by Gage Lee
“Yeah, you.” She stormed through the room, and I remembered our fight from the year before. I tensed when she reached me and tapped my chest with a red-lacquered nail.
“What do you want, Hagar?” My Eclipse nature urged me to strike first and take the threat out before she could attack. I almost gave in.
“Welcome back,” the warden said with a devilish smirk. Before I could react, she threw her arms around my neck and squeezed me into a tight hug. She lowered her voice, her lips only inches from my ear. “We should talk. Later. Alone.”
She clicked her teeth next to my ear, a sharp snapping sound that made me jump.
She pushed back from me, her hands on my shoulders, and winked.
“Seeya around, champ.”
Clem and Eric watched her go, jaws hanging open.
“Well, that was not what I expected,” Eric said.
“I thought she was going to kill you,” Clem confessed. “You must be pretty popular with your clan to warrant a hug from Hagar.”
“I guess so,” I said, confused. The last time I’d spoken with any member of the Shadow Phoenix clan, they’d made it clear I was persona non grata. They’d been running a long con on the other clans, pretending to be weak while they built up a hidden power base, and my display during the final challenge of the previous school year had disrupted that plan. I’d assumed that my showing in the Five Dragons Challenge tour would have further cemented their anger at my displays of strength.
Not that I cared what the rest of my clan thought. I’d spent my whole life getting kicked in the teeth by people stronger and richer than me. For once, strength was on my side, and I wouldn’t pretend otherwise. It was time for the world to see what a camper could do.
“Come on,” Clem said excitedly. “Let’s check out our rooms.”
I was amazed at the number of scripted items we passed on our way through the common room. Instead of lighting fixtures, there were floating rings of pure jinsei bound in place by scrivened anchor points on the walls and ceiling. A lounge chair lifted itself into position behind a Disciple whose tight green robes made it difficult for her to bend her knees, much less sit. She reclined in the chair, a contented smile on her face.
Complex scripts also surrounded the common area’s many windows. When we passed from one side of the room to the other, the scenery changed dramatically depending on which way you looked through the windows. To the north, the terrain was dominated by snowcapped mountains. To the east, enormous sidewinders shimmered as they made their sinuous way over a shifting sandscape of towering dunes. And to the south, a jungle loomed just outside the window. Curious monkeys peered from their perches, and jewel-plumed tropical birds zipped from shadow to shadow, their raucous cries only slightly muted by the glass. The west wall didn’t have any windows, but there was a wide passage that led down to a pair of enormous double doors that were also heavily scripted.
“This is unbelievable,” I said. “I’ve seen some nice places on the tour, but nothing like this.”
“This is one of the school’s best-kept secrets,” Eric said with a grin. “After the Portal Defense Force, the tax that most Empyreals complain about is education. The luxuries you see here cost the rest of our society a pretty penny.”
As we left the common area and headed down a long hall, I thought about what Eric had said. We were the next generation of Empyreal society. Every citizen had invested their taxes in the School of Swords and Serpents. These luxuries were a constant reminder of that cost and the return the rest of society would want on their investment.
Suddenly, Tycho’s machinations seemed much greedier than they had before. He hadn’t only stolen my time to make himself rich, he’d also taken away from the time I could’ve spent perfecting my martial arts and becoming a better member of Empyreal society. He’d hurt everyone, not just me.
I’d always considered attending the School to be a privilege. Now I saw those luxuries for what they really were. A reminder of the debt I owed to those who’d paid for all this.
“The Thunder’s Children clan dorms are just ahead,” Clem said. “Try to behave yourselves.”
“Are we allowed in here?” I asked.
The previous year, the clans had been engaged in cutthroat competition. Going into another clan’s dorm hadn’t just been forbidden, it had been dangerous.
“Oh, sure,” Clem said. “We’re not initiates anymore. No one’s going to challenge you to a duel or ambush you here.”
“Not even the wardens?” I asked.
