A Scholar Without Magic

by Guy Antibes

  “Yellow Swan,” the driver said.

  Three young men ran out of the building. They said something to Renatee in Zogazin, but Sam didn’t understand.

  “We are here to live for a while, hopefully,” Renatee said. “Proctors and students share the same buildings, but different floors.”

  Sam just nodded. No one asked him if he wanted to live at the Yellow Swan. He hoped most of his money now sat in the Hizor branch of the Bank of Zogaz. He wanted to make sure he could do what he wanted if he needed to.

  “They will take your things up to your room,” Renatee said. “We need to register inside. The academy doesn’t do things quite like the University of Tolloy, and Emmy, I’m afraid, will have to spend her time at the stables.”

  Sam untied his bag from the saddle while one of the attendants tied the horse to the wagon before he followed Renatee. He entered a modest foyer, where a young man sat at a desk, shuffling papers while Renatee looked on.

  “Third Floor for you both, Proctor.”

  Renatee looked surprised. “But Sam is a student.”

  “I don’t do the assigning,” the boy said. “You can see for yourself.”

  The new proctor looked over the paperwork and shook his head. “That is what it says.” Renatee looked at Sam. “I wouldn’t protest getting a much better living arrangement. Proctor chambers are suites, a bedroom and a sitting room. Let’s go.”

  Sam had to sign for his key, a strange looking thing with tiny knobs and cavities. “How do these things work?” Sam said as they began to walk up a central stairway.

  “Oh, that is right. We’ve got the lumps and holes in Zogaz. You put it in the keyhole and leave it there. Then you pull down on the latch. The latch doesn’t work without a key inserted. One of the many things we do differently in Zogaz, and this one is most peculiar to Hizor.”

  Sam shrugged. He guessed he would become intimately acquainted with the quirks, and that education had already started back in the village where he fought Kreb’s soldiers.

  It only took him three tries to open his door, but when Sam did, he was amazed. “These are large rooms!” he said to Renatee.

  “The bedroom is smaller. You’ll spend more time in the sitting room. Proctors often teach one student or a small group in their chambers,” Renatee said. “I preferred teaching a larger group of students. The laboratory work for Mechanical Sciences ends up much the same, but the equipment we use in Hizor can be different.”

  Sam didn’t know if he wanted to find out, but he had little choice. He was asked to stand aside as one of the attendants delivered Sam’s things.

  An older man stepped into Sam’s room. “Proctor Renatee, some of your possessions are going into storage. The rest will be set in the center of your living room. If you will follow me.”

  Renatee left Sam standing by himself in the middle of a room that seemed stranger the longer he stayed. Everything was made differently than anything he had seen. Even the Wollian’s had chairs and desks and beds that looked pretty much like what he had been used to in Toraltia.

  That was not the case in Zogaz. Even the joinery of the chairs was curious. Just like the key, nothing was the same. The drawers used rollers to make them glide in and out. Even the drawers in Tolloy didn’t work that way. The only item that looked much the same was a couch. The easy chair had a mechanism that made the whole unit rock back and forth. Rocking chairs back home had curved feet.

  Sam walked into the bedroom to find the bed suspended by chains. It reminded Sam of the hammocks that the sailors used on The Twisted Wind. He lay down and found the mattress firm, but resilient. The thing didn’t seem to be stuffed with bird feathers or straw. He hadn’t come across anything so unique in the villages that they visited on the way through Zogaz.

  Their escort, the older man, walked into Sam’s room. “Getting used to everything?”

  Sam shook his head. “Why is everything so different at the academy? Nothing is like—”

  “The outside?” The man nodded his head. “The academy has its own ways and its own culture.”

  “But shouldn’t some of these things be spread around?” Sam asked.

  The older man pursed his lips. “It isn’t polite to question the academy’s motives, Sam Smith. Everything in the Proctors’ chambers is engineered. Perhaps Proctor Renatee can explain at another time. It is now time to orient you both. I will take you to the Robin’s Nest for that.”

