by Alex Linwood
“Come on, Mia, you have to tell me more. Why are you surprised they’re listed in this book? And more so, how do you know anything about them if they’re not supposed to be in books?” Portia folded her arms and stood in front of Mia.
Mia sighed and then gave the book back to Portia. “The House Coverack decreed long ago that the House of Callac was never to be written or spoken of. But as a member of a noble house, I was aware of them, if for no other reason than to make sure I did not speak of them, especially at court.” At the others’ questioning looks, Mia sighed. “They had no choice after I found an accidental reference to them in an old text. They got rid of the book too, before I thought to save it.”
This surprised Portia. She had only met the queen and king consort once, but they seemed in favor of sharing information, not hiding it. She reminded herself once again how little she knew. She had been in the city for just over a year, but sometimes it felt like she had just arrived yesterday. There were so many traditions and verbal pieces of knowledge she did not know—especially as a commoner. And especially as an orphan.
“They were the original royal house,” Mia continued. “They were the house that led us to this world. Something happened though. I don’t know what—no one has ever been able to tell me—and they lost all their power and position. I was always curious, but any time I asked for more information, it brought such upset and consternation from my tutors that I learned never to speak of the subject. My parents were even more upset when I asked about the house. They had told me that was all they knew and then asked me to never speak of it again.”
“They were the royal house?”
“Yes. House Coverack took over when they disappeared.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Portia said, her face scrunched up. “If they were so powerful as to lead everyone here, how could they just vanish like that?”
Mia shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t have an answer. She picked up the book of maps again and started reading it. She paused and then looked up at Portia again. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this. And whatever you do, don’t put the House of Callac into your report. I don’t know how this book got here, or why it was allowed to remain, but it will be taken from you if you breathe a word of this to anyone, of that I’m sure.”
Portia looked down at the book with a new sense of having found a treasure. The last thing she wanted to do was lose it. Especially if so much of their history was verbal and whole houses had been written out. She looked at the surrounding books with a sense of consternation. How much of what was here was true, and how much was rewritten history? For the first time, she felt skepticism towards the Academy. It was unpleasant to learn that not everything was as she had hoped—ethical, honest, knowledgeable. She nodded at Mia, who waved her away, now engrossed in her study of the maps.
Richard and Liam joined them after about an hour. Their history class had also been assigned the essay. Richard looked like his usual self—dark hair messily arranged because he honestly didn’t care—and Liam had slicked-back blond hair with purple tips that perfectly matched his purple tunic. Portia didn’t think the twins could be any more different. Ella still had not wrested the secret of Liam’s changing hair from him, much to her unending consternation.
The twins headed straight for the cabinets of legal briefs. An interest in the dry intricacies of the law was one of the few things they held in common. Portia was glad they were not being forced to do reports in teams. Or at least not in a team with them.
Ella strode by, her fingertips touching each book at hand level as she walked. “Ready to go, Portia? My stomach tells me it’s nearly suppertime.”
Portia nodded. Laughter from behind her caught her attention. Richard and Liam were laughing over a large drawing spread over one of the tables. They had found something more amusing than law reports.
Ella looked over at the twins, curious as well. “Shall we see what they have?” she asked, not bothering to wait for a response. Portia trailed after her to see what they were looking at.
“Ella, you won’t believe this, but this is a planning map of the city. Or a replanning map. There was another city here first, and apparently the planners were not impressed with how things were laid out,” Liam said, shaking his head and laughing. “I don’t know if they weren’t allowed to speak their mind in person or what, but they certainly took it upon themselves to say what they really thought here.”
“How curious,” Ella said as she leaned in to look at the map.
Richard shook his head. He was less amused than Liam, but even he, the more serious one, had a small smile on his face. Portia peeked over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. Tiny lettering on the side of an architectural drawing listed the dimensions for a hallway, and then the comment: ‘needs to be five feet wide, minimum, because we are not all as skinny as Devorak.’
“Maybe Devorak was an official measure of width,” Portia said.
Liam laughed. “I doubt it. My guess is Devorak was the boss who never bothered to look at the plans drawn up by underlings. You’d be amazed how many bosses are like that.”
Portia looked at Liam in surprise. He was a student just as she was. What would he know of bosses? She looked down at the map again. It was filled with little comments in tiny handwriting. Mia joined in and crowded around the maps as well.
Ella sighed, bored. “I’ll leave you to this.” She wandered off into the stacks again when it was clear Mia and Portia were not going to leave just yet.
Eventually, Portia’s stomach growled so loudly that all four of them heard. Her face turned red. “Perhaps it is time to go,” she said. Richard and Liam laughed loudly. Portia was grateful that Mia at least turned away politely.
Ella returned as they were putting away their materials. She had a tiny book with her, its cover bright purple despite its age. It was handstitched and fit within her palm. “Look at this beautiful little thing. It’s like a piece of jewelry.”
