Han pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead, feeling out of his depth. He’d heard nothing of Kinley on the streets of Ragmarket.
Gryphon argued both sides of the question, refueling the discussion when it lagged. He didn’t pick on Han again. Maybe he figured his point had been made. The master also left the Bayars in peace. It seemed they’d be given plenty of time to study up.
Gryphon didn’t call on Dancer either, ignoring his raised hand.
Han fought down his anger. It was just a different kind of battle, one he’d have to learn to win. Since when had life ever been fair?
Though Gryphon clearly knew his stuff, Han couldn’t help comparing him to Speaker Jemson. Jemson’s love of history cascaded over you until you were neck-deep and drunk with it. But he made sure all his students stayed afloat.
You can’t control what Gryphon does, Han thought. What can you control?
You can come to class prepared, he thought. No matter what.
Gryphon allowed the debate to go on for a while longer, then raised both hands, palms out, to bring it to a halt. “All right, then, let’s try an experiment of our own,” he said. “Please turn to page 393.”
The passage was entitled Portal to Aediion and consisted of lines of spellwork, like free verses trickling down the page.
“Now, choose a partner—preferably someone you already know,” Gryphon said. “If you need a partner, raise your hand.”
Han turned to Dancer, who shrugged his assent.
Arkeda paired off with Miphis, and Fiona with Wil. Micah was left without a partner, since there was an odd number of students in the class.
“Newling Hayden,” Gryphon said, all of a sudden noticing Dancer. “Perhaps you should pair off with someone more experienced, like Bayar.” He nodded toward Micah. “I can work with Alister.”
Dancer shook his head. “No thank you, sir. I know Alister. I’ll stay with him.”
“If you insist,” Gryphon said, with a sour expression. “You’re with me, Bayar.”
Micah shrugged his indifference, but Han thought he looked relieved.
Is Gryphon just picking on me again? Han wondered. Did he want to be matched with me for some reason? Or did he want to match Dancer with Micah?
Or did it mean nothing at all?
“This should be easier than communicating across a distance. Face each other and take hold of your amulets,” Gryphon directed. “At the risk of being disappointed, I will assume that you have all stoked them with power in preparation for class.”
Han had done that, at least, storing magic during the long journey to Oden’s Ford.
“Now choose a location, a place you both know,” Gryphon said. “And don’t all go to The Crown and Castle. I want to hear about different places.”
Dancer leaned toward Han. “The fishing hole on Old Woman Creek,” he suggested. That was a place on the lower slopes of Hanalea they both knew well, where Han’s former employer Lucius Frowsley spent most of his time.
A place that, as wizards, they were now forbidden to go.
“Read over the entire spell,” Gryphon said. “Memorize it, since there’s no guarantee that Kinley will be available to you in Aediion. The first three lines open the portal; the last three allow you to close the portal and return to reality.”
The master gave them a few minutes to do that, waiting until they all looked up from their texts. “All ready now?” Heads nodded around the room. Some of the students looked pale and worried, some leaned forward eagerly, others rolled their eyes, like this exercise was a stupid waste of time.
“Read the first three lines to open the portal,” Gryphon said. “Quietly, now, so as not to distract your colleagues. Should you both be successful, you will meet your partner in the dream world. Notice your surroundings, because what you see is a reflection of you. Notice also that you can shape your appearance as you wish. Exchange messages with your partner and immediately return to the classroom. I repeat: don’t remain in Aediion longer than a few minutes. Once everyone has completed the exercise, you will report on your experiences.” He paused. “I know that some of you are skeptical of Kinley’s work, but I expect you all to expend some effort here.”
Taking hold of his amulet, Han read through the opening lines of the spell, while all around him he heard others whispering the words in a splash of accents.
For a moment he was engulfed in a swirling black nothingness. Then sunlight broke into his thoughts, streaming down through glittering yellow aspens, sparkling on the waters of Old Woman Creek. Leaves swirled and danced on the current. Han shivered; it was cold, colder than Oden’s Ford, and moments later he found himself wearing a fringed and beaded buckskin jacket of clan design, fleece moccasins on his feet. Amazed, he fingered the soft leather.
