Your ever-loving wife,
Koyee
Torin rolled up the letter. He missed his wife, he missed his daughter, and he missed home. He wore the armor of a lord now—a breastplate sporting a raven sigil, greaves and vambraces, and a helmet—and a rich cloak hung across his shoulders. Here in Kingswall he was a knight, a hero, a warden of the throne. Yet all he wanted to do was wear his old clothes again, return to his village, and be a gardener and husband and father.
He climbed off the wall, mounted his new horse—not Hayseed but a swift courser from the queen's stables—and rode through his capital city. He looked around him at the city: the narrow brick homes, their roofs tiled red; the workshops of potters, smiths, tanners, gem-cutters, barbers, and other tradesmen, their signs swinging in the wind; towering barracks, most of their soldiers gone to war; and finally the palace, a white castle rising upon a green hill.
As he looked at the gardens and towers, he remembered coming here with Bailey years ago, and the pain of missing her stabbed him.
"Twenty years ago, you and I first came to this palace, Bailey," he whispered, his eyes stinging. "We fought against this kingdom, but now I must defend it. Now I'm here, fighting for Arden lest evil once more corrupts the lands of light. I wish you were here, Bailey, still fighting with me."
Almost two decades, he thought, and I still miss her so badly it hurts. Time heals all wounds; never was a greater lie spoken.
He let the stable boys take his horse, and he spent a long time walking through the gardens, thinking of those old days and old friends.
* * * * *
As flowers bloomed and spring's leaves rustled outside the window, Madori sat in the classroom, prepared for her final exam.
The exam paper sat upside down on her table—printed on real papyrus, a rarity here in the north. All around the classroom, other students sat before their own exams, waiting to flip them over. Madori nibbled her lip, trying to bring to memory all she had learned about Magical Principles—not only the three basic axioms but the hundreds of theorems structured atop them. When she glanced to the head of the class, she cursed the sight of Professor Atratus there. The stooped, hook-nosed man was pacing, staring at a draining hourglass, and waiting to announce the exam's beginning.
The vulture will unnerve me through the exam, Madori thought. He's going to do something to ruin this for me, I know it.
"Good luck, mongrel," rose a sweet voice to her side.
Madori glanced to her left, and her belly tightened further. As if it weren't enough that Atratus was overseeing this exam, his favorite student—Lari Serin—was sitting here beside Madori. The girl smiled sweetly, her golden locks tied in blue ribbons. She sat straight, her hands in her lap, her quills and inkpot organized like soldiers upon her desk.
Wishing she had been assigned a different seat, Madori forced herself to stare down at her desk, trying to banish Atratus and Lari from her thoughts. She stared at her silver ring which the headmistress had given her, a dragon chewing its tail.
Bring me luck, Shenlai, she thought; it was the name she had given the ring, the name of the legendary Qaelish dragon her mother had once ridden in battle.
Finally Atratus flipped over the hourglass.
"Begin!" he barked.
Hundreds of papers rustled as the students flipped them over and began their exam.
Madori took a deep breath and quickly scanned the exam. She breathed a shaky breath of relief. Despite spending most of her time scrubbing dishes rather than studying, she knew this material. Professor Fen had prepared the exam, covering all those topics Madori had mastered: application of the three principles to different states of matter, weaving Herafon's Law into the Fourth Principle, claiming multiple materials simultaneously, and other topics Madori had been practicing in lieu of sleep.
I already failed Magical History thanks to Atratus, she thought. But I can pass this class.
She began to write furiously, answering question by question. Thanks to Shenlai, the ring that dulled feeling in her hand, her wrist didn't even hurt.
". . . through application of Sheritel's Fifth Principle, we can prove that the links between particles grow denser in direct proportion to the length of the claiming . . ." She wiped her brow and kept scribbling. ". . . thus, as steam does not rise from water heating under a claim, we demonstrate Karn's Law that changing states of matter requires a new cycle of principles . . . " She blew out her breath, blasting back her two strands of hair. " . . .stacking multiple materials in a forked chain allows us to skip from one to another, stacking claims simultaneously . . ."
Soon her arm itself was aching from so much writing, and she wished she had a magical dragon armlet too.
