Red Madrassa: Algardis #1 (17 page)

“Now I will show you how to do this in the beaker,” Hoffman declared. “Many mages find it easier to put their hands around or toward whatever object they’re trying to affect, but this action is completely unnecessary, and foolish to boot. Focus your mind; the movement of your hands has nothing to do with this.” He glanced toward the ceiling. “Unless you’re creating a fire weapon, of course, which you’re not.” He muttered, “Hasn’t been done in centuries in any case.”

They all nodded.

“Open your mindsight. Watch me push my magic into the beaker. The beaker gives the fire a focal point in which to rest; a home where it will be content to stay.” As he concluded, a round orb of fire appeared inside the glass. Satisfied, he said, “As long as I feed this flame every few months with a little bit of core power, it will never go out. Go back to your seats to practice.”

After sufficient time had passed, and he had walked along the aisles encouraging the students in their task, Hoffman returned to the front and said, “You will probably not be able keep the orb aflame for very long…‌a few days at most. Practice after school. On Friday, we’ll combine efforts by team. The strongest flame will win points towards the end-of-the-semester prize, and one team member will receive an everlasting orb, guaranteed for one year without need for renewal, from me. Makes a great study light.”

There were excited whispers from all the students as they filed out. Allorna overheard the conversations of several students float by. “Everlasting orbs are worth a lot of money!” said one boy, with excitement on his face.

“They’re not easy to make on your own, either…” whispered a girl with a blonde ponytail to her brunette friend.

Another boy passed by, saying, “This one is mine.”

Vedaris reached the town market just as the third class bell sounded; he figured he had enough time to get in and back before twenty minutes or so had passed. Even if more than a third of the class had passed by then, though, this was more important‌—‌far more important. At least, that was what he told the small corner of his mind that was vehemently protesting, with occasional references to living on street corners again.

He wandered from stall to stall in the inner market, looking for the art seller the priest had mentioned. He asked an old woman what the art seller’s shop looked like. She was far too interested in how much money he was carrying to say, so after that he was too mistrusting to ask for directions. Finally, after much wandering, he came across a small house on the corner of the market. Two bronze dog statues guarded the entryway. It had a cloth awning and was fairly clean looking. Something told him this had to be it.

He walked in, and was immediately struck by how small and closed-in the place actually was. There were figurines and sculptures on every available surface; paintings on the walls; little stone statues on the steps leading up to the second floor. Carefully, he stepped around and wove through the maze of art to the stairs. As he walked up, he felt a cool breeze wafting down from above, and wind chimes in the distance.

He was surprised to find that the upper floor was much cleaner, bare except for a few objects, rugs, and curtains, as well as two empty tables. There was a door in the far wall. He frowned, wondering where it led: a back room, perhaps, or an adjoining house? Just then the door opened, and a girl in a long, flowing brown jalabiya with a broad orange stripe across the chest walked through.

As soon as she saw Vedaris, she stopped and shrieked, “Who are you? What are you doing in our house?”

Vedaris frowned at her. “House? This is a house? I thought it was a shop?”

The girl snapped, “We own it. We live here. It’s a house. Therefore it’s
our
house. Do you see any sales attendants or abacuses here? No? Then get out!”

Vedaris held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “Wait, please. I just came to ask some questions about an artist. Her name was Leanis.”

The girl scoffed, “Leanis? Why do you want to know about Leanis? Get out, you!” she demanded again, pointing imperiously toward the stairs.

Vedaris growled, “Dreck! For a merchant’s shop, you sure don’t have very good customer service!”

The girl looked at him as if he were crazy. “As I’ve told you already, this…‌is…‌not…‌a…shop.”

“But you do know something about Leanis, right?” he asked.

She cried, “Out of this place,
now
, or I’ll ring for the town watch! You have 10 seconds, crazy boy!”

Wind began to rattle through the house; he felt it push against him, his clothes flapping, until he stumbled backwards toward the stairs. “All right, all right,” he called. He had no choice; obviously she was some kind of Air mage, and how could he fight that? He stumbled out, trying without success to brush the dust off his clothes.

The girl, meanwhile, looked around the house, making sure he hadn’t touched anything.
How’d he get in here anyway?
she wondered.
The shop is veiled against outsiders. Only those with the key should even see it, let alone enter unannounced.

Vedaris, meanwhile, had exited the art “house.” He checked the position of the sun overhead and cursed. He was
very
late for class. He took off at a sprint towards the Citadel.

As he approached the gate separating the school grounds from public land, he ran smack into a tall, broad-shouldered lad. Vedaris bounced off him like a sparrow ball hitting hot stone. From his new position on the ground, he groaned and rubbed the back of his head. That didn’t stop him from simultaneously leveling a glare at the culprit in front of him. Prepared to roast the lad (at least verbally) for getting in his way, he stopped short when he saw a hand extended to help him to his feet. Vedaris begrudgingly took it and stood up. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” asked the young man mildly.

“What’s it to you?” responded Vedaris, with no little rancor. The young man’s eyebrows lifted, and he tapped a finger on the badge at his waist‌—‌the badge of the gardis.

Vedaris groaned inwardly and thought,
Across a sea and thousands of leagues away, and I still can’t escape the bloody Guardians
. With no further words needed, the young man put a heavy hand on Vedaris’ left shoulder and proceeded to guide him through the gates back up to the Citadel.

Vedaris considered protesting, but you don’t get on a Guardian’s bad side if you can avoid it. While the City Watch was the guard dog of the common people, the gardis were the knights of the realm. Confronting a watchman might mean a night in the stockades; confronting the gardis could get you and your entire family exiled to the Wastelands in the bat of an eyelash. As they wound their way through the early afternoon crowds, the gardis asked quietly, “Which class are you supposed to be in now?”

