The Academy Journals Volume One_A Book of Underrealm

by Garrett Robinson

  “Be quick!” she snapped. “I do not have all day to deal with new arrivals, you know.”

  Ebon thought to himself that he did not know, since he had no idea what Mellie actually did here. But he did not wish to sound rude. “Are you going to leave?”

  “Humph!” she said, placing her hands to her hips. “Do you fear an old lady leering at you? I will not leave the room only to have you take an hour to bathe yourself.”

  His cheeks burned. “I—I do not often disrobe before others.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Merchant children,” she muttered. “If I turn my back, will that preserve enough modesty that you will get in the tub?”

  “Yes—and thank you.”

  Mellie turned, and he hurried to throw off his clothes. The moment she heard the splash of water, she came and took the golden clothing he had worn from the manor.

  “Wait! Where are you taking those?”

  “To be burned, of course. No one told you? The clothes you bring here are destroyed. While you study here at the Academy, you will wear only your student robes.”

  “But those are expensive!”

  Mellie held them up, appraising them with narrowed eyes. “I have burned far better. The king of Wadeland’s second cousin came here wearing clothes worth enough coin to feed an army for a month.” Then she vanished through the door.

  After his surprise faded, Ebon found himself somewhat liking the idea of the fine tunic and trousers curling in the tongues of a fireplace. If nothing else, the unnecessary expense would no doubt rankle Father, if he knew. Ebon laughed at the thought and gave the bathwater a little splash.

  When Mellie came back a short time later, her hands were empty. Ebon had finished bathing and had just dressed again by the time she appeared. Scarcely waiting for him to put on his shoes, she seized his wrist and drew him from the room.

  Now they ran back down the main staircase into the great entryway, and then around to the right side, where he entered the hallway opposite the one Cyrus had taken the day before. He remembered the dean saying these were where the instructors had their chambers. Mellie stopped at the first door on the right and threw it open.

  “New student!” she shrieked, and then scampered off towards the front hall again.

  Beyond the door was a study. But this was no elaborate room filled with gilded ornaments like the dean’s office. It was warmly lit by candles placed in the corners, and a soft green rug covered the floor. Bookshelves lined the side and back walls, and they were filled with books in perfect, neat rows. In the center of the room was a modest desk with a single leather tome on one side, and a stack of parchments in the center, just beside a pot of ink with a quill stuck in.

  Behind the desk sat a woman of middle years. Her short, prim hair had once been flame-red, like a performer from Hedgemond that Ebon had seen in his youth, but now it was half grey. Light blue eyes fixed on Ebon’s face with calm assessment. He noted that she wore dark grey robes, like the dean, but hers had none of the gold brocade that Cyrus had worn.

  “Come in, please,” said the woman. “And shut the door behind you, if you would be so kind.”

  Ebon stepped in, chiding himself for feeling so timid, and closed the door with a soft clink.

  The woman sat back in her chair, sinking into its soft, stuffed leather. She studied him a moment more before gesturing with an open hand to one of the two wooden chairs opposite her. “You are welcome to sit.”

  He did, looking around the room with interest. Though he knew she was an instructor, he felt none of the discomfort he had felt in Cyrus’ office. This place seemed warm and gentle, if not entirely comfortable. She let his gaze wander, her fingers steepled under her chin. When he at last turned back to her, she said no word, and only kept looking him over.

  She must recognize me for a Drayden, he thought. Surely that explained her reluctance to speak. Ebon knew well how his family was regarded across the nine lands. Would that legacy follow him here? He had hoped to escape it at last, but now that hope seemed unlikely, or even foolish.

  But when the woman spoke, it was not of his family at all. “How many years have you seen?” she said. “Fourteen? Fifteen?”

  Ebon breathed a sigh of relief. But the question presented another problem, and he answered reluctantly. “Sixteen.”

