by Pam Uphoff
He walked across the arc of the six desks, handing out worn notebooks, then made a second pass with new ones.
Warric bit his lip and caught the Solon's eye. "Yes? Warric isn't it?"
"Yes, sir. I was instructed to bring nothing, so I have no pens."
The sixth student, a girl, looked around in surprise. "Didn't you sneak anything in?"
"My horse wouldn't fit, and I didn't care about anything else."
"That is how students are supposed to come to us, Katrine." The Solon was smiling indulgently at her, however. "You may use this pen of mine today, and please return it as soon as Solon Hannesse remembers that he was supposed to supply you with a number of items for class work. Now, if you will open the Excepts, you will see that it starts with a report on a scientific breakthrough in genetic engineering in the year two thousand twenty four. The next page is an opinion from the point of view of someone who dislikes the very idea, the third page the same from a proponent. Let us read these three pages. Master Warric, as you are new and unknown to me, please demonstrate your reading ability by standing up and reading aloud."
Warric had already skimmed the first two paragraphs. He gulped and stood, doing his best. Some of the words he had to sound out through ten syllables, but the Solon looked pleased and had him sit down after four paragraphs. Two other boys stumbled through it worse than he had, Radius made a total hash of two paragraphs, and the girl finished with few fumbled pronunciations.
"Now, who can tell me what this article is about?"
Warric bit his lip. "It sounds like they are taking the best whole chromosomes from multiple people, and putting them all together so that a baby grows from it, like a baby ordinarily grows from a fertilized egg."
"Excellent, Warric. The article is about the technique, and their first success, which according to the laws of the day, was not implanted, so no actual baby formed. The equivalent of a fertilized egg was simply studied and found to divide normally up to the time limit of their laws. It was disposed of at that point. Now. The opinions, pro and con . . ."
Katrine was in his science class, with three other girls. "This is the introductory science class," Solon Bethes informed them. "We will start with the history of the Universe, and then return to dissect it geologically, biologically, chemically and physically. In the next few years you will delve into each of those subjects more deeply."
The notes for this class were to be taken from the lectures, and Warric winced to have to start his notes in the back of what ought to have been his Excerpts.
He caught Solon Hannesse before his next class. "I needs pens and note books, ruler and compass and . . . "
"Oh, hell. I knew I forgot something. Get to class—maths next? I'll bring supplies and apologize to your instructors."
So Solon Jenner's introduction to geometry was slightly disturbed, but the frowns were for Hannesse, not Warric.
They broke for lunch, then returned for History, Modern Works and Government.
Warric felt like his head was ready to explode by the time they were excused. Farester laughed when he said as much, and hauled him off to check the chore sections. "Excellent. You're with us. This Katrine girl was in our history and government classes. We don't do anything today, so come on down to the river and relax. Once it's warm we'll swim."
Warric thought about the effluvium of a whole city running into the river and decided he might have to give up swimming altogether.
Today the older boys just flopped into the brittle winter dry grass and bathed in the thin sunshine.
"So, Farester and I are going to run the foreign affairs office when we graduate. What do you dream of doing?"
Warric sighed. "I suppose being a soldier like my father, stepfather, is right out?"
They both laughed. "Little Gods, yes! They won't even let us hold a large knife, let alone an actual sword here."
"I'm best at maths." Warric admitted. "And science today was interesting."
Farester shook his head. "Treasury. You're going to wind up an accountant in the tax office. Maybe by the time you're ninety you'll have worked your way into the Ministry of Finances."
"Huh. And how does a Foreign Affairs Minister start out? Clerk for the Secretary of the Assistant looking over treaties for a Junior Minister?" Warric jumped up and started searching the ground for a sharp pebble.
"Ouch. Probably something like that." Farester admitted.
"I was hoping for 'spy' myself." Jack grinned at him. "I could infiltrate the Arrival's Church. Burn their Cathedral to the ground. Wouldn't that be fun?"
"Probably better to burn their royal palace down." Farester sat up and nodded firmly.
Warric disagreed. "Go for the military, their army headquarters. With all their generals inside, of course." He ripped off an inch thick branch of a scruffy willow and sawed at it, stripped the twigs and leaves.
"Ha! And what is the accountant going to do to bring them down?"
"Oh, I should raid their mint. Or work out how to counterfeit their money." He held his branch like a saber, and slashed through some of the basic forms.
"Do they have paper money? Do you actually have sword training?"
"Umm, not as such. I think my father said their large transactions are all letter of credit from the Exchange. There ought to be a way to work on that. Destroy their economy. And yes, Dad trained me. He was a general."
They both looked impressed. "I can see that you are going to be an asset to the House of Wisdom's Death and Destruction League." Farester and Jack exchanged nods. "I hereby nominate you for membership."
"I second the motion." Jack grinned. "All in favor? It's unanimous."
"You guys have been taking too much government." Warric informed them.
"Just you wait. Next year you'll be talking just like us." Jack chuckled. "They make us do these sorts of things for everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything." They spoke together and nodded.
At dinner the menu for the next week was proposed, amended, discussed and voted upon. The second week a committee to explore spice options was impaneled.