  The Robin’s Nest was a large light-blue building. Sam guessed it was an administration building, since the floors seemed to be taller than the Yellow Swan’s. Sam kept quiet, taking in the essence of his new home as he walked up to the entrance.

  “Sam Smith, come with me,” a woman said, rising from a seat next to the entry counter.

  “Go along. You won’t be eaten,” Renatee said. Their escorts both laughed.

  “Did you enjoy your trip from Tolloy?”

  Sam wondered how much these people knew of him and the reasons for his flight from the Vaarekian capital. “It was eventful at first, but once we made it to the first village, it was pleasant, I suppose.”

  His escort knocked on a door. Someone on the other side cried out, “Enter!” Sam heard laughter. The woman who led him opened the door and let Sam go inside, but the woman shut the door and did not accompany him inside.

  A group of three older adults and a young man and young woman sat at a table. “You may sit there.” An older woman pointed to the head of the table.

  Sam did as he was asked. He figured he was going to be interviewed for entrance into the academy.

  They all looked at him expectantly without saying a word.

  “What would you have me say?” Sam finally said.

  Everyone relaxed. “Ask us questions. We will evaluate you by them.”

  That was a twist, thought Sam. He thought for a bit and began.

  “What is the Zogazin opinion of Viktar Kreb?”

  A young man wrote Sam’s question down. Sam sat waiting for an answer, but nothing was forthcoming. Sam was going to ask if he needed to ask another question, but he wondered if he would be evaluated on that, as well.

  “What countries do you engage in trade? I don’t recall seeing a Zogazin ship in Baskin’s port when I lived there.”

  The question was documented, again without an answer.

  “What is the essence of being a Zogazin in Hizor, and what is the essence of being a Zogazin out in the countryside? Are they different?”

  Sam waited for the writing to cease before asking another.

  “If I am to stay in Hizor, what is expected of me, a foreigner?”

  The documentation continued.

  “What are your names? Mine is Sam Smith from Baskin, and I have a very large dog.” Sam smiled and folded his arms, waiting for something to happen, but they continued to sit and look at Sam.

  “What is the purpose of this interview? I was told this was to be an orientation, but it appears I am the one doing the orienting,” Sam asked. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be going.” He rose from his chair.

  “Aren't you hasty?” one of the older adults said.

  Sam shrugged. “Am I?” He looked at the scribe. “Write that down.”

  His interviewers chuckled.

  “Should I call myself the Angry Toraltian or the Blind Youth?” Sam watched his words written.

  “I’m sorry, I suppose I will have to go somewhere else in Hizor.”

  “But you come to us with only the clothes on your back. Can’t we have some fun with you, if we are to support your stay at the academy?”

  Sam laughed this time. “You should check the Bank of Zogaz. I have more than enough funds available to me. If you require tuition, I can pay for it. I’m not attuned to your culture yet. Please understand.”

  The older woman put both of her hands on the table. “Have we had enough?”

  They all nodded, grinning.

  “Come with me,” she said.

  Sam was totally lost. Was
this all some kind of low-key joke? He shook his head in bafflement and guessed it wouldn’t be his last. He followed the woman to an office, where she allowed him to enter first.

  “I am Galinda Seramin, one of the Head Proctors of the academy.” She smiled at Sam and then sighed. “We take our fun where we can,” Galinda said.

  Sam sat and was ready to listen and observe if this was another little play.

  “We like to get a feel for our foreign students. You lasted longer than some.”

  “Did I hurt my chances to attend the academy?” Sam asked.

  “Oh, no. You had a strong recommendation from a very respectable person.”

  “Ah, Renatee Dinik,” Sam said.

  Galinda laughed. “Him? Not at all. Hilsa Forinin, our country’s greatest spy. She graduated with three Firsts. I personally pled with her to become a Proctor, but she wanted to do fieldwork with her new husband. Love,” the head proctor said, shaking her head.

