“Yes, exactly that, V.V.,” Quilt confirmed.
“Try geomancer then, good sir,” Victoria helpfully pointed out.
Heinrich nudged her with an elbow.
“I’m only trying to speed things along.”
“Prove your talent too well and the Recruiters will never stop until you’re in their ranks instead of at your rightful place with the family,” her brother warned her.
“I’m not even tested, Brother!”
Quilt frowned over them . . . suspiciously twisting the wheel so the geo-anima crystal was towards a very confused boy, who reached forward to touch it. It lit up. Quilt’s frown deepened only a second before he forced a smile on his face. “You’re a geomancer, Ian. Now another test . . .”
Quilt shifted through his pile for a wooden box, sitting it down in front of Ian. The lid flipped open, revealing a pair of magnets. This was the test of an Ultra—to see if the boy’s geo-anima was heavy enough to cancel out the natural resistance of the anima in the magnets. Heinrich’s own test had been a little puppet with strings only a Bonegrinder could guide, much like what was required for controlling a Construct.
Victoria shook her head even before the boy failed again and again at bringing the magnets together.
Quilt forced another smile at the boy even though Ian’s frustration at failing was obvious. “You’re an Intra geomancer, Ian.” Quilt wrote out a note on a piece of paper. “Congratulations on making the First Tier, take this to the ladies in the Scheduling Room and they’ll find a class for you.”
After the boy was gone, Quilt finally turned to brother and sister. “Care to tell me how you knew that just by looking at him?”
“My sister is very sensitive to anima,” Heinrich explained for Victoria, making sure to add some steel into his voice so Quilt wouldn’t miss the warning, “that’s all.”
Quilt was silent for a time. Ceinwyn Dale is going to hear about this, just as I feared. Victoria needed to learn to be more circumspect with her gift. “Sit down across from me, V.V.”
She did. “That’s a very odd manner of naming, good sir.”
Quilt smiled again, though this time it was not forced. “A requirement of the job I’m afraid. Learning four-hundred new names a year would be too much for me, initials are much easier.”
“Even though you’re a mentimancer?”
Heinrich would have glared at his sister but it would have only made matters worse. “Test her, please,” he said stiffly instead.
Quilt didn’t complain about being ordered around by a fifteen-year-old, but he did raise an eyebrow at Victoria. “My name is Russell Quilt, I’m Head of Testing at the Asylum and this test will be final. It is not a test you fail or a test you pass; it is simply what you are. Do you understand?”
Victoria nodded, swelling with excitement. “I do.”
Quilt gave the thirteen glass balls a slow twirl, letting his fingers touch each. “Care to give me a hint at which I should start with?” he asked.
Victoria went right on into the trap, curious as a kitten. “Spectromancer, I should think.”
Heinrich’s stomach roiled again. Showing off her talent and keeping her insistence that she was in the Second Tier. It was nothing to be ashamed of. The Second Tier had many useful skills, some in the Second Tier were even more deadly than the First, but his parents had both hoped Victoria was wrong.
Quilt spun the artifact until the spectromancer crystal was directly in front of Victoria. She touched it with her forefinger and it immediately burst into a heavy light. Quilt’s smile was again not forced. “Spectromancer it is.”
Not wrong then . . . she’s never wrong.
The Head of Testing stood, went to a light switch and pushed it down until only a dim light barely held back complete darkness. Returning to his confusing table of testing artifacts, Quilt rummaged some more until he found a cube. On two sides it was made of a black metal almost two inches thick. In the middle was solid glass.
Not as playful as a puppet then.
“Put your fingers on one of the plates,” Quilt ordered.
Victoria did so and again immediately the device reacted, five lines of blue light shooting across the glass where her fingertips touched the metal.
Quilt’s smile grew. “Congratulations, Victoria von Welf, you are a Beaconkeeper.”
*
Victoria beamed at him when they stepped outside of the Testing Room. “Told you I knew,” she said.
“Mother will accept Second Tier, I suppose.”
