Well, that makes one thing I’m not worst in the class at. I shook my head at my own foolishness. I was hardly going to win a place here by running laps.
And that could not have been more obvious as soon as we were called on to pair up again. Coralie managed to extract herself from Araminta, leaving the girl to pair with Clarence. Both looked resigned at the prospect, despite making an odd-looking pair as the tallest and shortest in the class.
But as soon as the sparring exercises began, it was obvious both of them had more experience and training than me. Coralie kept up an almost constant whispered stream of instruction, falling silent only when Thornton loomed over us. I got several bruises while he watched, Coralie wincing in apology each time one of her blows landed.
By the end of the session, I actually thought I’d made progress, however. Thanks to her assistance, of course. That didn’t mean I’d managed to land a blow on her, but I felt no need to visit Acacia, at least.
“I’d be lost here without you,” I told her as we made our way back to lunch.
She flushed. “Oh, you’d have found your way, I’m sure.”
But I could see my words had pleased her. When I smiled warmly at her, she laughed and nudged my shoulder.
“Besides, you can speak compositions. One day you’ll be the most powerful and illustrious of us all, and I’ll get to say I was your best friend at the Academy.”
“More like only friend.”
“Just give them time. They’ll see.”
Natalya and Lavinia sauntered past us.
“I can’t believe she’s still here,” Natalya said loudly to her friend. “I keep waiting for someone to admit the whole thing is some sort of joke.”
Lavinia nodded, glancing sideways at me. “She can’t do anything. Sure doesn’t seem like some sort of non-blood prodigy to me.”
Coralie wrinkled her nose as they disappeared ahead of us. “Some of them, anyway.”
“You know I have no idea how I did that one working, right?” I asked. “At the moment I can’t even read, let alone compose.”
“You’ll figure it out,” she said, full of more confidence in me than I felt for myself.
Nothing in the following days seemed to bear out her assurance, however. I felt not the slightest stirring of power inside me, and the progress on my literacy felt painfully slow. After my testing, I had half-expected a bevy of black-robed mages to follow me around, observing every move I made. But it seemed they had all decided I was to do nothing but focus on reading and writing for now.
The seventh day of every week was designated as a rest day without classes, and I had been looking forward to the break. But Jocasta soon enlightened me.
“You won’t have combat, so we can work all morning as well as all afternoon.”
When I groaned, she fixed me with a sharp look. “This isn’t how I want to be spending my rest day, Elena. I would have expected you, at least, to show some motivation to learn.”
I swallowed my dismay after that and redoubled my efforts. She was right, of course. I did want to learn to read. But it was hard to maintain the enthusiasm when, instead of reading books, I was reciting the alphabet or sounding out a list of simple words like cat. At least I would have a day off from Thornton’s disapproving looks and Coralie’s apologetic blows.
Something I was especially grateful for when I suddenly found myself confronted with Dariela instead of Coralie at the last combat lesson of the week. The tall girl made no extra effort to inflict pain, as Weston had done, but neither did she soften her blows like Coralie. She didn’t whisper instructions, either, so I had to watch the other pairs to work out what I should be doing. With the divided attention, I could hardly be surprised to find myself covered in bruises by the end of the lesson.
Dariela just sighed and wandered away as soon as we were released, having not spoken a word to me the entire time.
Coralie tried to convince me to visit Acacia again, but I resisted. Perhaps the bruises would remind me to work harder and pay more attention. Because even if I was never going to be a mage, there was still a good chance I would end up as a soldier. I should be grateful for the opportunity to learn these skills.
Still, after a night of sleeping on my aches, I gladly welcomed Jocasta’s sighs and impatient looks over Thornton’s glowers and incomprehensible instructions. At least the bruises would have a little time to fade before new ones were added to their number.
By the end of the day, I wasn’t so sure, however. My brain felt as if it had been wrung out and then trampled on, and I couldn’t even muster the energy to ask Coralie how her day off had gone. Thankfully she didn’t need any asking and chattered through the whole of the evening meal about her visit to one of the city markets. Apparently her family were still in the capital after having traveled up from Abalene to deliver her to the Academy.
I wished I could ask her to hire a messenger on my behalf the next time she ventured out, but I still had no coin to pay for a message, nor any way to acquire any. Phyllida, the Head of the Seekers, had said she visited my family herself. Had she given them any news of me? Reassured them at least that I was alive?
Was Clementine terrified now? Did she think she would have to enlist, after all? But as I lay in bed that night, I knew that my sweet younger sister was far more likely to be terrified for me. And while I couldn’t send her a message, I could work hard and do everything I could to fit in here. To prove to these people that I had control, that I wasn’t a danger. I just needed them to let me stay until I turned eighteen and could enlist.
But before I could start learning how to compose as they did, and with control, I had to learn to read and write.
And so I worked harder than ever—too tired, both physically and mentally, to do more than collapse into bed straight after dinner each night. Until finally the day came when Jocasta announced my penmanship to be legible and my comprehension sufficient.
