by Aaron Crash
The Scatter Islands woman, Linny, jumped into the conversation. “So, tell us, Ibeliah, why did you and your husband leave the Sunrise Mountains?”
The dwab eyed her. “Not to spy. We get that a lot. We left to learn and to protect. Brand and I knew we’d only learn so much in our home. We had some sons and got them married, but we live a long time, and there’s a change coming. It’s in the air, spoiling what should be smelling like mashed mushroom pudding. Unlike a lot of our folk, who figure we’ll dig deeper if bad things come, we decided to do the opposite. Meet the trouble head on and shape the outcome. The Age of Isolation is coming to a close. I’ll be stone-damned if the Morbuskor aren’t going to have their voice in teaching the children and in choosing how things will run on the outside. Brand and I are proud members of the Undergem Guild, we run a little business in mushrooms, and we’re also in the Knowing Guild. If we got this job at Old Ironbound? Well, we’d be in a good position to add our voices to the decisions being made.”
One of the kitchen staff, a slender woman dressed in formal robes, came by with a tray of sparkling wine in crystalline goblets. All of them helped themselves.
Della had read the dwab’s resume. The couple’s motivations had been clear on the paper. So what was Ibeliah’s agenda in announcing all that now? And why the mention of the sons when the Withering still affected Thera outside of the mountains? It was a power play, pure and simple. Della could respect that.
Linny sipped her wine. A soft smile was on her face. “If we’re giving our histories and credentials, should I go next? Or would you like to be next, Haylee?”
The gruff Morbuskor woman swallowed down the wine. “Sorry, Linny, I think I got down to business too fast. I came here to work, not play. Was I out of line, Princept?”
“All three of you will be with us this semester to see who is the best fit, so we’ll have months on end to chat. Out of line? I don’t think so.” Della raised a glass. “A toast to you three taking a chance on our school.”
They clinked glasses together.
Hayleesia gave Della eye contact for a little longer than was necessary, those dark eyes becoming more purple. There was definite heat in her stare.
A little tingle went through Della. “We have oranges, Miss Heenn, so you’ll have a little taste of your home.”
“I do enjoy oranges,” the half elf-said agreeably. “I won’t miss the summers. It can be so hot, but I hear the weather here is mild.”
“If you like rain,” the dwab growled.
“Both Linnylynn and I know about rain,” Hayleesia replied.
“So you two know each other?” Della asked.
Hayleesia put out a hand and touched Linny, who took it. “Yes,” the Scatter Islands woman said. “Actually, Haylee and I ran a study in the same Swamp Coast county together, working on our Moons magic and doing research on the queendoms. It’s fascinating that the women there rule. While other cultures gathered around a central male, those women took control.”
A smile played across Haylee’s lips. “Some scholars think that’s why the power structure split into all the different fiefdoms. The women couldn’t get along. I don’t think that’s the case.”
The dwab laughed. “Of course, I don’t have a thing to add to this conversation. Me and the old man have been together for a century or more. We Morbuskor still do the traditional marriage. And before you accuse us of not giving out the Withering cure, that’s not any of our business. All of that was decided a thousand years ago and by dumber folks than us.”
“And she didn’t have a thing to add to the conversation.” Linny sipped from her glass.
Ibeliah grinned, showing big, white teeth. “You caught me. I always have something to add. So, Linny, why are you here? Not content with Verra Nassa?”
Linny nodded. “This is a dream come true. To teach at Old Ironbound? To be the Studia Dux of Moons here? I would risk anything. Like you, Ibeliah, I think we’re at a turning point. In my Flow magic, I’ve seen the rise of armies. I’ve seen the violence, the evil, that will threaten us. A darkness is coming. Here, at the Majestrial, we will be building the scholars, the artists, the warriors that will keep that darkness at bay.”
Ibeliah grew serious. “Aye, the darkness. While I don’t like to get my head too far in the clouds, I’ve had my share of Flow visions as well. The humans around here might not live to see the day where we have to face the evils of this age, but we’ll be here, me and Brand. Aye.”
