Chapter Eight
Darek's dreams were strange, to say the least, although he supposed that dreams were always strange. Still, these dreams were even stranger than normal. Whereas in most dreams he was not aware that he was in a dream, in this one, he was. That may very well have been the strangest part of this whole affair.
He was standing in the Arcanium's lobby, looking up at the Wall of Mastery, a wall that was normally covered with gold-framed pictures of the greatest students to graduate from the school. In real life, the Wall of Mastery normally held paintings of hundreds of past students, all of which looked as new as the day they had been painted. This in spite of the fact that many of those paintings had been painted centuries ago, although it made more sense when you considered that the paintings had been made using a special type of paint that did not age.
But today, the Wall of Mastery was completely black, with no sign of the paintings to be seen. It was an inky, purplish, ugly black, like the skin of a snake. Not only that, but it moved and groaned, like it was a living thing. Morbid curiosity compelled him to touch it and find out what it would do, but Darek's deeper instincts told him to stay as far away from the strange, seemingly organic wall as he possibly could.
Because Darek was not the adventurous type, he decided to stand at a distance and look at it. He had no idea what he was looking at, in all honesty, but as long as it didn't try to attack him, he knew he would be okay.
Besides, Darek thought, this is just a dream. Even if it was hostile, who cares? I'll be fine either way.
I wouldn't be so confident in yourself, young mortal.
Darek froze. Unless his ears were playing tricks on him—always a possibility in his dreams—that voice had sounded like it was coming directly from the 'wall' in front of him, like the 'wall' had spoken.
That's ridiculous, even for a dream, Darek thought, shaking his head. I am alone here in the Arcanium's lobby. I must be going crazy.
Then the voice spoke again, immediately wiping away all of Darek's lingering doubts about its true origin. Alone? I would question the usefulness of such a concept. No one is ever truly alone, even at the end of the world. We are always surrounded by someone or something, even if that someone or something refuses to acknowledge us or share its presence with us. You are not alone, Darek Takren, adopted son of Jenur Takren.
Darek felt his heart beat increase. What are you talking about? Who are you? Why are you in my dreams?
A wave of anger crashed over Darek, like the waves of the ocean. Only, it was not his anger, but someone else's.
Who am I? the voice said. You ask who I am? I should not be here. You should not be here. We should not even be talking. By becoming aware of my existence, you are jeopardizing my entire plan, the plan that will restore the world to the way it once was.
I didn't come looking for you, whoever you are, Darek said, feeling somewhat annoyed. Actually, I was hoping for a dream-less sleep. I nearly froze my hands off earlier, you know.
I am quite aware of what you did, Darek Takren, said the voice, which was now clearly coming from the wall. It was I, after all, who had sent the chimera. I did not think it would do much good, and I was correct, but it lasted long enough to allow my servants to escape. That's all I really wanted in the end.
So you're the one behind the chimera, Darek said. Are you also behind the explosion at the Third Dorm? Just who are you, anyway?
A superior being like myself does not need to answer such silly questions like that, the voice said. I am trying to figure out how we even managed to cross paths like this. Far more importantly, I am trying to figure out how to break this connection between us.
No, Darek said, pointing at the wall. You're going to tell me who you are and what you are trying to do. Otherwise, I'll—
You'll what? the voice jeered. This is a dream, after all. Even if it wasn't, you are still far beneath me in terms of sheer power. The power I command is the kind that your kind only ever dreams of. I am the first, the one who existed before all of this infernal, ugly creation. You are an ant whose life will be snuffed out shortly if you continue to get in my way like this.
The one who existed before creation? Darek repeated. Are you some kind of god? Or maybe one of the Powers?
Nice try, the voice said with a sneer. I am not going to let you know who I am. If—no, when—my plan succeeds, then all of the world, including you, will know who I am, will know and tremble before my might.
Darek didn't like the sound of that one bit, so he decided to do something about it. Remembering his oneiromancy lessons with Noharf Ximin, Darek held out his hand and willed his old wand into existence. It popped into his hand like it had always been there and began to glow with suppressed energy as he held it out in front of the wall.
