Red Madrassa: Algardis #1 (14 page)

Now you’ve seen what Likan fire can do,
Tikaras said as he turned around.
All of you follow me.
They went back through the portal again, but this time ended up in a large classroom. Numerous two-person desks were set up along the wall in an open square, facing inward. Tikaras took his place in the middle.
Today we will begin making Likan oil. It is a month-long process that must be performed in pairs: two weeks to prepare and another two weeks to set.

He slowly counted off the students and then nodded.
Eight pairs. Good. Milan with Hopkin. Allorna with Stuart. Sareen with Gilmas. Maithry with Gwen. Kathern with Kaden. Jonas with Mical. Palis with Conor. Chasi with Casmus.

As they sat down with their assigned partners, scrolls appeared on their desks with fiery writing scaling down their fronts.
Here is your list of ingredients. Three will be in the school storeroom down the hall. Two will be in the town market, and the rest can be found in the Ameles Forest. I expect you to have these ready by the end of the week.

Allorna looked curiously at her list: apantha seeds (crushed), white flax, perin oil, canthor petals, moon moss, leather strips (for insulation), marcas tree sap. Stuart, her partner, spoke up: “None of this looks too hard to procure. We can get the leather and perin oil from the market. It looks like the canthor petals, marcas tree sap and moon moss are all in the forest. The rest should be here.”

Surprised, she said, “Yes, that seems about right. I’ll go check the School storage.” As she walked into the hall she thought,
It’s nice to be assigned a competent partner.

When she reached the storeroom, she found a Probate sitting in the entranceway. “What do you need?” he asked.

“Apantha seeds and white flax,” she replied.

He went back to gather the ingredients, then soon returned. “Here’s the white flax‌—‌sign here,” he said as he pointed to a chart. “For the apantha seeds, you need a token from your instructor.”

“Here,” came the call from over her shoulder. “Initiate Tikaras says we’ll need this for the seeds.” Stuart handed it over to the Probate, who nodded and went back for the seeds. They gathered the ingredients and headed back the classroom, passing other pairs on their way to storage. “We should probably gather the ingredients from the Ameles together,” said Stuart. “I have duties in the town market tomorrow afternoon, and can get the rest of what we need then.”

“All right,” said Allorna, “How will we pay for it?”

Stuart grinned and held up two class tokens. “With these. It’s part of the Citadel bartering system. We give them to the apothecary and tanner, and they trade them for services at the Citadel later.”

“Sounds good. But I hope we don’t get paid in those for student worker duties.”

He laughed. “Why? Need real money? Got something big to spend it on that the town market can’t provide?”

“Something like that,” Allorna replied, with a half-smile. “Shall we meet on Thursday morning, then? We can head to the forest after first bell.”

“Good enough,” he replied. They re-entered the classroom, and began gathering their things.

Tikaras said, as they prepared to leave,
You may all leave your supplies in one of the boxes here.
He pointed a curved claw to eight numbered strongboxes at his side.

Vedaris sat outside the tower of the School of the Unknown, drowsing comfortably under a nice, shady tree. He still hadn’t picked his classes. Yes, it was a problem. No, he didn’t care. None of them looked the least bit interesting. He stared up at the sky, and alternately frowned down at his sheet. He looked up when he heard running feet. A heavyset kid with flaxen hair was approaching rapidly.

“Hey! Do you know where
The Wayfarer’s Journey
is?” the kid asked, panting as he clutched his knees.

After giving his sheet a cursory look, Vedaris said, “Third floor classroom on the right.”

“Thanks!” the kid shouted as he ran off.

“All right,” sighed Vedaris, “that settles it. The most ridiculous-sounding class on this list will be my first. If they can’t inspire me, I’m out.”

He set off in the direction of the third floor classroom. To his surprise, the room was packed; it looked like about a hundred kids were signed up for this class. As he moved forward to take a seat on one of the packed benches, he looked around in confusion, then peered up at the soaring rafters and wondered what sort of class this was. At that moment, a dark robed figure stepped behind the podium. He held a large text ceremoniously in his hands.

As he opened the pages of the text, the crackle of vellum was audible throughout the silent auditorium. And then he began to intone: “Hela, Lady of the Journey, welcome the new students to the Way, and brighten their paths in their darkest days.” He looked up from the book and cried out, “The Wayfarer was more than a woman, more than a myth! She was a deity reincarnated!”

At that point, the large double doors at the entrance clanged shut, and many of the students intoned, “As she was before, so she will be again.” With wide eyes, Vedaris cursedly silently in his head, and imagined an invisible mist of prayers and hopes, several feet thick, sent up to the rafters by generations and generations of students, innocents who had no idea what they were getting into when they showed up for
this
class.

For the next hour, he listened to priests who called themselves Initiates‌—‌though he knew a proselytizing hack when he saw one‌—‌speak about death, life, and the everlasting.
The Wayfarer can reincarnate itself, really?
he thought idly at one point. He imagined this Wayfarer coming back as a big, busty woman with tits as large as a dock whore’s and a fiery mane of red hair.
What would these priests think of their savior then?
he wondered, amused.

As the droning went on and on, he lazed about on the bench as much as possible, trying to control the urge to fling the nearest two idiots off the bench and get out of there any way he could, preferably by jumping on the heads of people the way that the street girls played square-jump. By the time it was over, he was ready to burn down the auditorium.

He was heading out the door when he saw it. The priest was standing at the entrance, holding the line up and blessing students as they left. Behind him, clear as day, was a life-sized painting of the Wayfarer just as he’d imagined her‌—‌and at her feet was a Dragon.

A
Dragon
at the feet of a
Human
.

