“Check your name!” urged Bindila, and Gilai’el moved forward, suddenly excited at the prospect of beginning her rudimentary magic lessons.
She scanned down the list slowly, making sure not to miss her name as she went. When she came to the bottom of the page and failed to find her name not among those listed, she felt like her blood was boiling. She turned silently and stormed out of the Main Hall, leaving her roommate among the gathered throng of hopefuls.
Gilai’el was going to find out why Tamara had left her off the list.
* * *
Gilai’el stormed into the classroom which Tamara used to teach her morning magic theory sessions, only to find her Preceptor in the midst of a lesson.
“That is correct, Carlyle,” she affirmed with a curt nod, “the first tier of glyphs are too simplistic in their nature and composition to be useful as components of more complex castings, which is why we do not instruct in their usage.”
“I had thought that all knowledge was deemed sacred, and therefore requires active study and comprehension,” argued a girl a few years older than Gilai’el.
Magos Tamara shook her head as she replied. “The acquisition of knowledge for its own sake is the exclusive purview of the Imperial Archives,” she said pointedly. “Each Great House must determine — on its own, and without explanation or accountability to any other organization including the Archives — which course of research will produce the greatest benefits.”
“But we yield potential advantage to the other Houses,” argued a young man Gilai’el knew, named Raksten. He had been born into House Listoh fourteen years earlier and was scheduled for enrollment in the Imperial College before his next birthday. He was smart…but Gilai’el knew that she was smarter, having won the majority of their debates.
“If House Listoh does not attempt to at least impart a working knowledge of all magical theory to its members,” continued Raksten, “then we may one day find ourselves lacking essential knowledge, which might prove the difference between victory or defeat!”
Gilai’el found herself shaking her head from her place just inside the doorway.
“Gilai’el,” Tamara said suddenly, making the teenage girl jump with a start. “What is your opinion on the subject?”
She actually found herself at a loss for words. She had come in here with a head full of steam, but now that she was here, she began to doubt the wisdom of that action.
“I am sorry, Magos,” she said sheepishly. “I should not have interrupted.”
Tamara narrowed her eyes slightly. “You are correct, Student,” she agreed in that low, menacing tone Gilai’el and the other Students had come to dread, “however, now that you have done so…perhaps you could contribute in some meaningful fashion to our discussion?”
“I would not know where to begin—“ she started, only to be interrupted by her Preceptor.
“If one does not have the right answer,” snapped Tamara angrily, “then one must find the right question.”
Gilai’el remembered a variation of that particular quote as having belonged to Arch Magos Zinaida ‘Emerald’ Tarivel, the very subject of her presentation scheduled for tonight after the Reading.
She tried desperately to remember the following quote until it came to her. “Questions hold greater value than their answers,” recited Gilai’el, “for they lead to the discovery of even more interesting questions.”
There was a snicker from the back of the classroom, which was silenced immediately by a sharp look from Tamara.
“Lead to the discovery of ever,” corrected Tamara, “more interesting questions, Student.”
Gilai’el cursed herself silently for the mistake, which she was certain was how she had written it in her notes. She would need to remember to correct it before her presentation.
“However,” continued the Magos, “I believe your nearly perfect recitation of Arch Magos Zinaida Tarivel’s famous quote has earned you a brief stay of execution, if,” she held up a finger haltingly, “you can instruct young Raksten as to why the accumulation of all knowledge is not essential for each and every House to pursue.”
Gilai’el’s eyes snapped back and forth as she tried to remember Arch Magos Zinaida’s dissertation on the value of the Great Houses pursuing independent lines of research. Just as the snickers resumed in the back row, it came to her.
“The primary value of a complex system,” she began, “composed of unique, interdependent components is to allow each component to specialize, achieving a measure of expertise which would be impossible if each component were required to perform the function of all others, in addition to its own.” She found Raksten’s eyes and saw that he was fuming about her upstaging him.