Your wand? said the voice, sounding not at all afraid of it. Do you honestly believe that that little piece of wood will help you in the slightest? This is a dream, after all, and in dreams, you cannot actually hurt anyone.
I know, said Darek. I remember what Noharf always taught me. But I'm not going to hurt or even kill you. I'm going to expel you from my mind.
You mean you don't want to know what I am going to do? the voice asked. You aren't going to ask about my plans?
You've already made it clear that you aren't going to tell me a thing, Darek replied. Therefore, why waste my time talking to you when I could spend it waking up and finding out what's going on in the physical world?
The voice seemed genuinely shocked by that, but it said, You are pragmatic. I like that in individuals, even in inferior individuals like yourself.
A cold wind blew from the voice, making Darek shiver, even though it was just a dream. It was like standing bare naked in the Great Berg on a cold winter day, almost causing Darek to drop his wand.
But Darek managed to gather the strength necessary to keep holding his wand. He said to the voice, I don't care what you like in people. The point is, I don't want you in my mind infecting my dreams anymore.
Infecting? I am doing no such thing, said the voice. I am still not even sure how we became tied like this. If I had to guess, I would say you must have fallen unconscious at the exact same time I was contacting one of my pawns. Perhaps it was the excess magical power you used that caused your mind to link with me, at least temporarily.
That theory seemed reasonable to Darek. It was similar to something that Noharf had once taught him ages ago. Occasionally, it was possible for two mages who fell asleep at the same time to enter each other's dreams, especially if one or both of them were oneiromancers. It was an extremely rare phenomenon, not very well understood even by the best oneiromancers, but it was known to happen and when it did, it often linked the two mages for a long time, sometimes for life.
Because Darek did not want to be linked with this voice for life, he aimed his wand at the wall again, ignoring the cold wind that continued to blow from it. Your theory might be correct, but I'm not going to stand around here and find out.
With a practiced twist of his wrist, Darek fired a blast of fiery energy at the wall. It was a spell Noharf had taught him, which, if used correctly, would expel unwanted visitors from his dreams. Darek had used this spell only a couple of times before, during his classes and training sessions with Noharf, but he remembered the basics of it well enough to understand how to use it.
The blast of fiery energy slammed into the wall, causing the voice to scream in pain as the flames enveloped him. Of course, the voice was not actually being burned alive, but the spell was supposed to emulate that feeling in order to get the intruders out of one's dream.
The dream fire sparked and crackled, but it was silent in comparison to the voice's screams. Darek had to put his hands over his ears to save them from getting hurt, although it was mostly out of instinct he did it because he was in no danger of permanently losing his hearing in a dream.
And then, without warning, Darek awoke.
Gasping for breath, Darek did not understand where
he was at first. He felt soft sheets, saw a bright yellow light reflecting off the white walls of the room he was in, and could barely feel his hands. His senses were completely disoriented, yet for some reason, he felt as cold as if he had been sitting outside in the snow all day.
It took him a few moments to gather his senses back into something halfway coherent. Even so, his memories of the dream—and the voice—were already rapidly fading, like memories of dreams always do whenever you awake, and he had no way to write them down so he could recall them later. Even if he did have a pen and paper on hand, his hands felt so uncooperative that he didn't think he'd be able to write for a long time.
When his senses finally began to work again, Darek looked down at his body. He was lying underneath a thick white blanket and he could feel a soft mattress underneath his body. He realized that he was lying down in one of the beds in the medical wing.
Why am I in the medical wing? Darek thought, looking up at the high ceiling directly above him. How did I get in here? Why can't I remember?
One thing Darek did remember—albeit vaguely, as the memory had taken place a while ago and he had not thought about it in a long time—was that dreams like that almost always left the memories of the dreamer muddled and confused. Noharf had taught him that even memories of what happened before the dream were often affected, although the damage was rarely permanent.
It will all come back to me, probably, Darek thought. That's pretty usual for people who suffer from temporary amnesia like me. Any … minute … now.
