“Last night … I know that after you left the vault’s office, you and Isra had words.”
Ebon’s ears flushed with shame. “We did,” he muttered.
Dasko’s frown deepened. “We know she struck at you. With her magic.”
“I cannot blame her for that,” said Ebon. “What we had all seen … and then, I would not leave her and Astrea be when she asked me to.”
A sigh slipped from Dasko. “Then you do not wish to punish her?”
Ebon blinked, looking at him with wide eyes. “Punish her? No, of course not. Sky above, how could I think to do so?”
The instructor’s shoulders sagged, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Thank goodness. She broke the Academy’s rules. If you wished it, you could ask for punishment to be meted out. But I am greatly relieved you have no such wish. You are right that last night would have put a terrible strain on anyone, and for Isra in particular.” He shook his head.
Curiosity poked at Ebon despite himself. “What of her? I have never thought she viewed me very highly.”
“Indeed not,” said Dasko. “It is not a happy tale, and mayhap it is not mine to tell. But it might shed some light on her actions, and since you have shown her mercy, I see no reason not to tell you. Isra was sent here an orphan, as was Astrea.”
“I heard something of that from Astrea herself.”
Dasko grimaced. “She likely did not tell you—mayhap she does not even know—why Isra came to that orphanage in the first place. But her parents were killed by the royalty of Wadeland.”
A chill crept up Ebon’s spine. “What? Murdered?”
The instructor looked away. “As with many things, the truth is not so simple. Her father was crushed under the prince’s carriage. When her mother sought recompense, the king tired of her pleading and had her executed.”
Ebon stared at him. “But that is monstrous. The King’s law—”
“Provides for no such thing, I know,” said Dasko. “The king of Wadeland is foul indeed, but the High King cannot interfere with every injustice across Underrealm. Especially when no witness remained to bring word of this misdeed to her.”
“I cannot believe …” Ebon shook his head, afraid he might be sick. The way Isra spat every time she said the word goldbag—at last he felt he understood.
“I told you it was no happy tale,” Dasko said quietly. “But I have taken enough of your time. Be with your friends, and be grateful you are all whole. Also, I have this for you.”
From an inner pocket of his robes Dasko produced a letter and placed it in Ebon’s hands. Ebon broke the Drayden family seal and unfolded a letter from Halab, inviting him to the manor for lunch to celebrate the holiday.
Hot fire burned in his veins, and he could not stop his hands from shaking. Lunch with his family would mean he would have to see his uncle, Matami, and Matami might have been involved in Lilith’s crimes. That truth might come out as the Mystics questioned Lilith, but then again it might not. From what Ebon knew, the Mystics were not seeking accomplices, but only where she had taken the artifacts. The thought of sitting across from Matami’s haughty, smirking face for an entire meal made him want to melt a stone and throw it in the man’s eyes.
He forced himself to stay calm. Matami’s presence might be unbearable, but it would be good to see Halab and his mother, and especially Albi. “Thank you, Instructor. May I send a reply?”
“Of course.” From a pocket, Dasko produced a bit of charcoal and gave it to him.
Ebon walked back to Kalem and Theren. “I am invited to a meal with my aunt. When last I saw her, she invited me to bring any friends from the Academy I might wish. What say you? Will you come with me?”
They both nodded, so Ebon scrawled his answer on the parchment and handed it to Dasko.
“Very good, Ebon. We shall speak on the morrow.” He gave Kalem and Theren a small nod before leaving.
“What did he have to say to you?” said Theren. “You spoke longer than I thought you might.”
But Ebon had no wish to speak of Isra’s story, which still turned his stomach. He only said, “In her anger, Isra used her magic upon me last night. It was a small thing, and no harm came of it. But Dasko wished to make sure I did not want to see her punished. I told him of course I did not. It is Yearsend, after all. A time for forgiveness.”
“Yearsend,” said Kalem with a sigh. “It seems such a hollow thing. Who can care for a holiday now?”
“Mayhap we need it,” said Ebon. “Something to take our minds from the darkness we have borne witness to. What better for the purpose than a celebration?”
