Tessili Academy

by Robin Stephen

  Jey had also experimented with blocking the spritzer from affecting her at all, at containing the drug as soon as it entered her system. She wasn’t able to get it all on the first go, but it didn’t seem to matter. The drug didn’t act quickly enough to make her forget how to work the spell before she had the time to cast it several times.

  Which meant, Jey was no longer in danger of forgetting.

  While her roommates were still struggling to come to terms with their new self-awareness, Jey was experiencing a sense of giddy relief. She wasn’t alone anymore. Her friends remembered. She remembered. Between the three of them, she thought, they would find a way out.

  Kae was quiet, as if surprised by Elle’s comment. She paused, paintbrush held aloft, face thoughtful. “I guess you might have a point, there. What about the professors?”

  Elle’s face went a little harder. “They have to know,” she said. “After all, they’re the ones who teach us.”

  Jey thought of Professor Liam. Increasingly, she wondered about him. She thought back on the moment he’d told her to cast the spell on her tessila and hold it. Had he known what it would do? Had he done it on purpose? Or had it been a thing of pure chance?

  Jey looked at the mark on her forearm, the one Nylan had barged in to see last night. It was fading, going light. She remembered, now, what had happened. She’d been told to go to a particular house, to change a lord’s mind about an upcoming vote in the House of Laws.

  But a man had been waiting there. He’d worn a cloak with the hood pulled up. He’d tried to talk to her when she’d dropped her passive echo spell. She hadn’t seen him in the corner of the room – in retrospect, she realized, because he’d been casting a passive echo spell of his own.

  She’d attacked him instantly. He’d seemed startled, blocking her incoming knife with a blast of pure magic. She hadn’t stopped to think about it at the time. She’d kept at him, whirling in for another strike. He’d blocked that one too, with a staff he summoned out of thin air. He’d seemed about to say something when the lord, who’d been sleeping in the great bed at the top of the room, sat up.

  The hooded man had looked her in the eye, and vanished.

  Jey decided to say something about Professor Liam to the others. But before she could speak, the latch on their door clicked again. An orderly bustled into the room. He was a small man, with the smooth face and thin limbs all the orderlies seemed to have. He clucked when he saw them. “Time to clean up and get changed, girls. Come on, now. It’s bed time.”

  The girls began to put away their things. Jey had to remind herself to move slowly, to not focus her eyes too sharply on anything in the room. Elle and Kae began to do the same.

  The flashnode in the ceiling went off. All three of them froze, going entirely still. Jey held herself that way for a moment. Then she blinked a few times and began to stare at the closed notebook in her hand with what she hoped was a vague expression. Elle and Kae made variations of the same face.

  Jey, aware of Elle’s blank eyes, felt a sudden, furious desire to laugh. It raced through her body, snagging in her throat like a living thing. She fought it, struggling to keep her face passive, her thoughts smooth.

  The orderly heaved a huge sigh, as if he’d been asked to fill a hole he’d only just finished digging. “Bed time girls,” he repeated in the same, smooth voice. “Time to clean up and get changed.”

  Jey, fighting the laugher, turned to look for her night dress.

  Then, as the orderly came to help with the buttons on the back of her dress, she wondered when she had last really, truly laughed.

  She couldn’t remember.

  She stood while the orderly’s deft hands worked their way down her back, the desire to smile gone.

  ◈

  The next morning dawned fine and fresh. Glittering rainwater dripped from the gray tile roof of the cloister compound. The bright gardens all but glowed in the new sun.

  Jey stared out the window as she brushed her hair to braid in preparation for the coming day. She’d slept poorly, jumping at every creak in the eaves and shift in the wind. She’d been so afraid she wouldn’t wake when the orderly came in to spritz them, that she would sleep through it and find her mind closed and shuttered again in the morning.

  It hadn’t happened. She’d heard the orderly enter. She’d blocked the effects of the drug. This morning, she could still remember.