“She’ll have to, she can change what I wear and what I do with my hair, but she can’t change who I am as an Elementalist,” Victoria announced. “I like being a spectromancer. I like sunshine, I like bright colors, and I like seeing auras too.”
“Spectromancers are very respectable,” Heinrich agreed. “I’m very proud of you, Little Sister.”
Victoria surprised him with a hug that almost knocked him into the hallway wall. “I have a wonderful big brother, did you know that?”
“I wouldn’t go so far . . .” he said, putting a hand on top her head to tenderly pat at her blond locks. He remembered doing the same as a child and the gesture returned to him in a surge of affection.
“You are, if only you weren’t so hard on yourself you would see it too.”
“You are the one who can see auras, I suppose.”
“I am,” Victoria whispered, finally releasing him. “Your aura is very strong.”
This pleased Heinrich enough that he allowed himself a smile. He was never good at smiling. He could sneer and smirk well enough, but a smile only seemed to remind those around him how long and overbearing his face could be. When he did smile they were slim, slight things that never found his gray eyes.
“Next we’ll need to take you for colors fitting, then we’ll steal a bit of food from the Cafeteria, and finally I’ll show you your dorm room.”
“Do we really all sleep in one room?”
“Yes, but they manage to make it private enough that whatever you want to keep from being revealed stays hidden.”
“Surely it must be . . . rowdy.”
“It can be,” Heinrich admitted, “but change isn’t always bad. I found the mansion too quiet this summer, to tell you the truth.”
Victoria continued beaming all the way to the uniform office. Heinrich felt content and at ease as well. Victoria was Second Tier, she was an Ultra, and she was very skilled at sensing anima, even his mother couldn’t find fault in that. So she’s not a pyromancer. What good are they really? Valentine Ward was, of course, a pyromancer girl in his class who Heinrich very much respected but . . . she was different somehow. Most of his parent’s pyromancer friends were moody and quick to claim umbrage; Heinrich couldn’t say he enjoyed the company of a single one of them.
Spectromancers are much better. He had three in his class. All of them were very nice people. Quinn of course, Hope’s best friend. The Waldens were associates of the Welfs as well. Quinn’s father was a geomancer and a member of the Guild and her mother was always invited to help host charity events due to her wonderful illusion work. Malaya Mabanaagan and Curt Chambers as well, both nice enough. Mabanaagan was very quiet but kind and Chambers was a swell chap, if a bit too quick to goof off in class.
“Well, look what we have here, Pocket,” the Foul Mouth’s voice dragged Heinrich right out of his thoughts, “Once again we cross paths with an astoundingly impossible sight, but yet before us, so irrefutable: an adorable and friendly Welf.”
Victoria, on cue and just as their etiquette teacher taught so many years ago, curtsied yet again. “Gentlemen.”
I need to stop her from doing that, Heinrich thought.
Price grinned so deeply that his canine teeth showed. “Ain’t she lovely?”
“What are you doing here?” Heinrich growled at the pair of them.
Landry motioned at his chest, showing off that he had changed into floromancer green with brown trim. “Had a growth spurt over break, ne
eded re-measured, dude.”
“Right . . .” Heinrich hissed a warning. From the Foul Mouth he expected this kind of stalking, but Landry was usually above such things. “I’ll just bet you did . . .”
The Foul Mouth reached out and took Victoria’s hand, kissing it like he was a gentleman of yesteryear but botching the gesture by leaving a wet bit of saliva behind. “Sadly, my dear, you were rudely whisked away before we could properly be introduced.”
“My brother already told me all about you, King Henry Price,” Victoria said, still beaming at him as the Foul Mouth continued to delicately hold her hand, even lightly massaging her fingertips.
“Many horrible things, I’m sure.”
“He says you’re going to try to seduce me.”
“I’d need a full name to seduce you.”
It was Heinrich’s nightmare made reality and there was nothing he could do to stop it without slugging the Foul Mouth or clubbing his own sister over the head.
“Victoria von Welf.”
Price finally dropped her hand, making the gesture seem reluctant. “A very formal name, wouldn’t you say, Pocket?”
