“It doesn’t seem terribly fair, does it?”
Besis raised an eyebrow. “A ward of Baron Dusan worried about fairness? From what I’ve heard of the man, that’s not a quality he cultivates.”
Jez shrugged. “I don’t really know him that well. I just lived in his house, but he’s always been nice to me.”
“Yes, I imagine so. Come, it’s almost time for your philosophy class.”
“You came up here to walk me to class?”
Besis rose and walked to the door. “I came up here to tell you that not everyone is as far below you as Lina. I assumed you were used to outranking everyone around you. I didn’t realize the opposite was true.”
“I’ll be careful,” Jez said and followed the master down the tower stairs.
Like the town, most people at the Academy seemed to have forgotten about Jez’s involvement with the phobos. Those that did remember downplayed what he’d done. No one wanted to believe an untrained boy could do what one who’d studied for years could not. He’d even heard one rumor saying that Master Besis had actually done the binding. That suited him just fine. He’d seen enough of the students to know that he wanted little to do with them. Still, a few gave him sidelong glances as he walked through the courtyard.
Philosophy was under the dominion of secrets, and Besis led him to a two-story building that might’ve been an inn in any other place. Like every other building, it was made of black stone. The interior had runes and symbols carved on the wall. Besis pointed to a stairway before leaving to see to his own business. Jez made his way to a room on the second floor. It had a single window. A group of students sat in a circle of chairs. They ranged in age from twelve to sixteen. Most wore brown robes, but a few had the colored robes of adepts. A man of about twenty nodded at him as he came in. He wore deep purple robes with a gold sash marking him as an adjutant. His buttons proclaimed him as one of the upper tier.
“Jezreel Bartinson?” Jez nodded. “Good. That would be everyone then. Have a seat.” He looked around the room. “I am Adjutant Lajen. I will be instructing you in your introduction to philosophy. The first thing you need to understand is that you will not find absolute truth here. For the enlightened, absolutes do not exist. Abandon any ideas of good and evil. Those are constructs used by the ignorant masses. Everything is a shade of gray.”
He’d only spoken for a few minutes before Jez’s mind started to wander. Lajen’s voice stayed completely monotone, never wavering. He sounded like he was reciting a speech he’d given several times. Jez wasn’t the only one having trouble paying attention. A few people’s heads bobbed as they struggled to stay awake. Lajen seemed not to notice, however. He was too preoccupied with the sound of his own voice. He droned on for what felt like an entire day but was really only an hour judging by the sun. He was in the middle of talking about the difference between good and right, apparently heedless of his previous assertion that good didn’t exist, when someone knocked on the door. Lajen looked up with an annoyed look.
“Yes?”
The door swung inward and a purple robed master stood in the doorway, though Jez couldn’t remember her name. Lajen inclined his head and smiled.
“Master Rael.”
“You’ve kept them a quarter hour late, Lajen.”
“Oh did I?”
“I’ve warned you about that.” The master looked at the students. “You may go.”
CHAPTER 11
Jez almost ran out of the building. He was already going to be late for his next class because of Lajen’s babbling. He barreled into a giant of a person, and the two tumbled to the ground. The larger person got to his feet first and he helped Jez up. For a moment, Jez could only stare. He had to be at least seven feet tall. A large nose dominated his face, and his left eye looked bigger than his right. His sandy hair was cut short. He wore the same brown robes as Jez, though he lacked the silver buttons of the upper tier.
“Sorry about that.” He spoke slowly, and some of the students nearby snickered.
“It was my fault,” Jez said. “Sorry, I have to go. I’m late for art.” He paused. “Where exactly do they teach art?”
The other student laughed. “Art is in the dominion of shadows. Are you going to the introduction class?” Jez nodded and the other boy extended his hand. “I’m going there myself. I’m Osmund.”
The name rang a bell in Jez’s mind. He searched his memory until he found it. “You fought in Randak a few weeks ago. I see your hair grew back.”
Osmund actually blushed. “I lost.”
“But you didn’t have to,” Jez said. “I mean you hesitated right at the end.”
“Look, I’m late for class.”
“Sorry, so am I.” He shook Osmund’s hand. “Jez.”
Osmund started walking, and Jez practically had to jog to keep up with his long strides.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Osmund said. He missed a step, and for a moment, Jez envisioned the massive form falling on him, but Osmund regained his balance a second later. “Jez? Of Randak? Jezreel? The one who bound the phobos?”
Jez groaned. So much for people forgetting that story. “You heard about that?”
“First that and then being late to Barna’s class? You sure like to make an impression.”
“Philosophy went long.”
Osmund grinned. “Let me guess, Lajen?”
“You’ve taken the class then?”
“Taken it and gotten kicked out. On the first day, in fact.”
“Kicked out? Why?”
“I disagreed when he said good and evil don’t exist.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, I disagreed rather vocally. In fact we spend half the class in a shouting match.”
Jez tried to imagine that stuffy adjutant shouting at Osmund and laughed at the thought. Some of the students near them glanced at him, but they turned away once they saw he was with Osmund.