Was it real? It seemed very real—the wind swirling over Hanalea smelled of snow. It lifted the hair from his forehead and set aspen leaves chattering over his head.
He looked up the creek. Dancer walked toward him, dressed in leggings and the loose, soft, doeskin tunic he favored, carrying a fishing pole and a fish basket.
“What do you think?” Han said. “Is this it?”
Dancer shrugged. “Let’s see if we both remember it the same when we leave.”
They stood for an awkward moment.
“Gryphon said to exchange messages,” Han said. “I’ll say something to you, and then I’ll see if you remember it later. You do the same.” He thought a moment. “Cat Tyburn is sweet on you,” he said, keeping a straight face.
Dancer cocked his head. “Really? Why do you say that?”
Han wasn’t sure just why he’d said it, except that he knew Dancer wouldn’t forget it. “She’s shy,” he said. “She has trouble speaking her mind.” Right.
“Fiona Bayar fancies you,” Dancer retorted. “She can’t take her eyes off you.”
They both burst out laughing. Han’s spirits rose. It felt good to be back in the Fells, on familiar ground, even if only in the dream world.
“We’d better go back,” Dancer said.
Han took hold of his amulet, ready to speak the closing charm, when the air before him rippled like the surface of a pond as the wind catches it. It coalesced and hardened, displacing light, until the image of a person stood before him.
It was young man, a half-dozen years older than Han, expensively dressed in blueblood style. His hair was soot-black, his eyes a brilliant blue. Sunlight glittered on the many rings on his fingers.
The stranger blinked, looking about, and a triumphant smile spread across his face as if he’d done something extra special.
Han glanced aside at Dancer, but as he did so, his friend shimmered and dissolved, blinking out like a cinder in the dark. “Dancer!” Han said, taking a step toward the spot where he’d disappeared.
“You there! Wait! Don’t go yet,” the stranger said, in Fellspeech.
“Who are you?” Han said, backing away, thinking that nobody should be showing up here that he didn’t invite. “How did you get here?”
Was it someone from his class, intruding? Han didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t mean anything. Gryphon had said that you could change your appearance, so it could be anyone in disguise, even one of the Bayars. Micah and Fiona likely had the most powerful amulets in the class, next to his own.
Could Micah find his way to a place he’d never been? Then again, the first time they’d met was on Hanalea.
“You can call me Crow,” the stranger volunteered. He brushed a hand through his hair as if preening his feathers. “And you are…?”
“Tell me how you got here, or get out,” Han said, a knife magically appearing in his fist. Amulet or not, he’d still go to knives if he got in a jam.
He balanced lightly on his feet, ready to jump one way or the other, recalling Darnleigh’s words, moments before in the lecture hall.
Kinley says that if you’re killed in the world of dreams, you die in real life.
“Please,” Crow s
aid, “hear me out. I promise, it will be worth your time.” He took a step forward.
Han took a step back. “I’m warning you, I’m rum with a blade.”
“It’s wise to be wary in your situation.” Crow kept shifting—from formal dress to plainer garb, to a dean’s robe. Either he couldn’t decide what suited him, or he liked to dress up. “I, at least, gave you a name,” he went on. “That’s more than you have done. Do you belong to Aerie House?” There was something in the way he said it, something that set off alarms in Han’s head.
Han hesitated. “Aerie House?”
“The Bayar family. Are you one of them? Everything taken together, I would guess not.” He studied Han’s face. “Ah,” he said, smiling. “I see you are not. In fact, they are not your friends.”
Han struggled to reclaim his street face.
“Then, tell me, how did you gain possession of that amulet?” Crow said, his eyes fixed on Han’s jinxpiece.
“You going to tell me why you’re here?” Han demanded. “And stay still, will you?”
Crow finally settled in his blueblood garb. His jacket looked made to measure, with glitter-thread sewn over, and trailing sleeves. Han guessed he was handsome, if you liked the type.