Right on cue, his memories of the battle against the chimera came roaring back. Because they all returned at once, they were muddled and confused, even more so than they had been previously. But in a minute, the memories coalesced into something coherent and they became easier to understand.
That's right, Darek thought. The chimera attacked us out of nowhere. I took it on alone. The others tried to help, but somehow the chimera stopped them from doing so. What a strange, random thing to happen.
With a jolt, he remembered his hands freezing themselves off and he pulled them out from under his blankets. His hands were still there, as whole as ever, but they were so cold that he could barely feel them. It reminded Darek of the time a potential student, a Carnagian boot maker who had been convinced that he was destined for greatness, had fallen through the ice of the Great Berg and drowned. When they had fished out his body just ten minutes later, it had been completely blue.
Now Darek's hands did not look quite as blue as the boot maker's body. He did not know how much time had passed since he had fallen unconscious, but it must have been quite some time because his hands were a lighter shade of blue than he remembered them looking at first. Nonetheless, he still couldn't feel them, although he could move the tips of his fingers slightly.
Then Darek heard someone start nearby and he looked to his left. Aorja was standing above Jiku's bed, looking startled. She held one of her hands behind her back, like she was hiding something, although Darek didn't focus too much on that.
“Darek?” said Aorja. A scowl flickered across her face briefly before being replaced by a smile. “Oh, Darek. I'm so glad to see you're getting better. How do your energy reserves feel?”
Darek closed his eyes and felt his energy levels. As soon as he did, his limbs became astonishingly weak, as if all of his muscles had turned into mush.
Opening his eyes again, Darek said, “I feel like all of my bones are gone. I just need to rest, I think, and let my body recover from the excessive amount of magic I used.”
“Of course,” said Aorja. “I honestly didn't expect you to wake up so soon. You looked like you were out for the count.”
Darek shrugged. “I'm still not entirely well. I only woke up because I had the strangest dream, which I can't remember very well at the moment.”
“Strange dreams do that sometimes,” said Aorja, still smiling, although to Darek the smile didn't look very sincere. “But you do sound tired. I thought you were whispering at first, but I can see now that it's because you are still weak from your fight with the chimera.”
Darek hadn't noticed any difference in his voice, but when he spoke again, he did notice how quietly he was speaking.
“The chimera,” said Darek. “What happened to it?”
“Transported to the catacombs,” said Aorja. “The biomancy students are going to dissect it to find out who created it. Kind of disgusting if you ask me, but hey, if it will help us figure out who is behind all of this stuff, then I guess it will be worth it.”
The sincerity in her words matched the sincerity in her smile, which was to say, she sounded quite insincere. It was as if she was trying to hide her true feelings on the subject, although why she would, Darek didn't know.
And right now, he didn't need to know. He just needed to find out what else had happened since he had gone unconscious. Knowing how quickly things happened at this school, he bet he had missed quite a bit.
“How is everyone else?” said Darek. “Kuroshio and Auratus?”
“They're fine,” said Aorja. “But Yorak is really pissed. She doesn't like how North Academy has become about as safe as Rock Isle, so she's taking her students and leaving as soon as they get a new airship.”
“What?” said Darek. “A new airship? But doesn't their old one still work?”
“Someone blew it up,” said Aorja. She spread her arms like she was pantomiming an explosion. “Big fiery column of death. The pilot of their ship was still in there when it happened, so as you can guess, he was completely vaporized.”
“That's horrible,” said Darek. “Do we know who did it?”
Aorja shrugged like it was no big deal. “Nope. The Institute mages are still investigating the wreckage, but to be completely honest, I don't think they'll find much in the way of evidence.”
“Why wouldn't they?” said Darek. “Granted, I don't know how good they are at investigating explosions, but I think it would be hard for an attacker to cover his tracks with so many mages investigating his work.”
“Because I think that whoever is behind these attacks is quite the clever little devil,” said Aorja. “He's probably hiding among the students even as we speak, I reckon, keeping a low profile and doing his best to seem as frightened and scared and ignorant of what is happening as anyone else.”