Throughout the year, there were properly couched suggestions made regarding robes, footwear or lack thereof, the need to clean the privies more frequently, suggestions about laundry and postponements during foul weather to avoid the hanging of sheets in the hallways and just about everything else imaginable.
Warric 'graduated' to yellow robes halfway through the year, and requested a double specialization in maths and sciences, which was granted.
Students attended the school for ten years, more or less, working their way through seven colors of robes. The Solons bemoaned the number of students taking multiple years to get out of the white and yellow, when they'd hoped the time would be spent in the advanced studies in the brown and gray robes. At the end, a respectable number of the students graduated with the equivalent of a college degree, and earned the right to wear the black robe of a scholar. Occasionally a student would be sent to the University in Lundun for advanced education, occasionally one would be taken on as a teacher at the House. Sooner or later they all ended up in Government service.
Warric kept in touch with his family, sending letters frequently at first, then more rarely, but still receiving thick packets in return. So he heard of Little Fredarik's undistinguished career in Paree, followed by both the girls' debutante seasons and subsequent courtships, negotiations and marriages. And four years later, Phippe's disastrous three years at the University in Lundun—sent home for getting a Princess Primus pregnant.
The Death and Destruction League, eight strong by Warric's seventh year, were aghast. "Are they going to, you know, snip snip?" Farester had his legs crossed.
"No, Dad negotiated him into the Army for ten years. Blithering idiot." Warric kept reading.
"Oh good." Katrine, now dubbed Cactus, tried to peek at the long letter. "Now I want to know if and how Lord Enderby married off his next daughter."
Jack snicke
red. "I wish my letters from home were half as funny."
Warric's fat mail packet was his usual, with a letter from his father about the local bandits or hunting and occasionally something either thunderingly good or bad Uncle Fredarik had done with or to the estates. Today's had been all about Phippe. The letter from his mother always brought him up to date on all the news about the town and neighbors, especially any really good stories about Lord Enderby and his seemingly endless supply of daughters. Tras always sent a note, letting him know if his parents had been avoiding telling him any personal illnesses or injuries, of which there had been a few. Then Trace would occasionally brag about the sizes of fish or numbers of hares he’d caught. Trilly tended to use him to vent, generally about Warric's cousins, occasionally about her parents' expectations, or lack thereof. He probably heard the least from Marius, usually his ponderings about philosophy or love.
"Oh, looks like Lord Enderby is going to have no trouble marrying off the next daughter. Marius is sending her poems."
Jack snorted. "He's writing to a different girl every time you hear from him."
"Yeah, but Lord Enderby is experienced at grabbing opportunity when it comes his way." Cactus grinned. "How can he dodge it?"
Warric winced. "At his examination. He's almost eighteen. As the son of a Princess Segundus, the priests will evaluate him. Hopefully he'll be normal, and can do whatever he wants."
"I don't know why they don't evaluate them when they're twelve, like us." Jack scrunched up his face. "They could really ruin his plans. We were too young to have plans."
"Yeah, but they check us every other year." Farester shivered. "I hate the way those gods look at us. They really aren't sane."
"Did they really used to be Prince Primuses?" Cactus looked at them, worried.
"Couldn't possibly be. They just like scaring us, get us to toe the line before we get into government. What other reason could there be to make a big fuss over us God Children?" Lennen sniffed. "Like I have a clue who my father is or was, or care."
Warric bit his lip. He knew all too well, and didn't want to discuss it. "The midsummer presentation is in two months. They must already be on the road. Maybe I can get permission to visit them while they're in the City."
They all shifted a bit uneasily.
"How many of us are going for the examination this year?" Farester looked around. "It'll be my third and last go round. Your second, right Warric?"
"Yeah. I really, really hate the idea that we might have magic abilities." Warric shivered. The test last year had been 'inconclusive'. Not negative. They would be tested for three years. Because Primuses and even Segunduses sometimes started showing magical talent in their late teens. All things considered, he'd rather die than be suddenly 'discovered' and turned over to the Priests for training. He'd heard that the magic of Prince Primuses was different from the magic of the Priests. Priests took what the gods could produce. Any Prince Primus who had a magical breakthrough would be elevated to Godhood. Unfortunately, if they discovered Warric, die wouldn't be an option they offered him.
I've been practicing even harder this year. They will not feel me.
"Well, Trace says Phippe got three lashes and sent to boot camp. Wow. Not an officer? A scion of our august family? I think I would have enjoyed watching him get whipped." Warric rubbed his smooth cheek and sighed. Why do I have to be one of the late puberty boys? Marius gets sneered at by the cousins all the time; at least I'm spared that! "And that's all the news from my strange family."
"I don't believe for a minute that you would have enjoyed watching." Alairia was the youngest member, and tended toward hero worship of the three oldest.
Warric just grinned and laid back in the grass to watch the clouds. What was going to happen this year at his exam? He'd been doing the meditations, reaching out, but especially pulling in and locking everything down. He was not going to hear that slobbering God, and the God was not going to hear him. Not.