Impossible,
he thought, dazed. Surely his vision was failing him. He stepped closer to take a look. It was the drecking size of a dog. Dragons were
never
that small…‌except the young ones. He continued to frown and stare, taking in its markings…‌and was that a
collar
around its neck?

Another priest, seeing Vedaris contemplating the work, had come to stand by his side. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” asked the priest. Vedaris wasn’t sure whether to smack him or eat him. The priest, who clearly had no prior experience with dragons, was positively glowing with excitement.

As he turned toward the priest with a retort on his lips, he caught a weird scent, then turned back to the painting in confusion. He inhaled to further sample what he had already scented. “Who made this painting?” he demanded.

“Well,” answered the priest slowly, taking in his golden eyes‌—‌which were literally glowing‌—‌”I understand that it was created over three centuries ago by a woman named Leanis, quite a skilled painter.”

Vedaris clenched his teeth tightly as he asked, “And where can I find out more about her?”

The priest blinked. “There are several works about her in the library, and a merchant family in town that specializes in her works,” he said. Then he scowled, and sniffed, “Of course,
we
possess all known art that depicts the Wayfarer.”

Vedaris didn’t even hear the last part. He was off to the town market, racing as fast as his feet could carry him.

Chapter 13

S
idimo, Sitara, Allorna, and Maride gathered for lunch in the dining hall; Vedaris was nowhere to be found.

“My class was amazing!” gushed Sitara. “We talked about weather and philosophy the whole time. It was a great discussion!”

“Lucky you,” grumped Sidimo. “I was assigned a two-hundred page text and told to stay the dreck away from my instructor until it was time for the exam on it, which accounts for our entire grade in the class.”

Allorna looked at Maride, who shrugged and said, “I’ve got a research project due in five days.”

Allorna said, after spreading jam on a slice of bread, “Same as Maride, except four weeks. We’re making Likan oil.”

Sidimo perked up. “Well, that sounds interesting. Likan oil is known to have as many healing properties as Likan fire is said to have destructive ones. Do you mind if I take a look at your project when you’re done?”

Allorna shrugged. “Feel free. I’m meeting up with my partner on Thursday during second bell to look for the plants we need in the Ameles Forest. Maybe you can help us find them.”

At this, Maride spoke up: “Likan oil and Likan fire were hot commodities during the Initiate Wars. The fire was originally made for ship battles, but some Initiates used it in siege tactics outside of cities.” At this, he grimaced. “It got really bad, really fast. This was toward the end of the Wars, and one of the reasons they pushed for a peace.”

When the others all looked at him, openmouthed, he said, “What? I’m not stupid, you know! I’ve read the entire Royal Library!”

Which, Allorna recalled, consisted of at least 2,000 volumes, codices, and scrolls. She took a bite of her bread, contemplating Maride as she chewed.

“So why are they still making Likan fire today?” asked Sitara.

Allorna swallowed quickly. “They’re not,” she answered. “Just Likan oil, which is the only thing that can stop it.”

Sidimo chimed in, “There are still thousands of canisters of Likan fire buried all across the continent. Each village is required to stock Likan oil in case someone runs into a buried cache.”

“That’s right.”

Maride, who was shoveling food into his mouth, contributed, “It’s a fascinating case study of the Initiate Wars. Likan City was destroyed by its own creation. They’d stockpiled the fire in underground chambers for distribution. Couldn’t stop the flames when they erupted. The whole city perished.”

The quarter bell rang, indicating that they had 15 minutes until their third bell class. “Any of you seen Vedaris?” Sitara asked. They all looked up from their food and shrugged.

With a shrug of her own, Sitara got up, shouldered her knapsack, and prepared for the walk into town. Her second practicum class was
Pegasi and Windriders.
It was held in the town center, strangely enough at an inn: the Holder. Despite the unexpected venue, she was looking forward to it. After stopping a townsman on the road, she was directed to go south and round a bend. The inn sat on the edge of the eastern wall. It was wide and low, and included a stable with what looked like a gryffn eyrie off to the right as she approached.

There were kith everywhere: messenger owls in flight coming in and out of a tall tower awkwardly attached to the roof, dogs wearing the vivid red-and-yellow collars of talking kith, and a gray speckled horse with white wings that stood regally in a front paddock.

“Hello, hello!” panted a massive, shaggy white-and-black dog as he came forward. He grinned at her happily, as only a dog can. “I’m Mane! Mane they call me! Welcome to the Holder Inn! Are you here for
Pegasi and Windriders
?”

“Yes, I am,” she replied, while looking around with some confusion. “Am I in the right place, then?” Why would her School of Air class be held at an inn?

“Yes yes oh yes! The Pegasi are just around the corner!” He wagged his big feathery tail a mile a minute. “This is where they live! Right here at Holder Inn, in the attached way station for the messengers of the royal family, riders and windriders! Isn’t that great?”

Sitara smiled, fighting the urge to reach out and pet him. Some kith didn’t appreciate that, though Mane looked like he might. He’d probably appreciate an ear-scratch, too; most creatures with fur did.

“This way please!” Mane said as he began to walk around toward the opposite side of the gryffn loft. As she rounded the back of the inn, Sitara saw more paddocks with three of the gray-speckled winged horses trotting around inside.

A large woman stepped out of a wide doorway while wiping her hands on her skirt, staring at Sitara with a frown on her face. She grunted, “New recruit, hey? I’m Rebecca and I own the Holder Inn. Stay out of my kitchens and out of my way, especially when you have stable turds on your feet.”

The woman turned without a further word and slammed the door to the kitchens. Sitara glanced uncertainly at Mane. “What’s with her?”

Mane’s tail wasn’t wagging now. “She’s like that with everybody,” he said mournfully. “She calls me a big galoot. Just try to stay out from underfoot, okay?”