The Seven Realms- The Complete Series

by Cinda Williams Chima

  As they descended the long hill to the river, Raisa leaned close to Amon. “What’s going on?” she asked. “What did Master Askell say?”

  “He wants to meet with you,” Amon said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Depends.”

  They did not enter the academy by the main gate, but circled around to the postern gate on the south side. Two cadets ushered them through, and locked up behind them.

  Switcher followed after Vagabond without much guidance from Raisa, freeing her to look around as they crossed the academy commons.

  The school was the size of a small city, but had more green space than any city Raisa had ever seen. Ancient stone buildings studded the lawns, connected by covered galleries paved with brick and twined with night-blooming flowers. The intoxicating fragrance cascaded over them, carried by the warm, moist air.

  Lights blazed in the kitchens and dining halls. Most students were still at dinner, though a few had begun walking back to their dormitories, chatting and calling to friends across the commons in all the languages of the Seven Realms. Others trickled down the main road toward the river, unburdened by schoolwork, since classes hadn’t started.

  “What are these buildings?” Raisa asked, pointing.

  “This is the Mystwerk side of the river,” Amon said. He gestured to an elaborate stone building that sprawled over several acres. “That’s Mystwerk Hall, the oldest building in the academy. Supposedly the academy was founded when a wizard built a hut on the riverbank and began taking in apprentices.”

  Raisa studied Mystwerk Hall, tilting her head back and taking in the massive bell tower. Was Micah Bayar somewhere inside?

  How long had Micah waited for her at the West Wall? Had he given up his plans to come to Oden’s Ford in order to hunt for her?

  They passed elaborate herb gardens quilted with flowers, some familiar, some not.

  “Those are the healer’s gardens,” Amon said, noticing Raisa’s interest. “People come here from all over to train as healers and to be treated in the Healer’s Hall.”

  Ahead, a stone bridge arched high over the water, lined with shops and vendor stalls, most shuttered for the night. The taverns were still open, and clusters of students spilled onto the street.

  “The bridge and the shops along Bridge Street are kind of a borderland, where students from both sides mingle,” Amon said. He pointed at Raisa with his gloved hand. “So you need to stay off Bridge Street.”

  Amon led the way onto the bridge. Raised voices poured out of an open tavern door to the right, followed by two students locked in a wrestling match. One wore a dun-colored uniform, the other red wizard robes. More students spilled out of the tavern and joined the rainbow of House colors.

  “Must be a philosophical disagreement of some kind,” Amon said, carefully circling the mob.

  “What about the Peace?” Raisa asked.

  Amon laughed. “The provost guards handle fights between students.” He pointed toward three stern-looking men in drab gray uniforms striding across the street behind them, making for the struggling students.

  “They’re thick out here, especially after dark, and you go before the rector if you get caught,” Amon said. “Serious or repeat offenders get booted from the academy, and there’s no appeal. Students usually try to work things out themselves.”

  They reached the far end of the bridge and descended into the streets on the Wien House side. The buildings here were of newer construction, though still hundreds of years old, built of the same gray stone that must have come from a quarry nearby. The dormitories were less elaborate, more utilitarian, yet there was a stark, simple beauty about the architecture that appealed to Raisa.

  The warrior academy was a complex of buildings, a citadel consisting of parade grounds, weapons foundries, dormitories, stables, classroom buildings, and pastures for livestock.

  “All academy students stable their horses over here,” Amon said. “Whether in Wien House or not.”

  They passed several long, low buildings that, from the smell, had to be stables. Reining in next to one of them, they dismounted. Raisa removed Switcher’s saddle and tack, and rubbed her down. A cadet directed them to a row of stalls. They made sure their mounts were watered and grained before they shouldered their saddlebags and walked over to a large stone building. Wien Hall was engraved over the doorway.

  A clark sat at a table in the entrance hall with a great ledger in front of him. “Amon Byrne reporting with his company from the Fells,” Amon said. “I’ve already spoken to Master Askell.”