“Least she don’t got no title in her name, dude.”
“There’s that, but still: formal. So I think you shall be ‘Vicky’ from now on,” the Foul Mouth dubbed, even making a motion like he was anointing her with water . . . or since it was the King Henry Price doing the anointing, rum. “Are you now seduced, Vicky?”
Victoria glanced over her shoulder at her brother, rolling her eyes as if to say ‘this is who you were worried about? Have you seen the hunk of man standing next to him?’ “Let’s say I’m charmed, King Henry, you’re a very interesting boy.”
“We should let Vicky and Welf get their uniforms, King Henry,” Landry finally attempted to gain some control over his rebellious, insufferable . . . dastardly friend.
“You worry over nothing, Brother,” Victoria whispered when the two were out of earshot.
I wish I was. But I know him . . . he’s found my weakness and he’s going to pay me back for all the snide comments I made last year, just because I couldn’t let the opportunities slip on by me. And all the callous little things I did because I couldn’t help myself, because they seemed like such easy ways to get back at him for how he embarrassed me with that punch and the Camping Test and . . .
What have I done?
*
The soft hum of the alarm invading Heinrich’s dreams made his first thought of the brand new school year be: I hate you, you useless piece of junk. I missed everything else about the Asylum, but I missed you not a mote! If a Construct had already been at Heinrich’s command he would have happily ordered it to do some very aggressive repair work.
The hum continued.
He could almost hear his mother’s admonishment: Constructs are coiled death, not servants to do whatever pleases your next impulse. Sit up straighter. Elbows at your sides, not your knees.
Heinrich scowled into his pillow as the hum grew in volume yet again.
“I forgot how much I fucking hate that thing,” the Foul Mouth yelled from down the row of beds.
How Valentine manages to stay sane and sleep so close to that nonstop blabbering I’ll never know. She even encouraged it sometimes.
Heinrich’s scowl grew into a snarl.
King Henry Price.
The Foul Mouth.
Everywhere Heinrich turned the little . . . ruffian . . . was standing there. Waiting. Smirking and snarling and just waiting for his prey to come in closer. Heinrich didn’t need more than one guess as to who the Foul Mouth hunted: Victoria von Welf.
Responsibility for his sister woke Heinrich the rest of the way from what the alarm had started. He needed to shower and make ready for the day. He needed to keep a watchful eye on Price so Victoria wasn’t . . . accosted. If he does anything to her . . . I’ll . . . I’ll . . .
With his stomach already heaving, Heinrich von Welf launched himself out of bed to begin his first day as a Bi at the Institution of Elements, Learning Academy and Nature Camp.
Next to his bed, Hope was already awake, her privacy curtain thrown open. She smiled his way. It made his stomach worse if anything. She was very beautiful, Hope. Their families were in business together and both their fathers had been friends at the Asylum, so he’d known Hope since they had been learning how to walk.
As children he was always mystified by her, even found her vexing. This thin, scrawny platinum-haired Hunting princess who ordered him around like he was her servant. He would look to his father for help and Frederick von Welf would only wink his way, enigmatically saying, “Instead of fighting with her, you might want to try being good at pleasing her, it could help you out of a pickle one day.”
Past puberty, Heinrich understood now. The scrawny princess had gained grace and elegance and though she didn’t have curves so to speak, there was a power to Hope. She was as hard and cold and as fierce as a glacier. Heinrich found himself attracted to her. Not as attracted as he was to Valentine, but . . . Hope had been part of his world for much longer and knew so much more about it. He had yet to work up the courage to ask her to become his girlfriend, but he supposed the Winter Ball was coming and . . .
That’s four months off, focus on getting dressed and deal with the Foul Mouth. If he deflowers Victoria then you won’t need to bother with balls, because your mother will rip yours off.
Heinrich checked down the aisle of beds. Price was busy telling one of his incessant dirty jokes, making Landry and Valentine laugh themselves silly. The red-haired Daniels girl stood nearby rolling her eyes and shaking her head in disapproval. Heinrich liked Miranda well enough—even if she was an upstart Daniels—she was very sharp and studious and shared his dislike of Price. Hope however . . .
