The Academy Journals Volume One_A Book of Underrealm

by Garrett Robinson

  “When I discovered my gift,” she finally said, “I was living on the streets of a city called Cabrus.”

  “That is in Selvan, is it not?”

  “It is, and no decent place for an orphaned girl. I fled the orphanage when I was young, for the matron there was cruel to us. But on the streets I found someone far worse; a weremage who killed any homeless girls who came into her clutches. I avoided her as long as I could, hoping to one day find passage from the city and escape her grasp at last. That is when I learned of my gift, and before long, word of it reached my patron.

  “She is a woman named Imara, of the family Keren, and I think she earnestly believes that all things in Underrealm exist to serve her—either to be amusing, or to be useful. She saw me as some mix of both. She tested me to confirm my gift, and then she offered her patronage. I accepted, though I disliked her greatly, for my only other choice was to remain in Cabrus and someday die. And now, if I ever return to Dorsea, I will be her lackey for the rest of my days.”

  “Can you not earn your way out of her service one day?” said Ebon. “There are laws.”

  Theren shook her head. “Spoken like a true child of wealth,” she said. “Laws can be bent, if not broken outright, and the wealthy have perfected the art. I could try to flee her service, of course. But if Imara is spoiled and vain, she is also spiteful, and full of wrath for those who wrong her, whether she imagines it or not. And so I remain here. I only … it is a terrible excuse, yet I only wanted you to know why I did not try to stop the dean. He would send me home … home to her.”

  Ebon looked down at his hands, which gripped each other so tight that the knuckles were white. It seemed terribly unfair. Suddenly, even his own family seemed less onerous than Theren’s circumstance.

  “I wish I could help you,” he said. “Only I do not know how. My family could help, of course—our coin purses are deep enough to pay off your service easily. Yet my father would never agree to it.”

  His father. Thoughts of Shay, of his whole family, whirled in Ebon’s head. He still felt fear of them, yes, but now that was overshadowed by anger.

  Ebon’s silence had never been enough for them. Obedience had never been enough. Still they all despised him, except Halab, and Albi, and mayhap his mother. He had followed their unfair, uncompromising rules all his life, or tried to—and despite it, Cyrus had very nearly killed him.

  He would never be free of them, unless he acted.

  His hand moved of its own accord, gripping her arm hard. “Theren. Come with me. We must find Kalem.”

  “What?” she said, frowning. “Why?”

  “Trust me. But you will have to help me walk.”

  He threw an arm across her shoulder again, and together they hobbled into the Academy, making their way towards the younger children’s dormitories. They were careful to avoid any instructors, for Ebon had clearly been beaten and did not wish to explain why. Soon they were in the hallway outside Kalem’s common room, and Theren left Ebon leaning against the wall while she ducked in to fetch the boy.

  When Kalem came out, his eyes fell upon Ebon and shot wide. “Ebon!” he cried. “What has happened to you?”

  “Do not worry yourself,” said Ebon. “Only come with us.”

  They made their way to the stairwell, stopping in between floors and sitting together on the steps. Ebon knew their voices might carry far on the stones, but then again they would be able to hear anyone coming.

  “My father is up to something,” he said. “I did not wish to believe it at first, but now I know it must be true.”

  “How?” said Kalem.

  “Because of Cyrus’ actions. It was he who did this to me, Kalem. He knows something is afoot, but he thinks it has to do with Halab. Yet she, too, is being deceived by my father.”

  “Very well,” said Theren. “I could have told you as much, and I tried, but—” Ebon gave her a hard stare, and she subsided with a gulp. “In any case, what do you mean to do about it?”

  “I mean to search the docks, as we both said. We must, for it is the only way I can solve all our problems at once. If I can find some proof of my father’s plans—”

  “You can bring it to the constables,” said Kalem.

