Theren must have entertained thoughts not unlike his own, for after they had walked together a while, she glanced at him. “Tell me true: what was that all about?”
Ebon sighed. “I said I do not know.”
She shook her head. “You cannot mean to persist in that lie. I know only rumors of your family’s doings, but if even half of them are true …”
“If you know only a rumor, you know more than I,” said Ebon. “Never have I involved myself in … in whatever it is my family does that makes others fear us so.”
Theren scoffed. “More Drayden favoritism,” she muttered.
“It is not,” said Ebon, growing angry. “If you would for but a moment forget your abject, ignorant hatred of those who are wealthier than you, you might see that. I never wished to be my father’s son.”
“I cannot imagine such difficulty,” said Theren. She feigned irony, but Ebon could hear true resentment lurking beneath it. “What anguish to ride in a golden carriage, hiding your face to avoid seeing the dark deeds that paid for it.”
Ebon wanted to answer—or rather, he wanted to shout at her. But he was keenly aware that he might lose one of his only two friends at the Academy if he did. Besides, he did not quite know where he was, and did not wish to spend any time wandering lost on the Seat. So he walked beside her in silence, biting his tongue until it nearly bled.
Soon he saw the familiar shape of the Academy looming above the buildings before them. Though he knew he could enter the front door, he found himself curious about how Theren had snuck out. So when she turned left, he followed. She took him around the corner, where he found a small collection of wooden sheds pressed up against the Academy’s outer walls.
Seeing his questioning look, Theren explained. “They keep brooms and such within, and use them to sweep the surrounding streets.”
He thought she might enter one of them, revealing a hidden door. Instead, she stepped close to one of the sheds, eyes glowing. She crouched and leaped high in the air to land atop the shed. Again she crouched, lower this time, and gave another mighty jump. The Academy’s wall stood ten paces high—she just managed to grip the edge of it with her fingers, and Ebon saw her eyes glow once more as she used her magic to climb up. She turned for just a moment and waved, a black shape against the stars, and then vanished.
“Well and good for her,” Ebon muttered to himself. “But not for me, I suppose.”
He trudged back to the front door and knocked upon it, twice and then thrice. After a moment it swung open, and the stern woman from before gave him a little nod. He ignored her, climbing the wide stairway quickly and making his way to his dormitory, where he dived beneath the covers and tried to forget the whole affair.
BY MORNING EBON FELT LITTLE better, and he was exhausted besides. Somehow he made it through his morning class, though often times he caught his head nodding. Once he barely snapped awake before crashing nose-first into the table. Credell could not have missed it, but the instructor, of course, said nothing.
Well, if I cannot concentrate, and Credell is too frightened to say anything about it, mayhap I should take advantage of the situation, thought Ebon. So he slid down the bench until he reached the wall, slouching against the stone. Soon the murmuring buzz of the other students lulled him into peaceful slumber, and he dozed comfortably.
It was a while later before he felt a tugging on his sleeve. He opened his eyes, expecting to see Credell—but it was Astrea, the young girl with the wild hair, her eyes wide as she stared at him. The moment he awoke she jerked her hand back from his sleeve.
“Class is over,” she said softly. They were the first words she had said to him since the first day, when she thought he had come to the wrong classroom.
Ebon blinked hard and looked around. It was true. The room was empty. He had not even heard the bell ring.
“Thank you, Astrea,” he said, and then yawned wide.
“I do not know why Credell is afraid of you. I like you.”
Almost before the words had left her lips, she turned and ran for the door as though her life depended on it. In a moment she was gone. Ebon stared after her, blinking hard. But when he finally stood to leave, he found that he was smiling.
The dining hall buzzed with voices. Ebon stumbled between the other students, heading towards his usual table. Theren and Kalem were there already, and looked to be half done with their meals. Theren regarded him with a small smile as he sat, but Kalem’s eyes were wide with questions.
“You are very late.”
“I am,” said Ebon. He spooned up a bite of soup with a grimace. They had had the same thing twice already this week.
“What were you doing?”
“Sleeping, as it happens,” said Ebon.
Kalem blinked. He looked to Theren and then back to Ebon. “Sleeping? In your bed?”
“In my class.”
The boy’s jaw dropped, turning his face to a perfect mask of shock. He could not have looked more surprised if Ebon had changed to an Elf right before his eyes. “You … that … but your instructor!”
“Credell fears even to speak to me. If he tried to reprimand me, he might die of terror.”
“The tragic life of a goldbag,” muttered Theren, picking at her nails.
“Leave off, Theren,” said Ebon. Her cheeks turned crimson, and she looked away.
Kalem had not recovered from his shock, and still gaped like a fish. “How could he let you sleep through his class?”
“What harm is there?” said Ebon. “It is not as though he teaches me anything when I am awake.”
“Still … I can scarcely imagine it.” Kalem shook his head—and then, after a moment, his eyes narrowed. “But why should you be so tired? You went to bed just as I did last night.”