“There aren’t any wardens for upperclassmen,” Eric said. “Geeze, you must have missed out on a lot of stuff last year if you didn’t know that.”
I frowned ruefully at that and tried not to imagine what else I hadn’t learned while Hahen had me stripping down aspected jinsei.
The thought of the little rat spirit stung. My frown deepened, and it was a struggle to push the dark thoughts away. The last time I’d seen him, Hahen had seemed unsure of our future together. Maybe I couldn’t find him because he disapproved of my becoming an Eclipse Warrior and he didn’t want to be found.
I vowed to find the little rat and make it up to him. Somehow.
“Here we are,” Clem said, and pushed open the double doors to her clan’s dormitory tower.
It was even more lavish than the common area. Tiny, fairy-like creatures flitted up and down the hall, sprinkling the students with glittering powder that sizzled and popped with electric sparks where it touched them.
“Oh, thunder sprites!” Clem cried with glee. She clapped her hands together excitedly. “They say it’s very lucky if they dust you.”
Just then, a trio of the agile creatures swooped through the air above us and unleashed a storm of fine, glittering particles. Most of it landed on me, and I yelped in surprise as a hundred tiny shocks erupted across my scalp and down the back of my neck. My skin tingled after the surprising pain died down, and threads of jinsei spun down into my core.
Clem and Eric both squealed with surprise, too, and grinned. The sprites gave me another dusting for good measure, then zipped away laughing as I yelped.
The other upperclassmen in the hallway pointed and shouted with delight as the sprites approached them, turning their faces up toward the dust clouds and beaming with pride. Clearly, they thought a little pain was worth a blessing from the tiny creatures.
“I don’t recognize any of these people,” I pointed out to Clem. “Are they new?”
“New to you!” Clem shouted to be heard over the laughter and surprised yelps from the other students. “Last year, we only saw the other initiates and second-year students. Third years on up through adepts keep their distance from the newbies. Less chance of an accident that way.”
It was hard to wrap my mind around what Clem said. Students spent seven years at the School. We’d seen less than a third of our classmates last year. If the other students and professors had a whole other section of the school to themselves, just how big was this place?
As it turned out, the answer to that question was very, very big.
The dormitory hall was fifty yards long, with thick wooden doors spaced evenly down each side. Scripted name placards projected the names of the occupants onto the floor in front of each door. I had to resist an urge to take off my soft boots and curl my toes in that thick carpet.
“This is me!” Clem called out. The placard projected “C. Hark” on the carpet.
“It’s perfect!” she exclaimed as she threw the door open and burst into her room. She raked her nails through her short pink hair and turned in a slow circle to take in everything. Eric and I shrugged and followed her inside, curious about just how special a dorm room could be.
Everything in the room perfectly matched Clem’s personality. The jet-black floor was splattered with pink swirls of light that crisscrossed it like strokes of random graffiti. It wasn’t carpeted, but it was soft and had a slight give to it, like a training mat. The walls were covered with moving images o
f giant thunderheads that flickered with silent flashes of cloud-to-cloud lightning.
A queen-sized bed dominated the far corner of the room. A mountain of fluffy pillows was piled on top of gray sheets pulled so tight you could have bounced an obolus off them. A closet on the room’s left side was open to reveal neat wooden hangers that held a variety of clan robes, from formal to the new casual style Clem was wearing. A desk occupied the wall between the closet and the bed. A sleek laptop had been placed in the center of the desk’s dark wooden surface.
“Is that one of the quantic models?” Eric asked. He was halfway across the room, his hand reaching for the smooth rectangle of what appeared to be polished copper.
“Don’t you touch it,” Clem called. “I bet you have one in your room, too.”
“Let’s go see!” Eric called. His excitement was infectious, and after we spent a few more minutes admiring Clem’s room, we took off for the Resplendent Suns’ dormitory tower.
