by Edun, Terah
“Oh,” Sitara said with a sigh. “So we don’t get tea and cookies and bonding time?”
“Not without a Probate,” Lous said.
“Again, what’s so bad about this?” Vedaris asked, arching an eyebrow.
Sitara and Maride shot him annoyed looks. “Well,” said Sidimo, “I for one would have enjoyed conversing with other students, particularly those in my School.”
Lous said brightly, “But you still get to interact with the other students! Most of the intro classes are specific to the different Schools, and there’s always the Citadel green, where everyone hangs out.”
“Hoorah,” grumped Vedaris. By then, they had realized that the rooms were essentially identical; there was really no difference in choice, aside from personal preference or need.
“I’ll take the room straight ahead; I can watch the forest at night,” Sitara mused aloud. Sidimo chose the one next to that, because it faced west, which meant he could get more sleep away from the rising sun. Allorna pointed silently at the door closest to the stairs. Vedaris shrugged and tossed his stuff into the room next to that, and across from the bridge. The only room left was in the round tower off the main room. A moment later, Maride took a peek into his new room. It was small and had built-in shelves, but no armoire.
As they followed Maride over the bridge, they walked into a nice-sized circular room filled with furniture: four desks and four chairs. In the middle of the room was a large throw rug, and to the right a fireplace. Allorna asked “And what is this?”
“The arms room,” Maride and Lous responded at the same time. When they turned to him in surprise, Maride said with a shrug, “Look, the weapons hooks are still on the right wall, and the open cubicles are perfect for short weapons.”
“There’s one more thing I should show you,” said Lous, as he stepped forward to the small latched ironwork gate in the wall. “This leads up to the roof, and is keyed to your signatures just as the front door is,” he said as he opened the gate. With a tip of his head, Lous continued, “This used to be the watch platform for the guards, but…well, you’ll see.”
Sitara stayed behind in the study as they others followed Lous out onto the railed landing, which was empty save for a wide-rimmed chalice filled with oil in the center of the platform. “Did the guards leave this here?” Allorna asked.
“Yes,” said Lous. “It never spills, no matter what. Nor does it catch fire. There’s a legend that says that on the day it lights, the Empire will be in mortal peril.”
Vedaris shrugged and turned back around to go downstairs. Sidimo, unhappy with the chill crosswind, followed shortly after. Lous soon bid them all goodnight and left. For a while, Allorna and Maride stared at the dark forest ahead, as the sun set on the Citadel behind them. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked Maride.
“’Stark and forbidding’ would be the words I’d use,” replied Allorna.
The night was uneventful, despite Allorna’s words. The next morning, the smell of a hot breakfast woke the youths from their slumber. As they filed down the steps to the kitchen, they found two young women wearing stollas seated at the table.
The first said cheerfully, “Good morning. I’m Tara, Earth Probate.” She beckoned them away from the doorway. “Please enter, this is your home; we just didn’t want to wake you before the day had dawned.”
The second young woman, a child really, introduced herself as Maris of the School of Air. She wore a ridiculous pink bow in her auburn hair.
They all sat and started reaching for the food. As she buttered a slice of bread, Tara said, “Now: you’ll be beginning classes in the morning, as the third quarter starts. That means that today, you’ll have plenty to do to get ready.”
Maris chimed in, “There were, of course, two sets of plain tunics and trousers on your beds last night; but those are for your student worker duties, not for attendance at class or for academic functions.”
“Student worker duties?” asked Sidimo from his perch on the far end of the bench.
“Yes,” Tara replied. “All students, no matter their backgrounds, are required to work in or near the Citadel during their first year. Your jobs can take many forms, but don’t start until the second month of classes. Each student is paid a fair wage for their work, and many have found the work beneficial to future petitions for apprenticeships.”
“It can be fun!” Maris chimed in. “I’m to start my first rotation this semester as a campus diplomat. I’m hoping to gain the skills I need to work as a diplomat for the Court. At least some of them, anyway. As an Air Initiate I’ll be before the Emperor all the time.”