The hourglass spilled its sand.
An hour went by. Two hours. Three.
A few students finished their exams and placed them on Atratus's desk. Madori shook her arm and got back to writing, putting down the final words.
Perfect, she thought with a satisfied breath. This is one class I don't have to worry about fai—
Something hard hit her leg under the table, interrupting her thoughts.
She grunted.
The blow struck her again, and when she looked down, she saw a pulsing funnel of air—magic flowing from Lari's direction.
Madori growled and snapped her head toward Lari.
The young Magerian gave her a wink, then gasped and raised her hand. "Professor Atratus! Madori is looking at me! She's cheating!"
Madori leaped to her feet, knocking over her inkpot. "I was not!" She spun toward Lari, growling. "You're a liar. You're a filthy liar!"
She couldn't stop herself; rage flooded over Madori, blinding her. She leaped at Lari, knocking her off her seat. The cousins crashed onto the floor.
"The mongrel is rabid!" Lari screamed.
Madori grabbed the girl's hair, tugging and tearing those perfect golden locks. "I am rabid, and I'm going to destroy you, Lari. I'm done with your—"
Her words turned into a scream as fingers grabbed and twisted her ear.
Professor Atratus dragged her to her feet; Madori thought he could rip her ear straight off. When she struggled against him, he grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back.
"Professor Atratus, she's crazy!" Lari said, lying on her back in a puddle of ink. "I only tried to be a good student, and she just attacked me, and . . . and . . ." She covered her eyes, giving a rather convincing show of weeping.
Madori struggled to release herself as Atratus dragged her to the head of the class.
"Professor, she wasn't cheating!" Neekeya shouted, leaping to her feet at the back of the class.
Tam too leaped up. "Professor Atratus, Lari is lying, she—"
"Silence!" the professor boomed. "Whoever says the next word fails this class." He glared at the students. "Everyone, back into your seats. I will not tolerate impudence." He gave Madori's arm a painful twist, nearly dislocating it; she yelped. "And I will not tolerate filthy mongrel scum copying their answers from pure-blooded Magerians. The half-breed will be punished for this."
Her friends still stood at their desks, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Jitomi had his hands raised as if prepared to cast a spell against the professor.
Standing by Atratus's desk, Madori looked at them and spoke softly. "It's all right. Sit down, friends. Don't fail your test because of me."
Reluctantly, glancing at one another, they sat down. She had told her friends about her magical ring; they knew Atratus's punishment wouldn't hurt her. Dozens of other students filled the classroom, staring at Madori. A few—foreigners from Arden—stared with pity. Many of the Magerian students, Radian pins upon their lapels, stared with smug delight.
"Hold out your hand, mongrel," Atratus said, raising his ruler.
Madori gulped and stretched out her palm. His ruler would raise more welts, but she knew the ring would protect her from pain.
"Lari, sweetness," said the professor. "Please, step to the front of the cla
ss. You've suffered the bane of this mongrel; I feel it most fair that you administer the punishment."
Smoothing her robes, Lari nodded. "Gladly." She stepped toward the front of the class, chin raised, and took the ruler from Atratus. She turned toward Madori and a cruel smile spread across her face. "I will make you pay for what you've done, mongrel."
Madori's heart sank. Her ring would protect her from pain, but not this humiliation. To have Lari strike her? She pulled her hand back.
"No," Madori said with a snarl. "You are no professor here, Lari. You are nothing but a rich, pampered little—"
Lari swung the ruler. It sliced the air with a whistle and slammed against Madori's cheek. Blood splattered.
Madori gasped. Pain bolted through her, so powerful she nearly collapsed, and she raised her hand to her cheek. Her heart seemed to stop and she couldn't breathe.
Before Madori could react, Lari swung the ruler a second time, lashing it like a whip, striking Madori's other cheek.
Madori stood, shocked, in too much pain to react. She could barely see. She could just make out Lari standing before her, smiling in delight, raising her ruler for a third strike.
Madori blinked.
Thoughts raced through her mind as Lari licked her lips hungrily, preparing to strike again.