The Resplendent Suns’ dorm hall lived up to the clan’s glorious tradition. Instead of carpet, the hall had dark wooden floors sanded to a satin-smooth finish, varnished with a translucent red lacquer that gave the wood a mysterious inner light. Copper candlesticks mounted on the walls shed artificial flames from scrivened wicks to give the hall a somber, yet somehow cozy atmosphere. The walls were finished with a rustic plastered treatment that had a surprising depth of earthen hues and made the hall feel as if it were an ageless relic from another time. Crouching stone tigers with manes of crimson fire had been placed between the doors, and they watched us with inscrutable granite eyes as we made our way down the hall.
Eric hustled from door to door, his eyes scanning the nameplates. The impressive doors were solid pieces of black metal with heavy ringed handles set into their centers. Unlike Clem’s dorm hall, the placards didn’t project the names onto the floor, but glowed like a fire above the doorways.
“This one!” Eric called. A lion growled and rose from its crouch as we approached the doorway. It didn’t settle back onto its haunches when Eric glanced at it.
“No sprites, but we’ve got some killer guard dogs,” he said with a grin. “Make sure you knock before you try to open the door if you come visit me.”
“I’m not coming here without an escort,” Clem said. “These lions look too dangerous to have loose in the school.”
“More dangerous than open portals to each of the overcities?” Eric asked with a wry grin. “Your clan would shut all those down if they were really worried about security.”
“It’s not the same thing,” Clem protested. “The portals the Children operate are for the good of the school. We couldn’t get supplies in or out of here without them. My clan also pays for most of the Portal Defense Force, so I think we’ve taken more than our share of responsibility for security while the rest of you enjoy the rewards of our risk.”
“Settle down,” Eric said. “I’m only kidding. Come on, don’t spoil the mood.”
Eric flung his door open, and for a moment I had to double-check to make sure we were still in the School. The square bedroom bore little resemblance to the traditional and almost primitive hallway. The floor was a smooth stone tile etched with the clan symbol of a white circle surrounded by a fiery corona. A thick layer of resin covered the floor as smooth and even as a freshly groomed ice-skating rink. The bed against the wall opposite the door was flanked by a pair of chests of drawers secured with what looked like a digital lock complete with a thumbprint scanner.
A sleek black floating desk was attached to the right-hand wall. As Clem had predicted, it was topped by an exquisite laptop. Eric ran to it as soon as his eyes landed on the machine.
“I’ve wanted one of these puppies forever.” He took a seat in the task chair in front of the desk and pressed his hand to the top of the slender laptop. The copper slab shifted and shimmered under Eric’s hand, individual keys emerging under his fingertips. A vivid green glow shone from between the keys, and my friend started tapping away with a wide grin across his face.
“Where’s the monitor?” I asked.
“In Eric’s core,” Clem said. “I’m not sure why they keep including the keyboards on these, honestly. We don’t need them. Once the laptop is attuned to you, everything happens in your core.”
I’d never seen anything like the quantic laptop. Almost nobody in the labor camps had been able to afford any kind of computer. The few I’d seen around the undercity now seemed hopelessly archaic next to the device Eric tapped on.
“You think he cares about seeing my room?” I asked. “Or should we just leave him here with his new girlfriend?”
Clem giggled and shrugged.
“Let’s go see what you ended up with.” She hooked her arm through mine and led me out into the hall.
We closed the door behind us and strode down the empty hallway arm in arm. I felt a sudden rush of emotion when I realized this was the first time she and I had been alone since last year. Before I could stop myself, a jumble of words poured out of my mouth.
“I missed you,” I said. “While I was on the road, I mean. I was so busy, though. Every time I thought of reaching out to you, we were already on our way to the next city.”
“I saw you,” Clem blurted out. “In Kyoto, I mean. My mom wanted to make sure you were okay after... everything. We tried to get passes to come backstage, but security was too tight. There’d been another anti-Flame attack in the overcity, and they weren’t letting anyone near you.”