  Ebon shook his head with a grimace. “No. Then blame might fall upon my whole family. But I could speak with Halab. There will never be a better time. She is here on the Seat, and my father is far away in Idris. Halab knows him only from their youth together, and will not believe me without firm evidence. But if I bring it to her ...”

  “She can address the situation on her own,” finished Theren. “That seems wise. Mayhap she could have a stern word or two with Cyrus, as well.” Scowling, she cracked her knuckles against each other. “Or she might let me do it.”

  “I have no doubt she will put him in his place,” said Ebon. “But I have not told you all. If Halab deposes my father, I shall be head of my household. Then our gold shall be mine to spend as I wish.”

  Kalem frowned, but Theren’s scowl twisted to a smirk. “A goldbag in truth. I suppose I do not object if you buy finer wines, as long as you continue to share them with me.”

  Ebon shook his head slowly. “I would not waste wealth on such petty things, Theren. In fact, I would give my seat up to my sister, once she came of age. But first, I would purchase your contract away from your patron. As I said, it would solve all our problems—not only my own.”

  Theren went very still. She blinked hard, tilting her head back and forth—not quite a shake of the head. “You need not—that is not—”

  “Come now,” said Ebon, spreading his hands. “What use is gold without a proper reason to spend it?”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “You are a truer friend than I have been. If this is your aim, I am by your side.”

  Kalem still looked doubtful. “This seems a shaky plan at best. It relies overmuch on luck. What if there is nothing at the docks?”

  “Then we shall think of something else,” said Ebon. “But we must do something. It was easy to be complacent before, but Cyrus has shown us we must act. If he, the dean, is so frightened, then something dark indeed is about to take place. You are a royal son, Kalem. Will you not act for the good of the nine kingdoms?”

  The boy stared at his feet. “I think you overestimate the situation,” he muttered.

  “But mayhap not,” said Ebon. “Please. We cannot do it without your mists.”

  “Very well,” said Kalem. “I will help.”

  “Good. We should all rest well, for we make our move tomorrow night.”

  EBON TOOK A LONG BATH and went to bed the moment he was done. When he woke he felt refreshed in mind, but rest had made his whole body sore from its injuries. Gingerly lifting his robes, he saw that bruises covered most of his body, and the back of his head was still tender. But whether by design or by fortune, the dean had left his face unmarked except for the deep cut inside his lip. Though he walked tenderly through the day, neither instructors nor students gave him a second look or seemed to see that anything was wrong.

  He ate his midday meal with Theren and Kalem. They spoke only a few muted words as they ate, and made no mention of the evening’s plan. Ebon thought his friends must be anxious—he himself was more than a little afraid. But he also felt a curious resolution. For once in his life he felt as if he were taking a stand against his father. That more than made up for his bruises and aches.

  They made for the city streets as soon as the afternoon’s studies had ended, taking a moderate supper at Leven’s tavern. The plan was to stay out past curfew, rather than waiting for nightfall before sneaking out. Theren would have to help them scale the wall when they returned, but Ebon was happy to avoid doing so on their way out, for he still did not enjoy being flung through the air.

  As daylight began to fade from the sky, Theren led them east at a rapid pace. They had to cross most of the island, and so they wasted little time talking. By the time they reached the eastern wall, it was nearly time f
or the gate to be shut for the night. Though the guards would have let them pass through to the docks, Theren had warned them against such a course. The guards would surely take note of three Academy students passing just before nightfall, and word might have made its way back to the citadel.

  Therefore they drew to a stop between two houses a stone’s throw away from the wall, and there they waited for the moons to rise. The gatehouse, a massive structure wrought partly in iron, stood nearly seven paces high. But when the guards lowered the gate at last, Ebon saw that there was a man-sized door in it. That was where they would make their exit.

  “I have only snuck out once,” said Theren. “It was difficult, but this time the mists should make it easier. I will distract the guards. Kalem, cast your spell once they are away from the gate.”

  Kalem nodded mutely, his wide eyes shining in the moonslight. Ebon could see the fear in the boy’s face, but for once he made no complaint.

