by Aaron Crash
That made her cry more until it felt like her sobs would rend her heart open.
She finally quieted. “I will trust you. Someday, I will tell you about my own battles and my own shame. Not today. Not yet.”
“Not today.” He had to admire her courage at speaking her truth. It seemed like so many in the South liked their lies. Not her. Not his Lillee. He stroked her braided hair, now sandy, but that didn’t matter. They could wash at some point. They had to get back, though. Gurla the Janistra would be missing them.
Lillee Nehenna had one more surprise for him. “I felt your power, and I’m not sure if it’s a curse, or if it’s your dusza, but you have power, Ymir. There is so much power inside you.”
He liked the sound of her words, and yet they saddened him. He didn’t want power from magic; he wanted strength from his body, his speed, and his cunning. He would use all three to unlock the mystery of the Lonely Man’s curse. Along the way, he’d also help Lillee in any way he could.
If someone at Old Ironbound was shaming his elf girl, he’d find them and teach them the error of their ways.
Chapter Eight
THE SUNFIRE BELLS RANG, meaning Ymir and Lillee were late for their work study. Each of the college towers rang at intervals, marking the hours of the day.
Gurla’s closet was off an alley at the top of the cliffs, south of the Flow Tower.
Ymir sent Lillee ahead of him into Gurla’s closet. There, the she-orc would do the morning head count. He waited in the alley, counted to three hundred, and then strolled in, slamming the door behind him. The room was where they kept the mops, brooms, rags, and other cleaning supplies. It was Gurla’s office as well, and she had a perch by a window with a view of a wall, probably some rich scholar’s apartment.
The Janistra Dux was a towering green monster with the jaw of a night bear. No tusks, not like Gharam, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t fearsome: bright red hair, bright red eyes, and big yellow teeth. She stared into Ymir’s face. They were the same height. “You’re late.”
“I am late.” Ymir nodded. “The people of the tundra live outside of time. When the hour is right to do something, we do it. When it’s not, we don’t. Now, I’m ready to work.”
Gurla held up three yellow-nailed fingers. “Late three times. Piss me off three times. Look at me sideways three times. And you are done. You didn’t pay the Princept to be here. You are paying me, and I’m generous. You show up on time, you work, and you get to stay.” She lowered one of her fingers. “Look at that. Two more times and you are done.”
He joined the scholars, all women, standing in a line, waiting for instruction. They were mostly humans from Farmington and the Sorrow Coast. Lillee stood alone, away from the other elves, who had darker hair and the ever-present forearm cuff, but not the temple tattoo. There were two orc girls who stood sullenly, one a big girl with a belly sloping her tunic, the other razor-thin and gangly. Kacky and Gluck. They were surly and ill-tempered, but damn the Ax, Ymir liked the pair. Both were nice to Lillee, and that was important.
The she-orcs weren’t particularly pretty. Well, as far as orcs were concerned. As long as he didn’t light too many candles, they might have some fun together.
Gurla gave them duties, one at a time, and Lillee was relieved when she got windows duty in the Librarium. He knew what she would do—while she cleaned, she would draw little pictures on the glass with her fingers before wiping them away. Lillee was always drawing or singing.
Gurla’s cleaning staff was getting the school in shape before the flood of scholars arrived the next day. Gurla hadn’t given Ymir’s elf friend any trouble, since, yes, she was late, but he was even more so, and he’d made a show of it. His plan had worked well.
The others left one at a time until Ymir was left alone. “What about me, Gurla?”
“Professor Gurla to you,” she growled back. “The Princept wants to see you in the Coruscation Shelves. Then, you get on over to the suites in Moons. Some of those big apartments need a sweeping. They get dusty after summer. And don’t forget the toilets.” She grinned and shot out her bottom tusks. Her lips curved around the retractable teeth sprouting from her maw. “Don’t be late again.”
He left the she-orc’s closet and walked to the Flow Tower courtyard. If he went into the Librarium Citadel, the Princept might see him, and he wanted to keep her waiting.
