A low humming rose, and at first Madori thought it was the moonlight emitting the sound. Then she realized it was Jitomi singing, his voice low, a hum that soon morphed into words. Madori's eyes watered for she knew that tune. It was the song "The Journey Home," a song her mother used to sing, a song known across the lands of night.
Her tears fell and she clasped Jitomi's hand, and she joined her voice to his. She had never sung with anyone but her mother, and at first her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but then she closed her eyes and let the music claim her. In her mind, she was back in Oshy, the village in the night, the place where she had spent so many summers in her childhood. She was singing there again under the true moon. "The Journey Home" had always been the song of her childhood, but now she understood its true meaning. It was a song of being in distant lands, of dreaming of the moonlight, of taking a long path back into darkness.
My journey home will be long, she thought as she sang. It will be years before I see the night again. And perhaps the night is not my true home, for I am half of daylight. And perhaps I have no true home. But here, now, holding Jitmoi's hand and singing our old songs, let the darkness be like a home to me. Let me sing to the moon and dream of the night.
Their song ended, and she leaned against Jitomi, and he placed an arm around her and kissed her cheek.
Neekeya was blowing her nose into a handkerchief. "That does it, you two. That does it! When we graduate as mages, I'm visiting Eloria with you."
Madori laughed. "Only if you take me to visit Daenor too."
"Of course." Neekeya grinned. "But I'm not singing any Daenorian songs. My singing would make your ears fall off."
Madori wiped her tears away, the joke easing her mood of almost holy yearning. She smiled, hopped toward her drawer, and began pulling out Elorian foods she had taken from home and saved for this holiday: jars of chanterelle, matsutake, and milkcap mushrooms; salted bat wings; crunchy dried lanternfish; and sweet candies made from the honey of firebees, glowing little creatures that flew on the northern Qaelish coast. Soon the companions were laughing as they ate.
I miss my home in Fairwool-by-Night, Madori thought, listening to the others laugh about how Professor Yovan had stepped on his beard last turn. And I miss my home in Oshy. My journey is still long, but maybe . . . maybe despite all the pain and fear, this is a home to me too, and this is my new family.
Again her eyes dampened. Jitomi saw and gave her shoulder a squeeze, a small smile on his lips. She smiled back and reached for a handful of chanterelles.
"Eat," she said, handing him one. "A little taste of home."
* * * * *
They walked through the forest, hand in hand, an undercover prince and a swamp dweller, strangers in a strange land.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Tam asked softly.
Neekeya turned to look at him. The forest canopy rustled above, casting mottles of light upon his sun-bronzed face and brown hair. His eyes gleamed in the light like amber. His face was kind, his voice soft. Neekeya couldn't help herself. She leaned toward him and kissed his lips.
"I'm sure," she whispered. "I have to do this. I have to let go. I have to become a new person."
She hefted her pack across her shoulders. Its contents jingled, a hundred artifacts her father had given her, claiming them to be magic—little figurines, rings, coins, seashells, and sundry other items. Neekeya had been collecting them since her childhood, sure that she owned a treasure, a magical horde worth more than a palace.
Now—a grown woman, a mage in training—she understood.
They're trinkets. Her eyes stung. They're worth less than a single silver coin.
"I've been a fool." Her eyes stung. "I believed my father's stories. I wanted to believe them. I wanted to think I'm powerful, magical, an owner of great artifacts." She wiped her eyes. "They were foolish stories told to a foolish girl. We'll find a place here, a peaceful place under a tree. We'll bury them." She nodded. "I've come to Teel to learn magic—and I will. Real magic. To do that, I must let go of the past."
He stroked her hair and kissed her cheek.
They kept walking, moving between elms, birches, and oaks. Neekeya wanted to walk farther; she could still see Teel's towers behind her. She needed a secret place, a place Lari and the other students would never reach. Chickadees and robins sang in the trees, crickets chirped, and pollen floated. The autumn air was cool, the leaves red and orange and golden. It was a beautiful forest, a forest for her secrets.
