by V. St. Clair
A mousy-looking boy on the opposite side of the rectangle from Hayden volunteered, joining Master Reede in the center.
“Alright then, draw us a circle on the floor…no, larger than that. Make it about three feet in diameter.”
The reason for the smooth black stone became evident when Hayden saw how well it held the chalk drawing. It was even better than a giant blackboard.
“Okay, now it’s my turn.” Master Reede crouched down and drew a perfect circle beside it like it was the easiest thing he’d ever done. Hayden wasn’t the only person who looked awed by the ability.
“As you can see, my circle is a bit neater than Ian’s. In fact, mine is a perfect circle—one of the signs of a natural conjurer,” he explained easily. “The more exact your circle is, the better the result, as you’ll soon discover.” He placed his hand, palm-down, in the middle of the circle and then lifted it off the ground.
Hayden was surprised to see a sugar cube appear in the center of the circle where his hand used to be, though the chalk outline of the circle promptly disappeared afterwards.
“Excellent, I’m starving.” Master Reede picked up the cube and tossed it into his mouth. “Now for the other one.” He copied the gesture with the other circle and another sugar cube appeared in front of them, though this one looked half-eaten and crumbled as soon as he went to pick it up.
“And there you have it,” he smiled. “Now, pass this bucket of chalk around and everyone take a piece. We’ll be practicing the art of drawing circles today.” He watched the chalk bucket’s progress around the rectangle.
“Before you all can ask me…no, there’s no particular color that’s better than the others. They’ll all work exactly the same,” he smirked just as Hayden selected a bright yellow piece and passed the bucket on to his neighbor.
They all moved up to the edge of the stone rectangle.
“Make a small circle for now so we don’t run out of room, about the size of your hand,” Master Reede continued. “Try to draw it as evenly as possible: same line thickness, and of course, all arcs should have the same radius if possible.”
Master Reede had made it look easy, but Hayden and most of his classmates struggled in vain to replicate his results. The Master didn’t seem discouraged or surprised as he walked around inspecting their attempts, telling them to erase and try again every time they ran out of room. Hayden never thought that such an easy thing could be so difficult, and went through three pieces of chalk before he managed to produce a circle that Master Reede deemed ‘not tragic’.
Only three of them were able to produce perfect circles, and as the Master suggested, they were all Conjury majors. The rest of them had varying degrees of success until their instructor told them to stop.
“It goes without saying that your homework for the night will be to practice drawing circles, though we’ll move on for now.” He drew another flawless circle in the middle of the floor that earned a few grumbles from Hayden’s classmates. “Last night you read about crosshatching.” He drew a straight line through the bottom arc of the circle, extending about two inches past it on either side.
“Crosshatching is the bread-and-butter of conjury,” he explained, dusting his hands off on his bright red robes. “The more crosshatching you do and the more complex it is, the more powerful your conjuring will be. This single line through the bottom of the circle is the most basic form.”
“Sir,” the girl on Hayden’s left raised her hand. “How do you know it’s the bottom of the circle? From where I’m sitting it looks like the top.”
A few people snickered at her but Master Reede only smiled.
“A fine observation, and not at all amusing.” He shot a glance at those who had laughed. “In fact, this line could be oriented on any part of the circle, depending on how you’re looking at it.” He walked slowly around it to illustrate the point. “The reason I called this side the bottom is because I believe that it is.”
He fell silent, watching to see how they processed the information.
“What do you mean?” someone asked at last.
“I mean that, in my mind, I have convinced myself that this end is the top and the other is the bottom. Since I drew the circle, it is as I conceive of it. Any guesses why this matters?”
He looked around at them all once more, though for some reason he said, “Hayden?” despite the fact that Hayden had been determinedly not looking at him in the hopes of not being called on.
He glanced up and tried to think through everything he’d ever been told about magic, most of which had come from Master Asher only yesterday.