A different Priest, with a different God, this time. The Priest was middle-aged, the God, again, looked young despite the maddened gleam in his eyes and the greasy hair. No, the wet hair. Warric closed his mental-self up tight, and stared with horrified fascination at the cold mist and condensation around the insane creature. The God eyed him angrily, and licked his lips like he was hungry, but there was nothing . . . special in the way he looked at Warric, as opposed to the Senior Solon or Hannesse. The Priest stared at him as hungrily as the God, and Warric clamped down all thoughts and closed out the World as hard as he could. The Priest scowled and shrugged, tossed a glance at the Initiate trailing him. "Negative. Pity, I had real hopes after last year. I came myself, just in case. We don't usually use the strongest of the gods for breeding, but his mother allowed herself to be raped by the God of Storms. But nothing. What a waste."
He turned away and the Cold God followed him, the Initiate pausing only long enough to collect their three signatures on his form. The Senior escorted them out from well in the rear.
Warric listened to their progress through the building, trying to keep his knees locked. Not quaking like his stomach.
"Well, Warric. Sorry about that, thought we might have been able to advance you to godhood." The Senior walked back in. He sounded regretful, but his expression betrayed his relief.
Warric nodded his understanding. "I regret not being able to serve the Empire in the highest position, but I will simply have to resign myself to the study, and use of science and maths."
Hannesse smiled abruptly. "Is there any reason, sir, to delay Warric's transfer to the University for advanced studies?"
"Not any more thank, err, regretfully. I will send a letter notifying the University of your attendance in the Fall. So, young man, write and tell your family. You can start planning to move in two months."
"Thank you sir. Umm, my family will be in town for the Summer Solstice presentation of the children of Segunduses. My younger brother has just turned eighteen. May I have leave to visit them?"
"You may." Senior Solon Cilant smiled. "In fact, we will time your graduation accordingly."
Warric accepted his diploma from the Senior, bowing and thanking him, and the entire staff for their selfless labors, inspiring him to exceed his fondest dreams. He bowed to the cheering student body, forty-eight at the moment, and spotted a grinning Hurald being shown the door by an appalled green robe. Tras, Trace, and Trill were working hard and managed to look like poor relatives, and his parents beamed, his aunt and uncle tried to look natural with smiles pasted on. Little Fredarik, who was not at all little, was there, and Marius, looking as dreamy-eyed as ever, and drawing all the girls' eyes, with his jet black hair and bright blue eyes. The other two couples he tentatively identified as his cousin Sofiea and husband and his cousin Angeliea also with husband, and a baby expected really, really soon.
Warric stepped aside and stood as Farester, Jack and Cactus received their diplomas, made their speeches, and then the assembly was dismissed.
He got mob hugged. Trill was stifling giggles, and Trace grinned. "Somehow I hadn't pictured you with a shaved head. I mean, I know you said, but . . . "
His father snorted, and switched to a firm handshake. "Congratulations, Scholar. I've written to the company that has been handling the lease on the town house in Lundun. It will be ready for you, whenever you get there. Marius has applied and been accepted as an underclassman. Now save your biggest grin. So, I'm sending Trace and Trill to keep you two out of trouble." His father chuckled. "Now, mind you, they have my permission to kick your tails at need. The University would never admit them, but I expect you two to just happen to accidentally give them access to a great deal of knowledge. Understand?"
Warric nodded, still grinning. "Yes, sir. Undercover spy students! Wicked!"
Trill and Trace both stood taller, looking relieved. Surely they didn't think he would consider them to be servants? And why was Trace glowing? Marius, too. Even his mother had a bit . . .
Warric looked
around and caught Jack's eye, waved them all over. "You've all heard about these guys from my letters, I expect."
His parents shook hands around and withdrew a bit to let the youngsters meet.
Trace was grinning. "You lot look like the Death and Destruction League with all those shaved heads and black robes. How do you tell each other apart?"
Farester grinned. "Well, Warric is easy, with that nose."
"Hey!"
"And Cactus finally got enough figure to show even with these robes."
"Dead meat."
"And of course, I'm the handsome one. So by default, Jack's the other one."
"I'll hold him, you two punch him."
Trill was giggling. "You're even funnier than Warric's letters."
All the shaved heads turned and looked at Warric.
"Hey, you always wanted to hear what trouble they'd gotten into. Fair's fair." Warric sniggered at their expressions. And sighed. "I'm going to miss you lot."
"Eat your heart out. Stuck in childhood, a student forever, while we will be working and earning money."
Jack nodded earnestly. "If we save every dime, we can afford to get out of the barracks in two years."
Cactus hit him with an elbow. "Don't believe them, they've both been carrying on about being in 'the halls of power' and saying things like 'the center of the universe' as if they think by next year at the latest it will all be spinning around them."
"And you're going to be in the finance ministry?" Trill eyed the other girl.
Cactus met her gaze and swallowed. "Hopefully for a long time."
Trill nodded her understanding. Princess Primuses were occasionally married to high officials, and sometimes bred to Gods. Not that Prince Primuses weren't called also, but the experience of pregnancy laid an emotional and physical cost on the princesses that the princes would never experience.
Then Farester's family made it across the room and introductions spread. Lord Menchuro invited them all to their City house and it turned into a not-too formal dinner and fairly quiet party.