Crow extended his empty hand toward Han, palm out, as if feeling his heat. “You are quite powerful, you know.” He tilted his head, appraising Han. “And you are well favored. Even rather handsome, despite your speech.”
Who was he to judge Han’s looks and speech? And why should Han care? “I an’t a fancy, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Han said. “No offense.”
Crow laughed. “I hope not,” he said, as if it were a very funny joke.
“Did you steal your amulet from them?” Crow said, looking back at the amulet. “If so, I must say, I am impressed. What do you mean to do with it? Do they know you have it? Do you have a plan?”
Han said nothing to this torrent of questions.
Crow shook his head. “No plan? That’s not good. The Bayars no doubt have a plan. Better think ahead, or you’re not going to keep that amulet for long.”
“I won’t answer any questions until I know who you really are,” Han said.
“I understand.” Crow chewed on his lower lip, thinking. “Very well. I can tell you this much. I’m on faculty here at the academy. I’ve been looking for a student to mentor, someone capable of mastering higher level magic. I also need someone who is not afraid to bend the rules a bit. The fact that you are here, and your possession of that amulet, tells me that you might be the person I have been looking for.”
He raised his hand when Han opened his mouth to speak. “I’m not going to tell you any more than that until I know I can trust you. It’s still possible that you are in league with my enemies.”
“How do you know the Bayars?” Han asked, fingering his amulet, still unsure whether to stay or go.
“Let’s just say we are political rivals,” Crow said. “I need gifted allies. In return, I’ll help you protect yourself against them.”
“Help me how?” Han asked.
Crow took another step toward Han, looking intently into his eyes. “I can teach you how to use that amulet. I can teach you marvelous things.” Crow’s eyes glittered, his voice low and coaxing, almost pleading.
“Keep your flash gammon to yourself,” Han said. “If you want to talk to me, come see me in real life. I’m going back,” he added, summoning up the returning words.
“We have to meet in Aediion,” Crow said. “It’s not safe for us to be seen together.”
Han stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“You have no idea how vulnerable we are.” Crow drew a quick breath as though he meant to say something else, then looked aside, distracted. “We’re out of time,” he said. “Do not tell a soul about our meeting. No one, do you understand? If the Bayars hear about this, they will kill you and seize your amulet to prevent our meeting again.” He paused to let the words sink in, then added, “I will meet you a week from tonight, midnight, in Aediion. Mystwerk bell tower is a private place. Do you know where that is?”
Han blinked at him, a thousand questions elbowing their way forward. “I know where that is,” he said. “But what makes you think I—”
“We cannot be seen together,” Crow repeated. “Aediion is the only safe place. Rebuild your amulet in the meantime. If you can’t come a week from tonight, come the next week. Or the next. I’ll wait for you each week until you come. Open the portal at midnight. And come alone.”
He shimmered and blinked out.
Han was suddenly conscious of a terrible pain in his head. He groaned and opened his eyes, looking into Gryphon’s grim face.
He thought for a moment he might be sick, but that passed. He looked down at his amulet and saw Gryphon’s hand wrapped around it, just below his. The master was gripping it so hard his knuckles were white, and his face shone with sweat.
“Let go,” Han said feebly, tugging at Gryphon’s fingers with his other hand.
“You first,” he said. “I don’t want you slipping away again.”
Reluctantly, Han loosed his hold and wiped his sweaty hand on his breeches. He lay on the stone floor in the lecture hall, his head pillowed on somebody’s coat. Beyond Gryphon he saw a circle of faces—the other students in the class.
Micah Bayar scowled as if sorry that Han had rejoined the living. He didn’t see Fiona.
Gryphon touched Han’s forehead with hot fingers, then finally let go of the amulet. “You’re out of danger,” he said. “The Maker protects the impaired, it seems.”
The master sat on the floor, his canes next to him, his robes hiked up to his knees. Gryphon’s lower legs were scarred and shriveled, the flesh leathery and dark, as though they had been burnt. Iron braces extended from his ankles past his knees.