Maride scoffed, “And how do you know that? You’re best friends with the Royal Chamberlain already?”
“No!” Maris protested, “But everyone knows that an Air Initiate is best suited as a Winds Messenger or Diplomat, seeing as we can fly!”
“Maris,” Tara interjected, “You’re not guaranteed a position, dear, and everyone does not know that. After breakfast, please escort your fellow students to the town market to buy any supplies they need, and answer further questions as a good campus diplomat would.” To rest of the group Tara explained, “The purchases will be paid for by the Madrassa, with the expectation that the cost will be deducted from your first wages.”
Ah yes, the old company store scam, Vedaris sneered inwardly.
As they entered the town market, they encountered both women and men in jalabiya, the long fabric of their robes whipping in the wind against their legs. Before entering the fray, Maris gathered them together and said, “I won’t insult you by babysitting you, okay? We have two hours before orientation. Try not to get lost or eaten.” She winked, and held out her hand. “Here are your credit chits. Show them to the merchants. They’ll tally your totals and scribe your name to the Madrassa. Your limit is 20 shillings! I suggest you spend it wisely. Your new clothes will cost at least half of that.”
And so they paired off, Allorna getting stuck with Maris. As they browsed the market looking for suitable attire, she discovered that Maris was even ditzier than she’d first seemed. She ran a non-stop monologue, chattering about this article of clothing and that before she asked, nonchalantly, “So, what was your entry test like? Mine was so dreamy! I was flying and had to catch this baby and land without sending my skirt flying. It was crazy.”
Allorna said, “Mine was a bit…different. More strenuous.”
Vedaris, who was trailing along after Allorna and Maris, pushing Sitara in her chair, snorted; and Allorna glanced back at him, smiling slightly. Sitara, meanwhile, had been busy observing weavers working at a loom off to the side as they passed. She frowned at the yarn; she could tell at a glance that that they were handling it wrong. The yarn would soon be a tangled mess. After they passed, she turned her attention back to her companions’ conversation.
“How so?” inquired Maris. “I mean, flying is so hard. But being an Air Initiate will be worth it!”
“Well,” Allorna replied, “When I tested, there was fire everywhere and Locus…”
“You tested with Locus?” exclaimed Maris. She practically swooned when she uttered his name.
“Yes,” Allorna said, a little annoyed at the interruption.
“OoOo, the Fire Headmaster is sooo handsome!” continued Maris. “Every female—and I do mean every female—on campus is in love with him. Well, except for the lesbians of course, but they don’t count!”
Without even stopping to take a breath, she continued to extol his virtues: He was young but mature and super-cute with his stubble and long lashes and cheeky grin.
Ugh, I’m getting a headache. Will this bleater ever shut up? Vedaris wondered.
“Alas, he’s married. But that doesn’t mean a girl can’t look,” Maris concluded with a wink.
Vedaris scoffed, “You’ve known this guy all of, what, three months? And you’re drooling over him. Girls!”
“Well, excuse me, Mr.-I-wouldn’t-notice-a-hot-guy-if-he-dropped-in-
my-lap,” replied Maris, with a roll of her gray-green eyes.
Meanwhile, Allorna examined a couple of nice tunics, and started haggling with the merchant standing by the wooden cart.
“La, la la!” exclaimed the merchant upon hearing her first offer. “Three shilings? What, you wish me to die of poverty? Eleven shillings!”
Allorna, who was in her element, didn’t back down. She could tell he was Toshi, and they loved to bargain. “La, shukran Sai’id,” she said.
That caught Vedaris’ attention as he mentally translated her phrase, No, thank you sir, and he turned to look at her in surprise. “She speaks caravan tongue?” he muttered.
Allorna and the merchant continued to negotiate until she emerged triumphant with a price of eight shillings for three tunics, two pants and a snug jacket. Vedaris was much less picky and accommodating. He plumped down six shillings for roughly equivalent clothing, stared the merchant in the face and said, “Take it or leave it.”