I have to stop this now. I have to end this. Even if I fail this class. Even if I'm tossed out of Teel. She growled and raised her fists, prepared to attack. This ends now—
The classroom door burst open.
Professor Yovan raced into the room, stepping on his long white beard and nearly crashing to the floor. He panted, his hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed.
"The king is dead!" he cried out, arms raised, tears on his cheeks. "The king of Mageria is dead!"
Everyone turned toward the elderly wizard. Lari froze with her ruler in the air, Madori with her fists raised. Her friends had run halfway across the classroom to join the fray; they too stood frozen as if somebody had cast a spell, turning everyone to stone.
Professor Yovan panted, his lips trembling. "They say he was poisoned; his sons too. Lord Serin has ridden to the capital. Until a new king can be chosen, Serin sits upon Mageria's throne." A sob fled Yovan's lips, but he managed to square his shoulders and raise his chin. "May Idar bless the king's soul! May Idar bless our new Lord Protector!"
Madori stared at the old man, and her horror was too great, too horrible, too impossible to exist, to feel, to shake her. Everything seemed like a dream. She felt numb, surprisingly calm, as if her terror had risen so high it formed a circle with calmness like her ring, a dragon biting its tail.
Yet no other king will be chosen, she realized as the blood dripped down her cheeks. And even Idar cannot save us now.
She turned to look at Lari, and Madori saw something new in the girl's eyes—no longer hatred, anger, or even mockery. Looking into those blue eyes, Madori saw victory.
CHAPTER TWENTY:
SUNS AND SERPENTS
They huddled in their chamber, the door bolted shut with magic, a chair propped up under the knob for extra protection. More magic shielded the window, gluing the shutters shut, but still the chants pounded into the room, and the walls shook.
"Radian rises! Radian rises! Hail Lord Serin!"
Jitomi stood guarding the window, hands raised as if prepared to cast magic. In the shadows of the room, he had doffed the thick cloak and hood he normally wore, revealing a lean body clad in black silk and leather. The dragon tattoo that ran up his neck and face seemed almost a living thing.
"They are growing in numbers," the Elorian said grimly. His large, oval eyes gleamed a dangerous blue. "Hundreds now march outside, chanting for this tyrant."
Guarding the door, Tam sighed. "If only Serin were a tyrant, we could hope to rebel against him. But it seems he's more of a beloved leader, at least judging by the reception he's getting here at Teel."
While Jitomi stood ready to cast magic, the young prince had opted for his dagger. Weapons were allowed at Teel only for ceremonial reasons—family heirlooms, religious blades, or magical artifacts—to be kept sheathed at all times. Yet this was no normal turn, and Tam's blade gleamed. The prince's eyes were dark, his lips tight, his muscles stiff.
Neekeya too stood with a drawn blade. Her sword was long and thick, its silver hilt shaped like a reptilian claw. The swamp dweller—normally bright-eyed, ready to smile, a naive girl lost in a foreign land—became a fierce tigress here, a beast ready to pounce. Her lip peeled back, revealing her teeth, and her eyes blazed.
"I say we fight them!" she said. "I'm a warrior. I'm not afraid. We'll slay Atratus and take Lari hostage and not release her until Serin steps off the throne."
Tam raised an eyebrow. "That's not a bad idea."
They all turned to look at Madori—Neekeya growling, Tam somber, Jitomi staring silently.
Madori sat upon her bed, caressing the copper coin that was her last memento from her father.
Simple change from our meal in the tavern, she thought, looking at the coin. I was so scared then, but now I miss that turn. Things were so much simpler then.
Her cheeks still stung from Lari's assault. Madori had healed the wounds with her magic, but the scars remained, pale and prickling. As her mother bore the scars of nightwolf claws upon her face, Madori's countenance now too was marred, perhaps forever, mementos from a different sort of beast.
"Well, Madori?" Tam said. "What do you think? What do we do?"
She raised her eyes back toward her friends, and a lump filled her throat.
"Why do you ask me?" she said, not without anger, and closed her fist around the coin. "What makes you think I know what to do? Why listen to my words?"
Neekeya tilted her head, her crocodile tooth necklace chinking. "Because . . . we're Madori's Motley. This is our quartet and you're our leader."
