In the corner, the bard kept starting the same song over and over again. He was plucking the strings more forcefully now, looking as though he would get more satisfaction out of smashing the harp over something rather than playing it.
The group of old men who had been playing cards last time were sitting at their usual table, but this time they were involved in a game that consisted of small pewter figurines and dice.
An old woman with crimped hair the color of moldy hay sat at a table by herself eating a biscuit drenched in strawberry sauce. Her face was vacant, her eyes fixed on the flickering flame of the candle that sat at the center of the table.
Lazarus returned with his steaming mug of hot chocolate and stood there waiting, watching Sam anxiously. Sam, guessing this was his cue to try the hot chocolate, took a tentative sip.
“Was I right? Even better, isn’t it,” Lazarus said.
Sam nodded. “It’s very good.” Truthfully, it was a little on the sweet side, but delicious all the same. “You’ve outdone yourself, Laz.”
“We aim to please,” Lazarus said, hurrying off as the bell above the door jangled and another customer entered.
Sam sat sipping his hot chocolate and staring out the window, letting his mind drift off. It was hard to believe everything he had learned in the last four months. Yet here he was on his way to becoming a warrior.
Still a long way to go though, he thought.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but he was halfway through his hot chocolate when the bell above the door made its familiar jangling sound again. When he looked up, he saw Sarah enter the restaurant. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was wearing a long blue cloak. It only took her a moment to spot Sam, at which time Sam looked away quickly, doing his best to pretend he hadn’t noticed her.
Bet she pretends she didn’t see me, Sam thought, pretending to be deeply intrigued by something outside the window.
But Sarah made a beeline straight for him. She slipped off her cloak, draped it on the back of the chair opposite him, and sat down.
“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” she asked. “Stalking me now?”
Sam glanced in her direction, but didn’t make eye contact. “Don’t be ridiculous. It was a nice day, I thought I’d stop in for some hot chocolate. Last I checked, it was still a free kingdom.”
Sam noticed the dark patches under her eyes; the puffiness of her cheeks. She had been crying, and given what had happened the day before, Sam couldn’t blame her.
“You’re scum,” Sarah said. “You know that? Keeping a secret like that.”
“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told everyone. That was one of the conditions of Lilah training me.”
“I won’t even comment on the fact that you’re learning magic illegally. Which, by the way, can get you expelled in a heartbeat. And her, too. She should know better. It’s actually quite surprising as I hear she’s one of Volatine’s star pupils. I can’t understand why she would risk everything just to train you.”
“It’s only for fun. She says I’m a natural.”
“I’ll bet.”
Lazarus made his way over to the table and said, “Hello, Sarah!”
“Hi Laz. The place looks nice,” Sarah said, indicating the various decorations.
“’Tis the spirit. Hot chocolate, I presume?”
“You know it.”
“We’re running a special on shots of Borganian cream today. Only one copper. It’s worth it. Just ask your friend here.”
“That sounds good.”
After Lazarus had left to fetch Sarah a hot chocolate, she resumed laying into Sam. “And then you go and keep it a secret from me. I’ve told you things I wouldn’t want anyone else to know. I thought you would show me the same level of trust, but I was wrong.”
“It’s not that. I do trust you. She asked me to keep it a secret, so I did.”
“Oh, so you can keep her secrets but not mine? First thing you do is run off and tell Curtis.”
“It’s not like that,” Sam said. “He was there when we met. He knew about it from the beginning.”
Lazarus brought Sarah her hot chocolate. And, just as he had done with Sam, he stood waiting anxiously. Sarah took a sip and smiled. “Yummy!”
After Lazarus had gone, Sam attempted to lighten the mood by saying, “It’s a little too sweet, huh?”
“More than a little.”
“Look, I’m sorry okay,” Sam said. “I should have told you.”
“Yes, you should have.”
“I know, I know. Truce?”
“Fine. But don’t expect me to trust you until you’ve earned it back.”