“Um…well it’s your circle…and you’re the one who’s—” he thought back to Master Asher’s wording, “—exerting your will on the world, so the circle…kind of…follows your will, right?”
He was absolutely certain he’d guessed wrong, and winced in preparation for the contradiction.
“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Master Reede said cheerfully, and Hayden’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Well, I might have said it without all the dramatic pauses and uncertainty, but otherwise it was a fine answer,” he amended.
“Yes, the conjury diagrams we draw assume the orientation that we mentally assign to them, because as Hayden said, it becomes the instrument for channeling our power. Now, continuing on, this basic crosshatch signifies—”
Hayden was barely able to keep from smiling as he took notes, because for the second time he had answered a question correctly and this was only his first day.
I should thank Master Asher for explaining so much to me yesterday morning.
After Conjury was Introduction to Healing, Hayden’s only class from the minor arcana this year by requirement. It was taught by a soft-spoken woman named Mistress Razelle, and they spent most of the lesson taking notes on different roots and plants and the role they played in healing.
By lunch time Hayden thought his brain was going to explode from all the new information he was trying to absorb. He hurried back to his room to switch out his books for the afternoon classes, prodded Bonk until the lazy dragon woke up and hopped onto his shoulder, and then hurried back to the dining hall for lunch.
He was a little surprised to see that Master Sark, the Powders instructor, was sitting on the bench between Zane and Mira, even though the former told him that the Masters sat at a different table for each meal to interact with the students.
Hayden went to join them, taking the only vacant seat directly across from Sark and trying not to do or say anything stupid.
The Powders Master gave him a cursory examination.
“I see you’ve won yourself a dragon,” he said in greeting, and Bonk took flight across the table as though called on. Hayden watched in horror as the dragon alit on top of Master Sark’s shiny, bald head.
“No, Bonk—come back over here right now,” he demanded as sternly as possible, but the dragon just stared at him like he was stupid and didn’t budge.
Mira was trying so hard not to laugh that she stuffed her fist in her mouth to muffle the noise. Hayden could hear chuckles from the nearby tables, and Master Asher looked like he was about to wet himself with glee from the other side of the room.
“Frost, please learn to control your familiar,” Master Sark said, dryly.
“Sorry, sir, I’m trying.” He glared at Bonk. “Come here, right now, or I’m taking you back to the room for the rest of the day.”
Mercifully, the dragon heeded his threat and flew back to Hayden’s side of the table, standing at the edge of it and dunking his head into Hayden’s glass of milk to drink.
Why did I have to get the weirdest dragon ever?
Glancing at Oliver didn’t help matters, because the older boy had Slasher trained perfectly. The sleek black dragon was perched on his shoulder, and Oliver’s friends were taking turns tossing it bits of meat. They saw him watching and laughed unpleasantly until Hayden looked away.
“How’s your day going?” Zane got his attent
ion, and Hayden was thankful for the change in subject.
“Not bad, so far. There’s so much to learn though, I’m not sure how I’m going to keep up with it all.”
Zane shrugged. “No one expects you to be good at everything. You’ll drop the classes you’re bad at next year and pick up new ones in their place. What have you got this afternoon?”
Hayden consulted his schedule.
“After this it’s Powders…” he glanced nervously at Master Sark, who said nothing in response. “Then Elixirs, and finally Prisms.”
Zane grinned.
“Well cheer up, you’re bound to be ace in Prisms at least,” he said with confidence.
“Have you shown any aptitude with powders or elixirs yet?” Master Sark asked with keen interest, pushing back the sleeves of his bright red robes in the warmth of the dining hall.
“Not yet, but I haven’t tried anything with them yet either,” Hayden admitted, rolling up his long sleeves without thinking, subconsciously mirroring Master Sark.
“Holy halibut!” Mira exclaimed loudly, catching sight of his Focus-correctors, which immediately drew the attention of everyone nearby.