Aorja said this with an admiring tone of voice, although Darek didn't see any reason to admire such an obviously deranged person. Of course, Darek could have been misinterpreting her tone, seeing as he was still washed out from the fight with the chimera.
So Darek said, “The Third Dorm. How's the investigation for that going?”
“About as well as you'd expect,” said Aorja. “Which is to say, they've had no luck in finding any clues as to the attacker's identity, last I heard. It's a shame, but like I said, I think this guy has to be pretty smart. After all, he's managed to hide his identity from the Magical Superior and Yorak, easily two of the smartest mages in the world. That's not easy.”
Darek sank deeper into the pillow his head rested on, staring up at the ceiling. “You make a good point. Maybe this guy has already left. After all, everyone is on high alert now. Any suspicious behavior on his part is bound to be noticed by everyone, after all.”
“Quite true,” said Aorja, scratching her arm. “But I don't think he's run. I think he's still around here, probably keeping an eye on things in case he needs to cause another explosion somehow.”
“If I were him, I'd definitely run,” said Darek. “Not that I am him, obviously. I'm just saying that as a hypothetical.”
“I understand,” said Aorja. “I would never think of you as the attacker, Darek. I mean, you're smart and all, but not smart enough to fool both the Magical Superior and Yorak.”
“Thanks a lot,” Darek muttered. Then he said, in a louder voice, “How is Jiku doing? Has he awoken yet?”
“Not yet,” said Aorja, shaking her head. “He's still resting from the attack on the Third Dorm. I
t's sad because I was really hoping to speak with him, but I guess I won't be able to do that until tomorrow at the earliest.”
She sighed, but her sigh was more relieved than wistful. It was as if she was happy that Jiku was not yet awake, which made no sense to Darek at all.
“Well, you can talk with me instead,” said Darek, giving her a weak smile. “But at least Jiku is going to be all right. He was in bad shape when I rescued him from the flames of the Third Dorm like that. I didn't think he'd recover at all, but I guess Yorak really is a great mage, huh?”
“Yep,” said Aorja. “That's why they call her the Grand Magus, after all. It's not exactly a title the aquarian mages bestow upon any old mage.”
“Yeah,” said Darek. Then he looked around and frowned. “By the way, has Mom come by to see me yet?”
“Nope,” said Aorja. “I think she's helping the Institute mages investigate the destruction of their airship, to be honest. You know how your mom gets. She seems to be attracted to explosions.”
“Mom's helpful, that's what she is,” said Darek. “She likes to help people, even people she doesn't know very well. It's what I've always admired in her.”
“She's also a very strict teacher,” said Aorja. “I mean, all of the teachers are strict, obviously, but Jenur really pushes us, doesn't she?”
Darek nodded. Mom had a reputation among the students for her no-nonsense attitude and intolerance towards laziness and irresponsibility. Even he wasn't immune from her sometimes harsh diatribes in which she would push him to his limits, and he was her son.
If anything, I think she's always treated me harsher than the others, Darek thought. Probably to avoid being accused of favoritism, I bet.
“Honestly, though, I think it's good we're both alone together here,” said Aorja. “It's only been a couple of hours, but it feels like it's been days since you, me, and Jiku here were all together like this.”
“Yeah,” said Darek. “Hopefully we'll figure this out soon enough. Then maybe everything can go back to normal. Like how it was in the old days.”
“Yep,” said Aorja. “So, Darek, why don't you just go back to sleep? You really do need your rest. I can see it in the bags under your eyes. You look like a zombie.”
Darek didn't have a mirror on hand to check that claim, but he was feeling tired and sleepy. The feeling in his hands was slowly returning, but he doubted it would completely return for a few more hours at least.
Nonetheless, his attention returned to Aorja's other arm, the one she was hiding behind her back. He tilted his head to the side and asked, “What have you got behind your back there? Your blood tear?'
Aorja laughed, although it was a hollow laugh. “Of course not. You know I never carry that with me anywhere. It's back in my room in the Third Dorm.”