  But now she had a new problem. It stood on the other side of the smooth lawn. A wall – gray and solid, glittering with fallen rain, throwing its thick shadow across the ground.

  If it had been an ordinary wall, it wouldn’t have been any kind of barrier. Jey could think of a half a dozen ways to escape over it, under it, to sneak through the gatehouse, or force her way past the guards.

  The problem wasn’t the wall. The problem was the magic.

  She could barely sense it from this distance – a slow shimmer in the morning light. It permeated the stones of the wall and the ground below and the air above. It was a subtle spell, and it was a targeted one.

  As Jey watched, a flock of small brown birds wheeled over the wall to settle in one of the rosebushes that grew at its base. The magic didn’t affect them. Had a human climbed over the wall, it wouldn’t have touched him either.

  The magic in the wall harmed only the tessili.

  Jey knew this, because she’d worked on the wall. Once a week, Professor Liam led a group of his most accomplished passive casters out to stroll along the wall’s base, to test the shieldstones set in among plain stone blocks. Every week, the students replenished these with their own magic, refilling any that were growing weak. Jey could remember doing it, over and over, year after year, strengthening and caring for the magic that kept Phril prisoner.

  Behind her, Elle and Kae seemed to be experiencing similar thoughts. The other two seniors looked tired, as if they too had spent much of the night awake and worrying. Now, Jey thought ahead to the charade that would be her school day. She felt abruptly exhausted.

  As if reading Jey’s thoughts, Elle sat down on the couch, thin shoulders bowed as if beneath a great weight. “I can’t do it,” she said in a strained voice. “How long will we have to keep pretending?”

  Kae straightened from securing her slipper. Her tone was sharp and determined. “We’ll keep pretending until we find a way past that cursed wall. Maybe we can figure out a way to sabotage the spell during our maintenance shifts.”

  Jey looked over at Kae, a little feeling of hope lifting her heavy spirits. “That’s a good idea. If all three of us passed over one shieldstone each time we do maintenance, maybe we can make a gap, a place where our tessili could fly through.”

  Elle was frowning, twirling the end of the braid between her fingers. “But the other students. They’ll notice and fix it.”

  Kae answered quickly, before Jey had a chance to respond. “We could cast a passive echo spell on the stone. Then the other girls will pass over as if it’s not there.”

  All three of them considered this plan in silence for a moment. Phril, who had been rubbing his red scales to a shine against the outside of a brillbane husk, leapt into the air to make a darting loop around the domed ceiling. Jey could feel he was happy. His scales had been warmed by the morning sun. His wings felt strong and true.

  Jey watched him, feeling her heart turn over with that deep sense of love. She imagined him flying over the wall, of following her out of this place, to freedom. “It might work.”

  Elle was staring down at the bright rug under the table. “What about the other girls? We can’t leave them.”

  Kae’s response was immediate and fierce. “We can leave them, Elle. We can, and we will. It’s going to be hard enough for the three of us to avoid calling attention to ourselves as it is.”

  Elle went quiet, staring ahead in silent sadness.

  Jey spoke. “We’ll come back, Elle. The others, they have more time. Our leaving won’t harm them. Once we’re free we can come up with a plan
to bring this place down from the outside.”

  ◈

  Orderly Brint had come to terms with the reality of his situation. In many ways, he recognized what he had was better than the life he most likely would have ended up with had the course of events taken his life in another direction.

  When he’d been sentenced to death for poaching, Brint had thought he would die. He’d thought he would die, and dying had seemed like a relief. It meant no more scrounging for food, no more losing people he loved. He’d been only a boy then, not quite shaving. He’d had a boy’s perception of the world.

  They’d come to him the night before he was scheduled to hang. They’d made him an offer. Death, or castration. Removal from the earth, or removal from society. If he chose to let him do their surgery, he would be safe forever. They promised him food and shelter and an easy life. They’d brought him food, even, when they’d come to him – a loaf of bread and a wheel of cheese. They’d spoken to him while he ate.