“Midday meal in a goldbag’s manor, and the Yearsend feast for supper,” said Theren. “Fine distractions indeed. Yet I do not think they will rid me of the darkness.”
“Try to let them,” said Kalem. “It is not as though we can blame ourselves for what happened.”
Theren chewed at her cheek. “We knew what she was up to. We might have done more to stop her.”
“You did all you could—we all did,” said Ebon. “We were very nearly expelled because of it.”
But Theren only shook her head and looked away.
An hour before midday, they went to their dormitories. Now that Ebon knew Shay would not be in the Drayden manor to see him, he took a bit more care to wash away the stains of the Academy. He bathed, donned fresh robes, and dabbed on a bit of perfume. The hourglass in the common room told him he was running late, so he hurried to the front hall. Theren was already waiting, and it seemed that she had done nothing special with her appearance. Kalem joined them soon after, scuttling down the stairs and still trying to fix his mussed hair with his fingers.
The streets did much to lift their spirits, for they bustled with Yearsend celebrations. Those outside the Academy cared little for what took place within its walls. They caught many friendly smiles, and soon Ebon found himself returning them. Some vendors gave away little sweetmeats without asking for coin in observance of the holiday, and horses and carriages were a bit more considerate of passersby on foot. Many musicians played as they walked, singing fine songs while they strummed at lutes and small hand-harps. Soon Ebon and Kalem were laughing as though it were a day like any other. But Theren’s mood only darkened the further they went, and after a time she rounded on the others with a snarl.
“How can you giggle to each other so? As though you are little children.”
Kalem stopped in his tracks, frowning. “We are only trying not to dwell in darkness, Theren.”
“Look around you. Darkness is everywhere, and we cannot help ourselves but dwell in it.” She folded and then unfolded her arms, fists bunching as though she wanted to strike at the air itself. “I hope they drag the truth from Lilith on the tips of sharp knives. May she lead them straight to her accomplices—and for my own satisfaction, I hope it is that worthless ferret Cyrus. Nothing could make me happier than to see that dung heap die the slowest of deaths.”
Ebon lowered his gaze to his shoes so Theren could not see his sudden discomfort.
Kalem shook his head. “Mayhap she will. Mayhap not. In any case, whoever her accomplice is, they have lost their way into the Academy. They have no choice now but to slink away into the darkness, never to return.”
“You may believe that,” said Theren, scowling. “I am not so sure. Cyrus may try to strike again.”
“Mayhap.”
They reached the Drayden manor soon after, much to Ebon’s relief. They stopped before the wide front gates as Ebon knocked. As they waited for a guard to open the way, Ebon glanced back at his friends. Kalem inspected the place appraisingly, but Theren stared wide-eyed. Ebon smirked.
“Are you overawed, Theren? This is not so great a building as you seem to think. After all, you dwell within the Academy.”
Theren jerked her gaze from the manor to glare at him. “You think rather highly of yourself for one born into such wealth through no fault of your own.”
Ebon chuckled. Just then, a guard op
ened the hatch and saw him, and soon the gate swung open. They stepped through the gap as soon as it was wide enough, and Ebon led them through the courtyard towards the manor’s front door.
“What is in these wagons?” said Kalem, pointing at Matami’s trade wagons, which were still out in the open.
“Spices and other trade goods for the High King,” said Ebon.
“That many wagons filled with spices?” said Theren, gawking again. “But that would be worth a fortune.”
“And now you know why our coin purses are so deep. Here we are.”
Ebon opened the front door and led them inside. The entry hall was bright with many candles and torches lining the walls. Someone must have notified Ebon’s family of their arrival, for they found a reception waiting: Halab, Hesta, and Albi.
“Dearest nephew,” said Halab, coming forwards to give Ebon a tight hug.
“Dearest aunt,” said Ebon, kissing her cheeks. “Allow me the pleasure of introducing my friends.”
But she interrupted him, smiling at them each in turn. “There is no need. I know their names already. Welcome, Kalem of the family Konnel. The honor of your house is well-known throughout the nine lands. I have had many favorable encounters with your kin, and I look forward to many more in the future.”
Kalem’s mouth opened slightly, though it seemed he was lost for words. Theren rolled her eyes and folded her arms. But then Halab turned to her and gave a deep bow.