And he was hungry. A path followed the contours of the citadel, and it led to a side door to the feasting hall. He padded across the cobblestones and into the hall on the south side near the Moons College. Moons had its own tower, fields, and housing. The Chapel of the Tree was at the very southern tip of the cape with a view of the town of StormCry below.
The feasting hall didn’t have a central beam, not like Lost Herot. Instead, it had big arches of stone that Lillee called buttresses. Wooden tables and benches filled the wide hall. Near the front, at a long counter, workers were cleaning up breakfast and starting lunch. Fragrant, meaty smoke boiled out of the back of the kitchen.
He’d not eaten much on the beach, not as much as he’d have liked. Telling his story had killed his appetite, but now it was back with a vengeance. He stomped to the counter and saw a new face. The woman washing the counter was a red-haired, freckled beauty, stocky, with a full chest straining her tunic and the apron over it. At first he thought she was tall, then he saw the stool under her. She was a full two feet shorter than he was, maybe more.
Her green eyes flickered over him. “How can I help you? You’re Ymir, aren’t you? We all know about you. Sure we do. I wasn’t here ten minutes before someone said, ‘There’s a clansman here,’ and of course, you have blond hair, but dark like.” She took up her task of wiping again. “Sorry, I talk too much.”
After spending so much time with Lillee, all the words were a lot to take in. “You’re fine. Could I get a bit of bread? I missed breakfast and it’s a long time until lunch.”
She threw glances over her shoulder. “I shouldn’t. It’s against the rules.”
“Ironbound binds us.” He gave her his best smile. “What’s a bit of crust for a hungry clansman?”
She touched her face. “Oh, you have a devil’s dimple, which even I know is cute. Yeah, you’re a good-looking one, aren’t you?” She laughed at herself as she stepped down off her stool. “Okay, handsome, I’ll help, but you can’t tell anyone. Promise?”
He raised his hand with palm open. He closed it. “That is my promise, a clenched fist. It’s an oath clansmen can’t break.” It wasn’t the truth, but it looked good. He liked toying with these southerners. Let them think he had all kinds of odd customs and beliefs. It would keep them off-balance.
She nodded and left, giving him time to appreciate the sway of her hips and her thick ass. She was so short, so wide. Could she be a dwarf? He’d only seen the bearded males and didn’t know what to think. Did girl dwarves have beards? He didn’t think so, but he could be wrong. Asking her might cause an issue. He didn’t want to jeopardize what might be an important friendship. If there was one thing he needed, it was access to someone in the kitchen. And she’d called him handsome. That was a very good start indeed.
She returned on strong, sexy legs. She had not only brought bread but some cheese to go along with it. His clan had cheese, taken from otelkir mares, but it wasn’t like the creamy, smooth food in Thera. Otelkir cheese had a strong tang—when you bit into a piece, it bit back.
He secreted the food away. “Well, thank you, and I think you’re cute as well. You know my name, but what’s yours?”
She gave him a wide smile. “Toriah Welldeep is my name, but things would never work out between us, Ymir. We can still be friends.”
“Good friends,” he agreed. “I haven’t seen you here before, my new good friend.”
She shrugged. “Oh, it took a bit to get out of the Sunset Mountains. Cave trolls, you know, but that’s a whole long story. And then the caravan out of Korr had issues, but that’s an even longer story. I got in
last night. You’ve been here for weeks, though, working for Gurla. From what I’ve heard, that’s rough. We’re both on work study, though, that’s clear.”
“What’s clear?” he asked.
The short girl’s smile faded for a second. It returned, even brighter. “I mean, we’re both working instead of lounging around in suites, right?”
Someone yelled from the kitchen.
She called back in a musical voice, “Yes, yes, I’ll be right there. Thank you!” She turned and gave him a scared little smile. “Remember you promised with the clenched fist. Like a Form promise. I can respect that.”
He had to think for a minute. Yes, the symbol for Form magic was a clenched fist.