"This looks a lot like the wilderness of Arden," Tam said, looking around. "My brother and I used to spend many turns hunting in the woods. Just the two of us, a couple bows, and a couple hounds. We'd drive our mother crazy. She'd insist on sending guards, horses, knights in armor, a whole cavalcade to hunt with us, but where's the fun in that? So Omry and I would sneak out alone to a place like this, spend a turn or two away from the palace, and just be boys. Not princes. Not rulers. Just two regular people." He inhaled deeply, watching a cardinal flit from branch to branch. "We'd come home covered in scratches and bruises, our faces muddy, our hair a mess, our boots all torn up. Most times we wouldn't even catch any game. Mother would be furious, railing about how we ruined our priceless outfits, but Father always laughed. He was a commoner once, did you know?"
Neekeya smiled and slipped her hand into his. "I would go hunting too—just me alone. I'd hop from log to boulder in the jungle, a spear in my hand, hunting frogs. I'd collect whole baskets of them, bring them back home to our pyramid, and we'd feast on fried frog legs." She looked around her. "Daenor looks nothing like this. The trees there are thrice as high, and you can barely see the ground; it's mostly water. The birds there are larger and very colorful, and great crocodiles roam around everywhere." She touched her tooth necklace. "Each one of these teeth is from a beast I battled. We'd eat them too, you know."
He wrinkled his nose. "Crocodile meat? Frog legs? I'd rather eat chicken and deer."
She shrugged. "One's as good as the other." She mussed his hair. "You speak so fondly of your home. Why did you come here? To Teel University? You're a prince! A prince of a mighty kingdom. I know that all students at Teel are highborn, their parents wealthy enough to pay the tuition, but princes? That's unique even here."
He blew out his breath thoughtfully. "I told you that in the forest, my twin brother and I were only two boys. But whenever we returned to our palace, we were different." He kicked a pine cone. "Omry is ten minutes older than I am—that's it, only a moment, the length of a song or two. That means he's the heir to Arden. He was ten minutes earlier than me . . . and now worth ten times more." Tam passed a hand through his hair. "I love my twin dearly, more than anything. I always will. But I had to find my own path, my own power. I couldn't watch us grow older together, him a great heir, myself always worth less. When Madori told me she'd try out for Teel, I knew that was my path too. To become a mage. To find my own strength. To feel . . ." He looked at Neekeya, brow furrowed. ". . . to finally feel equal to my twin."
Neekeya grinned. "Oh, you silly boy!" She tugged him toward her and kissed him again—this kiss longer and deeper—and when it ended, she tapped his nose. "I'm trying to keep walking here, and you keep making me kiss you." She squeezed him closer to her. "Your brother might become a king, Tam, but you'll be a great mage." She looked around her and smiled. "I think this is a good place."
A rivulet gurgled between alders, full of smooth, parti-colored stones and orange fish. Twisting roots, fallen logs, and carpets of autumn leaves covered the forest floor. A hole in the canopy let in a ray of light, gleaming with pollen. Boulders rose ahead, moss nearly hiding the ancient runes of old Riyonans, a people who had faded from the world many years ago. It was a secret place, Neekeya thought, a beautiful place. A place for hiding her childhood.
She knelt by an oak and began to dig. Tam helped her, and they worked in silence. When the hole was a couple feet deep, Neekeya upended her pack. Her trinkets spilled into the hole—pewter figurines
, seashells, rare coins, spoons, scrolls, and more.
Her eyes stung. "Thank you, Papa," she whispered. "Thank you for letting a little girl believe in something secret, something magical. I love you. But now I seek true magic. Now I leave my childhood here for safekeeping."
She wiped her eyes and began to shove soil onto the items.
"Neekeya . . ." Tam spoke softly. "Neekeya, wait."
She shook her head. "No. I have to do this. This is right. I—"
"Neekeya, look! The seashell. It's glowing."
She tilted her head and squinted down into the hole. Indeed, the little shell—no larger than a coin—was glowing a soft blue. When she lifted it, the glow faded.
"A trick of sunlight," she said, yet when she placed the shell back down in the hole, it glowed again.
Tam scrunched his lips, reached into the hole, and rummaged in the soil. He smiled and pulled out a truffle. "Well, I do think you have something here, Neekeya." He held the seashell in one hand, the truffle in the other. When he brought them near, the shell glowed brighter. When he separated them, the glow faded. "A magical artifact."