  An eyebrow raised briefly. “Indeed? Well, no doubt you think that is a terrible burden to bear. Do not worry yourself overmuch. I had seen fourteen when I came here. Mayhap not so grievous a situation as yours, but an annoyance all the same. You will find it difficult at first, but not forever.”

  He sat a little straighter, surprised. “I am relieved to hear that.”

  “And your branch?”

  Ebon blinked. “I am sorry. I do not understand.”

  “Of magic. What is your gift?”

  “Oh!” said Ebon, clearing his throat. “I am an alchemist.”

  Her brows rose again, and this time they stayed there. “Indeed? I daresay we could use more of them.”

  His brow furrowed. “I am sorry?”

  “Never mind. It is of little consequence. You should know, though, that your branch’s proper name is transmutation, and you would do well to start using that name immediately. The same applies to the other four branches. We do not speak with the commoner’s casual indifference in these halls.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, finding himself growing curious about her. “And you? What branch are you gifted with?”

  She smiled at that. Then Ebon nearly jumped out of his chair, for her shape changed before him. First her eyes glowed, and then her hair grew grey and stringy as she shrank in her seat. In a moment Mellie sat before him, still regarding him from behind steepled fingers.

  Frantically he looked over his shoulder to the door where Mellie had just left him. But the woman laughed and swiftly changed back. “I am not Mellie, boy. That was an answer to your question.”

  At last he understood. “You are a weremage.”

  “A therianthrope, but yes. Very good. And I have forgotten my manners entirely, or you have. Either way, my name is Jia.”

  He noted carefully that she did not give a family name. Mayhap she was a bastard, but mayhap that was custom here. He hoped so. “I am named Ebon.”

  “Ebon. A strong name. Well, Ebon, let us show you to your quarters.”

  He scooped his spare robes back up from where he had thrown them in the other chair, and Jia stood to lead him from the room. Ebon remembered that the dormitories were on the second floor, and he expected her to bring him back out to the main hall to climb the wide staircase. But Jia led him farther into the citadel instead, where he soon saw another staircase leading up. This one was a spiral, and very narrow, so much so that he could easily touch both sides of it with his arms stretched out. Jia led him up, passing one landing but stopping at the second. They emerged into the hallway to find a door facing them just on the other side, and Jia led him within.

  They entered a room with many chairs and couches set in small circles all about its edge, with a large open space in the center. But Ebon scarcely had time to study it before Jia took him to a door at the back. Through that door was a long, low room with many beds, along with cabinets and chests of drawers. She led him to a bed almost at the back and waved a hand at the cabinet beside it.

  “Here you may store your spare robes,” she said. “This bed is yours now.”

  Ebon looked around the room at all the other beds, wondering how many were occupied. “Is this where all the alchemists sleep?”

  “No alchemists sleep here at all.”

  His cheeks burned. “I am sorry. Is this where all the transmuters sleep?”

  She smiled warmly. “A quick student, then. The answer is no. The branches study together, but here in the dormitories you are arranged with the other students according to your ages.”

  That was a relief. Ebon had no wish to spend his days sleeping in a room full of children. But Jia must have seen the pleasure on his fac
e as something else, for she fixed him with a stern glare.

  “Do not look so excited. You should know that it is strictly forbidden for students to philander upon Academy grounds. This is a place of learning.” Ebon’s face grew beet red as he realized what she thought she had seen in his mind, but she pressed on before he could speak. “There are many places upon the Seat where you and the others may see to your needs. This is not one of them. Instructors walk the halls at night, and often inspect the dormitories. Keep yourself restrained while you are here, and if you require silphium, you will see to procuring it yourself. Is that very clear?”

  “Yes,” he said, voice strangled with embarrassment. “I assure you, I understand completely.”

  Jia lifted her chin, eyes softening slightly. “Good. Know also that fighting is forbidden, whether magical or otherwise. And that rule extends beyond the Academy’s walls. Take some private duel out upon the Seat, and we will hear about it. If that happens, you will be expelled. Now then. You know where you will be sleeping, so allow me to show you where you will be studying.”