Portia took the book from her. It was much heavier than it appeared. “No jewelry I’d like to wear. Is it full of rocks?” She flipped it open but couldn’t understand anything within it. The script curved and flowed as if a different language. Beautiful gold foil drawings of the first letter of each chapter graced its pages. She looked up at Ella. “What does it say?”
“No idea. I just thought it was pretty. Can we finally go eat now?” Ella asked, a hint of irritation in her voice.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Liam said, “Portia’s stomach agrees with you.” He started giggling all over again.
“Do you want this book?” Portia asked Ella, who shook her head.
“No. I just thought it was pretty. I’ll put it back.”
“No need. I want to look at it some more. Perhaps they’ll let me take it back to the house.”
Portia brought the two books to the librarian. The same tiny woman was at the station in the middle of the room. “Can I take these with me?” she asked.
The woman took the books. Opening the yellow one, the book about the noble houses, her eyebrows rose. She stared at Portia. “Did you read this one?”
“No, not really,” Portia said. She had only skimmed it—she hadn’t really read it. Hopefully, that was close enough to the truth. Portia’s ears burned a bit, but thankfully her face did not turn red and betray her less than truthfulness to the librarian.
The librarian pursed her lips. “This one is not removable from the library.” At Portia’s disappointed look, she continued. “You may read it here. But do so in a corner, please. For my sake.”
Portia wondered what that was about. At least she was not forbidden from reading it—not openly in any case.
Taking the second book, the one that was in the foreign language, the librarian checked the inside cover. “Interesting. Most books here are prohibited from leaving the building, but for some reason this one has nothing against it inscribed inside. This is highly unusual. But since it is not prohibited, I will let you take it. Just
be careful, my student friend; it looks extremely old.”
The woman wrote out a small card with the name of the book. She took Portia’s access card and copied something from it onto the card.
Portia took the book back. “Do you know what language it’s written in? I don’t recognize it.” Portia didn’t bother to explain that there were few languages she would recognize.
The librarian opened the book to the middle and stared at its contents, her brows pulling together. “I don’t know,” she said. She waved over another blue-robed attendant to examine the book. The attendant also didn’t know. The librarian shrugged her shoulders and handed the book back to Portia. “Ask your teachers. One of them might know.”
Portia thought Hilda, a professor and the pyromancy house leader, would be a perfect person to ask. If she got lucky, she might even be able to have a conversation with her tonight.
Portia rushed to catch up with her friends, who were already walking out the door. She didn’t notice Magisend getting up from the table where she was studying until it was too late. They collided, books scattering to the floor.
“Watch it, commoner,” the girl said, drawing herself up.
Portia sighed. She had thought they were beyond that. Magisend was from the Noble House Riddlepit that Portia had robbed prior to entering the Academy. Worse, she had specifically robbed Magisend and got caught in the process. She despaired of Magisend ever letting it go. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I should hope not,” Magisend said, but her indignation softened at Portia’s apology. The angry fire left her eyes.
“Of course not. I meant it when I said we should at least get along,” Portia said, trying to soften Magisend towards her even further.
It worked. Magisend looked slightly ashamed. “I suppose I should not have called you a commoner.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s true. I am a commoner.” Being indignant about it would do nothing to help her navigate the school. Getting along with Magisend, though, that would help a great deal. Portia wanted all the friends she could get.
Her response surprised Magisend. It also loosened her tongue. “It has nothing to do with you… My temper, I mean. I just hate this festival so much. It shouldn’t be allowed in Coverack.”
“Festival?”
“Spring Festival. I don’t want to talk about it.” Magisend looked down at the books at her feet. She gasped softly and reached for Portia’s purple book—the book in the foreign language that no one knew. Holding it, she flipped through it and then looked up at Portia with glittering eyes. “Where did you get this?” Magisend’s face flickered between excitement, fear, and a third emotion Portia could not place.
Portia gestured to the far corner where they had been studying. She wasn’t sure exactly where Ella had found the book but thought it was from that area. “I checked that one out,” Portia said, pointing to the purple book.
Magisend shook her head. She wasn’t going to try take the book from Portia, thank the mages. She shoved the book back at Portia and then hurried off to the far corner Portia had indicated, leaving Portia to watch, her mouth hanging open at Magisend’s sudden rush.
Chapter 2
Hilda was not in the house that evening. Portia was disappointed but decided to get up early the next morning to find someone to help her with the book before classes. One of her professors had to know about the language in the book. For some reason she couldn’t explain, it felt important—too important to wait for the next afternoon.
It was also unusual for Professor Hilda Griffiths to not be in the house in the evening. She was normally present for a few hours each evening to check on her pyromancy students and offer informal advice. This was especially important to the new students, most of whom were away from home for the first time. Hilda’s absence added to Portia’s sense of unease. Portia did not sleep well that night.