The merchant took it.
Sitara waved her hand dismissively when the merchant turned to her. She had no intention of buying from him. She’d rather buy the cloth directly from the weaver; she could make better clothes herself at the prices he was charging.
By that time, they had thirty minutes left in their hour, ten of which would be needed to return to the gate. Maris turned to them and beckoned, “If we go a little farther south, we can grab some snacks and you can order some things for your room from the tradesmen.”
As they turned and walked towards her suggested route, Vedaris noted that they weren’t the only ones headed in that direction. Sidimo and Maride were just a few paces ahead. “Hey, hey!” shouted Maris, while waving frantically to get their attention. “What are their names?” she asked Allorna.
“Sidi!” said Allorna, her voice carrying over the crowd. That stopped the others long enough for her group to catch up.
“Hi there,” Maris said. “OoOo, I can smell the sweet bread from here!” Sidimo and Maride reminded the bubblehead of their names, and then they all followed her toward the scent of roasting meat and fresh bread.
Chapter 9
By the time they returned to the Northern bab, they were all sorely tired of Maris’ chatter, and happy to see that Tara was waiting at the gate. “Ready for a tour of the Madrassa?” When they all chorused in the affirmative, she asked, “Well then, what do you know of the academy?”
This time Sitara, who had read the handbook the previous night, raised her hand. “It’s been here since before the Initiate Wars a century ago,” she said. “The school was originally built as a summer retreat for the children of the Five Families. It has since grown to include children from all noble families and the lower classes as well. One spring forty-seven years ago, for reasons that are still unclear, all the trees within the Citadel grounds budded red leaves and have ever since. Their trunks slowly turned red as well. Hence the academy’s popular nickname, ‘the Red Madrassa.’”
“Very good,” Tara said, “but our Powers That Be prefer to think of it simply as ‘The Madrassa.’” She set out across the campus, the others following, and soon pointed to the left. They all headed in that direction. “As new students, you will have some of your classes there in Windas Hall.” It was a five-story brick structure with gigantic doors. “Today we’ll register you for second semester classes,” Tara continued, “but first let’s head into orientation.”
They filed through the open entrance and thence to the left, immediately entering a classroom. Benches took up the greater portion of the room, with a lectern at the front where an older man, creaky with age, stood. They sat in the back row next to the bank of windows opening onto the green.
There were a handful of other students in the room, some alongside their guardians and kith. At Tara’s nod, the elder at the lectern began, “I am Ames, Head Librarian and Initiate of the School of Research. I’m here to give you an overview of the academy and what to expect. In your first year at the Madrassa, you must take four academic classes, plus a work class. The four can be of your choice, but since you are all students of specific Schools, I suggest that three of those classes pertain to your future practicum.”
To Allorna, his version of suggest sounded a lot like expect. “As new recruits, however, your fourth course will be a light defense course,” Ames continued. At the mention of defense, Vedaris’ ears perked up, and Maride looked a bit sulky. “We expect all our graduates and those who continue on to become Probates to be able to defend themselves, with or without magic.
“So to reiterate,” he said, rapping a stick on the lectern, “Five classes—three of your practicum, one defense, and one work. You’ll each receive a list of classes tailored specifically for you personally. Choose well. Your life depends on it.” He ended his speech with a chilling little cackle.
They left Windas, and entered the Citadel green—a vast area of drooping crimson trees, vivid green grass, and open benches placed on secluded knolls. On the green, students and Probates mingled freely, laughter erupting often on this last day before classes began. The clatter of cowbells drifted up from the town below, adding to the bucolic ambience.
There was a lawn table set up in the far corner, with two students manning it. Maris walked over and started chatting with a young girl in green, apparently an Earth student. She beckoned them over with a smile. “Hi,” the girl said, “I’m Karin, an Earth student— although I guess you can tell,” she said, with a tug on her green tunic. “This table is for new recruits.” There were knapsacks piled on the table with a ribbon tied to each, bearing the colors of the schools: red for Fire, green for Earth, blue for Water, white for Air, gold for Politics, purple for Healing, black for the Unknown, and brown for Research. The bored Probate next to Karin handed each of them a knapsack filled with books and sundry academic materials, and afterward, Tara gathered them back to her.
