Arram gulped. Those eyes were unnerving. “But there were parts that I understood, sir.”
“We shall bring you to the level of those parts that you could not comprehend,” Master Cosmas said. “And there are other students in your position. You will share classes with them. It will be some time before you are ready for the Upper Academy, but with these courses you will feel your curiosity properly challenged.”
“Out of the new mage classes,” Sebo began, “are your students all to have masters as instructors? That will be a pretty bit of schedule adjustment.”
“You did load us up royally this term, Cosmas.” Arram sat upright. Master Lindhall Reed was going to take part in his education? He had seen him before on visits to the menagerie, wandering in and out of the enclosures. Lindhall was a tall, lanky Northerner with reddish-tanned skin, blond hair bleached nearly white by the Carthaki sun, and long, ropy muscles. His blue eyes were large and pale, his mouth wide and expressive. Another student had told Arram the foreigner was brought specially from the North and paid extravagantly by the emperor to oversee menageries in both school and palace.
Now Master Lindhall tucked fresh fruit and vegetables into his robe’s pockets as he continued, “I can’t take another student this term. His Imperial Majesty requires that I overhaul the animal enclosures at the arena, gods help me.” He looked at Arram. “And this lad is too young. You know I don’t use anyone younger than seventeen.”
Arram slumped in his chair as Master Cosmas said, “Then consider who can instruct him in animal life next term.” To the others he said, “If you have a promising student, see if they can instruct Arram singly or with the others after Midwinter.”
He looked at Arram and smiled. “We will sort matters out so you have a more engaging schedule. In the meantime, you must be shifted to quarters better suited to your current status. They’ll be quieter, for one thing.”
Arram looked down to hide a grin. He’d often thought that studying in his dormitory was like studying in a barn, particularly when he was trying to read the more advanced books he slipped out of the library. This was a good thing!
“Off you go,” Cosmas said. “The servants will come to move your belongings. I should have a new schedule on your door before you leave for supper.”
Arram scrambled to his feet. Not knowing what else to do, he bowed. “Yessir, thank you, sir,” he babbled. “Thank you, all of you! I’ll do my very best!”
Sebo caught him at the door. Arram skidded to a stop in front of her. “If you please, Arram Draper,” she said, looking up at him steadily. “I believe you have something that belongs to the university.”
“I would never—” he began to protest. Then the copy of Bladwyn’s Book began to jiggle inside his shirt. He had forgotten it was there. He always kept it with him in case his roommate searched his things. “Oh.”
“Indeed,” she said, her wrinkled face grave. “Oh.”
“I was going to take it back,” he said hotly.
“I will relieve you of the chore,” she replied.
Her full, dark eyes were as ungiving as stones. He sighed and wriggled until he could reach under his undershirt. The book practically leaped into his fingers.
“I didn’t even get to the best parts,” he grumbled as he passed it over.
Sebo patted him on the chest. “You will one day. Now scat.”
He scatted. He didn’t tell her about the little copybook in his carrybag—the one in which he’d written down several of Bladwyn’s most interesting spells.
By midafternoon, servants had moved Arram’s trunks and books to his new home in the next wing to the north, closer to the library and classroom wings. Even on the ground floor, students slept only four to a room, not twenty-six. Most of the residents were teenagers hoping to move to the Upper Academy within the next year.
For now, Arram’s room was shared by only one other person. His roommate plainly came from moneyed people; that much was visible in the fine wood and lacquered finish of the bow and quiver that hung by his window, accompanied by a good sword in a sheath studded with topazes. The boots tucked under his bed were nearly new, well-stitched leather with a glossy polish. Not only did this fellow possess a trunk made of fine teak, but beside the window was a matching cabinet. Arram dared a peek behind the wall that separated their cubicles—the desk matched the trunk and the cabinet, as did the chair. All four pieces had been carved by a master’s hand. His envy over the furniture vanished when he saw the contents of the three shelves over the desk. This boy left his schoolbooks there. The books on the shelves were very different, showing none of the battering and spots on the school volumes. Arram spotted Si-Cham’s Principles of Consistency and Edo Clopein’s Quick Defense, bound in fine leather with gold trim. Other classics, nearly as fresh as the day they’d been printed, occupied the shelves. His fingers twitched with greed; he actually whimpered.
Someone tapped on the outer door, and he jerked back into his own cubicle. He didn’t want his new roommate to think he was a snoop. “It’s open,” he called, his voice squeaking.
“I can see it’s open,” Sebo called. “Come out here and meet someone.”
Her purpose, Arram quickly learned, was to introduce the floor’s housekeeper to her newest charge. “This is Irafa,” Sebo informed him with considerable pleasure. “You are to do precisely as she says, understand?”
Arram looked up at the housekeeper and gulped. Irafa was tall and imperious, dressed in the red-on-red headcloth and wrapped dress of the northwestern Oda tribe. She smiled at him with satisfaction. “Say thank you to Master Sebo,” she said. “And be sure you do your bed up properly every morning, because I will check it.”
Arram bowed to Irafa and to Sebo, then retreated to his cubicle. He would have to wait to see how far he could open his window. In the meantime, he began to make up his bed. All was not yet lost. Tucked among his belongings was another small volume he had bought on a rare visit to the city’s markets, one titled On Coming and Going by Rosto Cooper the Younger. He had already successfully worked two of the spells for walking around the campus without being seen. He slid it under his mattress as he made his bed, reminding himself to find a better place before the housekeeper’s morning inspection.
He was pleased with his situation. His window commanded a view of a broad kitchen garden, and the ledge was low enough that hopping out would be easy. The scent of new herbs freshened the room when he left the shutters open.
He was arranging his books when someone else knocked politely on the open door.
Not only did the lovely Varice stand on his threshold, but she had a friend with her. The friend looked to be as old and as pale as the girl, and he was a couple of inches taller. Like most Carthakis, he wore a calf-length tunic, though he had skipped the shoulder drape due to the heat. The white cotton was embroidered at the hem, collar, and sleeves with green signs for health, protection, and wisdom. For adornment he had gold studs on his sandals, three gold rings on his fingers, and gold and gem earrings. His glossy brown hair was tied back in a horsetail. Just as Arram looked him over, he did the same, inspecting the younger, shorter boy from top to toe. His eyes were clear, straightforward, and curious.