Tamora Pierce - Tempests and Slaughter

‘I’m Arram Draper.’ He smiled despite his gloom. ‘I lost control of my Gift.’

To his surprise, she laughed. ‘I’m sorry, you look so glum, like they’re going to take you out and shoot you at dawn. With poisoned arrows, no less. Everyone loses control around here. That’s why all the workrooms are magicked to the rafters! That’s why we’re in the Lower Academy!’

‘ You lose control?’ He couldn’t believe it.

‘Two months ago I knotted everyone’s hair in the room, including the master’s. They had to get three other masters in to figure out what I’d done,’ she confided. ‘I was just trying to make a net to catch stray magics, but …’

‘It went awry,’ Arram said. He was all too familiar with that problem.

‘They expect our Gifts to tangle early on,’ Varice told him. ‘How will we learn to manage them if they don’t?’ She looked him over. ‘Oh, come on. You look like you murdered someone. What happened?’

It took a little more encouragement and teasing from her, but soon he was telling the story of his morning. Instead of shocking her with his tale of runaway fountains, he saw her collapse into giggles. ‘Oh, I wish I could have seen it!’ she cried.

Then and there Arram promised himself that he would marry her one day.

The door opened and Master Cosmas looked out. ‘Ah, Varice, I thought I heard your laughter. Another package from Master Cook?’

The girl sprang to her feet and bowed like a proper student, then presented Master Cosmas with the parcel. ‘I was not permitted to return unless I had given it into your hands, Headmaster,’ she said with a smile.

Cosmas chuckled. ‘Thank you, my dear. You had best go before she thinks it went astray.’

She gave him a pretty curtsy and looked at Arram. ‘I’ll see you soon, Arram Draper!’ Then she trotted off, her skirts flying out behind her.

Arram hung his head. Not if they send me home, he thought, glum again.

Cosmas put his arm around Arram’s shoulders. ‘It’s not so bad as all that, my boy. Trust me.’ They stood aside as the instructors and a couple of the masters left the office. This time they looked at Arram. One or two of the instructors smiled, though not Master Girisunika. She frowned and hustled away, clearly unhappy.

Cosmas frowned. ‘Where are those runners of mine?’

As if they’d been summoned, a boy and a girl in Upper Academy robes came trotting into the room from outside. ‘It’s taken care of, Master,’ the boy said, puffing.

‘They’re bringing the books, Master Cosmas,’ the girl announced.

‘Very good, both of you,’ Master Cosmas said, beaming at them. ‘Now, would you run down to the kitchens and ask them to send up lunch for, oh, ten masters and one very hungry boy? We shall dine here. No, Lyssy, not in my office,’ he said. The girl had gone white. ‘In my dining room.’

She hesitated. ‘I should clear away the books and papers in there.’

Master Cosmas nodded. ‘Very good. Nangla, if you will go to the kitchens? Tell them I will need lunch to be served at the hour past noon.’ He smiled at Arram. ‘That should give us sufficient time to have a good talk.’

The boy left; Master Cosmas led Arram into his personal dining room, where Lyssy had already gone to work. Arram looked around as Lyssy removed piles of books from the long table. There were a number of different chairs: the room was built for large gatherings. Now only seven places were filled, one by Master Sebo. Master Cosmas pointed Arram to the place next to her, then took a big cushioned chair across from them. He did not introduce the other masters seated there, but left it to them to introduce themselves. Yadeen, Chioké, Lindhall – even Arram lost track of them after a short time, because each mage had plenty of questions to throw at him in addition to a name.

Arram thought he had been tested when he first came to the university, but it was nothing compared to what these eight masters subjected him to over the next three hours. They threw questions at his head like his fellows threw balls at him during play hours. Many of them covered material he had studied in the past three years, but others did not. There was plenty he had never encountered, even in his secret explorations. They knew about those, somehow – had Sebo told them? They wanted the tiniest of details about what he had studied – magical and ordinary – at home, and even about things that weren’t studies at all. They asked if he had tried drawing on his own, or building things, or handling animals. They asked if he sang, danced, or did gymnastics.

And then, with Sebo’s eye on him, Arram finally confessed to reading what he could of Bladwyn’s Book.

‘ Bladwyn’s Book ?’ That was the master who frightened him the most, a tall, muscular black man whose heavy lower lids made his dark eyes seem huge. He leaned forward, scowling. Like the other masters, he wore a scarlet outer robe. Under it he wore a simple white cotton shirt and breeches, and plain leather sandals. If he did well as a mage, his clothes didn’t show it, though Arram had been at the university long enough to learn that the best mages weren’t always finely dressed. ‘ Bladwyn’s Book ?’ the big man repeated when Arram didn’t reply immediately. ‘You were actually able to work spells from it?’

‘One spell,’ Arram admitted. ‘A hiding spell.’

The big mage flipped a large hand at him. ‘Show.’

Arram looked at the floor. ‘Do I have to?’ he asked Master Cosmas.

‘If you please,’ the head of the school replied. ‘Then we’ll feed you, I promise.’

Arram sighed. In truth, he didn’t see how doing it would get him into any worse trouble. He drew in his breath and let it out, then shaped the signs in his head. It wasn’t the kind of spell that could be worked with smelly oils or signs written on the floor, not if a fellow wanted to go unnoticed, anyway.

At first nothing happened. He was too nervous. Had he used everything up with the water spells? He glanced at Cosmas, who nodded at him in a comforting way.

He drew in a breath, bringing his Gift up from his belly, and released the air. He imagined himself drawing the signs on a great chalkboard inside his head. His hand quivered, or his imagination did. When he looked down, half of him was invisible, and half of him was not.

‘Relax, lad,’ Master Sebo told him. ‘That’s good enough for now. Release it.’

Arram looked at her. ‘I can do it right,’ he protested. ‘I work it all the time.’

‘We know you can,’ she said, glaring at the big mage in the chair across from them. ‘And if Master Yadeen weren’t so busy glaring at you, I imagine you would have done it properly.’

‘I wasn’t glaring,’ retorted the big man. ‘My face is always like this!’

Arram saw what Yadeen meant. He had the kind of eyes that looked as if they were set in an intimidating stare. ‘It’s just hard to concentrate,’ the boy explained. ‘Not because of Master Yadeen, though. I’m tired from the mess I made in class.’ A couple of them smiled at that.

‘By his account, he doesn’t use the spells we teach the older students,’ said a very beautiful master with glossy black hair and big brown eyes. She had introduced herself as Dagani. Arram was fascinated to see that she wore brown paint around her eyelids and crimson paint on her mouth. If he hadn’t met Varice, he would have thought this woman, in a stomach-baring gold silk top and skirt under her robe, was the most beautiful female he had ever seen. The woman continued, ‘Indeed, I have seen no masters use such a spell.’

Chioké sniffed. ‘The structure is archaic.’

This time Yadeen did scowl. ‘What is archaic is new to those who have never seen it, Chioké. Most defences against such spells would not be able to counter it.’