Sam tried to conceal his excitement at having finally patched things up with Sarah. Maybe all the damage he had done to their friendship wasn’t repaired, but he could work on that over time. He was just thankful that they were talking again.
“Anyway,” Sam said, “have you heard anything more about the accident with Malavant?”
Sarah cringed at the very mention of Malavant’s name. “Not really. All I know is that he is expected to make a full recovery and they’re investigating the matter.”
“That’s it? They didn’t tell you anything else?”
“No. Why?”
“I was there. You know they don’t suspect you, right?”
“I know that’s what they say, but that doesn’t mean they don’t blame me.”
Sam shook his head. “Nobody blames you. At least no one that was there. They think your sword was tampered with. Don’t tell anybody I’m telling you this, because Alsted made me promise to keep my mouth shut about everything that happened afterwards.”
Sarah cradled her mug of hot chocolate in both hands. She was visibly shaken.
“Malavant was poisoned.”
“What?”
“It’s true. Zosimus inspected the sword and said it had snag beetle poison on it. I guess it’s really rare. That’s why Malavant became ill so quickly.”
Sarah listened as Sam told her about everything that had happened in the infirmary: Malavant dying, Finnaeus performing the resurrection spell, and how it hadn’t worked the way it was supposed to.”
Unbelieving, Sarah said, “So he’s a zombie?”
“Sort of. They think he’s half-and-half. Half alive, half undead. According to Finnaeus, his soul is mostly intact.”
“I’ve never heard of that happening before.”
“I don’t think anybody has.”
“But they’re going to let him return to training anyway?”
“Sounds like it,” Sam said, pausing long enough to finish the rest of his hot chocolate. “He seems normal. Talks the same, but his skin is this weird gray color and all splotchy. He doesn’t remember any of it.”
“I’m sure someone will tell him,” Sarah said. “He’s best friends with Cully Duke.”
“No doubt. But the important thing is that no one else thinks it’s your fault.”
Sam could see that Sarah was beginning to tear up; whether it was due to being relieved that Malavant was going to be okay or that people realized that she wasn’t to blame, he didn’t know.
“What I don’t get is how anyone could have tampered with my sword. It’s rarely out of my sight. And even when it is, it’s locked in my room. No one without authorization can get into the castle.”
“Is there anyone in the castle that doesn’t like you?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Have you had the sword for a long time?”
Sarah said, “Since September. The King gave it to me as a gift shortly before training started. It’s a fairly common sword though. Jiao-long has several just like it in his shop. I’m not sure the King thought I wouldn’t wash out in the first couple of weeks.”
Sam’s eyes lit up. “So it isn’t one of a kind?”
“Not at all.”
“There you go. So someone could have switched it without you knowing and wouldn’t even have needed to have acces
s to the castle. It could have been during training when you weren’t looking.”
“I don’t know,” Sarah said. “Who though?”
“That’s a good question.”
Lazarus returned and grabbed Sam’s empty mug and said, “Another round?”
“Please. But no cream this time, Laz. I’ve got enough of a sugar high already. And you can get a refill for her, too. I’m buying.” He glanced at Sarah. “I owe you one.”
Sam leaned over the table, lowered his voice and said, “We both know you don’t have a lot of fans in the academy.”
Sarah was unprepared for such a comment. A hurt look came over her face. “When you put it that way…”
“I’m just being honest,” Sam said. “Don’t feel bad, I’m in the same boat. What I’m trying to say is that if someone was going to tamper with your sword, then training would be the easiest time to do it. I’d be half tempted to pin it on Cully. He hates us both enough, and he hasn’t made any effort to keep it to himself. But Malavant and him are good pals. He wouldn’t poison one of his best friends.”
“You’re forgetting that Alsted paired us up randomly. There’s no way he could have known I’d be fighting Malavant. But that doesn’t explain why he tampered with my sword. Wouldn’t I be the one he would want to injure?”