“Oh,” said Darek. “Right. I keep forgetting that. I guess I just think that if I had a magical object like that, I would take it with me everywhere I go.”
“It's not all that special,” said Aorja. “Besides, I'm not much a geomancer, so it couldn't really help me even if I did carry it around.”
“Okay, but that still doesn't explain what you have got behind your back,” said Darek. “Is it a present for Jiku? Or for me?”
“Where would I get a present for either of you?” said Aorja. “It's not like there's a gift shop in the Arcanium's lobby or anything.”
“I know,” said Darek. “But I'm just curious because you've held your arm like that for a while now and I was wondering what it was.”
“It's nothing,” said Aorja. “Just go to sleep, Darek. You need it.”
“Not until I find out what that is,” said Darek, craning his neck in an attempt to look around her body. “Is it a new wand for me?”
Aorja turned her body to keep Darek from being able to look around at it. “No. It's just not something you need to see, okay?”
“But I want to see it,” said Darek as he craned his neck even further. “You do realize that your hiding it only makes me want to see it more, don't you?”
“I know,” said Aorja, still turning her body to block his view of whatever she was hiding. “It's just not anything you need to see. Is respecting my privacy really that difficult for you to do?”
“If that privacy is right in front of me and you keep trying to hide it, then yes, it is,” said Darek. His neck started to hurt, so he stopped craning it. “Come on. You were going to give it to Jiku, weren't you? What were you going to show Jiku that you can't show me?”
“It's nothing,” said Aorja. “It's not really a present or anything.”
“If it's nothing, then it shouldn't hurt to show me what it is, right?” said Darek. “Come on. Just show it to me already.”
Aorja was starting to look annoyed, even angry, but before she could respond again, Jiku moaned.
Both Aorja and Darek looked at Jiku. He was still lying in his bed in between them, but now he was beginning to stir. His eyes flickered several times before finally remaining open.
Darek could hardly believe his eyes. He watched with excitement as Jiku blinked several times and looked around with a dazed, confused look in his eyes.
“Jiku's awake,” said Darek with a laugh. “Oh, Jiku, it's great to see you're doing well, old buddy. How—”
Darek's question was cut off when Jiku took one look at Aorja and pointed at her accusingly. “You! What are you doing—”
Moving faster than Darek had ever seen her move before, Aorja whipped out her wand from behind her back and pointed it point blank at Jiku's face. Jiku immediately shut up, his eyes screwing up as he looked down Aorja's wand, which was softly glowing with suppressed power.
“What in the name of Skimif, the Northern Pantheon, and the Southern Pantheon is going on here?” said Darek, looking from Aorja to Jiku and back again. “Why are you two acting like mortal enemies? Aren't we all friends around here?”
Without taking his eyes off Aorja's wand, Jiku slowly shook his head. “I thought we were, but—”
“Shut up, old man,” Aorja snarled, her voice losing even the fake kindness it had originally. “Or I will finish the job I started in the Third Dorm.”
“Wait, what?” said Darek. His eyes widened as her words sank in like a stone. “Impossible. Aorja, you were the one who blew up the Third Dorm?”
“I guess there's no hiding it anymore,” said Aorja with a sigh, although her wand never wavered from Jiku's face. “Yes, I, Aorja Kitano, created the explosive spell that almost completely destroyed the entire Third Dorm. It was supposed to kill Jiku, too, but then you just had to play the hero, didn't you, Darek?”
Darek opened his mouth, but no sound came from it. He felt like he had completely lost the ability to speak. Nothing Aorja said made any sense. It was like someone had revealed to him that Martir was perched on the back of a turtle and he wasn't sure whether they were joking or being dead serious.
“This was all supposed to work out how I planned it,” Aorja said, her voice angry. “It was a simple plan, but you messed it up, Darek. Jiku also messed it up by acting like an idiot.”
“Trying to stop you from killing everyone here is what you call acting like an idiot?” said Jiku, although his voice was weak. “That's an odd definition of the word.”
“Aorja was planning to kill everyone?” said Darek. “But why?”
“Jiku's getting senile,” said Aorja. “I'm not some kind of crazy mass murderer. I was simply trying to create a distraction.”