Ebon felt sick. He ducked his head, picking at his sleeve as though something upon it had suddenly captured his interest. “Yes, well … in fact, that is not quite what happened. I went out upon the Seat.”
“We both did,” Theren said brightly. Ebon wished she would keep her mouth shut. “Why not tell him what you did, Ebon?”
“I scarcely know myself. My father sent me a message, asking me to deliver a package to some inn on the west end of the Seat. He arranged special permission for me to be out after hours.”
Kalem leaned forwards and spoke in a voice hardly above a whisper. “What was in the package?”
Ebon shrugged. “I was not supposed to open it.”
“Though I greatly wanted to,” said Theren.
“You went with him?”
“Not by intent. I pursued other interests, but we encountered each other upon the streets. He was so cagey about his purpose for leaving the Academy, I decided I should follow him and see what he was up to. But I learned nothing, for Ebon would not give me any answers.”
Ebon felt his temper was dangerously close to breaking, and his weariness did not help. “I have told you—”
“Yes, you have told me,” said Theren rolling her eyes. “No need to do so again.”
“Well, I think you were both terribly idiotic,” said Kalem, folding his arms across his chest with a scowl. “You should not have delivered the parcel if you did not know what was in it, Ebon. And neither of you should have gone wandering the Seat at night.”
Theren shrugged. “I do it often. No one seems to mind.”
“I doubt anyone knows that you do it,” said Kalem.
“But that is saying the same thing.”
“I would not have done it,” said Ebon, speaking quickly before Kalem could think up another retort. “But my father is the reason I am here at the Academy. How could I be so ungrateful as to refuse to aid him?”
“But you do not even know what you did,” said Kalem. “And forgive my saying so, but … but a favor for your family …”
Ebon looked angrily into his lap. “Say what you mean to say. A favor for my family is likely a dark deed. And yet what would you have done? What else could I have done?”
“You could have refused.”
To Ebon’s surprise, Theren spoke in his defense. “Mayhap we are trying overmuch to craft guilt out of innocence, Kalem. Ebon may be a Drayden, but he does not seem a bad sort of Drayden. What harm could come from a little parcel? And the adventure was somewhat amusing, at least.”
“What harm? How can we know, without knowing what the parcel held? What if it was poison, or a dagger? Or … or even magestones.”
He said the word in such a hushed whisper that Ebon felt compelled to lean forwards. He looked to see if anyone else was listening. Theren’s eyes grew dark, and she gripped Kalem’s arm until he squirmed.
“Do not even whisper such things here, you fool!” she hissed.
“I do not understand,” said Ebon. “What are ma—that is, what are those things you just named?”
“Of course you would not know,” said Theren, rolling her eyes. “Tell him, Kalem—but not here, nor any place where curious ears might hear you. You two have your lover’s nest in the library; speak of it there.”
She released Kalem and left them. The boy stared sullenly after her, rubbing his arm where she had squeezed it. When he looked at Ebon, dark disgruntlement showed in his eyes.
“It is not a lover’s nest.”
Ebon could think of no words to cheer him up. It seemed to him that Kalem was right and Ebon was a fool. Yet even with that knowledge, Ebon suspected that one day his father would ask another favor of him—and he doubted he had the will to refuse.
“Come,” he said quietly. “The meal is nearly over, and our next class beckons.”
They cleaned their table and made their way into the Academy halls. Ebon’s feet dragged with every step.
Once they had safely sequestered themselves on the library’s third floor, Ebon leaned in close. “What are these magestones you spoke of before? Why did they bring such fear to Theren’s eyes, when she fears almost nothing?”
Though there was no one in sight, Kalem still shushed him and looked around. “You should be very, very wary of speaking that word within these walls, even in the most shadowed whisper. Theren was right—it was foolish of me to say it in the dining hall.”
“But what is it?” said Ebon, growing exasperated. “Or rather, what are they?”
“They,” said Kalem, taking great pains to avoid the word, “are black stones, or crystals, I think. I do not know where they come from—no one does, except those who sell them, and they have no wish to share the secret. Though they look like a shiny rock, they break easily in the hand or between the teeth. When a normal person eats one, there is no effect. But if a wizard should eat one …”
He fell silent, shivering, and once again he looked over his shoulder. Ebon shook him gently. “There is no one there, Kalem. You have looked at least a dozen times.”
“Still I feel as though we are watched,” said the boy. “Mayhap I am overly fearful. If we were found to be speaking of this, it would go ill for both of us.”
“Well, finish the tale, so that we need never speak of it again.”
“As you say. If a wizard consumes a magestone, their powers are increased manyfold. Even a modest elementalist could summon flames hot enough to melt stone, and an alchemist could turn a house to straw with a touch. If a wizard is mighty already, the stones can turn them nearly Elf-like in power. And some other, darker side of our magic is unlocked—for alchemists it is a corruption, like a plague we can imbue in matter that spreads to anything close enough. Whatever it touches withers away to nothingness, until the magic is spent. They call it blackstone.”
