PART 3: THE ACADEMY

  “Yes, I love it, Aelyn. But can we afford it?”

  The house sat near to the top of a winding street that plunged towards the harbour before debouching into a small plaza. It was constructed of stone and wood, the latter painted in green and black. It shared a small, enclosed courtyard with three other dwellings that included a fountain and small garden.

  And it would be ours.

  Aelyn smiled at me and nodded.

  “I know you can,” I said. “But I need to be part of this.” I took his hand. “I can’t live off you.”

  “Your salary should cover most of your half,” he said, “and I believe I saw a small clinic near the square.”

  I took a deep breath. “We’re going to need housewares,” I said, “Pots, pans, linens—”

  He kissed me and I wrapped my arms around him.

  “And a bed,” he said.

  “Oh, yes.”

  Vandoran was a maze. Streets twisted and turned with no logic. Alleyways might allow a route from one block to another, but too often terminated in a cul-de-sac. The city sat on three hills overlooking the sea, and so the labyrinth was three-dimensional. And the roads were packed with every form of transportation known to Nah’Nua: grendak, kamchari pulling carts and wagons, merchants and nobles in palanquins, two-wheeled rickshaws, and always people. Human, orc, elf, and even a few goblins. And the noise: a constant wall of sound. Hucksters calling, traders gesticulating, children crying, and chanting from a nearby shrine.

  “How does anyone find their way in this madness?” I asked.

  “It took me a year,” said Aelyn. “It helps if you orient yourself to the hills.” He pointed. “From west to east: Rendak. Named after those annoying flying serpents that tried to poach our breakfast.” Atop the ridge I could see a cluster of polished marble buildings, surrounded by a wall. “It houses the palace and administrative buildings.” He gestured about us. “We stand on Tamar. Mainly residential and commercial buildings.” Finally, he pointed to our right. “And Mostaq. Where we introduce you to the Academy.”

  I looked towards our destination. Buildings spilled down the hillside like children’s blocks, patterned in yellow and blue in the suns’ light. A multitude of ships lay at anchor in the basin; others were tied to wharves where stevedores were at labor. I traced our route to the Academy as best I could and shook my head.

  “Well,” I said, “we’d best be about it. You lead.”

  My head was swimming by the time we reached the Academy. It sat on a plateau that jutted out of the hill, clad in reddish-brown stone that was in turn covered in ivy. Multicoloured lizards slipped through the leaves in their hunt for prey. On the seaward side of the building, a cliff plunged to the water, and rendak drifted along the rim, riding the sea breeze that bounced off the rock face.

  We passed through a set of tall doors, bound in bronze, and entered a hall that echoed with footsteps. A steady stream of people was passing through the passage, climbing and descending a pair of staircases, and entering what I assumed were offices. Most were human, but I saw a smattering of other races. I paused to take in the signage posted over the doors and pointed at an entrance to our left.

  “That should be it,” I said, “It says ‘Admissions’”.

  We entered the office. There was a single occupant: an elderly human, who sat at a desk behind the counter, leafing through a folio. A nameplate on his desk was labeled ‘Rokant’. He did not look up.

  “Good day,” I said, “I’m Lady Circe, here to apply to the Academy.”

  “Admissions are to be filed on the Thirdday of each month. Come back then.”

  I leaned on the counter. “I am expected.”

  “Not by me.” He finally deigned to look at me. “No exceptions.” He smiled nastily.

  “The nominator is the Embassy of Sha’Nah’Lyona,” said Aelyn.

  “Then they should send a representative.”

  “That would be me,” said Aelyn. “I stand for the Elven Crown.”

  “And I’m the Emperor.”

  Aelyn’s placed his hand on the hilt of his blade. I took his arm and shook my head. The door behind us opened and a man entered. Nondescript: that was how I would have described him. Well-dressed, but not overly. Forgettable face. No distinguishing features, and a bland expression. He took us in with a glance and bowed.

  “Lady Circe and Lord Aelyn, I assume.”

  I nodded. “You have the advantage of us…”

  “Distar. I represent your seconder, Duke Werner.” He turned his attention to Rokant, who was beginning to look anxious. “I assume you have the requisite paperwork?”

  The official stiffened his back. “As I explained to these…applicants, admissions are only permitted on—”

  “Rokant,” I said, “do you know the first rule of holes?”

  “Pardon?”