The dwab professor saw that Haylee wasn’t speaking. She jerked her head at the half-elf. “What about you, Heenn? Are you seeing the nightmares like we are?”
Haylee didn’t respond to her. Her reply was to Della, and Della alone. “I’m here because Old Ironbound pays the best. And I’m worth it.” She laughed to soften the strong words.
Her confidence, her long gazes, made Della pause. This half-elf, in a lot of ways, reminded the Princept of herself when she was younger.
She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
The night wore on. Some of the professors had gone down to the festival, including the Ironcoats. Brodor went with them. As for Gharam, he’d excused himself to return to his apartment and his many wives. Della envied him. She’d like a harem of women to take care of her needs.
Della found herself alone in front of a fireplace, the flames snapping. Outside, the wind blew rain against the windowpane.
Haylee Heenn came up, drawing a bit too near. Della could feel the heat from the half-elf’s body. “Nobody knows, do they?”
“Knows what?” the Princept asked, honestly surprised.
“About you. You’re not human. Not fully,” Haylee whispered.
“How would you know?”
Hayleesia lowered her voice further. “I’ve had Flow visions as well. About you. Your past. And I know about your time in the Silent Scream. I won’t tell anyone.”
Those words froze Della’s heart. The memories. The terror. The lust. Suddenly, Hayleesia Heenn wasn’t just a beautiful potential candidate. Suddenly, Hayleesia Heenn was something else entirely. An enemy? A confidant? Or maybe something in-between.
Linny Albatross walked over and took Haylee’s hand. “We should go to the dance. It’s been a while, but you still remember how to dance, right, Haylee?”
“I remember a great many things,” the half-elf said, laughing, though she sent a meaningful look at Della. “And I’m very good at keeping my mouth shut about them.”
The Princept watched the pair leave. Those three words—the Silent Scream—had changed everything.
Chapter Ten
FRIDAY NIGHT, AND YMIR was looking forward to the weekend. He’d stuffed as much study as he could into the rainy hours, both day and night. He’d spent the afternoon helping clean for the Princept’s welcome dinner in the Imperial Palace. Now he was going to have some fun.
Jennybelle was going to meet him in the sea alley shower. The swamp woman had always wanted to see how the other half lived, and she’d heard stories of scholars having sex in the showers there. She wanted to try it.
Ymir wasn’t about to say no. He hurried into the shower room at the end of the sea alley to get the day’s dirt off him before she arrived. Actually, he needed to soak away the stress of an entire week’s worth of work, both in the classroom and in the hallways and washrooms he cleaned. This was a situation he would tolerate, but only so much. He’d get his business on track, he’d make his money, and he’d pay his tuition. And if anyone tried to stop him, he would destroy them.
And this situation with Jennybelle was equally frustrating. He was glad she was thinking about sex and not just obsessing about whatever was giving her nightmares. She was probably worried about Auntie Jia and her assassins. However, Ymir wasn’t sure. Jenny was confident she could handle any kind of Josentown treachery—she’d grown up around the backstabbing and murder, and the swamp woman didn’t think assassins were on their way. Not yet.
Lillee was also not herself. She’d not wa
nted to partake in Ymir and Jenny’s shower play. Instead, she’d be up in the Librarium, studying and waiting for them.
Ymir hung his robe on a hook at the entrance. No one was there. No, they were all at the New Year Festival, eating, drinking, and dancing. The taverns on the Sea Stair Market would be taking a hit on their profits for the night.
Ymir thought of his classes. Already, the professors were piling on the work. His schedule was mostly the same.
Imprudens Flow Magic with Professor Leel, silver haired and with her forearm cuff firmly fixed in place.
Imprudens Mathematics with Brodor Bootblack.
Theran History with Nile Preat.
Introduction to Languages with the Princept, Della Pennez.
