by Sever Bronny
“Whatever you just did there …” She shook her head. “It was something special. It reminded me of the time you stood up for that soldier before the Henawa, back in the war.”
That felt like forever ago. It had been the first instance when he had truly stepped outside his comfort zone and into a leadership role. But not the last.
Augum glanced around and saw that much of the courtyard was still filled with students and arcanists. He spotted The Grizzly watching him, and he realized the man was standing protectively, another quiet sentinel in the crowd. Byron, Flagon, and Fungal were there too. And so was Iguyin, surrounded by students who shared his degree. Eric was between both groups, face pale. The overseers were about, mostly watching Augum’s group. Hyenas ready to spring. But the coward was gone. Gone to lick his wounds. Gone to contemplate revenge. Or perhaps gone to savor what he deemed a victory, for Augum had shown humility and bowed, hopefully making Darby, at least in Darby’s mind, superior.
“We have to take things to a new level,” Augum, still mildly tormented by the distant throb of a headache, whispered to his friends. They subtly nodded, their backs to him, protective, watchful, casual. He felt like a general surrounded by a loyal army of warriors ready to die for the kingdom. The idea of a new resistance blew about in the wind like a bare winter branch waiting out the winter. Except they did not have time to wait for spring. They needed to act of their own accord. Only a day had passed, yet if things continued at this pace …
“Flagon theorized only about a third of the warlocks are actually over the 15th degree,” Augum said, marshaling his thoughts, and went on to explain Flagon’s theory.
“So what you’re saying is arithmetic has a use?” Leera said when he finished. “Huh, who would have thunk it …”
“That’s not all I learned. Gonzalez says we need to study history.”
Leera scoffed. “Of course the history teacher said that.”
“No, it’s more than that.” And he explained what she had told him about each kingdom having their own interpretation of history.
“Wait, that’s why she had us study the Seven Subjugations of Canterra,” Bridget cut in. “I knew there was something fishy about that assignment.”
“What do you mean?” Laudine asked.
“Didn’t that assignment strike you as injurious to Solian pride?”
“Well, yes, we came off as—” Laudine stopped, pressing a hand against her pixie hair. “Gods be merciful, are you saying that version—”
“—was Canterran. She assigned it so we could understand where the Canterrans were coming from. They believe that version of history is true.”
“But there’s nothing in there that can help us now,” Augum said.
“I know,” Bridget replied, “but I don’t think that’s what Gonzalez was getting at. I think she’s saying the secret to what they’re after lies in their history books, not ours.”
“Ooh,” the group of friends cooed.
But before they could extrapolate on the matter, Eric approached, eyeing someone in the crowd. Augum followed his gaze and saw that it led to his cousin, Katrina, who stood with Elizabeth and a white-robed Carp and Brandon. So they had converted. Just that quickly. Incredible.
Eric came to their group, face crimson and voice so venomous he was shooting spittle. “This was my cousin’s doing. For helping you with the bank loan. For betraying her. In her mind, we would have been even had Iguyin hanged. She and I are mortal enemies now.” He inhaled sharply. “I will quietly petition for money. I already know someone willing to help—Cry Slimwealth’s father, the Lord High Treasurer.”
Augum gave a single grateful nod. Why hadn’t they thought of that before? The man was filthy rich and would be vengeful following his son’s kidnapping.
“And I’ll get to the bottom of those assassins if it’s the last thing I do,” Eric went on. “So you can be free of them once and for all. I can’t promise anything, but …” He dropped his head, whispering, “Thank you, Stone. Thank you. If there is anything else I can—”
“There is.”
Eric stared into Augum’s eyes, lips parted in fear of what Augum would say. “I can’t get you your castle back.”
“I know.” Augum leaned closer and whispered his bold plan to sneak four hundred suits into the academy. With each word, Eric’s eyes widened further.
“But we need cover,” Augum concluded, nodding firmly. “This is for the kingdom. You know where this is going, Eric. You know it. Help me. Help us.”
Eric swallowed. “Unnameables …” He looked each person in the face and, seeing their resolve, nodded. “I’ll do my very best,” and walked away.