  It hadn’t been a hard decision for a boy who’d been hungry his whole life to make.

  As far as Brint’s parents knew, their son was dead. As far as the world knew, the place where he now passed his days did not exist. He’d undergone his surgery. The years had passed. The marks of manhood that had begun to appear had faded from Brint’s body. His muscles had softened. His cheeks were as smooth as a girl’s. He lived here, a prisoner kept in peace and plenty. There was a rhythm to his days. He had purpose. He had security. Did he need freedom as well?

  Not all the orderlies saw it that way. Some endlessly plotted their escape. Some chafed and snarled and scowled until they were reprimanded. Sometimes, the reprimand made no difference.

  When an orderly was removed for misconduct, the others were always informed. High Orderly Fras would call them to convene in the evening hours, after the girls had been put to bed in their dorms. He would always explain the infraction, the series of steps that had been taken to correct the wayward orderly’s behavior. He would speak with regret about being forced to come to the decision to remove the orderly from the academy. “It’s for your safety,” he would say, solemn and grim. “It’s for the safety of us all.”

  Fras never precisely spelled out where the orderlies went when this happened, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. After all, what could one possibly do with a man who was already dead, but kill him?

  Of course, there had been one or two quiet cases – instances where a man had simply disappeared. No reprimands, no noted infractions. Just gone. When this happened, Fras would give the same speech, explaining something had come up suddenly, they’d had to act. Brint wondered, sometimes, if these men had managed to escape.

  Brint did not think about escape. He could see no benefit in attempting to return to the outside world. He was now even less likely to scrape out a place for himself beyond the academy walls. What use would the society that had rejected him as a poor boy have for him as a castrated male?

  The only thing that bothered him about his life was the girls. The seniors, in particular. He tried not to think about it, tried not to look into their faces, to wonder what was broken in those pretty heads. He didn’t believe the girls graduated any more than he believed the orderlies who grew too old to work were retired to a place they could be better cared for in their twilight years. Brint didn’t even mind the thought of being quietly murdered in his dotage. If he hadn’t been brought to the academy in the first place, his chances of seeing old age would have been too slim to calculate.

  In truth, Brint saw little benefit in dwelling on outcomes he could not change. So he did his duty. He did the best he could for the girls. He watched them grow from small, frightened children into vague, scattered teenagers. Then he watched them each receive a diploma. He did not, thankfully, have to watch them die.

  He was used to the cycle. But now, the cycle was disturbed.

  It had started with the missing holdstone. One evening, the orderlies had been called to the meeting chamber. High Orderly Fras had explained a stone had been lost – most likely bumped off the table in the dance hall and perhaps kicked into a corner or otherwise overlooked. The dance hall had been searched, but the missing holdstone had not been discovered. The next day, Brint had helped search the dormitories. Each chamber had been scoured, the scant belongings allowed to the girls meticulously sorted through and examined.

  No holdstone had been found. Brint had been inclined to believe it was merely lost. Holdstones were small. There were any number of ways such things could go missing.

  But now there was the more serious matter of the missing syringe. Nylan had called Brint to the deployment block complex the day before. Brint had gone with reluctance, fearing some retribution for the fact that he’d stood up to the High Handler, interfered with him the night he’d swept into the academy flaunting authority he did not have. The guards had caved before Nylan’s flat stare and certain step. Not Brint. He knew the rules. He knew, knew for a fact, that handlers were not allowed within the academy walls under any circumstances. A handler most certainly wasn’t authorized to go into a dormitory unsupervised and harass a senior.

  Brint had responded to the message in spite of his reservations. Nylan had asked him, casually, if he’d happened to hear of anyone finding the syringe Nylan must have dropped in his haste to leave the senior’s dormitory that night. Brint had stared at the other man, a feeling of slow unease beginning to uncurl in his belly. He’d said he had not. Nylan had thanked him for coming. Brint had left, unsettled.