“And it’s about time,” she muttered. “I do have other duties, you know.”
I was far too elated to be downcast by her attitude. I had done it. I couldn’t read every word, and my spelling was atrocious, but I was assured time and practice would improve both of those.
“And for now, you’ll only attempt the simple binding compositions. Ones which you can copy,” Jocasta explained.
I could barely grip the pen in my hand for the excitement. I didn’t care how simple the working. I would finally have the chance to prove myself. To prove that I wasn’t a danger, or a threat, or even just unutterably stupid, as most of my year mates still seemed to think.
Pressing down firmly with the pen on the unmarked parchment, I listened carefully to Jocasta’s words.
“As you begin to shape the words, you’ll feel the power building around you. Write that first phrase quickly. The one you’ve been practicing on the safe sheet. As soon as you complete it, you should feel the pressure of the power lessen. It will still be there, but holding in place, waiting rather than building. Well, it’s still building but not pressing down trying to break free.”
I nodded and waited to see if she had more to say.
“Well, come on then,” she said. “Sitting there won’t achieve anything.”
I took a deep breath and formed the first letter. Just as she had said, I felt a rush of pulsing power as I had so many nights ago in front of my parents’ store. My hand hurried to form the rest of the letters of the short phrase, but I had barely finished the first word when the power exploded outward in every direction, and the room came crashing down around us.
Chapter 11
Everything around me was darkness and pain. A distant sound filtered through, but I struggled to make sense of it through the ringing in my ears. Then the crushing pressure on my legs eased and light pierced my eyes. I blinked, too full of pain to move or even speak.
“I found her! Both of them!” called a voice, and a moment later a cool mist pressed against my skin, seeping in.
“Ahhhh.” I cl
osed my eyes, going limp with relief at the easing of the pain.
“Don’t move,” said a vaguely familiar voice, before cool mist flooded over me again.
Something popped in my leg and in my chest, and I yelped, although it didn’t actually hurt.
“Keep still,” the voice warned again, and I opened my eyes to see it was Acacia bending over me. “I just need to do one more.” She ripped a long scroll, and a third layer of mist settled over me.
I tried to turn my mind from the grinding sensation that filled me by looking around.
“Jocasta? Is she…”
“She fared slightly better than you.” Acacia smiled at me. “I already gave her the pain composition, but I’ll go finish patching her up now.” She paused and turned back to me. “Just remember to take it slow. You might be healed, but your body will still be in shock.”
I nodded and sat up, wincing as my head spun from the sudden movement. Jocasta lay prone on the ground, her face white, and a pool of blood around her left arm. I bit my lip and reminded myself Acacia had said she would be fine. The purple-robed healer bent over her and selected a parchment. In front of my eyes the gash healed, the arm returning to its usual color and shape, except for the leftover streaks of red across it.
“Excuse me,” said a new voice, and I looked over to find a man I didn’t recognize looking at me with some discomfort. He wore a robe in an attractive shade of peach, and it took me several moments to place the color. The creators. Where had he come from?
“Excuse me,” he repeated. “Do you think you could move out of the way?”
“Oh.” I pushed myself to my feet, swaying for a moment at another head rush. Now that I looked around properly, I could see that many of the larger chunks of stone had already been moved, but the space around me still looked like a demolition was underway.
I picked my way through the scattered pieces of stone and broken furniture, until I stepped through a hole that had once been the wall of the room and into the main library. Several books and scrolls lay scattered across the floor, many of them torn. I bit my lip at the sight of them, even though it looked as if only two sections of shelving had been damaged.
Only two. I shook my head. I was starting to think like them. Only recently that would have represented more books than I had ever seen, or even imagined. I turned back to watch as the creator selected a large number of parchments from inside his orange robe, muttering to himself as he laid them out in a row on a stone in front of him.
As soon as Acacia emerged, supporting Jocasta on her shoulder, he began to rip them in quick succession. While I watched in amazement, the furniture re-formed, the stones flying up into the air and re-joining into square blocks, and the books mending themselves back into wholeness.
“How is he doing that?” I whispered.
“With a great deal of study and skill,” said a voice at my side. I wheeled around to see Lorcan also watching the rebuilding. “We can be grateful that such a senior member of the creator discipline was visiting the Academy today.”
I bit my lip, glancing between the Academy Head and the destruction I had unleashed. Had he come to tell me I had failed? That if I could not exercise control, then maybe General Thaddeus was right about me?
“I take it you attempted a composition?”
I started at Lorcan’s question since he hadn’t taken his eyes from the work of the creator.
“Yes,” I managed after a moment’s pause. “Just a simple binding. But I didn’t manage more than a word.” I wanted to defend myself, but there was nothing to say. I had done exactly as Jocasta had instructed, and it hadn’t worked. There was no more to it than that.
“Interesting. I felt no control in it at all. Not like your previous working.”
“That was no poorly executed composition,” said Jocasta’s familiar and rather caustic voice behind us. Her tone relieved me despite her words. Surely she must be fully recovered from whatever I had done to speak like that.