Neekeya gasped and snatched the shell from him. She tested it again and fresh tears budded in her eyes. "It's true! My father was speaking truth. It's magic. It's a real artifact. It's . . . not very useful, is it?" She laughed through her tears. "It's a truffle finder. Hardly a great artifact."
Tam grinned. "It's very important. It means your father was right, that you spent your childhood surrounded by magic. Or at least, that one of these items is magic. That means there's hope for the other items too." He lifted a few of the figurines and examined them. "Professor Rushavel never found anything magical about them, but this might just be swamp magic, a different sort." He looked at Neekeya and his face grew solemn. "I think you should keep these things."
She nodded. "We'll never lack for truffles again."
He rolled his eyes. "You'll never lack for wonder again. You'll never see your childhood as a lie." He began to place the items back in her pack. "Take these back, Neekeya. Keep them. They're important."
As they walked back through the forest, Neekeya grinned. "You know, some of these items might be really important, like . . . a magical shoelace un-knotter."
He nodded. "Or a magical nose hair plucker."
She grimaced. "Maybe something more pleasant—a magical cup that removes the skin off your milk."
"That's some powerful magic there. Maybe even some magical, wooden, Lari-biting teeth? A pair that would chase her around, biting her bottom?"
Neekeya laughed. "Now that would be a mightier artifact than even those Rushavel makes." She sighed and leaned against him as they walked. They stepped back into the university, carrying with them a little magic.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
WINTER SNOW
The bells rang and the seasons turned, and the first snow of winter fell upon Teel University, coating the gardens, walls, and roofs with white blankets. When Madori walked outside, the first to rise, she smiled for beneath her feet she saw a field of stars, a memory of the glistening sky of the night.
She smiled not only for the snow but because she was heading toward her favorite class, Magical History. As much as Madori enjoyed fostering her growing powers, she enjoyed learning about the wizards of old: how the wise mage Sheltan traveled to the distant isle of Orida and tamed the cyclops; how the Ten Rogue Mages holed up in the mountains for a hundred years before the Crystal Alliance hunted them down; and even tales of the war against Eloria where mages shattered the walls of Yintao but perished against the Eternal Palace.
It helped that Elina Maleen taught the class, the youngest professor at Teel; Madori had dearly loved the woman since Maleen had first quizzed her at the trials. The rest of Madori's Motley found Magical History to be a bore; Neekeya was taking Artifacts this morning while Tam and Jitomi were both at Magical Transformations. As much as she loved her friends, Madori savored this time away from them. It was a time to dream.
This turn we will learn the story of the ancient Elorian mages, she thought. She had been waiting for months for this lesson, for once the night had been full of magic now lost. Madori hoped that some turn she could return to Eloria with the lost art and teach magic again to the children of the night.
She walked to the back of the university, past the library and Agrotis Tower. She climbed a cobbled path, moving up a hillside dotted with snowy trees, their branches encased in ice. Cardinals and chickadees flitted between the birdhouses Professor Yovan had hung here, and a rabbit darted ahead, leaving prints in the snow. The old stone building rose between several maple trees, frost upon its bricks. Once a mill, the little building had become a classroom three hundred years ago when Teel expanded outside the cloister, its original complex. Now this was Madori's favorite classroom. Her smile widening, she opened the door and stepped inside . . . and her smile faded.
The other students were already in their seats—thankfully none of them Radians, but all of them Timandrians. But it was not Professor Maleen who stood at the podium as always, her wild brown hair falling in a great mane, her blind eyes staring up in wonder as if at living scenes of history. Instead, hunched over a book and wrapped in black robes, it was Professor Atratus.
The vulture-like man spun toward the door and hissed at Madori. She was so shocked she took a step back into the snow.
Atratus sneered and checked his pocket watch. "Late as usual. A lack of punctuality is typical of mongrels." He snorted. "Shocked to see me, half-breed? Your precious Maleen has taken ill, and you'll find I am less tolerant of tardiness. You will report to my office after class for three strikes from my ruler. Take your seat now lest I increase the count to thirty!"