“I’ll remember.” He winked and turned. So many new women were coming in. He’d always be friends with Lillee. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be friends with others.
The feasting hall led to a small bridge over a deep moat that circled the Librarium Citadel. This place had been a fortress at one point, and he wondered what lay at the bottom of the ten-foot-wide abyss that disappeared below. Chisel strikes marked the stone there, so it had been cut.
Crossing the bridge brought him into the ground floor of the Librarium itself, a wide space of polished stone with the Majestrial’s coat of arms, the four magics, in a diamond shape at the center. On the ground floor there were no books, only leather-covered tables and plush upholstered chairs where people could sit, talk, and study. He craned his head back to take in all the bookcases that stretched as far as he could see. Lightning arced from book to book in a crackling display of light. That was Moons magic, like what he’d had to face in the Open Exam. Why it was there, he had no idea, but he was growing to appreciate the strangeness and the majesty of the Coruscation Shelves.
He backed up a bit more to see if he could see the mural at the very top, a painting of someone important. He couldn’t see that, but he did see Lillee, cleaning a window. They’d turned off the lightning in that section.
“Fool, watch where you are going!”
He whirled, and there stood a she-orc, as tall as he was. Ivory-white hair fell in a braid over one muscled shoulder. She didn’t wear a tunic but a white dress that left a good portion of her skin exposed. His eyes went to her collarbones and then farther, to the smooth green cleavage of her breasts. He glanced away before she caught him staring. He found her boots, black and heavy.
Damn the Ax, he’d gotten in such a state with Lillee he was having trouble keeping his gaze under control. First the kitchen firehead and now this she-orc, who was beautiful beyond words. Her lower jaw was thick, to accommodate her retractable tusks, yet that only added to the symmetry of her face. Eyes the color of tundra roses, a light pink flirting with red, regarded him coolly. Her nose and ears were a tad larger, but again, everything about her was big and bold. She held two thick books, bound in metal, to her side.
He gestured at them. “Books bound in iron. Ironbound. Now I understand the name of the school.” He smiled. “I apologize for not watching where I was going.”
Her already cold stare turned icy. “Gawking at the books will not help you here. You will actually need to read them.”
She went to walk away, moving easily and with the grace of a tundra panther.
“Wait.”
She turned.
He dropped the smile, since it wouldn’t work on this strong, comely creature. “The Princept asked to see me. Do you know where she is?”
She pointed to a grand desk, covered with books, scrolls, and papers, that was up a half-level, next to a window on the north side of the Librarium. There, dressed in her red starburst robe, sat the Princept. Her bone-white hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She had white hair; the she-orc had white hair. He’d never seen such a color on anyone young before.
“Thank you,” he said firmly.
“You are welcome,” she said, equally hard. She walked away quickly, not giving him a second look.
“Very well.” He headed over. After his quick meal, he was thirsty. He’d get a cup from one of the rainwater basins that were scattered through the buildings once he talked to the Honored Princept.
He climbed the stairs and sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk.
The Princept glanced up. “Good. Gurla relayed my message. How are things going with you in the Flow?” She asked the question but studied a scroll in front of her.
It was rude. Among the tundra clans, when you talked with someone, even a foreigner, you looked them in the eye.
He had to answer the question, and he had to do so without insulting this woman. “Things are fine with me in the Flow. My friends say I’m in the wrong college, that I should be in Sunfire. That was what I expected after the Open Exam. I know Gharam Ssornap requested me.”
She lifted her head slowly. Her almond-shaped eyes were so gray, maybe with just a subtle hint of blue. She wasn’t elven—her ears weren’t pointed—but he wasn’t sure she was human either. Nonetheless, her stare was as frigid as the she-orc’s that he’d nearly stumbled into. He was going to need to learn her name. That green woman had piqued his interest.
“Do you not like it here?” the Princept asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “School starts tomorrow. Ask me on Friday.”
“Why did you come here?” the woman asked. “Why Old Ironbound?” Her eyes were locked on his.