  The clark nodded. “Welcome back, Commander. Master Askell says you’ll be staying in Grindell Hall. All of you.” The clark leaned forward, whispering to Amon.

  Commander? Raisa’s overtired mind couldn’t grapple with that. Instead, she idly studied the names and dates carved on either side of the entrance—a list of class commanders that dated back to the Breaking. Noticing a familiar name, she focused, looking closer. Byrne surfaced at regular intervals over the past thousand years. Most recently, Edon Byrne, Amon’s father. And Amon Byrne.

  She sensed Amon’s presence behind her, a prickling between her shoulder blades. “There are a lot of Byrnes up there,” she said, pointing.

  “It’s kind of a tradition.” He took her saddlebags from her and handed them to Mick. “The rest of you, go get settled at Grindell,” he said. “Pick up extra linens for Morley and me, and put Morley’s things on the third floor. Talbot and Abbott, you’re in with Morley. Once your beds are made up and your things stowed, go on over to the dining hall. Don’t wait for us.”

  He turned to Raisa. “You come with me, Morley. Master Askell is ready for us.”

  Do we have to go see him now? Raisa thought. Weariness had overtaken Raisa’s hunger, and she wished she could just fall into bed. Aloud, she said, “I was hoping to get a bath first. Could I at least wash my face?”

  “Better to be on time,” Amon said. “He’ll care more about your appearance if he agrees to admit you.”

  The other Wolves collected blankets and sheets from a small storeroom and left the building through a side door. Raisa and Amon clumped up a long stone staircase to the third floor. Amon rapped on a thick wooden door at the top of the stairs.

  “Come,” a deep voice said.

  Taim Askell was standing in front of his desk when they entered. He was tall, maybe a little taller than Amon, but probably outweighed him by half. His bulky, muscular frame overwhelmed the room, though the office was a good size. His face was creased and lined by long years of sun and weather, and there were crinkles at the corners of his eyes that said he had smiled at some time in the past.

  He wasn’t smiling now.

  A faculty robe lay folded across the back of his chair; otherwise, the room was neat and uncluttered, everything in its place, save a packet of papers spread over the desk surface.

  Bookshelves lined the walls, packed with matching volumes in gold-stamped black leather—histories of military campaigns. A map of the Seven Realms covered the wall opposite the door, and a framed map of Carthis in sepia ink hung behind his desk.

  “Master Askell,” Amon said in Common, pressing his fist over his heart in salute. “Commander Byrne reporting as ordered, with the applicant Rebecca Morley, sir.”

  Raisa copied Amon’s salute, wondering just how much Master Askell knew.

  “Be at ease, Commander, and…Candidate Morley,” Master Askell said in Ardenine-accented Common. “Sit down,” he said, gesturing at two straight-backed chairs. It was more order than invitation.

  Raisa sat bolt-straight on the edge of her chair, resting her hands on her thighs, trying to look taller and more substantial. More deserving of admission.

  Askell did not sit. Instead, he loomed over the two of them like the Breaker on the Day of Judgment. As if he didn’t mean to give them more than a few minutes of his time.

  “This won’t take long, I assure you,” Master Ask
ell said, reinforcing Raisa’s initial impression. “I have made it a practice to interview every applicant who seeks entrance to Wien House, particularly those who request special privileges.”

  “Special privileges, sir?” Raisa glanced at Amon, who stared into space, a muscle working in his jaw. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.” Raisa meant to err on the side of too many sirs than too few.

  “Exactly what is it you expect from us, Morley?” Askell folded his arms.

  His hostile tone startled Raisa into speech. “I would imagine that my expectations are similar to those of any other cadet, sir,” she said. “I hope to benefit both from study under the Wien House faculty, and through interaction with a diversity of students.”

  “Is that so?” Askell tilted his head. “And how, exactly, will your presence here benefit Wien House? And the world at large?”