“So I take it that’s not a view you agree with?”
“Oh don’t get me wrong. In morality, there are shades of gray, but don’t fall into the trap of believing there are only shades of gray. There is absolute good in this world, and there is absolute evil.”
Unlike the philosophy adjutant, Osmund spoke with fire and conviction. He wasn’t just reciting something. It sounded personal as if Osmund had experienced both.
“So which is fighting in the arena? Good or evil?”
Osmund shrugged. “That’s one of those shades of gray. I need money to pay for my tuition. I make sure no one gets hurt.”
“Is that why you hesitated?”
“Here’s the shadows district,” Osmund said as he pushed open the door to a building the size of a large house. Jez waited for him to answer the question, but he just rushed in and took a seat.
The house was a single room. About twenty students were seated in front of canvases with paintbrushes in their hands. A woman with gray hair down her shoulder and spectacles that sat on a long nose sniffed at them as they came in.
“Good of you to join us, Mister Jecklson. I take it you are Jezreel Bartinson?”
Jez nodded. “Sorry, my last class...”
“It was Lajen,” Osmund broke in.
The teacher frowned. “You’d think a philosopher would have a better understanding of time. Or is that another of his absolutes that don’t exist?”
A round of laughter told Jez that many people shared Osmund’s low opinion of the philosophy teacher. At first, he wondered why someone like that would be allowed to teach a class, but then he remembered what Master Besis had said about how the chancellor wouldn’t allow Jez to be kicked out. Lajen likely belonged to a rich and powerful family. Jez was beginning to realize the Academy was not the bastion of learning he’d imagined it to be.
CHAPTER 12
Jez sat next to Osmund as Barna began explaining the techniques a beginning painter would use. Before each student, there were a handful of paintbrushes of different sizes and a palette holding ten colors. A w
ooden cup filled with water also stood nearby to clean his brushes. He could see paint stains inside indicating it had been used for this purpose for a long time. Barna pointed to a bowl of fruit in the center of the room and instructed them to paint it.
Don’t worry if it doesn’t look too real,” she said. “At this stage, I just want to assess each of your skills.”
Without thinking, Jez picked up the thickest brush and dipped it in white paint and slathered it across the canvas.
That’s an interesting choice,” Osmund said. “You want a white background?”
Jez shrugged and dipped the brush in the white again and started evening out the paint on the canvas.
Did you really bind the phobos or was it Master Besis?” Osmund asked.
Why did you hold back in your battle?”
Osmund’s eyes flickered at Jez before he returned his attention to his painting. The larger boy seemed to be painting the apple though Jez only guessed that because of the color. The red blob was at least four times the size of the actual fruit, and Osmund had slathered on the paint so thick that it was running down the canvas and dripping onto the floor. Absently, Jez switched brushes and dipped it in black.
I don’t fight anymore,” Osmund said.
Why not? You’re good at it.”
If I tell you, will you tell me about binding the phobos?”
You can ask anyone about that. A lot of people saw it.”
A lot of people were running away from it. I want to hear what you have to say.”
Jez switched to purple. He considered for a second before nodding. “All right, but not here.”
Some of the students were already throwing glances their way while try to pretend they weren’t listening. Osmund looked around, apparently seeing the others for the first time and nodded. He went back to his painting and seemed to be trying to add an orange next to his apple, but he wasn’t having any success.
They don’t want me to fight anymore,” he said after a minute of silence. “That’s the third time I’ve almost won but stopped at the last minute. The gamblers thought I was throwing the fights.”
But you weren’t.”
Osmund shook his head. “Battle magic does something to me. It makes me want to hurt some people.”
There was pain in his voice, and he reached up to wipe a tear from his eye. He hadn’t realized there was paint on his fingers, so he left a blue streak on his face. Jez put a large glob of purple near the center of his palate and added a little red and white to it. He didn’t have anything to stir the mixture with so he used the back of the largest brush. He wouldn’t be using that one anymore anyway.
That girl you were fighting at Randak...”
I would’ve killed her. I wanted to. She’s a skilled fighter, but outside of the arena, she uses threats to get what she wants. She’s little more than a bully.”
For a second, it looked like Osmund’s eyes glowed, but he blinked. When he opened them again, they were back to steel gray.
Did she hurt someone you care about?”
No, I’d never seen her before that day in the arena.”
Then how did you know?” Jez went back to white.
That’s just it,” Osmund said. “There’s no way I could know, but I’m sure. I wanted to kill her based on a feeling.”
The white needed just a touch of yellow.
So you stopped and let her beat you.”
I just stopped,” he said. “The beating, she managed on her own. Anyway, like I said, that was the third time. The arena masters don’t want to see me anymore. I’m not sure how I’ll pay for my next term.”
Red now. Then orange and yellow. Green and blue. Then a mixture of blue, black, and purple. Then purple by itself.
Mister Bartinson, what are you doing?”
Jez blinked. Barna was standing over him, staring at his canvas. He looked at it and gasped. Instead of the fruit, he’d painted something else. He didn’t even know what to call it. A pillar of cloud dominated the center of the picture, deep purple at the edges and lightening toward the center. They blended together, giving it shadow and texture. It looked so real, almost seeming to pop out of the canvas.