Ebon had leaned forwards without realizing it, and now he was gripping the arms of his chair, as though his limbs had readied themselves to flee of their own accord. He forced his shaking limbs to relax.
“That sounds powerful indeed,” he said. “But if it increases the strength of our magic, where is the great harm?”
“The stones do not only strengthen our gifts. They consume the mind as well. From the moment a magestone passes your lips, it fills you with an aching hunger for more. At first the craving is slight, just a tickling at the back of the mind. But if you deny it, it soon grows to a raging desire that will drive away all rational thought. Wizards who take magestone will kill to acquire more. They will cast aside all bonds of friends and family if only it allows them another piece. As long as they can keep up their supply, they may appear rational. But if for even a moment their store of magestone is threatened, they will destroy all the nine lands to secure it.”
The library around them was utterly silent. Ebon let loose a long whoosh of breath. “Was that, then, the power behind the Wizard Kings?”
Kalem nodded slowly. “It was. There is an entire section of the blue book that speaks of it. You will read it before long. That is one of the reasons I am sure it is forbidden.”
“But if you learned of it in the book, what of Theren? Surely she has not read the same words.”
“She has not. But every student in the Academy knows of the magestones, or learns of them in time. It is strictly forbidden to speak of them, and so of course everyone does so. But if an instructor ever learns of such discussion, the punishment can be severe. Some students have been expelled.”
“Just for speaking of it? That seems unfair.”
“It may be, but then again, who wishes for students to graduate the Academy with a desire to find the stones? In fact the Academy’s punishment may be considered light. If a wizard, having graduated, is found to have consumed magestones, the penalty is an immediate and messy death.”
Ebon swallowed. “I will remember that. Where would you find magestones, if you wished to?”
Kalem’s face went bone-white. “Ebon! After hearing my words, how can you ask that question?”
“I do not mean to go and secure some right this moment—or ever,” said Ebon, frowning. “I only wonder, if they are forbidden by the Academy, and outside the King’s law, then how do they even exist? They must come from somewhere—why does the High King not track down the source and wipe it out?”
“Why do you think I should know? The last I checked, neither of us were the High King’s lawmen, nor seated at her councils.”
Ebon smirked. “A fair point, I suppose, though wryly made. Very well. I still have a great deal of reading to do this day, and you have kept me at this discussion overlong.”
“Do not let me stop you,” said Kalem. He selected a book from their table and leaned back, waving a hand airily. “Go on about your business.”
Ebon shook his head with a smile and rose to walk among the bookshelves. He was looking for a new tome, the biography of an ancient king of Calentin who many said was responsible for raising it to its present heights of culture and power. Soon he was lost among the shelves, peering at the books’ spines in the dim light, here where the lanterns were often ill-tended.
“What a good little goldbag you have turned out to be.”
The words nearly made him leap out of his skin. He recognized Mako’s voice and ground his teeth together. When he turned, he found the man leaning against a shelf again, just as he had been last time. In his hand was a book, and Ebon knew without looking that it was the very book he had sought on the shelves.
“What are you doing back here?” Ebon whispered. “You must leave, before the instructors see you prowling about.”
“Why should they eject me? Former students of the Academy are welcome to return at any time, if they seek some ancient wisdom in the library’s vast wealth.”
Ebon glared at him. “You never studied here. You are no wizard.”
“Are you so certain of that?”
A shudder rippled through Ebon. What did he know of Mako? No, he had never seen the man use magic. But what of that? Only an overly boastful wizard would go about casting spells needlessly. Mako was many things—unnerving, overly friendly, and mayhap cruel—but he rarely boasted.
Mako was looking into Ebon’s eyes now, and he smiled at what he saw. “Good, l
ittle goldbag. You are learning caution. Remember that our second thoughts are often wiser than our first, and the third are wisest of all—but the fourth bring only inaction.”
Ebon shook his head, feeling as though he was ridding it of cobwebs. “Enough riddles. What do you want?”
“I wished only to congratulate you on the excellent service you rendered to your father.”
“It was my pleasure to aid him.” Ebon grimaced. Even saying the words felt like swallowing moldy bread.
“Yet you made a grave error. You brought your little mindmage lover for company.”
Ebon gawked, his mouth working as he struggled for words. He was suddenly terrified for Theren. Mako did not truly care if they were bedmates. But if he knew that Theren had gone with Ebon, he knew she had seen the parcel.
Mako must have seen the terror in Ebon’s eyes, for his grin widened. “Fear not, little goldbag. I mean your mindmage no harm. And I have not brought word of this to your father.”
Ebon sagged against the bookshelf with relief. “Then why make any mention of it at all?”
“So that you know never to do anything so foolish in the future. I will keep only so many secrets on your behalf. If one of your little friends should accompany you again, they may find themselves drinking deep of the Great Bay’s waters and making a little house of their own in its depths.”
Ebon spoke through a throat of desert sand. “You mean to say, then, that my father will require more favors of me?”
“Dear, dear boy. Did you ever doubt it?”
“What was in the parcel?”
The Academy Journals Volume One_A Book of Underrealm Page 14