  Theren raised her hands, and a glow sprang into her eyes. Ebon could see two guards, one to either side of the gate. They clearly did not anticipate any trouble, for they both leaned against the wall in positions of easy rest.

  Ebon did not see Theren move, but suddenly both guards pitched forwards as if pushed. They caught their feet and put hands to swords as they peered into the darkness.

  “What was that?” said one.

  “I do not know,” said the other. She squinted down the street. “Who is there?”

  Theren shoved them both again, this time away from the gate. Again they stumbled, and this time one of them fell to the street.

  “It is some spell!” he said. The air rang as he drew his steel.

  “Once more, and then it is your turn, Kalem,” murmured Theren.

  Her hands twisted, and the guards stepped still farther from the portcullis. Mist sprang to life and flooded the street, thick and soupy.

  Theren gripped Ebon’s arm and pulled him forwards, and he in turn dragged Kalem. The guards both shouted in the fog, but their voices were several paces away. Together the three friends reached the wall and edged along it until they found the portcullis.

  The door had no lock, only a heavy latch that kept anyone outside from opening it. Ebon lifted the latch as quietly as he could and rushed through the door. Theren and Kalem came only a half-step after, and Theren closed the door behind them. They raced from the gate as fast as they could.

  The stone road soon turned to old, weather-beaten wooden planks. Theren pulled Ebon and Kalem to the side, where great stacks of crates and barrels stood in rows. Once they had vanished among the cargo, Kalem let his mists fall away. They had reached the docks.

  “A fine job,” said Ebon.

  “It will be harder to get in, but not by much,” said Theren. “I can lift the latch from outside.”

  “Excellent,” said Ebon. “Let us be quick, then.”

  He withdrew the map from his pocket. They spread it out where the moonslight fell down between the crates, studying it in the pale silver glow. The docks were drawn in some detail, and they could see where the ships had been etched. Both were to the south of where they stood now.

  “Let us go south,” said Ebon, “and see if we can find where these ships lay.”

  “Very well, but be careful,” said Theren. “Look.”

  She leaned beyond the crate and pointed. Ebon and Kalem followed her outstretched finger. There in the moonslight they could see a figure, and Ebon barely made out the hardened red leather of the man’s pauldrons. A constable.

  “Likely there are more, but we can avoid them if we are careful,” said Ebon. “Kalem, if they should spot us, you will have to hide us.”

  He made to lead them on, but Theren waved him back. “You are still tender from your injuries,” she said. “Let me go first.”

  So saying, she set off among the cargo and down the dock. They had many stacks to hide behind, but between each one they had to make a harrowing run across open space. Every time they did it, Ebon was sure they would be caught. But Theren always timed their runs well, so that no constable was nearby. Before another hour had passed, they had moved far down the docks until they reached the first spot marked on the map.

  “Here we are,” said Ebon. “Now let us see what may be seen.”

  Together they leaned out to peer into the night. But Ebon’s heart fell almost immediately. There were two docks before them, each large enough to hold a vast ship. But both lay empty.

  “What does that mean?” said Kalem. “The ships are clearly drawn right here.”

  “I do not know,” said Ebon.

  “What of the other ship on the map?” said Kalem. “Will that dock be empty, too?”

  “I do not know, Kalem!” hissed Ebon. “The only way to find out is to move on.”

  He caught Theren’s eye in the moonslight. She was looking at him doubtfully, brow furrowed in worry.

  “There will be something,” he reassured her. “There must be.”

  “But what if it already happened?” she said. “Whatever was plotted, we may have missed it.”

  “Then we are wasting our time,” he said. “But at least we tried. And we can think of something else.”

  She sighed and led them off down the docks once more.

  Before they had even reached the second marking on the map, Ebon had a sinking feeling. No ships loomed out of the darkness above the stacks of cargo. When they arrived, it was the same as before: two spaces ready to hold grand ships, but now empty. There was nothing there. Their venture had failed.