Hayden mentally cursed himself as even Master Sark’s eyes went wide with shock. He had deliberately worn long sleeves since he’d gotten his correctors to avoid this very situation. He had no desire for everyone in the school to know what a freak he was, and he blew it on the first day.
“Good gracious, Frost, are those truly your Focus-correctors?” Sark asked in absolute disbelief. Zane was less tactful.
“Do you even have a Focus?! I’ll be surprised if you can tie your shoes with that much adjustment on your channels.”
There were people at other tables standing up to get a better look at him, and Hayden blushed furiously as he pulled his sleeves back down over the correctors.
“Master Asher said he thinks my Foci might have been damaged by magic,” he admitted.
“Destroyed is more like it,” Sark mumbled. “I’ve never seen magical damage that severe, though I suppose Asher would know better than anyone.”
“Why is that?” Hayden asked curiously, eager to shift to attention onto someone else.
“Because his left Focus was damaged years ago; that’s why he wears a corrector now,” Master Sark replied, and now it was Hayden’s turn to look surprised. “Are you sure you’re able to channel magic with that much correction on both hands?”
“I was still able to use a prism after I put them on.” Even his ears were burning in embarrassment now, and he could hear the other tables whispering about him like a buzzing of bees.
“Hmm, most interesting,” Master Sark left it at that, and thankfully Mira changed the subject by asking a question about her Powders homework.
Hayden managed to survive the lunch hour and followed Master Sark to his next class on the ground floor, through the pentagonal foyer and into a room off the main path to the rear entrance where he had Conjury. The desks here were much larger than he expected, like worktables, and there were glass mortars and pestles on each one, along with a small cauldron that couldn’t hold more than a few cups of water.
Master Sark started class like most of the others, discussing more of the basic principles of magic and how they applied to powders. Apparently there was an entire art form to crushing, grinding, and mixing different compounds together, though Hayden didn’t understand a bit of it. Every time he tried to grind something, Sark pronounced it too fine or too coarse. They all looked the same to Hayden, and even worse, the powders made him sneeze violently every time he caught a whiff of dust.
After half an hour he was unfortunate enough to accidentally breathe a cloud of rose-colored dust that he’d just created with his vigorous attempts at grinding. Rather than sneeze, this dust made him vomit into his cauldron, which he’d just mixed a blue and white powder together in.
Apparently the mixture reacted violently with vomit, because the entire workstation was soon on fire, and Hayden threw himself to the floor and scrambled away from the flames while the room filled with smoke and the shouts of his classmates. Bonk stood patiently beside him, and Hayden only just remembered that he told the dragon it could come to class as long as it stayed quiet and behaved.
Master Sark opened a pouch on his belt and threw a pinch of powder into the flames, waving his hand back and forth in a wafting gesture. The fire collapsed in on itself and the smoke began to dissipate, until the room was clear and safe once again.
Everyone turned to stare at Hayden on the floor, including Sark.
“You, out of my classroom. I don’t want to see you back in here until you’ve got a dust-mask on, and I want a one-page report on why it’s a bad idea to vomit on a mixture of blue-1 and white-3.”
Hayden got to his feet, willing himself not to cry in embarrassment and frustration. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t breathe all these stupid dusts without retching.
“Y-yes sir,” he stammered, hurrying to collect his things and leave the room, while Master Sark resumed teaching as though there had been no interruption.
Since he didn’t know what else to do, he made his way to the front courtyard and decided to start on his homework. He had just sat down in the shade of a white pear-blossom tree when he heard a familiar voice.
“Hi again.” It was that girl from yesterday—Tess.
“Oh, hey there.” He stared at the cover of his Powders book, wondering if there was a chapter called Why It’s a Bad Idea to Vomit on Powders.
“Bad day?” Tess solicited, taking a seat on the grass beside him.
“It was going well until lunch, actually. Everyone got a good look at my massive Focus-correctors, and then I set the room on fire in Sark’s class and got kicked out.”