She smiled innocently as she finished, “It is by adhering to this method of unified effort that our great Empire has surpassed all other forms of organization which have gone before it, and our continued application of this theory in its ever-increasing extremity will only serve to strengthen humanity as we drive forward into the vast, undiscovered realm that is her future.”
Tamara raised her hands and began slow, deliberate applause, turning to her class as she did so. The Students grudgingly began to follow her lead, and after a few seconds, all fifty Students were clapping, including Raksten, who still wore a sour look on his face.
“Well done, Student,” the curly-haired Magos congratulated before turning to her class. “I believe Gilai’el has just delivered to you this afternoon’s reading assignment: On Systems, by Arch Magos Zinaida ‘Emerald’ Tarivel. I will expect each of you to be capable of recalling her words as ably as young Gilai’el has just demonstrated by tonight’s lesson. Class dismissed,” she finished before turning to Gilai’el with an expectant look on her face as the Students streamed out of the room as quickly as they were able — without evoking the wrath of their Instructor, that is.
“You wished to discuss something, Student?” Tamara asked evenly as the Students hastily exited the classroom.
Gilai’el didn’t know where to begin, so she started with a question like Arch Magos Zinaida had suggested over a century before. “How have I failed you?” she blurted angrily after the last of the Students had left the room.
Tamara cocked an eyebrow. “I am quite certain I do not take your meaning, Student.”
Gilai’el clenched her fists at her side. “I believe you do, Magos,” she insisted, trying to keep her voice calm. “You know that tonight is the annual Reading, and yet I am not included on the list of those to be Read.”
The Magos placed her hands inside the pockets of her white robe. “And you believe that to be an indication of my displeasure?” she asked with a hint of challenge in her voice.
“Yes!” snapped Gilai’el before she could think. “My roommate Bindila is no less than six months behind my own studies of history, Imperial law and life strategies, yet she is on the list!”
“If you will recall,” said Tamara in a low, reprimanding tone, “Bindila’s Preceptor is Rita.”
Gilai’el stamped her foot angrily. “I know that the Preceptors collude to decide which of us is listed each year,” she retorted. “I defy you to name one Student of House Listoh at my age more qualified than I to begin magic theory classes!”
“That will be quite enough,” came a voice from the doorway, which snapped the two women to immediate attention.
“Matron!” Gilai’el turned in surprise, and she quickly lowered her head as Arch Magos Zhivel stepped into the room.
“Arch Magos,” Tamara bowed her head respectfully as she greeted the leader of House Listoh. “What brings you from your private study?”
Zhivel’s green eyes burned with fierce intensity as she regarded the young Student of her house. After a lengthy silence, she turned to Magos Tamara. “The Reading is scheduled to take place at midnight, and I have decided to oversee the preparations personally,” the white-haired woman replied.
“We all benefit by your guidance, Arch Magos,” said Tamara appreci
atively.
Zhivel seemingly ignored Gilai’el as she asked, “How many of your own Students are to be set before the Orb, Magos?”
Tamara squared her shoulders slightly. “Three in all, Matron,” she replied.
Gilai’el couldn’t contain herself anymore. “It should be four,” muttered the youngest of the women.
“Excuse me?” asked Zhivel as she turned deliberately to the rebellious Student. “I do not recall asking your opinion, Student,” she rebuked icily.
Gilai’el knew that she should bite her tongue, but she was in too deep. Even if it resulted in cleaning every lavatory on the Student level for the next year, she had to speak her mind.
“I do not understand why I have been excluded from the Reading, Matron,” she said as respectfully as she could manage.
Zhivel considered the raven-haired Student with her unreadable mask-like expression, then looked to Magos Tamara. “If your Preceptor does not believe you are prepared to begin your preliminary studies of the arcane, then I have every confidence in her judgment,” said the Arch Magos evenly before adding, “as should you.”