Vedaris mentally recounted his choices:
Power and Premise
or
The Dark Arts
. “
The Dark Arts,
” he responded sullenly.

As they reached the campus and headed uphill toward the towers, he wondered, suddenly, why a gardis was in town anyway. Weren’t they supposed to be defeating the forces of evil up north, or at court counseling the Emperor?

“You know,” said the gardis thoughtfully, “Not all the classes here are bad. I was like you once. Couldn’t
wait
to get out of my courses and discover the real world.”

This time Vedaris didn’t bite back his retort: “You’re
nothing
like me.” Ha! He’d bet his last shilling that the Guardian had never gone hungry in his life. Everyone knew that the gardis were always chosen from noble families blessed with great magic and money‌—‌lots of money.

The gardis responded mildly, “And why do you say that?”

“Never mind,” muttered Vedaris. By then they had reached the School of the Unknown. “Thanks,” he said, trying to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “I’ll just go in now, okay?” He started to stalk off into the School, determined not to look back. If he looked back, he was giving the bugger a choice in the matter…‌a choice that might end up with him in the Wastelands.

Shaking his head, the gardis stood there in the hot afternoon sun, watching a boy with too much power and attitude on his hands stomp into the School.

As for Vedaris, he grimaced as he tried to find the classroom. This building felt like a prison to him, just one long corridor on top of another; and each of the doors that opened off the main corridor led to a portal classroom or building like the one the
Wayfarer’s Journey
class had been held in. He still needed to find out more about that artist, that Leanis. Seeing as he was currently banned from the main library, he thought,
I guess that means I need to check out the other libraries. Maybe Maride could help?

Ahead, he saw other students streaming out of a classroom; and he just
knew
that was where the
Dark Arts
class was being held. Well, screw it; too late for today. He decided to duck out with the crowd. Hopefully that damned gardis was gone by now.

He heard someone emphatically clear his throat behind him. He ignored it. They couldn’t want
him
, so he kept walking.

Until his feet stuck to the floor. Literally.

His boots were melting into the ground, the leather running like brown goo from his feet! He yelped in disgust and tried to move. As he stared down at his feet, twisting and turning all the while, a pair of polished black boots came into view. He looked up into the blank eyes of a short man with purple-black hair, swarthy skin, and the expression of a cantankerous old maid who’s just swallowed a spoonful of alum.

He had a feeling he knew who this was. A bad feeling.

“Welladay, Master Saracen,” said the man pleasantly. “It’s been
quite
some time since I’ve had the pleasure of a student so blatantly flouting the rules, skipping my class, and showing up one minute before the bell.”

Vedaris gulped and said, “Sir, I, uh had an emergency in town.” A thought occurred to him. “And with all due respect, sir, how did you know I hadn’t chosen
Power and Premise
for my third class?”

The odd man shrugged. “One knows what is fated.” He smiled, and it transformed his face…‌into that of an evil clown, perhaps. “Look you, I don’t care if your mother turned into a cat and disappeared. There are rules that must be followed lest terrible things befall you. There is a reason for all things fated, and you were fated to be here today. Perhaps we can mend this crack you’ve made in fate; and perhaps we cannot. In any case, we will try. You missed my class. It won’t happen again. It
cannot
happen again. I want five pages tomorrow on the skills of the Dark Arts in your hand‌—‌and in your penmanship‌—‌when you arrive here.”

Vedaris, still glued to the floor, responded glumly, “Yes, Initiate.” The Initiate turned and walked away without another word. Vedaris called out frantically, “Wait, sir, my boots!” Just as suddenly, he fell over onto the marble. When he turned to look at his boots they were whole, the footwear untouched by whatever had just happened.

His eyes widened in awe as he stared as his feet.

That had been no illusion. He had
felt
the melting soles, the tearing leather, and the inability to move. With a shake of his head, he levered himself up and off the cool flagstones, then headed back down the hallway. He had one more class,
Uses of a Mage,
and this time he was determined not to be late. Who knew what might happen if he was?

Chapter 15

“L
ast class,” sighed Sitara happily. She hated to admit it to herself, but she was exhausted. This first day had been hell on wheels, especially given her poor health. There had been highs‌—‌a very cute boy, for instance‌—‌and lows, Queen Bella topping the list. Now she just had to get through one more class, and show up at the gymnasium for student worker assignments. Luckily, her worker duties didn’t start for another three weeks. She decided that now would be the perfect time to learn about the history of her profession in
From Calm to Fury: Famous Air Initiates.

Besides, if she were lucky, she might be able to fall asleep in class.

She made sure to think of the tower when entering through the atrium, hoping not to end up on the Air Green again. This time she came through the door portal into a round room with a spiral staircase hugging the walls. She noticed as she trudged up to the third floor that there was a central flow of air going all the way up to the top of the tower.

As she turned into the classroom, she was startled by a
whoosh
behind her. She turned back to see robed forms landing on the flagstones, and her mouth opened in a wide grin. The flying students were leaving behind contrails of magic; she saw three distinct flight paths outlined. It looked like the wind tunnel in the center of the staircase acted as a conveyer belt outside the tower. Going to school here would never cease to amaze her!

She turned back and walked through the door. It was a little disconcerting, at first, to see that the classroom entry faced the back of the podium. The inside of this classroom was built like an outdoor amphitheatre. Rows of risers fanned out in ever-larger rings from the small stage where the podium stood. She took her seat in the fifth riser, with her back to the wall; she needed the support after the workout Bella had given her.