Tess put a hand to her mouth in surprise.
“Oh my, how did you set the Powder’s room on fire?”
He groaned in embarrassment.
“Those stupid dusts keep making me sneeze, except for rose number-whatever, which made me throw up into my cauldron full of blue-1 and white-3. I’m supposed to be figuring out why that caused my workstation to go up in flames.”
Tess let out a quiet giggle even as she tried to look sympathetic.
“Oh, well white-3 reacts violently with water. It’s a strong oxidizer and has a low auto-ignition temperature, so your puke must have set it off quite nicely,” she explained.
“Wait, seriously? You know this?” He looked at her in amazement.
“Sure, like I said, I’m a double-major,” she admitted, blushing. “Anyway, look in chapter one for the section on white-3 and it’ll explain properly.”
Hayden couldn’t help but feel better now that he had some idea of how to complete his assignment.
“Thanks, I appreciate it. I don’t know how anyone can major in Powders; I was absolutely terrible at it today. Everything I ground was wrong, everything I mixed was ‘heavy-handed’ and then I set the place on fire,” he groaned.
“Well, everyone’s bad at something,” she shrugged. “I can’t understand a prism to save my life,” she admitted. “I saw you with your dragon yesterday…can I pat him?” She gestured towards Bonk, who was stretched out on his back in the grass, basking in the sunlight.
“Sure, go ahead.” He was beginning to wonder if every girl in this entire place was going to ask to pet his dragon. “His name is Bonk.”
Tess giggled.
“That’s a cute name.” She touched his stomach lightly. “Ooh, he’s so warm.”
“Yeah,” Hayden agreed lamely.
“You’re lucky you got such a neat pet,” she blushed. “I’ve just got Slimy.”
“Slimy?” Hayden raised an eyebrow at her.
“Yeah, he’s a giant snail. I have to keep him in my room where he’s got a nice tank with water in it…he’s great for Elixirs though. Snail slime is really valuable for healing tinctures, but he’s kind of useless otherwise.”
Once again Hayden felt a stab of sympathy for her.
“Don’t feel bad…Bonk’s kind of a defective dragon,” he admitted.
“But he’s a dragon,” Tess insisted. “You got a familiar that’s useful for powders and elixirs, and can fight if he needs to,” she sighed, stroking Bonk affectionately. “All Slimy does is eat grass and make slime.”
Hayden smiled.
“Bonk choked on a soap cake this morning. I thought he was going to die.”
Tess burst into laughter at that, covering her mouth like she was surprised by it. Hayden couldn’t help but join in, because it was absolutely ridiculous that a magical dragon could choke on a soap cake.
After a minute Tess checked her chrono.
“Well, I better go get ready for Scriptures. I’ll see you later.” She leaned down to pet Bonk one last time, then gave Hayden a shy smile and walked off.
Feeling better than he had when he first came outside, Hayden opened his textbook and began skimming chapter one for the section on white-3.
Elixirs was (mercifully) better than Powders, but he still wasn’t great at it. Unfortunately this class also had Lorn Trout—Oliver’s younger brother—in it, and the apple didn’t fall far from the tree in terms of personality.
Hayden was unlucky enough to get a seat directly beside him, and Lorn spent most of the time whispering to his friends about what a freak-show he was, or “accidentally” knocking over his ingredient phials. If Master Kilgore hadn’t been in the room, Hayden might have punched the jerk in the face.
Instead he endured the taunts until the end of class and hurried off to Prisms, the class he’d been looking forward to all day long.
Prisms was taught in a special room, in a back corner of the castle that had a glass wall facing the outside, not terribly far from the Powders classroom. It felt strange sitting at a desk with sunlight streaming in behind him, reaching every corner of the room.
There were much fewer people in this class than the others, only about twenty students, including him. This was his only level-two class this year, so he had no idea if this was a normal class size or not.