“Well met, Theren. Tales of your prowess as a mentalist have reached me even here in my manor. I am graced by your presence, and ever grateful for the friendship and kindness you have shown my nephew. I worried greatly for Ebon when he stayed here upon the Seat, for he had neither family nor friends to look after him. You have my thanks for being part of the remedy.”
Theren seemed as flustered as Kalem. She cleared her throat and looked about uncomfortably, before trying to mimic Halab’s bow. “It was … it is my pleasure, I suppose, milady. Though friendship might be a strong word, for sometimes it seems I only get him into trouble, and he only gets me out.”
Halab laughed, so warm and hearty that every face in the room burst into a smile. “What else are friends for, dear girl?” She stepped forwards to embrace Theren, and then Kalem. But when she drew back from the boy, he flushed and, stepping forwards, kissed her first on one cheek, and then the other. Halab went stock still in shock, and Ebon’s eyes widened.
“I have heard that that is the proper greeting in Idris,” said Kalem, mumbling and keeping his eyes lowered.
A slight flush crept into Halab’s cheeks, but her tone maintained nothing but grace. “It is, son of Konnel—though, normally, it is reserved for family greeting family, or for very close friends indeed.”
Ebon tried desperately not to burst into laughter, for Kalem’s face went so red it was nearly purple. He jerked and twisted, trying to stammer out an apology, but his voice shook so hard he could not get out so much as a word. But Halab only laughed again, and this time they joined her.
“Worry not, my friend.” Ebon put a comforting hand on Kalem’s shoulder. “Your intent is welcome, even if your knowledge is lacking.”
Halab then waved an arm to beckon Hesta and Albi forwards. “Allow me to introduce my sister by law, Hesta, Ebon’s mother, and Albi, her daughter, Ebon’s sister.”
“Well met,” said Hesta, bowing. Albi joined her a half-moment later, for she was giving Theren an appraising look. But when she rose from her bow, she gave Kalem a wink. “Will you try to kiss my cheeks, Kalem? We shall have to see if I try to stop you.”
Kalem’s blush deepened. Halab arched an eyebrow, while Hesta slapped her daughter’s wrist. “Albi! That was ill said. It is not seemly to embarrass a guest in our home.”
“I did not mean to embarrass him, mother,” said Albi, and this time her wink to Kalem was broader. “Who says I spoke in jest?”
“Albi! If you cannot compose yourself, you may take your supper alone,” said Hesta.
“Forgive my niece,” said Halab, giving her a steely look. “She nears womanhood but does not yet know what to do about it. In time she may yet learn to behave as befits her station.”
Finally Albi wilted. “I meant no offense,” she said, lowering her gaze. “Forgive me.”
“Think nothing of it,” said Kalem. “After all, I have embarrassed myself far worse already.”
“That you have, my friend.” Ebon laid his arm across the boy’s shoulder. “But the day is yet young, with much time to redeem yourself. And I smell lamb.”
Lamb it was. Halab led them to the dining room, where the meal had already been laid. There, waiting for them in an armchair, was Matami. He rose as they entered, giving Ebon a curt nod.
“Nephew.”
“Uncle. My friends, Theren, and Kalem of the family Konnel.”
He nodded without speaking, looking at them as though they were pieces of dung he had just noted on the bottom of his shoe. Then they sat to eat.
Again Ebon thought he might melt from the fine taste of the food, with each bite seeming more delicious than the last. Beside him, Kalem closed his eyes often, rolling the food around on his tongue.
Theren showed no decorum whatsoever. She moaned anew with every bite, and her lips smacked loudly, for she chewed with her mouth open. Ebon had never noticed it before; in the Academy’s dining hall, there was so much bustle amid the hum of conversation that such a thing could go unremarked. He wondered if she had eaten this way in the Sterling Stag, and how he could have missed it. It made him more and more uneasy, and he kept trying to nudge her under the table, but she ignored him. Across the table, Albi stared at Theren with wide eyes, utterly scandalized. But Matami’s scowl grew with every wet smack of Theren’s lips.