Classic Warfare with Korga, Gharam Ssornap’s surly wife, who took every opportunity to make Ymir run laps around the Sunfire Field. He didn’t mind it. He liked to run. It helped clear his mind. The memories, though, of running with his battle brothers across the tundra muddied what should’ve been a pristine experience—that and Korga didn’t much like support for her massive tits. They swung about like hounds on the loose.
Instead of Courtly Manners and Arts, the Princept insisted that Ymir take a poetry class with one of the new professors who might replace Siteev Ckins. The dwarf woman was strange, not only in the fact that she looked like a man, but she could go from cursing them out to encouraging them to explore their dreams. It wasn't just poetry, or Ymir wouldn't have gone. It was Flow-inspired poetry, and so they discussed divination magic. That was why the Princept had put him there, because he had visions, but he couldn’t control them.
He wasn’t sure why Professor Ironcoat was teaching a Flow class when she was looking to become the Studia Dux of Moons. They even met in the Moons Tower, in Siteev’s old classroom. Ymir spent a lot of time grinning. If only that desk could talk.
Ymir walked under one of the spouts. He carried his soap and a very soft, very big towel. Both were more gifts from Jenny. Having rich friends was nice.
He hung the towel on a hook. Then he cranked the squeaking rusted spout set into the tiles, which were marked by the constant drip. The water had some level of Sunfire magic, though it generally wasn’t very warm, unlike the boil that poured from Jenny’s shower. That could be too hot. Those women, though, loved it.
Most of the time he used the water to rinse the saltwater off him. He preferred the ocean water, even now when it was cold. Well, the southerners complained of the cold. They’d never had to feel the tundra wind on them, temperatures that could kill a man in minutes.
The water sprayed down. He grimaced as the icy droplets slowly warmed. Very slowly. He soaped himself up; the soap was very different from the lard and lye blocks, sweetened with sage, he’d used growing up. This was a perfumy soap, and he wasn’t sure if he didn’t like his own smell better.
Jenny and Lillee liked it, though, and in the end, he had more important things to consider. As long as he was clean, that was fine.
He was washing his face when he heard sandals slapping down on the tile. He turned, and there was Jennybelle, but she was fully dressed. She came in. “Ymir, something’s come up. Nelly insisted she and I read this sand letter we got from Josentown together tonight. I’m sorry.” She winced. “Can we reschedule?”
He nodded. “Say hello to Nelly.”
Jenny shook her head. “She’s the worst. We might have to kill her.”
“Getting rid of the body won’t be hard. We have an entire ocean.”
The swamp woman laughed. Her eyes went to his uht. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry for missing that. Later, can I have a bite?”
“Not a bite,” he said. “But we can work something out.”
Jenny blew him a kiss. “See you at our table. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She hurried off.
Ymir continued to wash, soaping his face. Surprisingly, he heard another set of footfalls that sounded familiar. He’d heard their stomp too many times, either getting him a book, or taking a book from him. Gatha wouldn’t be there, would she? He couldn’t smell her because of the damn soap.
He blinked, washed the suds from his eyes, and turned.
There the she-orc stood, in her white dress, showing thick thighs, and then her sandals.
Her eyes went to his cock. “Jennybelle Josen just came out of here. She was dressed. What were you two doing?”
“Nothing, unfortunately.” He laughed. “Why are you here? Just to look? I suppose that’s fair since I saw your oheesy when you climbed the ladder.”
She scowled. “You nearly kissed me before. It was very forward of you. I don’t want you to do it again. I didn’t come here for men, or love, or fucking.”
“And why are you here?” Ymir asked. “At the school, I mean. Not in the shower, though I am curious about that as well.”
“Why I’m at the Majestrial is none of your concern.” Her rose-colored eyes glared into his. “And you mentioned those erotic texts. Yes, I read them, and, yes, they excite me. I take care of myself. I don’t want friends. I don’t need friends. My focus is complete. For the first time, I get to do what I want.”
Ymir let the water run onto him. It seemed to be warming up, and it felt good. Besides, he wanted to let the rough she-orc librarian get a good look at him.
