed in blueblood style. His hair was soot-black, his eyes a brilliant blue. Sunlight glittered on the many rings on his fingers.

The stranger blinked, looking about, and a triumphant smile spread across his face as if he’d done something extra special.

Han glanced aside at Dancer, but as he did so, his friend shimmered and dissolved, blinking out like a cinder in the dark. “Dancer!”

Han said, taking a step toward the spot where he’d disappeared.

“You there! Wait! Don’t go yet,” the stranger said, in Fellspeech.

“Who are you?” Han said, backing away, thinking that nobody should be showing up here that he didn’t invite. “How did you get here?”

Was it someone from his class, intruding? Han didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t mean anything. Gryphon had said that you could change your appearance, so it could be anyone in disguise, even one of the Bayars. Micah and Fiona likely had the most powerful amulets in the class, next to his own.

Could Micah find his way to a place he’d never been? Then again, the first time they’d met was on Hanalea.

“You can call me Crow,” the stranger volunteered. He brushed a hand through his hair as if preening his feathers. “And you are — ?”

“Tell me how you got here, or get out,” Han said, a knife magically appearing in his fist. Amulet or not, he’d still go to knives if he got in a jam.

He balanced lightly on his feet, ready to jump one way or the other, recalling Darnleigh’s words, moments before in the lecture hall.

Kinley says that if you’re killed in the world of dreams, you die in real life.

“Please,” Crow said, “hear me out. I promise, it will be worth your time.” He took a step forward.

Han took a step back. “I’m warning you, I’m rum with a blade.”

“It’s wise to be wary in your situation.” Crow kept shifting—from formal dress to plainer garb, to a dean’s robe. Either he couldn’t decide what suited him, or he liked to dress up. “I, at least, gave you a name,” he went on. “That’s more than you have done. Do you belong to Aerie House?” There was something in the way he said it, something that set off alarms in Han’s head.

Han hesitated. “Aerie House?”

“The Bayar family. Are you one of them? Everything taken together, I would guess not.” He studied Han’s face. “Ah,” he said, smiling. “I see you are not. In fact, they are not your friends.”

Han struggled to reclaim his street face.

“Then, tell me, how did you gain possession of that amulet?” Crow said, his eyes fixed on Han’s jinxpiece.

“You going to tell me why you’re here?” Han demanded. “And stay still, will you?”

Crow finally settled in his blueblood garb. His jacket looked made to measure, with glitter-thread sewn over, and trailing sleeves. Han guessed he was handsome, if you liked the type.

Crow extended his empty hand toward Han, palm out, as if feeling his heat. “You are quite powerful, you know.” He tilted his head, appraising Han. “And you are well favored. Even rather handsome, despite your speech.”