Gryphon followed Han’s gaze. Scowling, he yanked the fabric down to cover himself.
“What happened?” Han said, sorry to be caught staring. “In Aediion, I mean,” he rushed to add.
“We’ve established, beyond any doubt, that you are a fool, Alister,” Gryphon said. “You’ve managed to drain both your amulet and yourself completely. That’s why you needed my help to get back. I hope the journey was worth it.”
The doors to the classroom slammed open, and a tall, angular woman marched in, followed by Fiona. The stranger’s hair was straight and chin length, a steel gray streaked with wizard red. Her robes were edged with heavy embroidery, and the multiple velvet bands on her sleeves said she was a high up.
“What’s going on, Master Gryphon?” she demanded. “Newling Bayar tells me there’s a student in trouble.”
“Dean Abelard!” Gryphon gripped his canes and struggled to rise to his feet, seeming embarrassed to be caught on the floor.
“Can I help?” Dancer asked, squatting next to him. When Gryphon nodded, Dancer slid his hands under the master’s arms and lifted him up. Gryphon shook him off as soon as he was upright. Dancer handed him his double canes.
“There’s no trouble,” Gryphon said. “Newling Alister delayed too long returning from Aediion.”
“From Aediion?” Dean Abelard stared down at Han, biting her lower lip. “Really?”
Gryphon nodded. “He is recovering now.”
Scrunching her robes in her hands, Dean Abelard knelt next to Han. She pressed the back of her hand against his cheek. Her hand felt blazing hot against his cold skin.
“Get the boy some water,” Abelard commanded, and somebody rushed away to fetch it. Moments later, a cup appeared, and Han drank it dry.
Someone knelt next to them, knees pressing into Han’s hip. He turned his head. It was Fiona, lips parted, her pale eyes fixed on his face.
“What’s the matter with him?” she said, leaning forward, her hair brushing Han’s cheek. “Will he survive?”
“If he’s lived this long, then, yes, I expect he will,” Abelard said. “It was good you came to fetch me.”
She reached for
Han’s amulet, then jerked her hand back as if startled when she saw the design.
“An interesting choice, Alister,” she murmured, straightening her wizard stoles. “We need to talk about that. Among other things.” And then, without taking her eyes off his face, she said louder, “Master Gryphon, dismiss your class.”
Gryphon turned to face the gawking students. “Newling Alister has demonstrated for us all the price of carelessness and arrogance combined with ignorance. Do take note.” He paused, to let that sink in. “For tomorrow, I want two pages from each of you about your experience in Aediion to share with the rest of the class. Class dismissed.”
The other students collected their things. Han felt the vibration of feet and the touch of eyes as they shuffled out. Fiona didn’t move, as if hoping to be overlooked.
“You too, Fiona,” Gryphon said. “And you, Hayden. Out.”
Fiona’s knees were removed from Han’s side as she stood. He heard her walk away, a door opening and closing.
“I’ll wait and see Alister back to his room,” Dancer said. “Or Healer’s Hall. Wherever he needs to go.”
Abelard looked up at Dancer, taking in his stubborn expression. She sighed. “All right. But step outside a moment, please. We need to speak to Alister in private.”
Dancer shook his head, his blue eyes fixed on the dean. “I’m not—”
“It’s all right,” Han said, waving him off. “I’ll be fine.” He was beginning to feel a little better. A trickle of heat in his middle said his magic was building up again.
Abelard waited until the door closed behind Dancer before she spoke.
“So, Alister,” she said softly, closing her fingers around his wrist. “Tell me all about it.” Power flowed into him. It was hard to resist, depleted as he was.
“Tell you about what?” Han asked. When she continued to stare down into his face, he said, “All I remember is, I felt dizzy, and then I must’ve passed out. I don’t think anything really happened. Magical, I mean.”
“Alister partnered with the copperhead that was just here,” Gryphon said. “His friend returned after a few minutes, but Alister stayed until I dragged him back by force. He was using power like mad. He’d drained his amulet almost completely.”
The Seven Realms- The Complete Series Page 62