“But I do not!” she blurted before covering her mouth with her hand, realizing she had gone too far.
Arch Magos Zhivel moved slowly toward the petite, black-haired Student until she towered more than a head in height over her. “Tread carefully, Gilai’el,” she warned in a low voice, “The Guild does not look fondly upon such ill-advised outbursts, for they serve only to show weakness where strength is required.”
Gilai’el lowered her head and nodded silently. She had not expected to meet with House Listoh’s Matron, and she cursed herself for letting her emotions get the better of her.
After a pregnant pause, Tamara interrupted. “In truth, Arch Magos, I had intended to revise the list to include young Gilai’el’s name. However, my morning lecture required more of my attention than I had anticipated, and I was unable to do so before said list was posted.”
Zhivel stared coldly at Gilai’el, whose heart leapt at her Preceptor’s words.
“Perhaps,” began the Arch Magos evenly, “you should reconsider her inclusion.” Tamara nodded wordlessly before Zhivel added, “However, as with all of the Students under their assigned Preceptors, I leave that determination solely to you.”
With that, the Matron of House Listoh gestured slightly with her head. “You may leave us, Student,” she commanded, and Gilai’el obeyed immediately, all too eager to escape the watchful eye of House Listoh’s Arch Magos.
* * *
When the raven-haired thirteen-year-old had left the classroom, Tamara closed the door behind her and turned to her Matron.
“She is my finest pupil in years,” said the short, curly-haired Magos. “I have high hopes for the result of her Reading.”
Zhivel’s mouth curled in an uncharacteristic smile. “As do I, Magos,” she agreed, “but she is rebellious, impetuous and at times foolish to a debilitating degree.”
It was Tamara’s turn to grin lopsidedly. “I believe those were my exact words four years ago this day regarding a very different young Student under my tutelage,” she said pointedly.
The Arch Magos nodded absently. “Yes, and now she is at the Great Tower, where we shall soon learn if we have done what is necessary.”
Tamara’s expression turned serious as she took a step toward her Matron. “Your leadership,” began the curly-haired Magos solemnly, “may be all that stands between the stability of our world, and those who would tear it apart. I am honored to serve your design however I am able.” Tamara shook her head defiantly before adding, “We must have faith in our course.”
Zhivel snorted, almost too softly to notice. “Faith is one resource I find myself increasingly lacking, Magos. But our course is set, and has been for some time…I only hope our preparations prove equal to the task before us.”
4
The Reading
As usual, the Reading was to commence at midnight, beginning with the eldest, most recent additions to the ranks of House Listoh’s Students (or ‘hopefuls’ as the representatives from the Imperial Archives referred to them) and progressing to those Students with the longest tenure at Listoh Estate before ending with the handful of children who were born to the women of House Listoh.
Gilai’el was in the middle of those groups, and by her count, there were twenty-nine Readings to take place this night. Twenty-nine was less than half of the previous year’s number, and Gilai’el had been unable to determine the cause of the sudden drop-off. However, the number of House Listoh’s ‘true children’ (as the Students had taken to calling them behind the backs of their Preceptors) was ten, which was remarkably high.
For the first time in weeks, Gilai’el found her thoughts turning to the man whose actions had brought her here, and she felt a knot of cold fury form in her chest. She was no longer consumed with thoughts of revenge, but whenever her mind turned to the bald man with the strange staff, she could barely control herself.
Thankfully, Gilai’el was seated next to her roommate Bindila in their waiting room, along with a few other children their same age. Bindila had produced a calming effect on Gilai’el whenever she was feeling overly stressed, and this was one of the most stressful nights of their young lives.
“I hope you doing well,” Bindila whispered as she squeezed Gilai’el’s hand.
“I wish you the same,” replied Gilai’el as she returned her friend’s gesture.
