A Shaper's Birthright

by Karen MacRae

  “And why do you bring it to my door, young man? I am no traitor.”

  Pyteor was confused. There was no one listening so why did the man lie?

  “Sir, you should have received a bird from Alscombe telling you of our arrival. We’ve become separated from the rest of our party. Before that, Mystrim told us to meet here, at your house.”

  The elder man’s face changed in a flash. “Mystrim? Why didn’t you say that earlier? How is the reprobate? Still womanising at every opportunity?”

  Pyteor and Nijel thought of the screams and bruised flesh the weather mage enjoyed almost every night. Womanising? “Er, I guess so, sir. He does like his girls,” the Concealer replied.

  The professor stalked over to the big doors through to the waiting room. He pulled open the right-hand door and announced to the waiting students that his office hours had been cancelled then shouted at the top of his voice for someone called Marple to arrange food for three. A wave of groans and resigned sighs were cut off as he closed the door.

  “I have bad news about your bird. It didn’t make it here,” he said as he settled back behind his big desk.

  Pyteor nodded. “Another didn’t arrive in Leask. It seems instructions were not sent out.”

  “Well, I’ll do what I can to help. What do you need?”

  “We need access to the library, sir, and a boat to Shae as soon as we’ve acquired what we seek. The boat needs to take us to Rubra when we’ve concluded our business on Shae.”

  “I can do both, but I can’t get you into all parts of the library. You’d need to be a member of the High Quorum to get into the restricted section. Even I am refused access to these.” The professor’s expressive face left no illusions as to how stupid he considered this rule.

  “We’re going to need money and weapons too, sir. We lost everything when our boat sank.”

  “You said separated. You said nothing about a shipwreck. Is Mystrim all right?”

  “He survived the shipwreck, sir, but a storm blew up. We aren’t sure what happened after that. We were unable to locate our colleagues.”

  “A storm? No one better at moving air and heat around than Mystrim, though, eh? It’ll have been no trouble for the weather mage.” Ebdry laughed loudly, his pot belly wobbling with each guffaw. “Weather mage! How the pair of us laughed at that wordsmithery. Like what he does is some sort of sorcery.”

  “You came up with the term, sir?” asked Nijel, keeping his voice calm in hope of a little more information.

  “Well, someone had to. ‘Temperature Changer’ was hardly an imposing term.” The man belly-laughed at his memories. “Light! Mystrim’s face when he was named a Temperature Changer! It was hilarious. Typical Quorum of course. No thought to how a title might be perceived. What’s yours, boy?” he asked, turning to Pyteor.

  “I’m a Concealer, sir,” Pyteor answered proudly.

  “A light-bender, eh? A useful gift, young man. A useful gift…”

  Pyteor was feeling sympathy for Mystrim’s adoption of a false name for his gift. Light-bender indeed. It might sum up what he did, sort of, but it was far from impressive.

  A knock came from the door behind the desk. The professor called for them to enter and two servants brought in large trays, one heavy with a tureen of what smelled like meat broth, the other filled with sandwiches and yellow citrus juice. Behind him hovered an older man.

  “Ah! Excellent! Lunch! Put it down on the desk. Marple, we need two rooms prepared immediately. My guests here will be staying a few days. Immediately, mind!”

  Nijel wondered if this man knew how to speak without exclamation marks. The sooner they were out of there the better. Professor Ebdry was exhausting.

  He also turned out to be extraordinarily efficient and effective or, rather, Marple did. Two identity cards and robes were delivered within two hours along with a couple of beautifully worked daggers and purses appropriate for well-to-do students. Pyteor was a student of Elements, his old robe a faded violet. Nijel was a student of Order, his slightly newer robe a deep indigo. According to the professor, Order was the easiest school to hide a spy in. Unless someone asked him to reorganise a filing system or explain some complex law to him, he’d get away with only being a Healer. Nijel tried not to be affronted but was sorely tempted to explain he was no ordinary Healer. He managed to keep his mouth closed. An inquisition about the definition of ‘ordinary’ was more than he could bear.