  Sam didn’t know if he should believe anything Galinda had to say. Hilsa’s story could have been an incomplete one, except for the modesty of her academy accomplishments.

  “We already knew about your wealth,” the woman said. “You will pay your way, but it won’t be very expensive, the equivalent of five Toraltian gold coins for a year’s worth of schooling. Your dog will have to be kept in a kennel at the academy stables, but they have a few spaces comfortable enough for a Great Sanchian.”

  Sam’s tuition wasn’t cheap, and Sam wondered if it would be polite to haggle, but he decided not to, given the capriciousness of the Zogazin. At least he could visit Emmy when he wanted.

  “I would like to mimic what I was learning in Tolloy,” Sam said. “Materials Sciences and history.”

  Galinda grinned. “With a Zogazin twist?”

  “Is there any other kind of twist in Hizor?”

  “Actually, no.” She narrowed her eyes in an appraising look. “Stay awhile, and you’ll pick things up well enough.”

  “I told Hilsa I’d stay a year.”

  “That is good enough for us. If you learned much at Tolloy, you could probably graduate from the academy in that time,” the woman said. “Proctor Dinik,” she chuckled a bit, “has a project you can work on. You might be familiar with it.”

  “The sowing machine?”

  “Sewing?” Galinda looked confused for a moment, but then caught up to Sam. “Sowing, of course.” She smiled.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ~

  A fter a week of getting used to the endless jokes and pranks from the Zogazin, Sam finally made it out of the academy and walked to the Bank of Zogaz to check on his funds.

  Sam asked for the bank manager.

  “I am Sam Smith. I have a large deposit in your bank. I wanted to make sure my money made it to Hizor.”

  The manager looked surprised. “Smith? I’ve never heard of the name before.” He leaned forward. “Are you here to make fun of me?” the man said.

  “No,” Sam said with a sigh. “You are doing this to make fun of me.”

  The man sat back. “Ah!” He snapped his fingers, “You caught me this time.”

  Sam had found that if he quickly discovered someone was joking with him, they relented quickly. The longer he went without exposing them, the longer the joker would continue to spew their misdirection and fibs. He learned it was mostly in good fun, but that occasional undercurrent of something nasty still emerged often enough from some citizen’s joking. Sam began thinking of it as ugly humor.

  “My balance?”

  The manager scribbled down a number. It was close enough to what Sam had estimated that he nodded.

  “I’d like some of it transferred to Toraltia. Can you do that?”

  The manager frowned. “There are limits to what can be conveyed with paper orders,” the man said.

  “What is the limit?”

  “One thousand Vaarekian Eagles.”

  Sam had thought a few hundred, but he decided he would rather not have all his money in a country that could be overrun by Kreb’s army before his year was up. He thought four thousand Eagles was more than enough to keep himself wealthy for the rest of his life.

  “Could you notify Faddon Bentwick of the Royal Baskin Constabulary that the amount has been deposited in my name?”

  “Of course,” the manager said. “Is there anything else? A ship or a small holding in the countryside we can acquire for you?”

  Sam shook his head. “I’ve only been here for a week. I may decide to buy a ship in a few days, but I’ll let you know.”

  The manager lifted the corner of his mouth in a smile. “I trust I will be the first to have an opportunity to help you find a suitable craft.”

  Sam waited for half-an-hour for forms to be drawn up and then signed paperwork in Polistian and in the Zogazin language before he left. He had no idea if any of his money would leave Hizor.

  ~

  Classes were mostly held in Polistian. Those presented in Zogazin, including his current Mechanical Sciences course on types of apparatuses that moved water, were more of a challenge. Even though Sam was trying to catch up, he just couldn’t pick up Zogazin words and struggled in the course.

  Proctor Dinik showed up at the door to Sam’s rooms. “Class transfer,” he said, brightly. “I am working on the ward flinger, and the academy thought it would be better if I actually taught some students while I worked. I thought you would be interested, so I took the liberty of transferring you. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “As long as the classes are held in Polistian, I would be very happy to join.”

