by N. M. Howell
The woman Andie eventually hired was a nonagenarian, with her hair wrapped so tight it was a wonder it didn’t cut off all circulation above the neck. Her voice was oddly musical and strident at the same time. She wasn’t a great fit, but in all honesty, Andie didn’t really trust anyone other than herself to take care of her father.
“It’s only until I finish school,” she thought out loud. “And then I’ll be all his again.”
Even so, the guilt was crushing her as she reached the financial district. Even necessity can’t assuage guilt. Her father had wanted this even more than Andie did, and it was he who had convinced her to go. She breathed out a deep sigh as she slowly made her way down the winding street.
“You need to learn control,” he’d said.
“Teach me. You used to be on the council. I know you can do it.”
“That was the council in Taline, and you know how it ended. I don’t want you anywhere near those people, but you need to be able to protect yourself. I can’t risk someone catching us practicing here. And even if I wanted to...”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but held up his hands as they trembled uncontrollably.
“Dad, I won’t forgive myself for leaving you.”
“Andie, this is for your life. Go. We’ll find someone who can stay with me. You’re my daughter. It should’ve been me taking care of you. Go.”
He was right. She’d already been putting off the Academy for years and if she did it again, she would lose her eligibility. More than that, it was time Andie began to live, truly live. She couldn’t spend her entire life hiding behind her father and wanting her mother.
She boarded SKY 6 and thought of her past, present, and future as the train sped through the seemingly endless city. She watched as they passed hundreds of other trains going up and down and turning all over the city and its buildings. Up ahead was the University, claiming most of the mountain side and looming like the powerful and dangerous place it was. She loved that she’d gotten her magic from her mother, but sometimes she wished more than anything that she didn’t have dragon blood or the powerful and unpredictable magic that came with it. Dragon blood had brought her family nothing but trouble.
The train reached the base of the next and steepest incline, and Andie watched the world from almost a ninety-degree angle as the train climbed the mountain side. It was a quick ride and she was soon standing on campus, taking a few deep breaths to acclimate herself to the atmosphere.
She’d only taken a few steps when she saw it. She didn’t even know they still had these signs. There weren’t even enough dragon blooded people left to warrant this kind of hate. It was unbelievable, but there it was: a sign with a young girl whose hands were softly glowing purple. There was a black crossed circle over her torso and it sent a clear, terrible message. Andie didn’t know which was more disturbing: the sign’s existence, the girl’s age, or the fact that the sign looked brand new.
Just then, a man hurrying by bowled right into her and nearly knocked her down. He didn’t apologize, never even stopped walking. Anger ripped through Andie. Her magic flared and the man tripped. He hit his head on the sign as he fell. Andie rushed to him.
“Are you okay?”
“Get off me!” he said, regaining his feet and hurrying off.
It wasn’t exactly the welcome she’d hoped for.
* * *
Later that evening, Andie was back down the mountain at city level. Her first day at the Academy hadn’t really been a first day at all. The only thing she’d managed to do was miss both her classes—which were actually scheduled for two hours before she even got there—and find out that she still needed an icon. Icons were the size and shape of almonds and a prerequisite for study at the University. They monitored the students, made sure they stayed out of trouble and were safe. They were magical monitoring devices made of gold, bear wicker, and a proprietary blend of spells, and were essentially just a way for the University to spy on its students. Fortunately, her father had warned her about them before hand, so she wasn’t surprised when they handed her hers.
The University once used bracelets with computer chips, but those were too easy to turn off. Andie had picked up an icon on the way down and now was searching for her apartment. She knew she was in the right part of town. University Park. It was where University students went who didn’t have much money. There were other communities for students on scholarship and wealthy students. University Park was built over the ruins of Hightowyr, like the rest of the city, but this was the part of the city that got the least new infrastructure and the least maintenance. There were places here where the ancient ruins were still visible. Even now, Andie was passing what was left of an arch. First, they got to live in barely habitable apartments, then they got to deal with debt for the rest of their lives. She turned and, sure enough, could still see the black marble of the University sitting on the throne of the mountainside.
Even with the map she picked up at the University registrar’s office, Andie still had a hard time finding her way. She’d never been this deep in the city before. It was a wonderful city to be lost in—beautiful, storied, massive, and diverse—but it was getting late. She turned a few more corners, just because, and found a dragon post.
Or what was left of it.
The University had had them all destroyed when the hate first started, leaving only the foundations as a warning and a threat. Dragon posts were where the dragons used to land to keep watch over the area. Legend said the dragon posts were huge, nearly half a kilometer high, and made of gold and iron. Dragons would land there and, with their keen eyes, spy across the land, keeping watch on all they knew and loved.
That was before the hate began. Before the dragons and the dragonborn people were betrayed and hunted to extinction.
Andie stopped and stared at the map. It wasn’t possible for her to be this lost. She knew that this section of the city wasn’t well taken care of and the streets here ran in every direction possible, rendering the grid completely useless, but she’d been walking for almost an hour. Two women were passing so she hurried over to ask directions.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Could you point me to the corner of Rholdan and Avenue 652?”