Inside the cloud, he could make out spheres and dots of light. The cloud was set along a black background filled with stars. One star, closer than the others, was emerging from the cloud. He realized he was looking at a star being born. In fact, many of the stars had wisps of cloud, barely visible, that trailed back to the central mass. Toward the top, the cloud gave way to the torso, neck, and head of a human. The face was outlined in yellow, but it was so faint no details of the being could be determined. At the edges of the canvas stood seven figures, each only a few inches tall and clothed in a robe of a different color, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Their faces were the only spots on the entire canvas that had no color. Jez looked down and saw that he’d been mixing yellow, white, and orange to create the skin tone of a light skinned person. He knew that, given time, he would’ve mixed other colors that together would represent a wide swath of humanity. Even knowing that, he had no idea what he’d painted.
I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know.”
Barna barely noticed his response. “This detail is amazing. It’s more intricate than I would’ve thought someone capable of with these brushes. The stars. How did you do them?” She picked up the smallest brush, which was still perfectly clean. “They’re too fine for this, even if you had used it.”
Jez stared at her. He searched his memory but came up empty.
He painted around them,” Osmund said. “I thought it was odd that he’d picked a white background. He painted most of the canvas white and then went over it with other colors, leaving small dots everywhere. I thought he was just creating a strange background.”
They both looked as Osmund, but the other boy was staring at the painting. Barna shrugged.
Yes, I suppose that makes sense.” She waved her hand over the center of the cloud. “This color. How did you make it?” What were the proportions?”
I really don’t know,” Jez said. “The whole thing was instinct.”
There were murmurs from the class and Barna looked around. She blinked, realizing they had become the center of attention.
Well, as impressive as it may be, it wasn’t the assignment.” She glanced at Osmund’s painting, which was little more than a couple of blobs of color of indeterminate shape. “And what exactly is this?”
Osmund cleared his throat. “It’s the bowl of fruit.”
Barna started and looked closer. “Oh yes. I see it now. There’s the apple. Well, we’ll need to work on that. I’ll be speaking to the master about you, Mister Bartinson. I don’t think you belong in a beginner class. That’s enough everyone. Wash up, and you can go.”
She went back to the center of the room and started writing on a sheet of paper. The rest of the students started washing off their brushes. For a moment, Jez just stared at his painting.
I don’t even know what this is.”
It’s the creation,” Osmund said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The creation of what?”
Everything.” He pointed at the figure at the top. Somehow, it gave the impression of being enormous. “You see? There’s the Creator presiding over the birth of the universe. There are the seven pharim lords who stand guard.” He pointed at one in red. “Manakel.” His finger moved down to the one in orange. “Apalel.” He went on, touching each as he spoke their name. “Gayel, Aniel, Sariel, Leziel, and Daziel, each presiding over a different dominion and look.” He pointed at the cloud and Jez realized there was a vaguely human shaped figure inside of it. In fact, it was one of many. “It’s the pharim placing everything in its proper place. This is the most detailed depiction of the creation I’ve ever seen, and you did it in under an hour.”
It took Jez several seconds to find his words. He scanned the painting, his eyes lingering briefly on the blue-robed figure, the one Osmu
nd had called Sariel. Osmund’s words resonated true. “How did I do this?”
You’re asking me?”
Jez shrugged and shook his head. “Sorry, but ever since I arrived here, my life has been strange.”
I’ll say. Do you have another class today?” Jez shook his head. “Good. Let’s go. You promised to tell me about the phobos.”
Jez nodded once. As they left the room, he turned back and gave the painting one last look. The whole scene seemed entirely too familiar, and that thought sent chills down his spine.
CHAPTER 13
“It just came to you?” Osmund asked.
They had gone to Osmund’s room on the fourth floor of the tower. It was much smaller than the space Jez had and was little more than a bed and a table with a single chair. Osmund gave Jez the chair, which, unlike the ones in his room, lacked a cushion, and the larger boy sat on the bed. Jez wished they’d gone to his room, but he hadn’t wanted to offend Osmund by suggesting it.
Jez nodded. “I’d never even seen a demon before that day, but I knew exactly how to bind it.”
“You’re a limaph,” Osmund said.
“A what?”
“A limaph.” Seeing the blank look on Jez’s face, he quirked his head. “Didn’t you attend temple services in Randak?”
Jez shrugged. “I was a fisherman most of my life. We had to rise early in the morning. I went with my mother before she died, but I don’t really remember. Ever since I was old enough, I went out with my father to go fishing. He didn’t really have a lot of time for anything else.”
“What about when you lived with Baron Dusan?”
“It never really came up.”
Osmund looked incredulous, but finally, he let out a breath. “You know about the rebellion of the pharim, right?”
Jez rolled his eyes. “Of course.”
“Well, after some of the pharim rebelled against the Creator, he cursed them to wander the earth. He called them the afur, those who were brought low. Some of them had children with mortal women and...”
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