  Raisa blinked at him, her weary mind too sluggish to respond. “Um…”

  Askell plowed on as if he hadn’t really expected an answer. “Commander Byrne tells me that you come from the nobility, that though you are female, you are your family’s lineal heir, as is the—ah—custom in the north,” Askell said.

  From his expression, Raisa guessed that he disapproved of that custom.

  “We attract many applicants from noble families. Many more than we can possibly accommodate. Some families see the military as a means of developing character or addressing certain physical inadequacies. Others see it as a way of disposing of n’er-do-well sons or less than promising daughters.”

  Worn out as she was, Raisa’s temper began to smolder. “I assure you, Master Askell, sir, my parents did not send me here for any of those reasons,” she said stiffly.

  Askell raised an eyebrow. “So it seems. You come without a letter of introduction from your parents, which is unusual. Perhaps you ran away to join the army, then. Perhaps you see this as a means of rebellion against them.”

  “I did not run away to join the army, sir,” Raisa said. “I am here to seek an education that will prepare me to carry out my obligations to my family and the Fells.”

  “We do have a letter of recommendation from our alumnus Edon Byrne.” Askell paused, as if expecting Raisa to comment, but she said nothing. “And your own commander has asked for certain accommodations for you. This raises immediate concerns. Most candidates wait until they are admitted to request special treatment. Do you really think Wien House is a good fit for you?”

  “Master Askell, perhaps I—” Amon began, but the master shook his head.

  “I asked Morley, Commander,” Askell said, without taking his eyes off Raisa. “I need to make sure that your presence here won’t be a distraction that adversely affects the education of the other cadets. We have a responsibility to them as well as to you. Our students are organized into cohesive units. Instances of favoritism work against that.”

  Raisa looked straight at Askell. “I am curious, sir, about the accommodations Commander Byrne has requested on my behalf,” she said. “Since he did not choose to share them with me.”

  For a long moment, Askell didn’t answer, as if Raisa’s response was not what he expected. The master stalked to the sideboard, grabbed up a teapot, and set it on the hearth to heat.

  He turned and leaned against the mantel. “Commander Byrne has asked that all Fellsian cadets from his command—and you—be lodged together in Grindell Hall, when it is our policy to mix cadets from the different realms together in the dormitories as well as in class. It is also unusual to house first years like yourself with fourth years like the commander.

  “Further, he has asked that a unique curriculum be tailored for you—one that crosses school boundaries to combine military science, rigorous physical training, geography, diplomacy, history, and finance. In fact, he has proposed a curriculum that would likely occupy you for all of your waking hours and many of your sleeping ones.”

  “What?” Raisa said, making no effort to hide her surprise. “I had no idea, sir, that Commander Byrne had taken this degree of interest in planning my education.” She turned and stared at Amon, who did not meet her eyes. Seeing the spots of color on his cheeks, she realized what it had taken for him to spend his influence with Askell in trying to secure special treatment for her. It was not the way he operated.

  She turned back to Askell. “However, hearing it, sir, I think it sounds perfect for me.”

  “You are coming late to the academy,” Askell said. “The other cadets your age have been here for three years already. It would be a challenge for you to master the usual curriculum, let alone one so…demanding.”

  “I am used to hard work, sir,” Raisa said, lifting her chin. “I’m not totally untutored. I fostered with the Spirit clans for three years in the Fells.”

  “Did you, now?” the master said, his face displaying a flatlander’s disdain for the clans. “I fail to see how that applies to your admission to a military academy.”

  Edon Byrne says I ride like a Demonai warrior, Raisa was tempted to say.

  “If I may, that is the reason I proposed a somewhat different curriculum for Morley, sir,” Amon said. “As you know, much of the first three years here at the academy is physical training—horsemanship, wayfinding, tracking, survival skills. There is considerable overlap with what Morley learned in the upland camps. Morley has also been training hard for the past month in flatland weaponry. I think you’ll find that—”

  “If it could be done in a month, we would be that much more efficient, now wouldn’t we, Commander Byrne?” Askell said, emptying a paper of tea into the teapot. Using a rag to protect his hand, he carried it over to his desk and set it on a battered trivet.