  “When you’re in one, stop digging.”

  From the corner of my eye, I caught identical smirks on the faces of Aelyn and Distar. They both schooled their expressions to neutrality as Rokant’s gaze swung to them.

  “Ah, well,” Rokant pushed and sorted papers on his desk. “In fact, I seem to have a request here.” He pulled up a stack of documents large enough to choke a kamcha. “This may take a little time.”

  We left the Admissions Office two treks later. I shook a cramp out of my hand and shook my head in despair.

  “This process,” I said, “would be vastly improved by the careful deployment of two or three fireballs.”

  Distar smiled. “The first line of defence of the Empire. Reams of paper. Few are brave enough to face our bureaucrats.” He gestured at the entrance. “I have some other tasks, so will leave you to the rest of your day. My Duke apologizes for not meeting you personally and asks if you would be so kind as to attend him for dinner tomorrow evening.”

  “We’d be honoured,” said Aelyn.

  Distar passed him an envelope. “Directions to the estate,” he said. “Yellowset would suit.”

  “Thank you so much, Distar,” I said. “You saved us considerable grief today.”

  “Your servant.” He bowed his head and left.

  I consulted the list of tasks that Rokant had given us and sighed.

  “Next stop,” I said, “Director of Admissions.”

  Madam Jaffer’s office was at the back of the building, overlooking the sea. She sat behind a desk with a scowl on her face and a stack of paper in front of her. A harried-looking functionary stood before her, with another pile of documents in her arms.

  “Please, Sheena. What now?”

  “Requests from the Building committee, the Standards committee, the Student Council, and—”

  “Goddess. Are they trying to drown me?” Her gaze set on us. “You must be Lady Circe and Lord Aelyn.” She grimaced. “And you both survived Rokant, I see.”

  “It was a near-run thing, my lady,” I said.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Well, it’s done. Let’s see to you.” She stood, ignoring the increasing frantic secretary.

  “But Madam—”

  “Duty calls, Sheena. I’ll pick this up later.” She ushered us out of the office and into the hall.

  “Normally I would begrudge the interruption,” she said, “but you have rescued me from an afternoon of drudgery. Now—” she considered us, “—I think we’ll start with you, Lady Circe. I do hope you are not going to waste my time.”

  The room was cluttered with artifacts. Jaffer sorted through several before she settled on a blocky device inset with a row of gems along its face. She glanced at the door to ensure that it was closed.

  “Understand,” she said, “this is completely confidential. I need to assess your mana pool. I assume you are comfortable with the presence of Lord Aelyn?”

  “He is my Blade,” I said, “and I trust him with my life.”

  “So.” She began to feed mana into the device. I could see the strands flicker and twist. “Your placement will be in part based on your capacity. Please do not worry about your level; you will receive appropriate training no matter what it shows.” She pointed at a divot in the front of the apparatus. “Place your hand here, please.”

  I did so.

  “Good. Now just open your channels widely. I’ll take a measurement when it reaches an equilibrium.”

  I cautiously opened a channel and let a trickle of mana flow through my hand. The gems on the front started to illuminate one after the other. I focused carefully and slowed the influx as the number climbed. I stabilized the reading at the second gem from the top.

  “Goodness,” Jaffer said, “that’s quite impressive for an applicant. I think we will be able to find you some interesting classes.”

  Aelyn raised an eyebrow at me, and I gave him a fractional shake of my head.

  “Glad to hear it,” I said. I shut down the flow and withdrew my hand. “What’s next?”

  “Ah,” she said, “just some practical tests.”

  The firing range stretched from one end of the basement to the other. A solid line marked the positions of the spell-casters. A row of metal targets hanging from chains stood at distances between 15 to 70 paces. Jaffer motioned me to a halt before we approached the line.

  “Right,” she said, “here are the rules: First, you obey the Range Master at all times.” She raised a finger and pointed at young woman with frizzy hair who stood supervising the students. “Second, you will never cast a spell until you hear the commands: ‘Create’, and then ‘Release’. You may cast more than one spell, but—” a third finger went up, “—as soon as you hear ‘Break’, You. Are. Done. Understood?”

  “Clear,” I said.

  “Students,” said the Range Master, “to the line.”

  I stepped up to a position directly in front of a target 40 to 50 paces distant.

  “That’s a long distance for a first attempt,” said Jaffer.