“It’s only ten blocks that way,” the taller one said. “You can get there in fifteen minutes. That’s an odd-looking map. May I?”
Andie handed her the map and it was only a moment before the women began to giggle.
“I’m sorry, dear, but this map is over a hundred and twenty years old. I can’t imagine how it’s still in this good of shape. See here...”
Andie followed the slim finger. In the lower left hand corner she saw the date: Two Hundredth Day of the Seventh Cycle of the First Age. The University was preparing to celebrate five hundred years and they were beginning to put out some of their old memorabilia. She must’ve picked from the wrong pile.
“Oh,” she said. “I see.”
“Well, goodbye. Remember, ten blocks that way.”
The women left and Andie smacked herself in the head. One hundred and twenty years?
“Great job, Andie,” she said to herself. “Maybe you need a lesson in how to tell time. A Life Age equals sixteen thousand years. An Age is two thousand years. A Cycle is one hundred twenty-five years. One year is four-hundred days. Do you think you can manage to read things before you take them from now on? Sorceresses don’t live for hundreds of years anymore, so maybe you’d like to spend your time more wisely.”
Still beating herself up, she headed in the direction the lady had pointed and in fifteen minutes she was staring up at her apartment building: a hole in the wall that looked as dingy and run down as the ethnic restaurant it sat on top of.
Climbing the stairs didn’t inspire confidence, either, since they were so creaky the sound almost seemed to come before her foot fell. She met with her landlady, a middle-aged spinster who seemed to have given up on life entirely. She never spoke a word, simply handed Andie the keys and held
up seven fingers to show her which floor to go to. She seemed incredibly ordinary, even if jaded, and Andie probably wouldn’t have given Kristole another thought if she hadn’t seen the mark on the back of her neck. A tattoo of a hand in flames. It stuck in Andie’s mind as she climbed to the seventh floor and found her room. As she approached the door, she slowed. It was open and there were sounds inside. She paused, half wanting to go inside and half knowing she should get help. Yet, of the many things she was, a coward wasn’t one of them. She crept to the door and opened it, her hand at the level of her eyes, ready for anything. She pushed the door open and saw a man in overalls. He turned at the sound of her entry.
“This ain’t a robbery,” he said. “I’m just fixing the window.”
“Um. Okay. Can I have your name, sir?”
“I’m just the handyman. I work downstairs. Speaking of which, they’re expecting you. Better go down soon as you’re settled.”
“Yes. Right. ‘They.’ And what’re you doing here again?”
“Window,” he said, tapping the glass with his screwdriver.
“Of course,” she muttered under her breath, cautiously crossing the living room as she kept an eye on him.
She set her things down in the kitchen, what little there was of it, and looked out of the window at her surprisingly spectacular view. She could see over the four blocks directly across from her building, all the way to an incredible complex of glass towers. It was the publishing district, which handled the magical, philosophical, business, and religious text for practically all of Noelle. Andie thought it was the coolest thing she’d seen yet.
After a couple minutes of gazing out into the night, she walked over to close the curtains, or, at least, the rags that were pretending to be curtains, and checked out her apartment. It was small, but she’d expected that. Aside from the shabby curtains, nothing looked bad at all. It was incredibly clean, had good proportions, new tiles, and everything in the bathroom and kitchen worked. She was especially thankful for the gas stove. Electrical ones frequently melted. She even had an ice maker in the fridge that was noisily busy at work. The kitchen faced the living room, divided from it only by a thin partition to which the counter was attached. The bathroom was the first door to the right in the hallway and, although it was clean, there was barely enough space to turn around. A small closet was across from it. Her bedroom was at the end of the hall— actually, twice as big as she’d expected—and her mattress and frame had already been delivered.
She decided to put a couple things out, just to start making it feel like home. She placed some of her books on the shelves of the small stand in the living room and set her mother’s picture on top of it, but only for a moment before she decided to move it to her bedroom. Her mother had been beautiful, brunette, and powerful. Andie remembered that. She wasn’t much older than Andie was when she died. Andie hid her small bag with Dragons in it under the bed. And then it was time to go downstairs and meet the mysterious “they.”
She went downstairs to the restaurant, which had an alarming number of grills, and stood in a place where she could be seen by everybody. Hopefully “they” knew what she looked like because she couldn’t identify them. It was only a moment before a man came up to her, smiling. He seemed middle-age, pushing the back end of the age group, and his face was covered in stubble. Yet, he didn’t seem unkempt, just sweet and tired. He extended his hand.
“Hi. I’m Marvo,” he said.
“Andie,” she said, shaking hands with him. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but—”
“But how do I know you? I knew your father many years ago. As a matter of fact, we met under similar circumstances. I met him the day he first started at the Academy.”
“Wow, you’re Marvo? The Marvo? My dad used to tell me stories about you. You guys were great friends.”
“Yeah, it’s a shame how people grow apart. And it’s a travesty what happened to your father.”
“Um... thank you,” she said, turning a bit.