The campus was beautiful in the morning. Fog clung to the grass in patches, burning off before the sun in the few exposed spots between the long shadows of the buildings. Portia made her way to the pyromancy building and Hilda’s classroom. She found Hilda preparing for the day’s lessons, distributing glass tubes and stands on each desk.
“Good morning,” Portia said, knocking gently on the doorframe to get Hilda’s attention. “We missed you last night.”
Hilda looked away and cleared her throat. “Ah, yes, sorry about that. Things, you know.”
Where were you? Portia thought but didn’t dare ask. Hilda had always been so generous and helpful, the last thing Portia wanted to do was to pry. “I was hoping you could help me with something. It’s not from our class, but still I thought you might know.” Portia held out the purple book to Hilda while entering the room.
Hilda turned, looked at the book, and raised one eyebrow. Taking the book from Portia, she opened it and scanned the pages. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about this.”
“Do you know what language it’s in?”
“No. It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before.” Hilda handed the book back to Portia and looked at her closely. “How are you doing? I haven’t asked you in a while. I know you have a lot of pressure on you.”
“I’m doing okay. Ella and Mia are still helping me catch up. It’s been a lot, but I think I’m almost there. It’s not nearly as stressful as fall term.” Portia was grateful to get a bit more sleep these days. Between her classes and Mia and Ella’s additional tutoring help, she figured she’d studied four hours more a day than most of the students. But it had been worth it to fill in some of her knowledge gaps from her years on the street as an orphan in Valencia.
“That’s good,” Hilda said, nodding, “but what about your special studies, the ones Mia and Ella are not supposed to know about? We need you versed in all sorts of magic—a skillset no other student, or anyone else in fact, is capable of. Professor Aelric has not given me an update recently.”
“I think I’m picking things up well enough. At least the number of complaints from Professor Aelric has dropped,” Portia said with a small laugh. Professor Aelric was a tough taskmaster but a thorough teacher. Portia was grateful for all that he was sharing with her.
“Well, that’s good,” Hilda said, smiling. She was well aware of Professor Aelric’s prickly temperament. “I’m sorry I can’t help you with the book—perhaps he can. There are also professors on campus who specialize in language if he doesn’t know.”
“Okay, thanks,” Portia said. Hilda nodded and resumed her tasks in the classroom. Portia left and went to find Professor Aelric in the history building.
She was in luck. Professor Aelric was at his desk, eating soup from a small bowl. She knocked on the door tentatively to get his attention. A flicker of irritation crossed his face before he smoothed it, controlling his reaction at having his breakfast interrupted.
He motioned her to enter. “Well, don’t just stand there, come in. I clearly am not to have a peaceful repast this morning.”
Portia’s cheeks flushed. Even though she knew he was prickly to everyone, it was hard to not feel like she had done something particularly wrong. Even so, her own stomach growled. The roll she had grabbed on the way out the door was long gone, and lunch was not for some time. She walked into the room and pulled the purple book out of her bag. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you would know something about this.” She held it out to him.
He looked at the book then slowly looked up at Portia. “This is something history related, I take it?”
“I think so.” She walked closer, bringing the book to him.
He took the book from her and opened it. His eyebrows slowly rose as he looked at it, turning page after page of the thin volume. “Where did you get this?”
“From the library—the special one.”
“And they let you walk out the door with this?” he asked, his voice soft, while he continued to examine the contents.
She wasn’t sure if that was a rhe
torical question but thought it safer to answer anyway. “They did. The librarian said there was nothing prohibiting it. I think she was a little surprised herself.”
“I bet. This is a very interesting find.” His eyes never left the book.
“Do you know the language?” she asked. The way he was holding the book made her wonder if she was going to get it back again. Perhaps it was a mistake she was allowed to take it in the first place.
“I do, though I never thought to see it in a book brought to me by a student. How can I help you with this?” he asked, finally bringing his attention back to her face.
“I want to know what it says,” Portia said, fidgeting a bit. “I thought it would be good for my report.” She remembered his admonishment about honesty after the incident with Deyelna and her minions over the winter and quickly added, “And I’m really curious.”
Aelric nodded approval at her blunt statements. “As am I, I must confess. Since I know this language, I will translate it and satisfy both of our curiosities. I’ll have it done in a few days. I will let you know in class. Until then, please go. My breakfast is growing cold.” He put the book down on the desk, indicating their discussion was over.
Portia walked to the door, loathe to leave the book behind but having no other choice if she wished to know its contents. It was going to be a long couple of days.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, his voice stopping her as she reached the doorframe, “have you gone to the Spring Festival yet?”
She turned to face him. “No, I haven’t.”
“I suggest you do so. Things are done much differently in Coverack than in Valencia. Consider it a homework assignment. You, in particular, need to understand these things.” He resumed eating his soup. No other words were forthcoming.
Portia nodded and left the classroom. She had never heard of a festival being assigned as homework, but then again there was so much she had not heard of before. Perhaps others would go with her and explain some things she didn’t understand.