  She led him downstairs again, this time to the entrance hall and then down the hallway on the left. Soon they reached a door with iron bands that Ebon thought looked familiar. Sure enough, when she opened it he recognized the room where Instructor Credell taught beginning alchemy. But the room was empty now, and neither Credell nor his students were anywhere to be seen.

  “This is your classroom,” said Jia. “Your instructor is a man named Credell.”

  “I met him,” said Ebon. He realized he had interrupted her, and lowered his gaze, blushing.

  Jia did not seem annoyed, and only nodded. “That is good, since as you can see he is not here for an introduction. His students are dismissed just now, though they will return soon. In the beginning, your days of learning will be divided into two periods of three hours—one period before the midday meal, and one after. This is where you will study for the first period.”

  Ebon remembered the classroom full of young children with some despair, but he nodded at her words. “And my second period?”

  “That is general study, and it takes place in the library. There, I shall be your instructor. Come.”

  She led him away, and Ebon thrilled at the thought that she would be teaching him. He had not liked the look of Credell, or the way the man seemed to flinch away from any word spoken above a whisper. Though Jia was a weremage, mayhap she could help him fill in the gaps in his alchemy, for he strongly suspected Credell would not.

  The gaps in my transmutation, I mean. Ebon smiled to himself.

  Jia turned this way and that, and soon Ebon was utterly lost again within the halls. When she saw him looking around, desperate for a landmark to locate himself, she said, “You will get lost often in your first days, and little will help to prevent it. Therefore we will not waste time teaching you where to find your classrooms, but rather how to recognize them. You can ask your fellow students if you have trouble placing yourself.”

  “Thank you,” he mumbled, and abandoned trying to find some way to determine where he was.

  “There are a some things you may try to keep in mind,” she went on. “For example, the beginner’s classes are located near the front of the citadel, while the advanced classes are towards the rear. Therefore you will move deeper and deeper as you advance in learning—except for your general studies, which are always in the library, and therefore always at the very back of the citadel.”

  Already his head swam. But it was clear she was trying to help. “I will try to remember.”

  She pursed her lips as though hiding a smile. “Mayhap that is not as helpful to a student newly arrived as I think. But here we are.”

  They had come to double doors of dark wood. Jia opened them, and he stepped inside—and then he froze, looking around in wonder.

  Never before had Ebon beheld a sight like the library of the Academy. Never before had he imagined that so many books existed in all the world. He stepped just over the threshold to look up, for he could see at once that there was a second floor—yet as he craned his neck, he could see that in fact there were three, each one reached by a narrow iron staircase. Far, far above, the library’s roof was a great yellow dome, worked of some substance like glass, but which cast a golden glow on the whole place. The glow was strengthened by glass lanterns set in many fixtures on the walls—no open flames were permitted, he guessed, for the safety of the books.

  And books there were. He thought that there must be tens of thousands of them. The bottom floor where he stood had many tables laid out, and at each one sat one or more students with books laid open before them. Above, he could see more tables set against the railings, with more students reading more books. And yet the shelves seemed full to bursting with still more, and he could not see an empty space anywhere.

  “Where …” he stopped, trying to collect his thoughts. “Where did they all come from?”

  “All across the nine lands, and all throughout the long centuries of history,” said Jia, and he heard the reverence in her voice.

  “What knowledge do they hold?”

  “All of it, I should not be surprised to learn. But you could spend five lifetimes here and not read them all, even if you did nothing else, and then you could never put such knowledge to use. I must admit to some small pleasure at the wonder I see in your eyes. Are you fond of reading, then?”

  Ebon shrugged slowly. “I certainly enjoy it. And this … how could anyone see this place and not be struck by wonder? The dean took me through the Academy yesterday, but he never showed me the library. If he had, I would have called this the greatest wonder of the citadel.”

  Jia’s lips drew into a thin line. “That does not greatly surprise me. Cyrus is not the most avid reader, nor was he even when he was a student here himself.”