A Hunting and a Daniels, was all Heinrich needed to think about the matter to explain its depths.
Heinrich’s best friend, Jason Jackson, rose from the next bed over. He was a huge African-American boy with fists and feet that he still needed to grow into and he was very loyal, which Heinrich liked about him. Jason was really the only friend he’d ever had outside of Victoria and children of his parents’ acquaintances. Surely Jason was the first friend he’d made on his own.
Heinrich’s mother would never understand it. A First Generation mancer, a black boy from a broken family, a fourteen-year-old who could barely read . . . befriended by her son? They had been grouped up either by design or happenstance in all of their classes and seeing Jason struggling to understand the assignments, Heinrich had helped him through them. When he realized Jason could barely read and couldn’t write more than a few words, Heinrich also took it upon himself to tutor him.
Heinrich had wondered if it wasn’t some form of Rich Man’s Guilt manifesting itself now that he was outside of his parent’s influence. Jason had told him to ‘quit over-thinking things and just admit you might be a good guy who looks out for people’. They also both liked sports, though their ideas of sport had been very different at first.
Jason was good at absolutely everything he tried, but had almost laughed himself into unconsciousness when Heinrich showed him a fencing uniform, complete with mask, glove, and plastron. Instead Jason had decided to return Heinrich’s favor by teaching him basketball, a sport that Heinrich found himself oddly excelling at thanks to his height and long limbs.
Jason let out a grunt to acknowledge the unasked question about being awake.
“Don’t fall back asleep,” Heinrich reminded him.
Jason grunted again.
“Get on your feet or you’ll get back in bed.”
Jason staggered to his feet. “Thanks, momma,” he teased back in his deep voice.
Heinrich threw a pillow at him as he headed past towards the showers.
“Gonna pour me cereal when I’m in the shower too?” Jason teased some more, but Heinrich’s mind was already elsewhere.
He went about cleaning himself as quickly as was hygienically sound. As i
f to highlight Heinrich’s fears, the Foul Mouth picked a stall next to his and promptly began singing ‘Victoria’. Heinrich hadn’t known what song to expect and hadn’t even been aware there was a song called ‘Victoria’ but he had expected some bit of mockery would be coming.
She’ll be fine. She’s innocent, but not forward in the required way. Only Welf had watched one Intra girl after another cozy up to Price all last year. Not a single girl in Ultra Class ‘09, of course not, they had to put up with him too much, but the others who didn’t know him, who thought his tough act was exciting . . . She’ll be fine, Heinrich told himself, she’ll be busy with her first day. I’ll talk to her student-advisor, I’ll ask Jason and Hope to help, I’ll . . .
Heinrich turned off the shower and stormed out before the Foul Mouth could get to the third verse.
*
Normal subjects that any other student in the United States shared took up the entirety of the Asylum’s morning hours.
Mathematics and Science were Heinrich’s favorite classes.
Really they were all his favorite classes since he loved learning for learning’s sake . . . but Mathematics and Science had answers that were indisputable and Heinrich favored the indisputable. Especially compared to some teacher’s whims about how an essay should be scored. It wasn’t that he couldn’t think artistically or metaphorically, it was just hard for him.
He was a necromancer and nothing was more certain than death.
Science, of course, could be refined with new understanding, but the fault with it was laid at the feet of humanity’s limited eyes, not with the natural world itself. Mathematics . . . numbers were eternal and Heinrich very much enjoyed working through them. It was a respite from the chaotic and fluid human condition.
Welfs were not good at keeping up with the human condition. Heinrich supposed it came from their comfort and clarity in life. Only the family’s forced relocation from Bavaria to Connecticut after World War I marred centuries of stability. Within a generation the Welfs had already transformed themselves into the heartiest of Americans and took for themselves the same place of dominance at the new Institution of Elements. The second dean at the Asylum had been a Welf.
King Henry Short Pack One (The King Henry Tapes) Page 8