  The Range Master looked up and down the line. “Create.”

  I built up a moderate fireball and held it.

  “Release.”

  I snapped the spell forward and it tracked smoothly to the centre of the target. There was a muted clang and the disc jerked back and flared briefly.

  Jaffer grunted in surprise. “Can you repeat that?”

  “How thick are those targets? Won’t I damage them?”

  She chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about that, dear.”

  It was the patronizing tone that put my back up. This time I fed a burst of mana into my spell just after the release. When the fireball struck, the target rang like a bell and snapped back. The chain shattered and the disc flew towards the back of the range, skittering along the stone floor. It stopped at the far wall, partially erect. There was a stellate fracture visible dead centre.

  “Break!”

  The Range Master stared down the gallery.

  “Anyone with spells up?” One woman raised her hand. “Drop it.” There was a pause. “Back from the line.”

  Aelyn was leaning on a pillar, looking like a cat with a bowl of cream.

  The Range Master walked over to me. She stood expressionless and looked me up and down.

  “You are?”

  “Circe.” I cleared my throat. “Just admitted.”

  “How long since you mastered the fireball spell?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve mastered it yet—” I looked at her face, “—about two tendays.”

  The other students were leaning in, eavesdropping shamelessly.

  “Well,” she smiled mirthlessly, “perhaps a little more control next time, yes?”

  I nodded.

  “And do come by when you are finished with Madam Jaffer.” She looked down the range. “You can learn about maintenance.”

  “Fair,” I said.

  The next chamber was smaller, but still recognizable as a range. There were no targets, and there were now two lines: one in the standard position, and the second at the back wall. A series of metal baffles were in place along the wall. They appeared to be about a pace from the stone.

  “Can you construct a shield?” asked Jaffer.

  “Yes.”

  “Please proceed to the end of the range and construct a standard shield, one pace in diameter. Do not be overly concerned about the shape. When you are done, step behind a baffle. I will fire a series of fireballs at your shield. When it fails, I will call ‘Clear’, and you may emerge. Questions?”

  “Is it necessary to stay at the far end?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do whatever is necessary to maintain your shield. Do we understand each other?”

  I nodded and walked to the end. I pulled up a hexagonal barrier and fed in mana until I was satisfied. Then I turned and walked back behind the firing line.

  “You may release, Madam Jaffer,” I said.

  She stared at me, and then back at the shield.

  “How do you do that?”

  I shrugged. “Pull up the spell, feed in mana, walk away.”

  Aelyn’s shoulders were shaking. Thank the Goddess that her back was to him.

  She stepped to the line and threw a small fireball at the shield. She paused and released a larger spell. The shield did not quiver. She gave a frustrated snort and formed a dense mass of swirling mana. The fireball arced down the range, struck the barrier, flared, and dissolved. The shield stood intact.

  Jaffer stepped back from the line.

  “Lady Circe,” she asked, “Could you break this shield?”

  “Not with a single standard fireball,” I said.

  She looked me up and down. “That is a very interesting phrasing,” she said.

  I sat in a chair against the wall and watched Aelyn examine a bow. He spun it in his hands, laid it on the counter and rocked it back and forth, then held it to his eye and peered down the spine. Two men watched him, one wearing a bracer on the left arm, the other bearing a slim blade.

  “This will do,” he said.

  He took even more care with the arrows, discarding three of every four until he was satisfied. He took a position opposite a target 70 paces distant and looked at the man with the bracer. Three arrows lay on a table beside him.

  “Range clear,” the man said. “Release.”

  Aelyn put three arrows downrange in as many heartbeats. I watched the muscles of his back tense and release and licked my lips. He stepped back from the line.

  “Arrows.”

  Aelyn walked down the hall unhurriedly and pulled his arrows from the butt. They had impacted in a tight group below and to the right of centre. He returned to his position and awaited the Range Master. The same three arrows went downrange. This time they struck centre.

  The third flight comprised twelve arrows. When Aelyn finished, he placed his bow on the table and looked at the Range Master. All three men walked down to the target; this time I followed, curious as to the result.

  A single arrow stood dead centre. A close-spaced pentagon of five more surrounded it. Encircling those was a hexagon, the spacing as precise as a draughtsman’s.

  The Range Master looked at the group without expression.

  “Elven archers,” he said. “That’ll do.”