To their credit, Halab and Hesta were the picture of decorum. They ate primly and quietly, and if they noticed Theren’s atrocious manners, they gave no sign. Once she had eaten her fill, Halab dabbed at her lips with her napkin and turned to Ebon. “Troubling news has reached me, nephew. It seems that tragedy has struck the Academy again.”
The room’s mood darkened at once. Even Theren ceased her loud chewing. “It has, Halab,” he said quietly.
“What happened, exactly? Word does not reach my ears so quickly without being twisted in the mouths of those who bring it.”
“There is a student—or there was, I suppose I should say. It seems she was stealing things from the vaults beneath the Academy.”
“Vaults?” said Albi, perking up.
“Rooms in the basement, protected by magical enchantments,” said Kalem. “Inside there are powerful artifacts that grant the owner abilities akin to wizards, or else strengthen the magic of wizards who hold them.”
“How fascinating,” said Albi in a voice of silk. “Thank you, Kalem.” She smiled sweetly, and Kalem gulped.
“Her name was Lilith, of the family Yerrin,” said Ebon. “Last night, she was caught in the act of her theft. The student who caught her was … that is, she …” He could not go on, and let the words subside.
“She killed him,” said Theren, voice clotted with fury. “Just a boy. Younger even than Kalem.”
“Such a tragedy,” said Albi. “But what more can one expect from a Yerrin? They have always been a treacherous clan.”
Ebon fixed her with a look. “Her cousin, Oren, fought to stop her. He pitted his power against hers, and though he failed, that does not lessen the effort.”
“Were you there, my son?” Beside him, Hesta’s eyes shone as she regarded him.
Ebon frowned. “Yes, Mother. But I was unharmed. She struck only at Vali.”
“How horrible that must have been,” she said, shaking her head. “I am so sorry you had to witness it.”
Her hand held his tightly, thumb caressing his palm. A sudden lump formed in his throat, and he blinked back the smarting in his eyes. He could not remember the last time his mother had touched him so, for he never saw her without his father, and Hesta knew well that Shay w
ould scorn them both if ever he found his wife coddling their son, as he saw it.
“We are whole,” he said, placing his other hand over hers. “That is all that can be asked. Others are not so fortunate.”
“And may you ever remain so, now that the criminal faces the King’s law.” Halab raised her goblet. “To those in the darkness.”
“To those in the darkness.” Around the table they raised their cups and drank deep.
TALK SOON TURNED TO LIGHTER matters, and it was not long before the meal was done. Halab excused herself. She and Hesta had some business in the city, but she promised she would return before long. Matami vanished without a word. Ebon wondered whether he ought to leave the manor with his friends, but before he could, Albi bounced to his side and seized his arm tight.
“Well, brother, what say you? Shall we walk in the garden again? This time there are more of us, and mayhap this company is more interesting as well.” She fixed Kalem with a coquettish smile. The boy blushed and stared at his shoes.
Ebon tried to hide a frown, but did not entirely succeed. “I suppose so. But let us show my friends the manor first.”
“Oh, what greater pleasure could there be?” said Theren, rolling her eyes. “I have often longed to explore the dwelling of wealthy goldbags.”
Albi gasped. But Ebon shook his head ruefully. “Try not to mind her. I have had to grow used to it. There are many in the Academy who resent us for our coin. Some of the other merchant’s children, or children of nobility, wear the term ‘goldbag’ like a badge of honor.”
“Well,” said Albi, looking at Theren askance. “I do not know that I wish to get used to it. But come. Let us show them about.”
And so she and Ebon took them room to room, showing them the fine craftsmanship of the furniture and the artistry of the tapestries and paintings. Kalem was most interested. Ebon knew the boy’s family had fallen upon hard times, and likely he now walked among more wealth than he had ever seen. What was more, Albi would often take his hand briefly as she pulled him from room to room, or press up against his arm as she pointed out a particular detail in a painting, so that Kalem grew ever more flustered as they went, and tried with increasing difficulty to keep his eyes on the manor itself. Ebon soon found himself frustrated with Albi’s obvious flirting, but worried that if he mentioned it, it would only get worse. She had always loved to tease him.
The Academy Journals Volume One_A Book of Underrealm Page 40