Madori winced and rubbed her palm, already feeling the punishment; it seemed that a turn couldn't go by without him striking her. Ignoring the many eyes following her, she rushed to her seat and sat down.
Professor Atratus leaned over his podium, eyes blazing, and slammed his book shut with a shower of dust. "It says here," he said, a snarl twisting his voice, "that I am to teach you about ancient Elorian magic." He barked a laugh. "Elorians know only cheap tricks to fool their own feeble-minded kind. This class I will teach you something far more valuable about Elorians." He licked his lips. "I will teach you the history of their race and prove to you its inferiority."
Madori's heart sank. She wished she had fled the classroom the instant she had seen him. She wanted to bolt up now, to race to the door, but fear kept her frozen in her seat.
"Mongrel!" Atratus barked, pointing at her. "Stand. Come. To me, dog."
She could not move. She simply stared, mouth hanging open.
"Ten lashes from my ruler!" he shouted. "Stand! To me!"
Reluctantly, Madori rose to her feet. Before she could take a step, his magic shot out like grapples. The smoky ropes wrapped around her, tugging her toward him. More magic slammed against her mouth, stifling her scream. Across the classroom, students gasped, and one boy leaped to his feet, but glares from Atratus silenced them.
Madori struggled in the magic, trying to rip it off, to claim and change the bonds, but his magic was too strong. He pulled back his arms, moving her like a marionette, until he placed her beside him. She stood facing the class, trussed up like an animal awaiting slaughter. The students stared with wide eyes, faces pale.
"Behold!" said Professor Atratus. "Behold the menace of Eloria. Behold the wretched product of the nightcrawlers' invasion of our lands. Before you you see the corruption of our blood, the mingling of poison with purity. A mongrel! A creature of sunlight tainted with the blackness of night."
Madori tried to free herself, to scream, to talk back to him, even if it earned her a thousand lashes. But only a muffled whimper passed through the smoky gag.
He tapped her head with his ruler. Tap. Tap. Tap. Every blow rang through her skull.
"Observe the smaller cranium," he said to the class. "It is barely larger than a dog's skull—the result of
the Elorian infestation." He smacked her chest. "Behold the frail frame. This specimen stands barely five feet tall, weighing less than a child. The Elorian blood weakens her." He placed his fingers around her left eye, tugging and stretching as if he'd let her eyeball pop out. "Observe the freakish orbs. Imagine how much space they take up in the skull, leaving less room for the brain. Those, my friends, are eyes for seeing in the dark—for sneaking up, scuttling, and snatching Timandrian children for their feasts of human flesh."
One student, a young girl of only fifteen years, raised her hand. "But Professor Atratus! This one is only half-Elorian. Does her Timandrian half not make her worthy?"
Atratus sighed and shook his head. "Sadly, my dear child, the presence of her Timandrian blood only increases her obscenity. A pure-blooded Elorian is like a maggot, a foul creature that crawls in the muck. But a mongrel . . ." His voice trembled with rage. "A mongrel is like a maggot found inside the body of a beloved pet—more foul by far, for it has ruined something pure." He stared at Madori and covered his mouth as if about to gag. "She sickens me."
Another student raised his hand. "Professor Atratus, how can we protect ourselves from the Elorian menace?"
The professor nodded. "A good question, my boy." He tapped the pin he wore upon his lapel, showing a sun eclipsing a moon. "The Radian Order will protect us. Lari Serin leads the Teel Radian Society; I urge you all to join, receive your pins, swear allegiance to Lord Serin, and learn how to protect yourself from nightcrawlers and mongrels."
A third student, this one a skinny boy with pale cheeks, spoke next. His voice shook, but he managed to stare steadily at Atratus. "Professor, the headmistress has said that Radians are dangerous. She says . . ." He gulped. "She says that Elorians are welcome in the lands of sunlight, that—"
Professor Atratus shouted so loudly the boy started and fell back into his seat.
"Headmistress Egeria is a fool!" Spittle flew from the professor's mouth. His fists shook. "And you are a fool to believe her! Who is the headmistress? A frail old woman, coughing and trembling, her one foot in the grave. Tell me, boy, do you have any siblings?" He trudged forward, grabbed the student's collar, and twisted it. "Do you?"
Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4) Page 16