“A distraction?” said Darek. “Who were you trying to distract? And why?”
Aorja shot such an annoyed look at Darek that he thought she was going to shoot daggers from her eyes. “Are you really that dense? I was trying to distract you and every other mage in this school. By blowing up one of the Dorms, I thought I would successfully distract you from what my allies were doing.”
“Who are you allies?” Darek asked. “And who do you even work for? How long have you been this way?”
“My 'al
lies' are a couple of idiotic katabans who got captured anyway,” said Aorja. “Sometimes I wonder about Master's choice of servants, I really do, whenever I think about those two stooges.”
“Hold on,” said Darek, raising his hands, which were still quite blue. “Back up. What is going on here? Why are you betraying us? Why did you try to kill Jiku? And who is this 'Master' you spoke of?”
“Well, considering neither of you are going to be alive for much longer, I suppose I can tell you a thing or two about me and my Master,” said Aorja. “Not much, obviously, because it won't be long before the Magical Superior and everyone else figures out I did it. So I'll keep it short and to the point.”
She grabbed the collar of her robes with her free hand and pulled it down. Darek grimaced when he saw the thick, scythe-shaped scar at the base of her neck. It looked old, like it had been there for a while, but Darek could not recall ever seeing that scar on her neck before.
“See this?” said Aorja, stroking the scar with one finger. “This is the symbol of the Ghostly God. It's a symbol he carves into the flesh of every servant who agrees to work for him. The scar symbolizes his power, the kind of power that he could use to utterly destroy us if he wanted to.”
“It's an ugly scar,” said Jiku, whose eyes were still focused on Aorja's wand. “Why would you ruin your skin with such an ugly thing?”
“Because the Ghostly God demanded it,” said Aorja. “When I went to work for him, he carved it into my flesh. When you work for the Ghostly God, you generally work for him for life. And, if the rumors are true, beyond life.”
“The Ghostly God,” said Darek. “I don't think I've ever heard of him. Is he a southern god?”
Aorja nodded as she pulled her collar back up over her neck scar. “Of course. He lives in the southern seas, well away from human or aquarian civilization. He's not very active, preferring to rule his little island in solitude, but he's like the rest of the gods in that he always has some kind of plan going at some point or another, plans even I am not always aware of.”
“Why would you ever work for a southern god?” said Jiku. “The southern gods like to eat mortals. I know all gods are worthy of respect and honor, but the southern gods rarely hesitate to kill mortals who cross their path.”
For a moment, fear seemed to flash in Aorja's eyes, like she had seen something horrible.
But then she shook her head and said, “The Ghostly God doesn't like to eat human or aquarian flesh. He doesn't really eat at all. Besides, he likes having me here, acting as his spy, sending him information about the happenings in the north. It helps him plan more effectively.”
“He'll eat you one of these days,” Jiku warned. “When he decides that he no longer needs you, he will devour you whole.”
“Shut up,” Aorja snapped. “You don't know him. Besides, if he ever tries to pull a stunt like that, I can protect myself.”
“That's a very arrogant thing to say,” said Jiku, “considering you are just a student still in school and the Ghostly God is a deity who is thousands of years old.”
“The point is, I serve him,” said Aorja. “And it is a great job, albeit one where I have to be very careful about who I talk to and what I share with people.”
Darek blinked. “But … why? You still haven't explained why you work for the Ghostly God. What did he promise to give you in exchange for your service?”
“What he promised me is none of your business,” Aorja said, although the abruptness with which she said that made Darek think he had hit a nerve. “All you need to know is that Master finally gave me orders to act. That's why I blew up the Third Dorm. Master is finally putting his plan into action, and to do so, he needs the mages here disoriented and distracted.”
“You've certainly done a good job of that,” said Jiku. “A little too good, to be honest. Your master must be proud.”
“You shut up,” said Aorja. “Or I will blow your face off. Actually, I should probably do that anyway. You know too much.”
“I'm still confused,” said Darek. “Jiku, what part do you play in all of this?”