  And now, today. This morning the orderlies had read the announcement in the small antechamber that lead to their sleeping hall. The seniors, having accomplished so much, would be graduating early. There was to be a special ceremony the following morning. The orderlies were to see the three girls through their day with special care. In the morning, instead of going to class, all students were to convene in the quad after breakfast.

  Brint could well guess what would happen after that.

  ◈

  Jey looked up when the orderly came in. It was evening. She and Elle and Kae were enjoying their few hours of solitude before bed time. The three of them had hardly spoken since dinner.

  Jey could see the fatigue in her friends’ faces. She could feel it in herself. It was exhausting, the charade. More than anything, she feared waking each morning to find one of them gone again, her memory erased by the drug they had to avoid inhaling. Every morning, Jey woke with the fear she’d forgotten something.

  And that, perhaps was the hardest thing of all. Jey thought what she knew now was the truth. But what if it wasn’t? What if the things she thought were just another version of reality, crafted and placed in her mind for some reason she could not fathom? What if she’d been a different person the day before, or the week before? What if all her memories were false?

  There was no use in worrying about such a thing, of course. She had to believe in what she thought she knew, or she would go mad. Still, it was impossible not to wonder. Although Jey now knew more than she had a week ago, there was an awful lot about her situation she did not understand.

  The orderly moved through the door, pushing it open with his back and stepping into the room. Jey looked up, noticing with some surprise he was carrying three slim vases, each filled with a delicate floral arrangement. He carried them tucked up against his narrow chest.

  Jey resisted the urge to rise and help him. She recognized this orderly. It was the one she’d first recognized outside the dining hall, who’d later pushed himself between her and Nylan when the handler had barged into the senior’s dorm. She looked at him now. He was not a young man, and yet he looked nothing like Nylan. Where Nylan had a bristling beard, this man had only smooth cheeks. Where Nylan was all rough hands and square shoulders, this man was soft and slight.

  Jey didn’t understand, but she felt a quiet affection for this orderly. He was familiar to her, as if she’d once known him well. He was yours, long ago. Back when you were still a little girl, a
nd you had your own orderly, all to yourself. His name is Brint.

  The thought swirled through her mind like smoke. Jey strained to remember more, but it was useless. Even without the drugs her memory was fragmented, vague, and incomplete. Her clearest recollections were of the opportunities she’d been sent on. Which were the things she least wanted to remember.

  The orderly crossed the room to set the three vases on the low table. The glass bottoms clicked as they met solid wood. The orderly straightened, smiled, and looked at Jey. She regarded him with what she hoped was a vacant stare. “These are for you to bring with you in the morning. Tomorrow.” He said the words in a casual tone. As he spoke, he began to move about the room, tidying the few stray items that were out of place.

  Elle and Kae were watching the man too, now. “Tomorrow?” Kae said. Her voice was bland and distant.

  “Yes.” The orderly set an empty tea cup back on the rack near the door. It would be removed in the night for cleaning. “For your graduation. The three of you must have distinguished yourselves tremendously. It’s been ten years since the last senior graduated early. And then, it was only one.”

  Jey felt as if her heart stopped beating. In their poses of fake occupation, Kae and Elle went still. It was all Jey could do not to turn and stare at the orderly, to ask him questions, to beg for his help. Tomorrow? They were to graduate tomorrow?

  Above them, the flashnode went off.

  All three girls took the opportunity to go stiff, to let their eyes unfocus, to blink and go slack.

  The orderly, watching them, sighed. His voice was different when he spoke next – hollow, somehow. “Not that my warning will do you any good.”

  He turned as if to go.

  Jey was visited by a sudden memory. It was as clear and bright as the sunset outside the window. In the memory she was a child, running across the quad. She tripped on her skirts and fell onto the stone path. She sat up, palms stinging, and examined the raw red scape on her knee. She began to cry.