The stone lions watched us move down the hallway, eyes half-lidded, yawning and swiping lazily at the floor beside our feet. The weight of the constructs’ awareness was heavy against my aura, and I knew they were far more prepared for a fight than they appeared.
“Your mom?” I asked, masking my discomfort with curiosity. “You didn’t want to see me?”
“No, that’s not, I mean, yes,” Clem stammered and blushed. “Of course I wanted to see you!”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as we wrestled with the implications of what we’d both said. Whatever there was between us was too big and complicated for me to get my mind around. We were friends, I had no doubts there. Clem had stood by me during the worst time of my life. She’d never stopped believing in me.
“I’m glad,” I said finally. It seemed the easiest and least obnoxious thing to say. “That you came. If I’d known you were there, I would have made the guards let you in.”
“You were busy.” Clem shrugged. “You had twenty fights that day, I think. I’m surprised you could stand up when it was over.”
“Some days I couldn’t,” I said, glad she’d steered the conversation toward safer ground. “They had trainers and medics keeping an eye on me every day and night. Massages, saunas, ice baths, jinsei treatments—you name it, they used it to keep me going. It was nice, but man it was tiring.”
“That must have been something,” Clem said, her voice distant and distracted.
Had I said something wrong?
“Oh, there’s Abi!” Clem pointed down the hall, her voice suddenly bright with relief.
We’d entered the common area at the same time as our friend. His white uniform stood out in stark contrast to the other students, and when he waved all eyes turned toward us.
“My friends,” he said as he met us in the center of the room. “You caught me on my way back to the portal station after my break. How are your rooms?”
“Great,” Clem said. “At least mine is. We were on our way to check out Jace’s digs.”
“I’m sure mine won’t be as nice as Clem’s,” I said. “The Thunder’s Children are of much higher status than the Shadow Phoenixes.”
“Don’t be a dork,” Clem said. “All the clans are treated equally.”
“Sure,” I said, but we all knew that wasn’t true. Even if the Phoenixes had gained popularity since I’d become champion, they’d spent years getting the short end of the stick. If my rooms were even half as nice as Clem’s, I’d be shocked.
“Hey, Abi, I bet the portals are way more interesting than my stupid bedroom. Wanna give us a tour?”
My friend took a moment too long to respond. He stared intently at me through the silence, as if looking for a secret I was keeping from him. Finally, he let out a faint sigh and shook his head.
“It’s not allowed, I’m afraid,” he said. “Security is the tightest it has ever been. I’m scarcely allowed to view my assigned portal, much less show anyone else around. Maybe when the protests calm down.”
His scrutiny prickled my nerves, and my core wanted me to strike him down for the raw suspicion I’d seen in his eyes. Abi had been pleasant enough earlier in the day, but he clearly didn’t trust me.
“Sure,” I said, struggling to hide my irritation. “Well, we won’t keep you.”
“Thank you.” He sketched a hasty bow and took off toward a hallway on the other side of the room.
“Busy guy,” Clem said.
I nodded and tried to push the anger aspects out of my aura. Abi had every right to be suspicious of me after what had happened in Singapore. He wasn’t the only one who watched me with wary eyes since that day.
I just wished he’d be more open with me. His secretive stares and cryptic comments were already getting on my nerves, and the first day of school wasn’t even over yet.
The Cottage
THE SHADOW PHOENIX dormitory tower surprised me in a lot of ways. I’d expected the same sort of gloomy, dark wood walls and floors that had dominated the new initiates’ quarters. Instead, the main hallway was lit by bars of ivory light shining from the ceiling. The walls were a pale cream color, covered in a faint pattern that reminded me of both scales and feathers. As Clem and I walked down the hall, the pattern took on a rainbow sheen of blues, greens, purples, and reds.
“This is different,” Clem said. “I don’t see your name on any of these doors, though.”