  Renatee rubbed his hands together. “That is wonderful. I am sure you can pick up some of what they teach you in Zogazin history on your own.”

  Sam groaned. That was one of the classes in Polistian, but he had already committed to transfer. “Maybe you can help me with my water mechanics course. It is in the Zogazin language.”

  “Of course, of course,” Renatee laughed, seemingly oblivious to Sam’s situation.

  A lot of obliviousness went on in Zogaz, but some of it was purposeful. Sam thought of it as the ‘Culture of the Blind Eye,’ and sometimes it was infuriating. He had never been exposed to so much ignoring of a lot of situations.

  ~

  Three months later, Sam sat in the cafeteria using the contents of a pouch filled with spices which were much more expensive in Hizor, to make the food more interesting when Hilsa walked up and sat down in front of him.

  “Are you getting bored?” she asked.

  Hilsa looked at his pouch and made a face. Sam couldn’t tell what that meant.

  “I am,” Sam said. “I am working toward a degree or something at the academy, but I don’t really feel that I am accomplishing anything.”

  “You are depressed, young man. I can see it on your face. Renatee hasn’t a clue what is going on inside your head. I have been called to the East, the southeastern tip of Polistia, to help with a problem they are having. Would you like to come along? I can arrange history credit for you.”

  Sam hadn’t thought he was down, but he could feel some excitement bubble up with the prospects of leaving Hizor.

  “Can I take Emmy along? She is boarded at the academy stables, and I don’t get to see her very much.”

  “Your Great Sanchian? Of course!” Hilsa said. “She might help us find whatever we are looking for.” She leaned over the table to talk conspiratorially. “At this point, I don’t know what we are looking for either.” Hilsa must have thought that was a joke because she broke out in laughter. “You can help Renatee with that contraption of his when you get back.”

  Sam smiled. “When do we leave?”

  “Two days. I’ll take care of everything. We will be gone about a month, including our travel time,” Hilsa said. “There will be three others accompanying us, so you don’t have to worry about my wearing your ears out.” She laughed as she got up.

  He hoped that the others had stunted senses of humor, but Sam knew his hop
e was a vain one.

  ~

  Hilsa introduced Sam to two men and a woman who wore white clothes. They were going to a Zogazin medical research facility in the town of Alloren and had asked Hilsa to accompany them.

  They let Hilsa do all the talking as two of them rode in a wagon filled with supplies. Sam, Hilsa, and one of the men rode horses, with Emmy riding in a space cleared for her in the back of the wagon. The buildings passed them by until they reached the outskirts of Hizor. Buildings began to thin during the climb up out of the bowl that held the city inside. At the top of the rise, houses looked more normal. The citizens dressed with more function in mind than they did in the city.

  Sam turned to look back. Somehow he felt more energy as they left Hizor behind. Maybe Hilsa could explain the difference if she felt it like he did.

  “Why do I feel less depressed just by leaving the city?” Sam asked.

  Hilsa didn’t laugh at all this time, but she did smile. It was a competent smile, a knowing smile. Sam seemed to have made a comment that pleased her.

  “There are two cultures in Zogaz. Hizor is the center of one, and then there is the rest of the country. Our capital is run on a kind of hysteria. Everyone tries too hard to be funny under social pressures from others and from the heads of our government. Renatee was forced to come back, but now that he has returned to Hizor, he has to re-establish himself. You might have noticed the change.”

  Sam shook his head. “I have been too focused on myself since I started.”

  “Four months, and you have felt the difference. Some never do. The feelings are subtle. As I said, I call it a type of hysteria. Those who are immersed in it from their childhood will never understand the pressure they live in.”

  “It isn’t just the humor, though,” Sam said. “I call it ugly when I experience it. I thought there was something hidden going on, but maybe it isn’t that it is hidden as much as it is something that isn’t very pretty.”

  Hilsa laughed. “The humor in Hizor can have a mean, nasty side. It is like fighting with laughter.”

  “Aggressive joking? I suppose I can see that.”