“Very well, Gatha. Our relationship will be nothing but books. I made my move. You have made it clear you are not interested. All is well between us. Again, why come down here if not to watch me shower?”
“Your pretty elf girl, Lillee, is sitting at your table on the second floor, and I brought her The Keez Forta Index. She has blank parchment and a piece of coal, and it’s clear she’s waiting on you to do the rubbing. I know about the scratched-out words, and I’ve wondered why anyone would deface a book like that. I think it references the Scrolls of Octovato. Those would be in the Scrollery, and you would need special permission to access them.”
“I don’t know what this has to do with me showering.”
Gatha sighed viciously at him. “I can’t leave until I check The Keez Forta Index back into the stacks. Hence, it was in my interest to track you down. And to tell you that I am not interested in you.”
“I won’t have the honor of your scrutiny?”
She walked in closer.
The water was getting hotter. It felt good, and yet, was there something wrong with it? Was some spell misfiring?
Gatha looked him full in the eyes. Then her eyes went down to his chest, hairy and strong, and then down to his tapered waist, pausing as she took in his abdominal muscles. Again, she stared at his uht, which started to rise under her gaze.
Standing there, he knew lust filled her, despite her protestations. He wouldn’t force himself on her. He would show her what she would be missing out on. It wasn’t long until he was long and hard.
She licked her green lips. “You hold up well under scrutiny. You also bring trouble. I’ve had enough trouble in my life. Perhaps one day, you and I might become more familiar. Your women are very pretty, however fragile. I’m surprised they can take you.”
“They can,” he assured her. “We have a lot of fun.”
She nodded. “Fun. Happiness. Play. Love.” She laughed, and he was fairly certain it was the first time she’d ever laughed in front of him. She might have sneered at him a time or two but never laughed. Now she did, however melancholy the sound. “Maybe someday,” she said. “But at this stage, my books, erotic or otherwise, are enough for me.” She backed up quickly. “I can see why you win your battles. You are as strong as you are smart. You wouldn’t stand up against me. Few can. And I wouldn’t want you to try.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“I like not knowing if I can defeat you or not.” With that, she turned. Her sandals slapped away down the sea alley as she headed toward the long staircase up.
Ymir winced. The water was too hot now. He went to turn it off. From the spout, the water stopped abruptly. An instant later, flames spat out, and not just out
of the showerhead in front of him, but every spout in the shower. The entire room had become an oven of spitting flames.
Outside, he heard Gatha’s screams. “Ymir! By the Pits, Ymir!” Her voice was half rage, half worry.
Ymir had seconds to consider what to do. He’d frozen water, and he’d created cold platforms and spears made of ice. Those were minor magic, simple cantrips. However, Professor Leel had mentioned armatus magic. Armor magic. He knew about armor.
“Jelu jelarum!” he screamed, taking energy from his magical core and focusing that power across his body, encasing himself in ice.
The fire hit him from all directions. He didn’t feel the heat; he felt the cold of his freezing coat, around him, stopping the heat from destroying him.
“Ignis inanis!” Gatha cried. That was magic to dispel flames. In a swirl of unimaginable heat, the fire puking out of the spouts stopped and the inferno vanished, leaving the tiles steaming.
Ymir stood, steaming as well, fists clenched.
Gatha ran to him, grabbing his arm with strong fingers. Worry painted her face. “Ymir! How can this be? You’re not scorched nor burned nor dead. Why aren’t you dead?”
“How can I die when I haven’t kissed you yet?” He grinned. “I have to say, I fucking hate Professor Leel, and I fucking hate this magic elkshit. And yet, her class this week saved my life.”
The she-orc moved away from him. She furrowed her brow. “Someone tried to kill you.”
“Thanks to the fucking magic, they failed,” he replied. “But couldn’t it be an issue with the Sunfire magic heating the water?”
She shook her head. “No. That magic is up in the tanks, part Sunfire, part Flow. This was something different.”