  The two spies put their disguises to the test that evening, assured that the library was open all day and all night, every day and night. They followed the Order Wall outside the professor’s house counterclockwise until they came to the main road separating Order from Physical Arts. Ahead lay their first obstacle: the huge twin gates into the University. The King’s Guards manned the outer gates but were more concerned with who was coming into the Rim than into the University and only glanced at their identity cards before waving them forward. A few steps took them to the other side of the wall and the second gate. The multi-coloured shirts of the Quorum Guards proclaimed them to be very different to Rybis’ men, but the entry process was similarly easy and the first obstacle had been successfully navigated.

  The duo stopped at one of the small inns lining the wide street, choosing at an outside table to try to get the feel for the place. They needed to fit in and neither were feeling particularly comfortable in their borrowed gowns. Pyteor believed himself perfectly entitled to wear Elements’ violet but, while there was a smattering of different colours in view, almost all on this side of the street wore indigo while blue dominated the other side of the street. Nijel, on the other hand, was quietly praying that no one would ask him anything about Order because he knew absolutely nothing about it. The two sat in silence, sipping their ale and nibbling at candied pika nuts, trying to learn what it was like to be a student in Ionantis.

  Conversations around them ranged from romance to in-depth technical debates. A heated discussion was taking place at the table directly behind them. Apparently, a student had dared to challenge a professor in the middle of a lecture. Two at the table agreed with the student. Three vehemently argued against a student disrespecting the seniority of his professor, no matter how correct his point had been. Pyteor and Nijel were amazed at how something so boring could get anyone so worked up.

  When Nijel had learned enough about the mind and behaviour of an Order student, they meandered further up the street. Across from them, the inns were bursting with boisterous drinkers, most wearing blue robes. The raucous songs and yelling drew many a disgusted look from across the street, but also from other blue-robed individuals. Not all the physically gifted were inclined to get drunk on a Fifthday evening.

  Pyteor decided to go further into the Order Sector to see what the layout was like. As one might have expected, it was laid out in orderly squares, albeit small ones. The buildings were tall and cramped and far from luxurious, but things improved as they got closer to the Hub. Here, the pavements were planted with flowering shrubs and trees and the wind that had whistled through the towering, narrow streets seemed to calm to a breeze that gently wafted blossom in front of much more substantial houses. It was very pleasant, but the pair could see why Ebdry had relocated to the Rim, no matter how inconvenient it might be for his students: his house was very much bigger and very much more private from the prying eyes of colleagues.

  They turned left when they reached the Inner Wall, towards Elements, the home of Pyteor's violet robes. The street separating Elements from Order looked just like the street separating Order from Physical Arts, except the other side was mainly violet instead of blue and the volume of drunken bellowing was lower. There was only an hour or so of daylight left so the men agreed to head straight to the library rather than explore the new sector. They were almost at the gate when Pyteor suddenly set off across the street without warning Nijel.

  “What are you doing?” the Healer hissed, rushing to follow Pyteor to gawp down a narrow alley. He peered into the gloom
to see what had got the Concealer so excited but couldn’t see a thing.

  Pyteor, however, could see the light being manipulated with spectacular ease. Behind the illusion of an empty alley, two women and a man were battling their Concealing skills as a small audience oohed and aahed with each change of scene. He pulled Nijel behind him and went to lean against the wall behind the crowd. He was in shock. Not only were there three Concealers right there in one place, they were doing things with their gift that he hadn’t dreamed possible. He tapped the man next to him on the shoulder.

  “They’re very good. Do you know where they’re from?”

  “I think Nadia’s from Mastra, Freida’s local and… I’m not sure about Kean.” The student nudged the man sitting next to him. “Where’s Kean from?”

  “One of the islands off Tullen, I think. Down in the south of The Kingdom. He’s awesome, isn’t he? He’s still a year off graduating too.”