He didn’t glance away. “I told you after I passed the Open Exam. I have dusza in me, and I don’t want it.”
“You have a dusza.” She emphasized the single vowel. “You wouldn’t say you have head, would you?”
“Fine. I have a dusza. You understood my meaning. Or is this a private grammar lesson?” He thought of his dance with Jenny. That had been flirty. This was anything but.
“People come to the Majestrial to improve themselves, to sharpen their minds, and to create a future for themselves. Our graduates go on to join the guilds, to rule, or to add to the world in other ways. This thing you want? We can’t give you.” She sat as still as a she-wolf eyeing an elk. “Perhaps you are in the wrong place.”
“The Flow? I agree. Put me in Sunfire, or leave me alone, I don’t care. I’ll play Gurla’s games, and I’ll play yours, but I’m not leaving. There’s nowhere else I can go to get what I want, is there?” He didn’t blink.
She did. She waved a hand. “There’s the Kifu Yun Lirum University at Four Roads. There are hedge mages and shamans and any number of places you could seek out more information on your condition.” She paused. “You really are from the Frozen Land, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “I am. And I came here. Your school is the best, isn’t it?”
“It is. For improving one’s dusza. Not for removing it.” Another long space of quiet. Below, some people chatted, and above, the Coruscation Shelves continued to sparkle and crack. “Have you thought about using your magic?”
He spat his disgust. “I won’t stand back and cast spells. I will be in the fight. You know enough about the clans to know we are not a studious people.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said. “I’ve seen some very complex trading contracts. Some would say the legal language is genius. Also, you have studied enough to live in a place that is so very harsh. There are different intelligences, studious or not.” She thawed a bit. “You, yourself, solved the Open Exam in a very unique way. For future reference, we will be securing the wall. We were glad you went last.”
He didn’t respond. What was there to say? She’d offered other suggestions, but he wasn’t going to abandon her school until he was sure he’d find no answers there.
She rubbed her chin. “Is there anyone else in the North with a dusza?”
He shook his head.
“How do you even know you have magic in you?”
This he could answer. “I wake up floating off my bed at night. Sometimes I glow. And sometimes I see things, or know things, I can’t possibly know. A friend cast a spell and saw the power in
me. I have it. I have a dusza, or some kind of curse. Maybe I’m possessed by a demon.” He watched her carefully to see her answer.
The ghost of a smile curved her lips. “Demons are on our curriculum, but we merely study the idea of them and certain histories. There is no summoning. There are no exorcisms. We do not focus on the occult, per se.”
“But there are demons?” he asked.
Her face turned passive. “Some would say so. There is all manner of energies at work in the world. But the true demons are no more. They are as extinct as dragons. You’ll study about the various wars and such. If you’d like, we do have an occult class.”
The very idea sickened him.
She saw it. “Or perhaps not. You will start in Flow, but you will study Form, Moons, and Sunfire. You will get to see Gharam Ssornap again. He will like that. You were correct. He did ask for you, but that would’ve been too easy. The Majestrial is not about the easy path. It’s about the correct path. We believe you are on the correct path.”
“To find a way to take my dusza from me?” he asked.
“No, for you to realize your true potential. It might change your people, Ymir. Some might say it could change the very nature of our world. The clans with magic? There are those who wake sweating from such a nightmare.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I’ve said too much.” She adjusted a copper mechanism on her desk, about the size of a wide eagle’s egg. “We will let you stay, if you can get along and if you can keep up with the work. In time, we believe you’ll find your place. I must warn you, though, magic is required for the First Exam in six weeks. If you fail, you will have to leave. We are interested to see if you can progress from knowing nothing to knowing something.”
“You keep referring to a ‘we.’ Who is this ‘we?’”
The Princept might as well have been wearing a mask. Her eyes gave him nothing, and neither did her face. “The faculty and I at the Majestrial...we only want the best for our scholars. You have made it this far. Let’s see how far you progress from here.”