“Nothing special,” said Jiku. “Prior to the arrival of the Institute mages, I had returned to our room to grab something I forgot. When I arrived, I found Aorja casting some kind of spell. When she saw me, we briefly struggled before she knocked me out, though the explosion briefly awoke me.”
“He was easy to subdue,” said Aorja. “He still thought I was his friend. Made it easy for me to take him out before he even realized what hit him.”
“I …” Darek struggled to process everything Aorja had just said. “So you were never really our friend? You never really liked us?”
“At first, I did like you two,” said Aorja. “I did consider you both good friends. I came to this school under the mistaken belief that it was my destiny to become a master mage, but then it got boring.”
“Boring?” said Darek. “How can you call North Academy boring? Every day is an adventure here.”
“Every day? Hardly,” said Aorja. She gestured at the ceiling. “Every damn day, it's the same old grind. We wake up, the teachers put us through all kinds of 'tests' to teach some some obscure, useless spell or aspect of magic, have meals at predetermined times of day (always the same awful food), and then we go to bed and repeat the whole process again the next day. If you think that's an 'adventure,' then I'm afraid you're even dumber than I thought.”
“You're the one who makes it sound boring,” said Darek. “And even if it was as you said it was, does that mean that you must put the lives of innocent people at risk, just so you can satisfy your own desire for excitement?”
“It's not my fault you guys are boring as hell,” said Aorja. “Master was right. You don't understand.”
“Don't understand what?” said Darek. Then he shook his head. “It doesn't matter. What is your Master planning? Tell me that, at least.”
“I don't know,” said Aorja. “Master doesn't tell me everything just because I work for him. He's the kind of leader who only lets his servants know what they need to know in order to complete their individual jobs. His two katabans servants don't even know I work for him, much less that I've been helping the bumbling buffoons along without their knowledge.”
She must be referring to the intruders that Junaz caught, Darek thought
Aloud, he said, “Well, why didn't your Master have you do whatever he is planning? You were here the whole time. Seems like a waste to send two other people to do a job you could do yourself.”
Aorja shook her head. “How am I supposed to do their job when I am a student here? The point of this plan was to make sure that no one knew I was working for him, but that all clearly went down the drain, now didn't it?”
Aorja's wand hand shook, but it was still aimed squarely at Jiku. “It was supposed to be simple. While I distracted you idiots, Durima and Gujak were supposed to sneak in and out. But I forgot about that idiotic Guardian, which put us in the same mess that we're in now.”
“It's not quite as bleak as you think,” said Jiku in a surprisingly calm voice. “After all, that little hitch in your 'brilliant' plan showed us your true colors.”
“What did I say about you talking?” said Aorja.
Jiku did not respond, but he no longer looked quite as frightened as he had before.
“Jiku has a good point,” said Darek. “It's over, Aorja. You shouldn't have chosen this moment to reveal your plan to us. Sooner or later Eyurna or someone else will come in and stop you.”
“Don't be so certain about that,” said Aorja in a singsong voice. “You see, I sealed all of the doors and windows out of here. I also sent Eyurna out by telling her that there is a student in the First Dorm who is sick to her stomach. So it's just the three of us in here and it will continue to be just the three of us for quite some time.”
Darek reached for his wand before remembering that he had lost it while rescuing Jiku earlier. Jiku, too, had made movements like he was reaching for his wand,
but like Darek, he apparently did not have his wand anymore, either.
“This is just perfect,” said Aorja, her eyes glinting malevolently. “The only two people in the school who could stop me are unarmed and as weak as twigs. The rest of Master's plan may not go correctly, but I can at least take joy in the knowledge that a couple of idiots died thanks to my efforts.”
As Aorja's wand glowed brighter and brighter, Darek closed his eyes and prayed. He prayed to Skimif, to Xocion, and to any other god or goddess who he thought would listen to him, even though he did not know if any of the gods would come to his aid.
The only god he did not try to pray to, however, was the Ghostly God. That would have been the same as asking Aorja for mercy.
***
The Mage's Grave Page 8