“Now,” she said as she led them across the green, “Across the yard is the dining hall that you will use for most of your meals, and the main library is just to the left of it. The library is used by all the Schools, and no use of magic is allowed within.”
At that, they paused on the open path. Tara pointed down the path that forked to the right. “There’s the way to the Marsea Gatehouse. If you take the path to the left, you will go directly to the towers where the Schools are housed. Your practicum-related classes will be held in the towers.”
She nodded deeply, just short of a bow. “The rest of the day is yours. Don’t waste it; classes begin tomorrow, and you must be prepared. Your peers have had a semester and a winter solstice to study; you have less than 12 hours. Off with you.”
They split up. Maride, Vedaris and Allorna headed off toward the library, while Sitara went to the Healing Center, and Sidimo walked back to Marsea to supervise the unpacking of his purchases.
When Maride arrived at the library, he headed directly to the shelves on Madrassa history; he wanted to learn more about the School of Research and Marsea Gatehouse both. Allorna, aware that she should study, was nonetheless more interested in Maride. As soon as he entered a private nook, she stepped inside and said, “We need to talk.”
He looked up quickly, frowning. “There’s nothing to discuss. I told you and I told them I had nothing to do with Damian’s death.”
“And yet you were still imprisoned,” she retorted.
With a sigh, he closed the book he’d been holding, “Look, I enjoyed being around my fiancé, but I spent most of my time in books. I don’t know what happened.”
“Do you at least know how he was killed?”
He paused, “Yes, the woman said…she said he’d been beaten.” At this, Maride bit his lip. “But he didn’t die right away. I wasn’t with him then. I have no idea why he was out so late, but you have to understand…we weren’t together. It was an alliance of our families, nothing more. We wouldn’t have married for another three years.”
“And yet you stand accused of having
him attacked out of jealousy,” she muttered. “Who would benefit from such a crime?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t have been in that tower.” He sighed. “How long before the gardis realize we’re here?”
“Recruit rosters aren’t sent to the royal palace until late summer,” she replied.
At that point they heard a loud crash; it sounded as if an entire bookshelf had come down. They raced towards the noise. At the bottom of a pile of books, they discovered Vedaris. Flames licked at the frayed carpeting on the floor near his still form.
Allorna focused on the flame, urging it to behave and remove itself from the carpet. It jumped from the floor to the palm of her hand, where she carefully doused it. By then, a Library Apprentice and Research Initiate had rounded the corner. The Initiate looked from Vedaris to Allorna, and then to Maride off to the side. “How d-d-dare you!” he sputtered, “This is a place of l-learning, not a child’s playground!”
“Sorry,” Vedaris muttered, sitting up. “It…I don’t know what happened.”
“You don’t know what happened?” said the Initiate scornfully. “Are you not a dragon? Do you think that you can just set fire to anything you please?”
“That isn’t what happened!” protested Vedaris. “I wasn’t lighting!”
“Hmph. You are hereby forbidden from re-entering these hallowed halls,” the Initiate sniffed.
“But it was an accident!” shouted Vedaris.
The Initiate looked ready to breathe fire himself, and with that Allorna and Maride decided it would be best to leave. They each grabbed an arm and dragged Vedaris out of the hallowed halls. As they left the building, Maride leaned close and asked, “What was that about?”
Vedaris, rumpled and disquieted, growled, “None of your business.”
“You made it our business whether you like it or not, Master Saracen,” replied Allorna, using the polite title for his kind as she blocked his path. She felt like using something less diplomatic, but restrained herself. “I felt magic from whatever that was. And we might not be friends, but uncontrolled magic isn’t good for anyone, Vedoris.”