  “The same again,” said Kalem. He frowned for a moment and then tilted his head at Ebon. “Mayhap that in itself is a sign? Why should these spots be empty? I mean these precise spots. Mayhap the signs on the map mean something other than what we thought.”

  “We saw many empty spots along the way,” said Theren. “I doubt it means anything sinister. Ebon, what say you?”

  But Ebon was frozen. The spots marked on the map were empty, yes. But there was a ship just next to them. It was a small vessel, with only a single mast and space to carry mayhap a dozen passengers. But there were people milling on the dock beside it, and he recognized two of them.

  “Ebon?” said Kalem.

  Ebon waved him to silence. He leaned forwards, hands gripping the edge of a crate tightly.

  Yes. It was them. Liya and Ruba, two of the servants from the Drayden family manor upon the seat. He had almost bowled them over as he ran for the dining hall, the morning after his first night with Adara. Now they carried satchels that looked very much like traveling sacks. They vanished beyond the edge of the ship.

  “I need to get closer,” he said. “I need to see those people just there.”

  “Why?” said Theren.

  “Just get me closer.”

  She sighed and looked up and down the dock, but there were no constables close by. Quickly she stole across the planks, and now they were more exposed than they had been at any point along their route. Ebon followed quickly, and Kalem came just behind. Now they were only a few paces away from the figures boarding the ship.

  “Be quick,” said Theren. “We could be seen far too easily here.”

  Leaning out once more, Ebon saw that he had been right. Yes, Liya and Ruba were there. And now they stood among a crowd of others he recognized. There were the manor’s cooks and cleaners, the gardeners and the stable boy. Ebon was so surprised at the sight that he nearly called out to ask what they were doing, and only stopped himself at the last moment.

  “It is them,” he whispered. “All the servants from our family manor. They are leaving.”

  “What?” said Theren. She stopped surveying the docks and looked at the people boarding the ship instead. “What do you mean, all of them?”

  “Every one,” said Ebon. “I do not recall a face from the manor that is not here before us now.”

  “But where is your family?” said Theren. “Surely they would not stay to manage the household themselves. Unless … have t
hey run short on coin? Mayhap they could no longer pay these servants, and are sending them home.”

  Ebon snorted. “Not on your life. No, they are being sent away.”

  “To Dulmun?” said Kalem.

  Ebon blinked at him. “What? No. They would be sent to Idris. Why would you say that?”

  Kalem pointed to the front of the ship. A green pennant hung there, with the sigil of a white wave breaking across it. “That is a ship of Dulmun,” he said. “It is of their king’s own fleet.”

  “Mayhap they hired it,” said Ebon.

  “They could not,” said Kalem. “The king’s ships never work for hire. They sail only at his personal—”

  “You there!”

  The shout made them jump. They whirled to see a woman in red leather armor standing only a few paces away, hand on her sword hilt.

  “What are you three doing?”

  Ebon glanced over his shoulder. The manor servants had heard the constable, and were looking in his direction. If even one of them recognized Ebon, he and his friends were doomed.

  “Run!” he whispered, and shoved the others forwards.

  They tried to dodge past the constable and run back the way they had come. But the woman was too quick, and moved to blocked their path. They turned and ran the other direction.

  “There are other piers running back to the shore!” cried Theren. “Make for one!”

  But looking ahead of them, Ebon saw they were too late. Another constable had heard the commotion and was coming for them now. His sword lay bare in his hand, its steel glinting in the moonslight.

  “The cargo!” said Kalem. He ran for the stacks of crates. Ebon and Theren followed a step behind. The constables shouted as they gave chase.

  But as Kalem wove through the stacks of crates, Theren’s eyes glowed, and she threw her hands wildly from side to side. Barrels swayed where they stood, and then came crashing down to block the pathways behind them.

  The constables’ angry cries faded as they reached the western edge of the docks. But there were still ten paces of black water between them and the shore.