  Pyteor’s self-belief plummeted. His belief in Nystrieth’s omnipotence also took a tumble. How could the Emperor win easily when His enemies produced gifted like this?

  CHAPTER 16

  I t was a quiet Pyteor who accompanied the Healer through the gate into the Hub. They forced their mouths closed and their legs to keep moving even though their minds were agog at the scene before them. All around were acres and acres of grass, beautifully kept to look like a finely-woven, rich green tapestry. Huge spreading trees were dotted about, just where they needed to be to complete the picture. In the distance, right in the middle of the Hub and at the top of a hill set with three gigantic sets of stairs, was the library. An enormous, eight-story building with many-paned, glass windows and the most intricate of carving on every surface, it seemed to gleam in the twilight. It was bigger than the palace in Ruustra or Alscombe. It was bigger and more beautiful than anything either of them had ever seen before.

  “Wow,” whispered Pyteor.

  It took the spies five minutes to get to the bottom step and they were breathing hard by the time the got to the top of the first set of steps. On their right was an elegant four storey building built from the same stone as the library. The engraving on the entrance proclaimed it to be office of the Healers’ Guild. Opposite stood an identical building assigned to Quorum Services. The buildings on the next level were more spectacular. These were reserved for Quorum Administration and the High Quorum.

  Nijel noted the way the Healers’ Guild was positioned lower than Administration and with a relatively plain facade. It seemed the architect shared the same low opinion of Healers as Professor Edbry.

  “What are those?” asked Pyteor, pointing out the long buildings hugging the outer wall, positioned precisely between the gates.

  “The main schools, I think. Where most of the teaching happens. That one, to the left of the gate we came in, is Order. See the books and scales engraved above the entrance? They’re the symbols for Order. It’s right in the middle of the two gates Order students would use to come into the Hub. The one on the right, over there, is the Elements’ School. I can’t make it out at this distance, but the image above the entrance will have water, earth, stone,…”

  “Light,” Pyteor added, his voice sounding almost wistful.

  Nijel looked at the Concealer with undisguised curiosity. It hadn’t dawned on him that the light show they’d seen in the alley was related to Pyteor’s gift until now. The Concealer was feeling undereducated. He stored the information for future use. One never knew when insights might come in handy.

  The two young men continued up the steps and around the outside of the library. At the back, they discovered a small lake crisscrossed with bridges. In its centre stood a miraculous fountain that sent water gushing and splashing around a statue of seven figures. Each of these had one outreached hand that joined with the others in the centre so the limbs formed the shape of the University’s seven-spoked wheel. No doubt the University founders’ vanity had demanded a lasting reminder of their greatness, Pyteor thought with a sneer. He ignored the small voice in his head telling him that he’d have done exactly the same thing.

  A huge gong sounded just as the pair were going around the side of the library. A moment later, the entire place lit up with the palest lilac, almost white, light. All around, beams of light came from the different sectors: violet for Elements, red for Science, orange for Languages, yellow for Humanity, green for Creative Arts, blue for Physical Arts and indigo for Order. A circular rainbow shone over the city for precisely one minute then darkness fell.

  “Light!” breathed Nijel.

  Pyteor didn’t notice the unintended pun. He was thinking that maybe, just maybe, he should have gone to University. He knew that for a fact when they went into the library. A huge noticeboard was the first thing that caught their eye. The Concealer saw that a whole section on the second floor was dedicated to light. He’d never been one for reading, but what he’d seen those students do made him want to abandon his mission and go raid the books that might tell him how they’d superimposed completely different and increasingly more complex, moving scenes on a plain wall.

  Nijel was more focused. He was scanning the board for books on stone or Shaping. “Come on, let’s start on the third floor,” he told Pyteor. “There’s a section on stone there.”

  Pyteor reminded himself that all of this would still be there when his master was victorious. He could read as many books as he liked then. “Why don’t we split up? You go check the Shaper books and I’ll go check the stone books.”