  Finally, he sat down in his high-backed chair and looked at Raisa as one might a child who overreaches. Raisa had seen that look often, and it never failed to annoy her.

  “Is it really your intention to be a soldier, Morley?” Askell asked. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to study the softer sciences? Healing, art, and philosophy are all important topics. That’s a more typical course of study for those of your station.”

  “My station or my gender, sir?” Raisa said. “You’ve said Wien House is full of thanelings and dukes. I can think of only one way in which they are different from me.”

  “There are women in Wien House,” Askell said stiffly. “Surely, Commander Byrne has told you as much.”

  “There are women, aye,” Raisa said, her voice quivering with anger. “And they’re all from the north, and likely the daughters of soldiers, right? No gently raised ladies?”

  Askell looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head. “No gently raised ladies,” he admitted. So at least he was honest.

  Raisa stood, her fists clenched at her sides. “To answer your question, no, sir, I don’t mean to be a soldier. But kings, dukes, and lords have been sending their heirs to Wien House for more than a thousand years—not to make them soldiers, but to make them better leaders.

  “I’ve been stuffed full of philosophy and art and the softer sciences, as you call them. If I could stitch or sing or recite my way out of a crisis, I’d be well prepared. I came here because this is said to be the best place to get an education in the Seven Realms. I came here to fill in the gaps in my education, to prepare for the times I’ll be making decisions all by myself, when knowledge of leadership, engineering, and military science may make the difference between success and failure.”

  Raisa glanced at Amon, who sat motionless, save his gray eyes flicking from her to Askell and back again. “What Commander Byrne has proposed sounds like just what I need. But I’ll train as a simple soldier if that’s what I have to do to get an education. I’ll live wherever you assign me. I ask no accommodations from you. If I fail, I fail. But maybe I’ll learn something in the meantime. Sir.”

  Raisa bowed to the master, saluting him as Amon had done. “Thank you for your time, sir. I’ll leave you to discuss this with Commander Byrne.” She backed from the room, knowing she’d prob
ably ruined any chance she had of staying at Wien House.

  Furious tears stung her eyes as she banged down the stairs. She paused on the second-floor landing to collect herself before descending the rest of the way. When had admission to Wien House become so important? Two months ago she’d had no plans to come to Oden’s Ford at all. Was this just a childish desire for anything denied her? Was this something she hadn’t wanted until Askell resisted?

  Then again, two months ago she hadn’t known of Gavan Bayar’s treacherous plans to subvert the Nǽming and seize power by marrying his son to the future queen of the Fells. She needed to return well armed for the battles that lay ahead.

  That Amon Byrne had turned into a truly devious person. When had he hatched this new scheme for her education, and when had he planned to tell her about it? It was arrogant on his part, yet she couldn’t help being touched by it.

  What would she do if Askell refused to admit her? She didn’t have much choice. She needed to stay within the sanctuary of Oden’s Ford. But if she crossed the river to the Temple School, it would be that much more likely she’d be seen by Micah Bayar or his friends. Plus, she would lose the protection of the Gray Wolves.

  Raisa asked the clark on the first floor how to get to Grindell Hall. Surely they’d let her sleep there one night, even if they booted her out the next day.

  By the time she reached the dormitory, the rest of the Gray Wolves had eaten. They’d brought plates back for Raisa and Amon, but Raisa had lost her appetite. She huddled in an overstuffed chair next to the cold hearth in the common room long after the others had gone to bed, nursing a cup of tea and waiting for Amon to return.

  Finally, she heard his familiar footstep. He paused in the doorway, a tall silhouette, looking in at her. “I thought you’d be in bed,” he said.

  “What did Askell say?” Raisa demanded.

  Amon came forward into the light and knelt next to her chair. He closed his rough hand over hers, and that strange, wild energy flowed between them. Time seemed to telescope, and it seemed she could look ahead, this same scene repeating itself long into the distance, a future that would find them growing older together.