  I could not follow Aelyn’s spar with the swordsman. They moved so quickly and with so little warning that all I could see was a blur of metal and then a pause. In the end, Aelyn was ahead four points to one. Jaffer walked in on the last bout.

  “Will he do?” she asked.

  The two men looked at each other and turned as one to her.

  “We’re down an instructor,” said the bowman.

  She nodded slowly. “I’ll approve the budget.” She turned to me. “Lady Circe: please come to my office tomorrow. I’ll have a schedule that we can go over then.” She took a breath. “And I must apologize to Duke Werner. I thought your recommendation arose from nepotism. It does not.”

  I bowed. “Thank you, Madam Jaffer. Tomorrow, then.”

  We dined at a small cafe on the way home. It overlooked the ocean and was lit by the honey-gold light of late afternoon. A salt breeze shook the curtains next to our table.

  “It’s a lot more pleasant watching you shoot a bow when no one is trying to kill us,” I said.

  Aelyn looked up from his plate and grinned. We were having some type of steak with a peppery sauce. I found the food rich after elven fare.

  “There are few things less agreeable than a battlefield,” he said, “and few more enjoyable than your company.”

  I smiled. Every time I looked at him, I felt a stirring in my chest.

  “Girl,” I thought, “you have it bad.”

  “The archery demonstration was spectacular,” I said.

  He snorted. “It was pedestrian,” he said. “The real test of an archer is how he behaves under pressure. Canvas doesn’t shoot back.” He looked at me and put down his fork. “Circe,” he said slowly, “may I ask you some questions?”

  I nodded, feeling a trickle of unease.

  “Understand: I respect your privacy. But as your Blade—” he paused to frame his next statement, “—I would benefit from knowing your strengths and weaknesses.”

  “I agree.” I saw his shoulders relax. “But if anyone else knew of them, then I would be in considerable danger. As would you.” I leaned forward. “Even my companion is not aware of some of these things, Aelyn. But as I said to Jaffer, I trust you with my life.”

  “On my honour, Lady Circe. What you say will go no further.”

  “My mana pool—is large.”

  “Yes,” he smiled, “I suspected that you—ah—misled Madam Jaffer somewhat. How large is large?”

  “Well,” I considered how to quantitate mana, “think of a pool as a basin of water. Most of the students have one that might hold, say, three buckets. A bucket a spell.”

  “Alright.”

  “A senior Mage…I looked about and saw a small fountain. Water splashed around the base. “You see that?”

  “About 10 buckets, I would judge.”

  “Just so. And an Archmage—although I have yet to meet one—supposedly has—” I peered over the edge of the drop-off, “—well, something like that.” He followed my finger that pointed at a small tidal pool and nodded.

  “Quite large. And yours?”

  “Look out.”

  He frowned at me and turned. “But all I see is the ocean—oh.” He sat stock-still. “Circe, are you serious?”

  “Entirely. So, you see why you do not have to be concerned about my stamina. Plainly put, I never run dry.”

  “How do you know this? I did not know that Mages could see their own pools?”

  “Hecate showed it to me.”

  He stared at me and made to speak but halted. Then: “You have spoken to her?”

  “Twice.” I shifted uncomfortably.

  “When was the second time?”

  “A couple of days ago.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I asked her for a boon.”

  “More magic?”

  “Not exactly.” My cheeks were burning, and I was sure my ears were scarlet. “I, uh—” I swallowed, “—needed. A dance lesson.” I was staring at my feet.

  Aelyn was silent for a moment and then began to laugh. It started as a low chuckle and then blossomed into a full-on roar. Other diners looked over at us, and I wanted to disappear under the table. He finally managed to control himself.

  “Circe,” he said, “did your Goddess question the appropriateness of your entreaty?”

  “She did,” I said, “I raised my gaze to meet his. “I told her that you were the most important person in the world to me, and that I could not shame you on the dance floor.”

  His face sobered and he studied me, then reached out to cup my cheek.

  “That was the most wonderful dance I have ever experienced,” he said, “and the best night of my life. So,” he threw some coins on the table, “shall we go home and celebrate?”

  As we walked out of the restaurant hand in hand he turned to me.

  “Is there anything else that I should know?” he asked.

  “Nothing I can tell you now,” I said.

  I told myself that my Goddess had warned me to be silent. But really, I was so very afraid.