“What do you want the rest of us to do?” Isaac asked out of the side of his mouth, pretending to idly kick the snow to take the attention away from his words.
Augum launched right into it. “Haylee and Laud, can you two research what kind of Memorial Ceremony we’ll need to perform for me to accept my former father’s blood again?”
“It’s an obscure concept so it’ll take time,” Haylee replied. “But we’ll certainly try. The gods know classes are the least of our concerns right now.”
“I also want you to find any major historical discrepancies between Canterra and Solia.”
“You do realize how big of a task that is, right?”
“Just do the best you can. And don’t forget to eat something.”
“You too.” Haylee said. “And yes, we’ll do our best. You can count on it.”
“Good.” Augum’s stomach rumbled. Talking of food made him realize how starved he was, especially considering he had vomited his breakfast outside of Olaf’s house. “Isaac, Jengo, Cai—I want you three to take point on forming a detailed plan on how to smuggle those suits into the academy. In fact, I want everyone’s heads on this one. Confer with Ollie when you can. Use intrigue, guile, subterfuge, whatever you can think of that will safely work against our enemy, just make it happen—and don’t get caught. We’re going through with this.”
“It’ll take time, but we’ll get it done,” Caireen whispered.
“We’ll need to register,” Jengo said to Caireen. “Otherwise they’ll ask questions.”
“We’ll do that after the daily worship hour.”
“I’m coming with,” Isaac blurted. “You know, for backup.”
Caireen smiled at him.
Bridget raised a brow at Augum. “I have a feeling I know what you want us three to do.”
Augum flashed a grin. “You know it—we’re hitting Archives.”
* * *
There was just one problem to finding Archives—they had to lose the two Canterrans tailing Augum around as if attached by a wire. Augum’s empty stomach demanded the solution involve food, which would also give him time to study the overseers. They were slender and young. Certainly inexperienced. Part of him wondered if they were assassins in disguise, only to realize they never would have gotten into the lightning room, for assassins did not have elements but rather a form of wild arcanery.
The trio ate their lunch in the Supper Hall, their meals consisting of breaded pork, buttered potatoes sprinkled with parsley and chives, fried asparagus, half a head of lettuce, and leek soup. To Augum, it was nothing short of a small feast—and a nice change from the bland porridge. The overseers sat at a nearby table, making themselves quite plain. They watched Augum the entire time, forcing him to mind his voice and words. The trio thus avoided talking about anything consequential, though Augum had much to say.
Their plan was simple. The girls would leave Augum behind and meet him at the secondary entrance to the catacombs, while he would lose the overseers in the twisting halls of the Student Wing. They were about to enact this plan when Katrina, Brandon and Carp, who had been eating at a distant table, got up and strolled over. They loomed behind Bridget, who remained seated, and sneered at Augum and Leera, who sat opposite Bridget. Brandon and Carp, each dressed in the immaculate white robe of a Path Disciple—bu
t having yet to shave their heads—stuck their chests out with pride.
“Eyes down, ladies,” Katrina sang, though her eyes flitted to Carp and Brandon, full of mirth. “I came to gloat a little,” she whispered with a girlish giggle to Augum. “The castle’s quite nice, you see. We’ll be working on it of course, though I suppose that’ll take time.”
Augum had to control his face for she was fishing for an ugly reaction. He had no time for her games.
Leera idly picked at her fingernails. “Hanging out with the bloated fish, are we?”
Carp scowled oafishly.
“Come now, Leera,” Katrina sang, “we’re not in a farm school full of squabbling younglings. We’re men and women grown. Throw me a proper insult.”
Leera didn’t miss a beat and raised her head to glare at Katrina. “Bet you feel real superior using Auntie and Uncle to steal the castle. Just remember that not a single soul who was in that arena will ever forget how Augum humiliated you.”
A coldness seeped into Katrina’s angular features. Her ash-gray eyes went flat and dark.
Augum could almost hear Bridget groan. He tensed, unsure how this would turn out.