  Ebon blinked. “You were here when he was a student? How can that be? You cannot have seen enough years.”

  It looked as though she was trying very hard to fight back a smile. “You will find that flattery has very little effect on me, Ebon.”

  He ducked his head at once. “I did not … I meant only that …”

  She patted him on the arm. “I am mostly joking. Come. That is all you need to see today, and we should return you to your dormitory. You can return tomorrow, your first true day as an Academy student.”

  Quickly she brought him back through the halls to another spiral staircase leading up. This time Ebon recognized the staircase, and thought he might even be able to find it again, if pressed. That boded well. Once they reached the third floor she brought him to his dormitory and stopped at last before his bed.

  “There is one more thing you should know. If you wish to send a letter to your family, you may bring it to me. I will see to its safe transport. The fee for a letter is a silver penny. But if you should wish to send a letter and do not have the coin, come speak with me, and I will see if there is anything that can be arranged.”

  Ebon blushed, for he had a thick coin purse in his robes—transferred from the clothes he had worn when he arrived, and always kept upon him in case of emergency. “I thank you for your consideration, but I do not think I shall have a problem with coin.”

  “I imagine that is true, for a son of the family Drayden.”

  A sudden chill flooded his bones, and he blanched as he looked at her. Wordlessly his mouth worked, trying to form some explanation. Jia smiled sadly at him, and then, to his surprise, she took his hand.

  “You thought I did not know your family? It is written plain on your face, and your bearing, and your manner of speech. But if you think that matters here, you are mistaken. No one worth their salt cares for the name you and your kin bear. And the Draydens have produced many good wizards—sky above, one of them is the dean.”

  Ebon found words hard to muster. “But … but on the Seat, they …”

  “I do not doubt that many on the street looked at you askance. But you will find—or you should find—tha
t being a wizard is different. Many worries you have struggled with during your life will fade away during your time here. If they do not, then you are not learning all that you should. Do you understand me?”

  He swallowed hard. “I am afraid not.”

  “Of course not. But you will. Your first class is tomorrow morning, two hours after the rising of the sun.”

  Then she left him, and Ebon stared after her, dumbfounded, as the dormitory faded to silence around him.

  AFTER JIA HAD GONE, EBON went to his cabinet and ensured his robes were neatly stacked. He doubted anyone would care how his cabinet looked, but he liked his things well ordered, and he no longer had Tamen to take care of them for him.

  Tamen. Thinking of his retainer sent his mind spinning. Only a few hours ago he had left Tamen standing in the courtyard of the Drayden manor, and now he was in the Academy. He might see Tamen again someday, and then again he might not. Certainly it would be a long time, unless his parents returned to the Seat for some reason Ebon could not predict.

  But when he thought of his parents, he thought of the closed carriage door and the shadow behind the curtain. That thought did not bear dwelling upon, and so he looked about the dormitory for something else to do. It seemed no duties were required of him, at least not until the next day. Mayhap he could inspect the common room, for he had only seen it twice, and both times in haste. He left his bed and walked the long aisle to the door leading out.

  The common room was wide and tall, but somehow it maintained an air of coziness and comfort. He inspected again the plush chairs set all about the room and the fireplaces in either wall. Though it was late autumn, the day was warm, and so no fires were lit, but he did not doubt that they would give great warmth when winter’s shroud descended upon the Seat. The walls were the same granite as the rest of the citadel, but they were hung with many tapestries of red and green and gold, and everywhere he saw the cross-and-circle of the Academy worked into the designs.

  To his surprise, he noticed another student sitting in the common room. He did not remember seeing her when he had passed through with Jia. Mayhap she had come in only a moment ago—but then, mayhap he had missed her, for she sat quietly in the corner of the room and made no noise. Indeed, she did not even look up or appear to see him. Her hair was lank and black, her skin sallow, and dark bags hung beneath her eyes.