Gilai’el’s hands were still sticky, as they had been required to bathe themselves under the watchful eye of five Preceptors using a special soap with which she was unfamiliar. Afterward, they had been instructed to don simple, white robes while those same Preceptors performed some sort of group spell which they called the ‘rituals of preparation.’ When that was completed, they were allowed to change into their formal wear for the remainder of the night.
There was a pause before Bindila lowered her voice and asked, “If I am low, can we still become friends?”
Gilai’el looked her friend in the eye and saw just how frightened the dark-skinned girl was. Her brown eyes were almost misting, and her lip trembled slightly.
She wrapped her arms around the slightly larger girl. “Of course we will still be friends,” she insisted. “I promise.”
Bindila looked down at her dress shoes doubtfully, and Gilai’el placed a finger under her friend’s chin, lifting her face until she could see her eyes.
“You know House Listoh’s creed,” the raven-haired girl said seriously before cracking a grin, “we always keep our bargains.”
The two girls began to giggle, but just then the door opened, and Tamara’s face appeared.
“It is time, Gilai’el,” she said in a quiet voice, and she gestured for the raven-haired girl to join her in the hallway.
Gilai’el gave Bindila’s hand one last squeeze before whispering in her friend’s ear, “I promise.”
Then she stood and made her way to her Preceptor’s side out in the hallway. Tamara closed the door, and they began to walk slowly down the corridor toward the Main Hall.
“You need not worry yourself, Gilai’el,” said Tamara reassuringly. “You cannot change the outcome of the Reading, regardless of what you do. Simply seat yourself in the chair, relax and answer any questions the Librarian or our Matron may ask of you.”
Gilai’el nodded stoically as they moved closer to the dimly lit Main Hall, which was nearly filled with spectators from every House in Veldyrian. Only ranked graduates of the Wizard’s College were allowed to attend, as the community of High Wizards constituted what was often called the ‘Meristocracy’ of the Empire, and were therefore very much a closed community whose internal dealings were strictly off-limits to outsiders.
“Will it hurt?” she asked, suddenly feeling intimidated to the point of fear.
Tamara placed her hand on the young Student’s shoulder. “No, it will not.”
“Do you promise?” asked Gilai’el hopefully. When her
Preceptor failed to reply as they entered the Main Hall, Gilai’el felt her heartbeat quicken.
She saw her Matron sitting in one of three chairs arranged in the center of the Main Hall. Beside her was a man Gilai’el did not recognize, and on his lap was a large book, while he held an ink quill in his hand. There was an empty chair opposite the others about ten feet away, and between the chairs was a pedestal which glowed with a faint light.
Atop that pedestal was a smooth, glossy looking sphere, which Gilai’el knew by reputation was the Orb of Reading; a unique artifact fashioned by none other than Merton Veldyrian himself five centuries earlier. That single artifact was capable of Reading the grade and aura of a prospective High Wizard, and it was therefore priceless to the Veldyrian High Wizard community.
“Bring forth the eighteenth hopeful,” instructed the man she assumed was the Librarian, who looked up over strangely shaped reading glasses.
Tamara gently pressed Gilai’el forward by placing her hand on the small of the raven-haired girl’s back, and the young Student complied.
After what seemed like the longest walk of her life, she found herself beside the empty chair and felt the pressing weight of a thousand eyes surrounding her — chief among them were those of Arch Magos Zhivel, who gestured for her to be seated with a slight inclination of her head.
Gilai’el sat down in the chair, feeling her heart threaten to beat itself through her chest.
“Name?” asked the Librarian in an official tone that actually startled her slightly.
She stuck her chin out defiantly, deciding she would not allow this spectacle to get the better of her. Uncle Yav’el would have wanted her to be brave, so that was what she needed to do.
“Gilai’el,” she replied with a confidence in her voice she did not truly feel.
The Librarian’s eyes peered over the top of his odd glasses for what seemed like an eternity before he looked down at his large book and made a note with his quill as he repeated, “Gilai’el. And the Magos of record having discovered the hopeful?” he prompted.
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