Sudden rage filled Madori, and she leaped from her bed. The chants still rose outside, and the walls shook as hundreds of feet pounded down the hall outside their door.
"Your leader?" Madori's voice rose so loudly she was almost shouting. "I never asked to be your leader. I don't want to lead anyone. Who am I to choose for you?" She looked at them one by one. "Neekeya, your father is a mighty lord, ruler of a pyramid. Tam, you're a prince for Idar's sake. Jitomi, you're the son of a noble warrior of Ilar, heir to a great pagoda overlooking the moonlit sea. Me?" She gestured at herself. "I'm the daughter of a gardener. I'm a half-breed. I'm from a backwater village. I'm . . . I'm . . ."
Her words failed her, and her eyes stung.
"You are the strongest, wisest student in this school," Jitomi said, finishing her sentence. Leaving the window, he stepped toward her and held her hand. His grip was warm and firm, his eyes soft. "I will follow your guidance. If you ask me, I will fight for you."
Fight? Madori walked to the window and peered through the crack between two shutters. A hundred students or more were marching outside, trampling grass and raising torches.
"Radian rises!" they chanted over and over.
Lari led the march, shouting out her hatred. "The Light of Radian now rules Mageria! Our light will purify our kingdom, driving out the mongrels, the nightcrawlers, the swamp barbarians, and all the cockroaches that infest our fatherland." The crowd roared their approval and Lari cried out louder. "Undesirables will burn in our fire!"
Madori turned away, facing her friends again.
Neekeya was shaking with rage. "That spoiled daughter of a snake! I'm going to wring her neck. Who does she think she is to speak like that?"
Madori sighed. "She knows exactly who she is. Mageria's new princess."
"And I'm Arden's prince," Tam said. "We can go to Arden—all of us. We'll sneak out of the school. We'll take refuge in Kingswall at least until this blows over." He sighed and his shoulders stooped. "Maybe this is a fight we cannot win. Maybe all we can do now is flee."
Again they looked at her for guidance. Again they awaited her words.
And I? I
just wish my parents were here. They're war heroes. They would know. She lowered her head. But perhaps that is my greatest lesson at Teel University—that I must become my own woman now, no longer a girl in the shadow of heroes but a heroine myself.
She spoke carefully. "We cannot flee. Serin's fortress guards Hornsford Bridge, the nearest crossing into Arden. Magerian castles watch all major roads and smaller crossings; with the king dead, those castles now belong to Serin too. If we flee this university, Lari will have her father hunt us. Nor can we fight Lari here; she's too powerful, and too many follow her."
Neekeya wrung her hands. "If we can't flee or fight, what do we do? Just cower?"
Madori thought back to Headmistress Egeria's words in her tower. We must be brave. We must fight them at every turn. You will stay at Teel, Madori, and you will learn magic . . . you and your friends must pick up this fight.
"We survive," Madori said. "Lari might march outside, and Atratus might be spewing his bile in his classrooms, but Headmistress Egeria still leads this university. This is still an oasis of reason, even with a few mad dogs within our walls. The Radian Society of Teel wants us to either fight or flee; one way they can crush us, the other be rid of us." Madori squeezed her coin. "So I say we do exactly what they hate, exactly what they're railing about outside our window. We stay. We study. We show them that we will not be intimidated, we will not be drawn into a war, and we will not run." She nodded, gaining confidence with every word. "The year's classes are ending. Next year we will take all our classes together, and none of those Atratus teaches. Madori's Quartet will remain together always. We will take turns watching even as we sleep. We are in danger, but we will withstand this."
Figurines shook on the shelves, and a picture frame fell, as the boots stomped in the hallway and the cries pealed.
"Radian rises! Hail Lord Serin!"
* * * * *
A strange silence blanketed Teel University next turn. As Madori's Motley walked along a columned gallery, heading toward their next exam, they heard none of the usual laughter, conversation, and songs that filled the university. The chants from last turn had died too. The ash of torches swirled upon the floor, the only remnant of the Radians' rally. The quartet passed by only one other student, a jittery girl who rushed down the corridor, her head lowered. Even the birds seemed subdued; only a single crow cawed as it circled above.
Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4) Page 18