“Not necessarily.”
Lazarus brought them their second round of hot chocolates. Sam blew on his and then took a large gulp, burning the roof of his mouth.
“Maybe he didn’t want to hurt you,” Sam said. “Maybe he thought getting you in trouble might be enough to get you kicked out.”
“Do you really think he would do something like that?”
“Honestly? No. He’s a creep and a bully, but I don’t think he’d resort to murder. And besides, how would he get his hands on snag beetle poison? From what Zosimus said, it’s very rare and requires a permit.”
Sarah became withdrawn, staring into her mug of hot chocolate. Sam thought she might be on the verge of crying again, and didn’t want to push anymore unproven theories on her.
It was bleak business, and discussing it wasn’t doing Sarah any good. She was in a fragile state, which was understandable considering it had been less than twenty-four hours since the incident.
The mysterious circumstances gnawed at Sam’s mind; his brain insisted on picking through the clues, refusing to quit until it had succeeded in coming up with a valid answer. Someone had tried to frame Sarah. He wanted to know who and for what purpose. His mind kept flashing back to the image of Malavant lying on the bed in the infirmary, Finnaeus bent over him performing the resurrection spell, and how everything had seemed to go wrong from there.
He recalled how Malavant, in a fit of delirium, had yelled, “DON’T LET THEM TAKE ME!” Who had he meant? What had he seen in those fleeting minutes before he died?
When Sarah finally spoke, her voice was a whisper. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure,” Sam said and saw Sarah’s face brighten a little.
In that moment, he forgot all about the nasty things that had happened, and was elated to be hanging out with Sarah again. After weeks of having only Curtis to talk to, he had forgotten how nice it was to have someone else to confide in. Talking to Sarah made him realize that there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be. “Did you know,” he whispered surreptitiously, “that our friend Curtis farts in his sleep?”
“No way! Really?”
“Yeah, he’s very talented at it, too. And they smell absolutely awful!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
FORTUNE SMILES
Halfway through the holiday break, they received news that because of the horrible accident involving Malavant, Alsted had decided not to reschedule their practical test, which meant that anyone who hadn’t gotten a turn couldn’t be graded. In Sam’s case, since his duel with Cully had been short-lived, and because Felgorn hadn’t been able to finish scoring them, he was given the benefit of the doubt and received a pass. His actual grade would depend solely on the score he received on the written exam.
Sam, who was still in high spirits due to being on good terms with Sarah again, couldn’t believe his own luck. When it rains, it pours, he thought, practically springing out of his bed that Friday morning, the day before Christmas.
Curtis was in the bed next to him, his eyes closed. For once, he wasn’t snoring. The only other boy left in the room was Trevor Neeley, who, like them, had also gotten stuck spending the holidays in Dashelmore. Trevor was awake, propped up in bed, reading a book.
Just then, Abeth Lee came into the room carrying an armful of rolled parchments. He didn’t bother being quiet.
Abeth passed out the parchments, leaving one on each of the beds. He handed one to Trevor and then walked over to Sam.
“Could put yourself to good use and tidy the place up a bit,” Abeth said, handing Sam one of the rolled parchments. “The stench in here is unbearable.”
Sam didn’t dare argue, so he kept quiet. Abeth was less delicate when he reached Curtis’s bed. He drew his arm back and then chucked the parchment at Curtis’s face. It struck Curtis square in the nose, jolting him awake. “Huh? Wha – are we being attacked?” Curtis’s sleep-filled eyes darted around the room as he tried to get his bearings.
“Serves ya right for sleeping so late,” Abeth said. “Positively lazy. Don’t think I won’t mention this to your instructor, boy.”
Curtis, who didn’t appreciate being woken up in such a rude fashion, said, “It’s the holidays! We can sleep in as long as we want!”
Abeth snorted, finished passing out the rest of the parchments, and left without another word.