It wasn’t a subject she liked to talk about, even with her father.
“Here, let’s sit down,” Marvo said.
He took her to a table in the corner and motioned for a server to come over.
“We’d like some cloudcakes, please. There should still be some batter left from the batch we made this afternoon. I assume your father told you about my cloudcakes,” he said, turning back to Andie.
“He’s told everyone. I think they’re more famous in Michaelson than Arvall City itself. So, if you were at the Academy, are you a practicing sorcerer?”
“Oh, no, I was never at the Academy. I only mentioned it because your father was going there. I’m a non-magic person, or a nomag, as we call them in the city. My family’s always been nomag and always married nomags. Not that we have anything against magic. In fact, we’ve always been friends of sorcerers and sorceresses, but the magic life was never for us.”
“We have the same term in the country. So, what do you do?”
“I cook. You’re sitting in my restaurant. I bet you’ve probably got some questions about how your father was back then. I know I’ve got some about how he is now. But it’s your first night in Arvall, and I don’t want you to spend it having your ear talked off by an old-timer. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. Welcome to the city.”
“Thank you.”
Marvo stood and after a final parting smile, he turned and went back to the kitchen. Andie sat, waiting for her food, wondering why she never figured out that Marvo was a nomag or why her father never told her. She looked around the unimpressive restaurant, noting its general dinginess and almost hidden antiquity. The place was old—judging by some of the fixtures and the design of the molding, very old—and Andie began to see that it wasn’t that Marvo’s family weren’t good with maintaining or cleaning, only that time was finally catching up. While she was gazing around, and beginning to sense the charm of the old place, she saw a boy coming to her with a plate of cloudcakes. He was tall, black-haired, and muscled in a sinewy kind of way; clearly used to hard work. He was handsome, surprisingly so. He was smiling, seemingly at no one, as if it just felt good to smile, to be happy and excited about life. Even from a distance, Andie could tell he had a warm spirit. He set the cloudcakes down on her table.
“These are my dad’s secret recipe, and I do mean secret. He’ll let me go over his checkbook, but he won’t tell me what’s in these. I’m Raesh,” he said, extending his hand as his father had done.
“Andie. So why so secretive? Do these cure Maeludrax disease or something?”
“No, but if you have Maeludrax, this might be the only thing that will take your mind off it. That is, unless you have a girl you can’t take your eyes off.”
“Oh.”
That was all she could manage. Raesh was doing just that: not taking his eyes off her. His smile was warm and sweet, and she could tell that he was probably a good person, but his bravado had shocked her. Or was he just really friendly? As beautiful as she was, Andie didn’t have much experience with boys in Michaelson. The boys still tended to go after girls who were less work and less picky. As all that was going through her mind, Raesh sat down across from her at the table and the surprise only deepened.
“So, go ahead,” he said. “Try them.”
Andie gave herself a little shake to move past the surprise, and then picked up her fork. The cloudcakes were at least a foot wide, each thick enough to be three regular cloudcakes, and there were four of them. There was no way she could eat them all. But they looked and smelled incredible. Raesh reached to hand her the syrup, or so she thought, until he began to pour it for her. She watched his hand roam slowly back and forth above the plate, his face totally at ease, as if nothing about pouring a stranger’s syrup was unusual. Andie couldn’t keep back the smirk that rose to her lips. This guy was bold.
“There. Waiting for you,” he said.
Andie pushed the fork into the cloudcakes and it sank right through. She
cut out a bite and ate. It was beyond words. Perfect.
“That’s fantastic,” she said. “The syrup, too. What is this?”
“I have no idea. The syrup is a secret, too. He comes in an hour earlier than everyone else and bars us from the kitchen until he’s done making the batter. He mixes a giant barrel of the syrup on the weekends. Can you believe he carries all of his spices and the recipes in a briefcase, which he locks in a safe or keeps by his side?”
“That’s some secret, but I have to say it’s worth it. These are the best cloudcakes I’ve ever had. By far. And I’ve eaten a lot of cloudcakes. Perfect meal for a first night.”
“So, you like cloudcakes? Add that to the list. I know your name, I know you’re a first-year sorceress, and I know your eyes are incredible. Not a bad start I’ve made for myself.”
“No one’s going to accuse you of being shy,” Andie said, grinning.
“I could be subtle, but then who’d be here to make you smile?”
Andie just grinned and nodded. She couldn’t help it, he was magnetic.
“But, seriously, I hope you enjoyed your first day. I know the city’s not the kindest place, especially not this city, so I hope it was on its best behavior.”
“Well... no. But I guess it could’ve been worse. At least I finally made it here in one piece.”
“Ah, got lost in University Park, huh? Don’t feel bad, the streets in this part of the city can do some weird things. Trust me, you’ll be weaving your way around like a native in no time. You must be excited to start at the Academy.”
“Yeah. I think. It’s a complicated thing with me.”
“That only makes me want to know more, but I can take a hint. I’ve always wanted that. Magic. I guess it’s just not for some people. My cousin got it though. He’s in his second year.”