“I’m disappointed in you, Brandon,” Bridget said, interrupting their standoff, back still turned to the three adversaries behind her, gaze remaining on Leera as she spoke. “I thought you were a better man than this.”
Brandon opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.
“You better mind your tongues, ladies,” Carp hissed. “We’re Path Disciples now.”
“It’s sad hearing you trying to fit your entire vocabulary into one sentence,” Leera snapped. Her eyes were low, but her voice was iron.
Carp went purple and reached across the table to smack her head—only to have Leera snatch his arm like a viper. She rose dangerously, holding his gaze, jaw set. At the same time, Bridget stood to face Brandon, and he wilted under her stare like a parched flower under the harsh glare of the sun. As for Katrina, Augum simply raised a single finger and wagged it at her, clucking his tongue while shaking his head in warning. He did not stand but rather leaned back and crossed his arms, signaling he was not afraid of her. He could almost see the humiliation of the duel parading through her mind and hear the echoed roar of the crowd as he so soundly defeated her.
The background susurrus quieted as pupils turned their heads to watch the standoff. The two overseers stood in alarm and glanced at each other, but did not act.
Leera threw Carp’s hand back at him. It smacked him in the face, stunning him. Leera cocked her head, arms loose at her sides. She weighed half as much as Carp, yet Augum knew her arcanery was a mountain to his molehill.
“I could have you all expelled,” Katrina coldly whispered, staring at Augum. “Or worse.”
But Augum suspected she did not know which rule they had broken. Nor how she would go about tattling on them. She was merely flexing a muscle she did not have … yet. Thus he stayed silent and matched her gaze. Unlike Darby, Katrina was not a coward and sought to prove herself at every turn. What made her dangerous was her cunning. She was more cunning than he was, than all of them were. She was like a fox and the academy the henhouse.
“You saved that useless wayward’s life just to lick the boot of my traitorous cousin, didn’t you?”
“I saved his life because it was the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do? Right? Right is relative.”
“Only to those who wish it to be so they can serve their own ends.”
Katrina’s jaw flexed. She did not like that reply. Then her features softened mockingly. “Poor thing, you’re bound by a silly made-up code of honor. An old farce, a jest that was stamped out like a cockroach.” She watched his reaction, fishing for one, but got nothing. Then she snorted. “I’m a stronger man than my weak cousin will ever be. You have aligned yourself with weakness.”
And you with cowardice. But Augum did not say it aloud, merely remained seated and relaxed. Nonetheless, he entertained the thought of kicking the snot out of them here in the hall for all to see, only to realize what he was doing again. He thought of Cobb and his widowed wife and orphaned son. Don’t be reckless, you damn fool. Your recklessness already cost someone their life.
Katrina smiled a false smile, the smile of a beautiful woman who was as lethal as a razor. “Do you have the money for tomorrow morning’s due?”
Augum, realizing she was subtly referring to his money, which she thought the Von Edgeworths had successfully seized, played along. He opened his mouth and pretended to look confused.
“He doesn’t know,” she told Brandon and Carp.
“He will soon enough,” Carp said with a grin.
Oh, you’re in for a sweet surprise, Augum thought with satisfaction.
Katrina leveled her gaze at Brandon. “She is not your equal. She is beneath you now.”
Brandon looked back up at Bridget. His eyes narrowed and he hissed, “Lower. Your. Gaze. Woman.”
Bridget glared. Instead of lowering her eyes she took a small step forward, so she was nose to nose with him. Her words fell like a hammer. “You are a coward, Brandon Summers. A coward.”
Augum and Leera stiffened, becoming shields ready to protect their sister-in-war. All became still. Violence wafted within the stillness of the room like the stench of rancid meat.
Augum thought Brandon might punch her. She had slapped him before, and he suspected that’s what played in his mind. He wanted revenge … yet he did not follow through. Instead, he wilted once more under her fierce glare. The Supper Hall visibly relaxed.
Katrina considered Brandon from his shoes to the top of his head, settling her fierce gaze on his face. “You are a weak, yellow piss jar of a man. I never want to see you again. Get the hell out of my sight.” She pointed at the doors as if talking to a dog. “Get!”