“Old grouch,” Curtis said, kicking his blanket off and scooping up the rolled parchment the groundskeeper had thrown at him. “What are these anyway?”
“Our test results,” Sam said, sitting down on his bed. He gazed at the parchment as though it were a powerful weapon that could potentially destroy him.
Curtis plopped back down on his own bed, wasting no time unrolling his own parchment. He studied it for a little while and then a smile spread across his face. “Well,” he said to Sam, “are you just gonna sit there staring at it forever?”
With trembling hands, Sam carefully broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment. He stared at it for a long time, giving it his full attention.
“What’d you get?” Curtis asked.
“You first.”
“A ninety-one! Not bad, eh? Only missed three questions on the entire test. Gotta be one of the highest scores in the class, don’t you think?”
Sam nodded, only half hearing the words coming out of his friend’s mouth.
“So? Spill it – how’d you do?”
“Pretty good,” Sam said hesitantly.
Before Sam could stop him, Curtis snatched the parchment out of his hands and was reading through it. Curtis’s smile faded a tiny bit. “You’re kidding me? A hundred percent? You got a perfect score! It’s official – you are a brain.”
Curtis handed the parchment back to Sam, appearing a little less proud of himself than he had a moment ago. Sam saw the defeat in Curtis’s face and said, “I got lucky. But still, a ninety-one is really good.”
“Second best is what I’d call it.”
Sam studied his parchment again, allowing Curtis to wallow in his own self-pity for a little while. He couldn’t believe his sudden upturn in good luck. Making up with Sarah, not having to redo the practical test, and then getting a perfect score on the written – how much better could things get?
So far, his day had gone perfectly. He almost wanted to lie down, cover up, and go back to sleep before anything could come along and ruin it.
Sam glanced over at Trevor, who was sitting on his bed with his unrolled parchment in his lap. “How’d you do?” Sam asked.
“Eighty-five,” Trevor said, sounding indifferent about the matter.
“That’s pretty good,” Sam said.
“How ‘
bout you guys?”
Curtis said, “Ninety-one.” And before Sam could answer, he added, “The brain here got a perfect score. Partly due to him being a serious brown-noser,” Curtis said. “Lots of sucking up to the instructors.”
“Well done,” Trevor said, choosing to ignore Curtis’s attempt at sarcasm.
“Thanks!”
“Hooray for Sam being wicked smart,” Curtis said.
“Next time I’ll be sure to miss a few just so I won’t have to listen to you cry about it.”
“Very funny. Hey, you know what,” Curtis said, pointing to the other boys’ beds, “it would be easy enough to find out what everyone else got.”
Sam shook his head. “That wouldn’t be right. Besides, they’d be able to tell we broke the seals. Then we’d be in deep trouble.”
“Huh uh. Sarah injured another student and she didn’t get in trouble, did she? Us taking a peek at some other peoples’ test scores pales in comparison.”
“She wasn’t the –”
But Sam caught himself just in time. No one other than himself and the select few that had been in the infirmary on that day (and now Sarah, too, he reminded himself) knew the truth of what had happened. Sam, mostly good to his word, hadn’t told anyone besides Sarah; not even Curtis.
Have to be careful, he thought. Almost spilled the beans that time.
“That’s because it was an accident. Malavant fell. It wasn’t Sarah’s fault that her sword happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“There you go protecting your girlfriend again,” Curtis said.
Trevor, who had ostensibly gone back to reading his book, couldn’t help overhearing their conversation. He said, “That girl, she’s really your girlfriend?”
“No. Don’t listen to him. We’re just friends,” Sam said. He turned back to Curtis. “And that’s all we are.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard it a million times before. Anyway, what’s the big plan for today? If I’m invited, that is.”
For days, Curtis had been milking the fact that Sam had ditched him the morning he had gone to the Bard’s Tale to find Sarah. In his defense, Sam had pointed out that he had left a note.
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