  Nijel nodded and the pair headed for the stairs. “What floor’s Shaping on?” he asked. “I didn’t see it on the board.”

  Pyteor grinned, happy to get one over the too-smart Healer. “Eighth. It’s under Auras.”

  Nijel sighed but accepted the long climb without complaint.

  Both soon realised the futility of trying to find two books without the full title when they saw the endless shelves. They’d have to have help. Nijel knew there’d be a team of Order-gifted running the place who knew where everything was, but he wasn’t too sure that a student’s personal interest in a subject would be enough motivation to get them to help. He decided to have a go anyway. He made his way to the centre of the floor as the most logical place for a staff member to be located. Sure enough, a man in a lilac robe was sitting behind a desk piled high with books. No school used lilac; he had to work here.

  “Hello, I’m interested in a couple of books one of my professors mentioned, but I can only remember part of their titles and, to be honest, I’m too scared to ask him what they were called. Can you help?”

  “Professor who?” the librarian asked.

  “Ebdry.”

  “Ah, yes, I see what you mean. What’re the bits you can remember?”

  “One was something about consequences. The other had something about purity in the title. Sorry, I can’t remember the rest.”

  The librarian looked at the indigo robes Nijel was wearing and raised his eyebrows. “Clearly you won’t be following a career that requires a faultless memory!” he said with blatant derision. He shook his head. “Honestly, students today,” he muttered under his breath before closing his eyes. Nijel was just wondering whether or not the man had dozed off when he spoke. “There are one hundred and seventy-four books with the word consequences in their title and two hundred and ninety-five with the word purity. Sixty are related to Professor Ebdry’s fields of study. Thirty-six are available only to High Quorum members. If you can narrow it down any, I may be able to locate the precise volumes.”

  Nijel was astounded by the librarian’s apparently detailed knowledge of every single book in the building but kept his face emotionless. As a student, he shouldn’t be surprised. He pretended, instead, to be disappointed. “I guess I’m going to have to ask him. Wish me luck!”

  The librarian grimaced. “You’re going to need it!”

  He found Pyteor pacing near the entrance, just about resisting the urge to go and look at the books on the second floor. �
��It’s hopeless. It would take days to find them without telling a librarian their full title.”

  “Maybe Ebdry can help. And, you never know, maybe Mystrim or Elona will make it.”

  The disheartened duo made it back to the professor’s an hour later. Marple escorted them into the opulent lounge where they found Ebdry and Mystrim sharing a bottle of wine and reminiscing fondly about their school days in front of a roaring fire. Elona was resting on a day bed. She’d stuck a small smile on her face, but Pyteor and Nijel could tell she wasn’t enjoying the company. She sat up when she saw them come into the room.

  “About time. I hope you have good news. We’ve lost time we can ill afford.”

  This was not a fond reunion. No one cared if the others survived unless it affected the mission so no pleasantries were required. Pyteor got straight to the point. “We need the full title of the books if we’re to have a hope of finding them. It’ll still take days without help.”

  Elona was frowning. “The books are ‘Divining Purity’ and ‘Unforeseen Consequences of Balance,' but we don’t have days to waste. Nijel, you’ll have to see what you can do to help Sifry. We’re going to need him.”

  Nijel thought of how much of his well he’d have to sacrifice to unscramble an old man’s brains. “Why?” he asked, for the first time questioning his mistress’ wishes.

  Her face hardened. “Because I said so.”

  The Healer nodded his obedience. He knew better than to rile her. She led him upstairs to the small bedroom where the unconscious accountant had been stashed. Someone had made an attempt to mask Sifry’s pungent stink, but no incense could cover the smell of uncontrolled bowels and bladder. Nijel stayed standing rather than sit on the damp bedding and put his hand on the cripple’s shoulder. He shuddered as the body revealed the depth of its hurt: apart from numerous old injuries and the arthritis which made every movement painful, there was significant damage to multiple important organs and the man’s brain.

  “How much?” he asked.