Brandon’s lower lip trembled. “Sweetie, you don’t mean that—”
“You are gutterborn trash,” Katrina hissed in a vicious whisper, shocking the students who overheard. Then she snapped the fingers of her extended arm. “Get! Get out, you wretched cur, you jackass of a boy playing a man. No weak-minded fool will ever be my husband. Go back to your kennel and never show your face to me again.”
The sharp words bounced off the walls, reaching every ear in the hall.
Brandon turned away, yet hesitated. For good measure, Katrina kicked his behind. It was a solid kick too, throwing out a loud slap.
Brandon stumbled and, his humiliation thoroughly complete, staggered out of the Supper Hall, white robe billowing, shoe smudge visible on his butt, head bowed.
Carp stared proudly and loyally at Katrina.
Katrina stepped before Bridget, not too close but not far enough. She smiled victoriously. “I enjoyed humiliating him in front of you. Honos alvara avenga—honor always avenged. The Von Edgeworth motto.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “You didn’t really think I would marry someone so beneath my station, did you, honey? He was a toy, nothing more. A means to an end.” She winked. “That was for what you dared to utter about my father.”
Bridget, whose hands were shaking, frowned in confusion. “What? I never—”
“Oh, but how easily you forget. Well, we Von Edgeworths never forget a slight. You said my father was a ‘dishonorable fellow’ in Sword and Sorcery class. Remember that? Huh?”
“Yes, last month—”
Katrina raised a stern finger. “Don’t you try to walk it back. Don’t you dare. You can’t ever take it back, Bridget. Ever. But it can be avenged, yes. It was avenged.” She sighed and smiled sweetly, as if nothing had gone awry. She nodded once. “And now I consider the matter settled.”
Bridget opened her mouth to say something, perhaps to add that Katrina’s father had been dishonorable, but seemed to think better of it.
Katrina smiled contentedly at Augum and Leera, and then turned her back and marched off, a satisfied look on her face.
Carp flashed them the same satisfied smil
e which faltered when he looked at Leera, before he followed Katrina like a dutiful pup.
The Supper Hall resettled into a quiet, nervous rhythm of clanking flatware and low chatter. Bridget lowered herself into her seat, her hands still shaking. She looked at her hands before hiding them under the table. She hated confrontations. It showed on her face. He couldn’t imagine how she must be feeling after seeing Brandon humiliated like that. Even after everything the fool had done. He almost felt sorry for the poor bastard. Perhaps not even he had deserved such a public indignity.
Augum brought his bowl of leek soup closer. “Bridge?”
“Hmm?”
“You okay?”
“Mmm.”
Augum and Leera exchanged worried looks.
“You know, I think this all might be my fault,” Bridget said.
Leera recoiled as if bitten. “Excuse me?”
“Never mind,” Bridget mumbled, acting most unlike herself.
Leera glared at her friend. “Bridget Abigail Burns—and you know I never use your full name unless it’s serious—you have nothing to blame yourself over. Nothing.”
“Mmm.”
Augum studied Bridget. What was going through her mind? She was so distant, so concerned.
Gods, then it hit him. She was still in love with Brandon. She had thought she could change him, and yet there he was, completely humiliated. And she was struggling with what had happened. It was tearing her apart.
Augum leaned forward, determined to fix it. He opened his mouth, but realized he was not equipped to even form the right words to fix it. He was a large blunt tool trying to cut a small jewel. He slumped back, hoping the words would come to him, the right words, any words at all. But nothing worthy came.
“Wonder what the traitorous fool will do now,” Leera muttered as she carved her breaded pork with a dull knife.
Augum looked over at Bridget and saw she’d gone completely still. So it was true. She still loved him. Her anguish soon became his, and he found himself biting his nails as he once used to do.
Leera glanced between them with a frown and, just as one of her sharp eyebrows rose and her mouth opened to rebuke them, they both snapped out of it at the same time. Augum gave his beloved a tight-lipped smile while Bridget organized her tableware.