Lorcan wheeled around to regard her. “I must confess it felt the same way to me. That was the uncontrolled explosion of power of a non-blood attempting to write.”
Jocasta nodded. “That it was. And she had barely even managed one word, as she said. Elena can no more control the power of written words than any other non-blood.”
I looked between them. So this was it, then. They would declare me a fraud and—what? Send me home? Execute me? Lock me away?
“Jessamine will want to know of this,” said Lorcan, his eyes growing distant. “The puzzle grows more interesting. Does it rule out the possibility of distant mage ancestry? Or could the intervening generations have morphed the power in such a way that—”
“Excuse me,” I interrupted, unable to take the suspense. “What does that mean? For me? Am I going to be…expelled?”
“Expelled?” Lorcan looked genuinely taken aback. “Certainly not, although Jessamine would be glad to hear of such a thing, I’m sure. She would have you snatched up and inside the University before either of us could blink. In fact, I’m sure I shall be receiving a visit from her at any moment. There’s no way she didn’t feel that, and she’ll be dying to know if it was you.”
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t surprise me to have Phyllida descending on us, as well. So I had best excuse myself in preparation.” He began to walk away. “Perhaps Jessamine will have some thoughts on the question of—” He broke off suddenly as if remembering me behind him and spun around to regard me.
“Naturally you must refrain from any future writing.” He smiled wryly. “For all our sakes. It seems your previous use of power was not merely some small aberration from an otherwise normal mage with a rather unusual background.” He shook his head wonderingly. “No, you are something new entirely.”
He once again disappeared into his own thoughts before abruptly looking up again. “Which means you must consider yourself under the same strictures as all non-bloods. No writing!” He took a single step and then paused again. “You can continue with the reading, though, of course. No point trying to stop that now, and you have much study before you. I leave you in Jocasta’s capable hands.” And with that, he hurried from the library.
I blinked at the empty doorway for several seconds.
“Is that…”
“What he’s always like when confronted with some new and exciting intellectual stimulation?” Jocasta completed my sentence. “Yes. And Jessamine is even worse. I’m sure he’s right that she’ll be over here in no time, and then the two of them will be in discussion for hours.”
I turned slowly to face her. “I’m sorry, Jocasta. Truly sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Of course you didn’t.” Her brisk voice dismissed my apology. “I should have known better than to trust you could do it. I should have set up some sort of shield.”
“Could you do that?” I couldn’t keep the awe out of my voice.
Her mouth twisted. “It might take me a full page, but I daresay I could have managed something adequate.” She watched the last of the reconstruction effort. “I suppose we can just be glad that in one way, at least, you are like a young mage and not a non-blood.”
I gave her a questioning look.
“Your flameout was a great deal less destructive than it could have been. Like the occasional accidents of our own children before they turn sixteen and develop the necessary control. Thank goodness Acacia was on hand.”
I nodded fervently at that while Jocasta regarded me thoughtfully.
“I had hoped to get you caught up to your composition class, but naturally that will be impossible now. Your reading still needs work.” She gave me a knowing look. “Lots of work. But if we are to get to the bottom of your power, I suppose you will need at least a working knowledge of composition as well.”
She rubbed a blood-streaked hand across her eyes. “From tomorrow, you may rejoin your class.”
I opened my mouth to protest, and she cut me off.
“Not to participat
e, of course. Don’t you touch a pen while you’re there, lest you bring the Grays down around our ears. But you can listen and learn. And I’ll assign you reading practice to be going on with.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I think I’ve about earned my afternoons back, don’t you?”
I could do nothing but nod, my eyes caught on the red that still stained her clothing and body.
“Oh relax, child,” she said, her voice testy. “I’ve been fully healed. Now be gone with you.”
“Elena! What happened?” Coralie jumped on me as soon as I appeared in the dining hall.
I shook my head, but she latched onto my arm and clearly had no intention of letting go until she had the full story. I slid into my usual seat and looked around. We usually sat at the table alone, but this time the next two tables were empty as well. And even the corresponding table in the next row.
“We heard an explosion,” said Coralie breathlessly. “And they’re saying you—but I told them you would never—”
I nodded miserably.
“Wait. You did?” She stared at me, and I hunched my shoulders forward, filling my plate as quickly as I could.
“So what happened?” She gave an exasperated sigh when I still said nothing. “Come on, Elena girl. Use your words!”
I looked up at her quickly, shock on my face, and she rolled her eyes.
“Not like that. I just mean speak to me!”
I sighed and looked around again before lowering my voice. “I used my words, that’s what happened. I tried to compose for the first time, all right? I barely got one word of the binding words down and the room exploded.”
Coralie rocked back, for once too shocked to speak.
“So I guess everyone was right. I don’t have control. And I am a danger.”
“But they’re letting you stay?” She looked around wildly as if she expected Grays to come bursting into the dining hall and carry me away.
Voice of Power (The Spoken Mage Book 1) Page 10
