Lament (Scars of the Sundering Book 2) (14 page)

“Hey! You can’t take my staff and
my pack!”

The guard smiled and raised
Delilah’s staff up over his head beyond her reach. “Yeah? Watch us. You’ll get
it back when your punishment is done.” He kicked the door closed.

Cauldrons of all sizes and in
great piles filled the room, some rusty, others covered with solidified gunk. A
short human woman sat on the floor, scraping at one of the cauldrons with what
resembled a chisel. She blew a lock of raven hair out of her eyes and continued
working.

Delilah picked herself up and
brushed off her robes. “I suppose you’re Agata?”

The woman snorted. “Not hardly.
Got yourself cauldron cleaning duty, huh? I didn’t know we had any draks
enrolled.”

The woman’s robes were beige and
rough-spun, like Delilah’s, but were covered with a network of patches that
didn’t quite match the original color. She grunted as her chisel became stuck,
swearing when it flew out of her hand and the cauldron clattered to the floor.

“Damn it!” She brought her hand
up to her mouth and sucked on it.

Delilah sat back against the wall
and brought her knees up to her chest. “So what? I have to clean these now?
Where’s Agata?”

“If they sent you down here for
her, she’ll be along in a minute. The masters are always busy, but they always
seem to find the time to punish us. Who are you anyway?”

“Delilah.”

“Katka. What did you do?”

The drak sorceress knitted her
hands together as she considered where to start. “I was born, lived a life away
from all these humans, and learned magic on my own. Stupid archmage.”

“Wow.” Katka grunted as she
chipped away at the gunk coating the interior of the cauldron.

“How about you?”

“Master Bruncvik had a cat,
right?”

Delilah didn’t recognize the
name, but she nodded for Katka to continue her story.

“Well, I might have accidentally
exploded it.”

Despite herself, Delilah
chuckled. She never managed to explode something by accident. Scanning the
room, she picked up a nearby cauldron. It was similar to the one she purchased,
but the inside was filled with a solid mass of red and green swirls. She
scratched at it with a claw, and it rippled as if a stone had been skipped
across it. The mass remained at the bottom of the cauldron, however, even when
Delilah tipped it to the point it should have spilled out.

“What is this gunk?”

Katka swore and jammed her chisel
into the bottom of the cauldron she was working on. “Whenever a student messes
up in Alchemy, their cauldron needs to be cleaned. Most of the time, you can
just dump it out, give it a rinse, and start over.” She gestured to the pile of
cauldrons. “These are what happen when you really mess up.”

“Why don’t they just melt them
down and buy new ones?” Delilah turned the cauldron upside down and shook it.
Not so much as a drip or a drizzle exited the pot, so she dared to look up into
it. The mass wobbled, but it remained affixed to the bottom.

“Most students can’t afford to
buy a new cauldron every time they mess up a potion. The good news is, once you
mess up this badly three times, they kick you out of Alchemy. Some people just
aren’t cut out for it, you know?”

“I guess.” Delilah never dabbled
in alchemy. She and her brother used to work together to create enchanted siege
weapons for the defense of Drak-Anor, but since the establishment of a treaty
with Ironkrag, they hadn’t needed to use them.

The door opened again. An older
woman wearing mossy robes entered. Her silver hair hung in braids, framing a
face lined with age. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it,
tapping a slender finger against her chin.

“So, you’re the drak initiate. I
am Master Agata. I teach Alchemy here. What is your real name? The archmage
insists your name is ‘Drak,’ but I’m not foolish enough to believe that.”

“Delilah.”

“A pretty name and unusual for a
drak.” Master Agata cocked her head and peered at Delilah. “Hm. Stripes, also
unusual.”

Delilah stood, balling her hands
into fists as she stood before the alchemist. Master Agata knelt, lowering
herself to eye level. “You’re mouthy but not unskilled from what I’ve been
told. I can’t really blame you if you’re resentful toward all these rules that
have never meant a pint of rat’s piss to you before. But, you’re here now, so
make the best of things, eh?”

Master Agata handed Delilah a
scraper. “Clean these cauldrons as best you can. Somewhere in that pile is a
tub you can dump the worst of the gunk into, if you find anything that’s still
squishy.”

The older woman stood, bracing
her back with her hands. “I’ll tell you both what I tell everyone who has this
duty: it’s hard work, even horrible at times, but there are far worse masters
under whom you could be punished. Be thankful, and tell everyone”—she pointed
alternately at Katka and Delilah—“how I’m a horrible old witch and you’d rather
gnaw your own fingers off than work for me again.”

Delilah looked over at Katka,
who, wide-eyed, regarded Master Agata.

“Now, what are you two going to
tell the other initiates?”

“That you’re horrible?”

Delilah understood. “You’re a
horrible, old, wrinkled, withered witch. I’ll chew my and my brother’s fingers
off before I do a damned thing for you again.”

Master Agata tipped her head and
winked. “Just so. I’ll be back when it’s time for your midday meal.” The older
woman left Delilah and the young woman alone.

Katka grabbed her chisel and
jabbed at her cauldron. Delilah dug into the multi-colored goo as well.
So,
not everyone here bows and scrapes before the archmage. I can work with this.

* * *

As he shifted in his saddle and attempted
to find a comfortable position, Pancras reflected that one night in a warm,
soft bed was insufficient. Even his worst guesses about what awaited him at the
Arcane University didn’t include being sent away as soon as he arrived. As if
it weren’t exhausting enough having to travel several months to Muncifer for
only a few minutes with the archmage, he was now required to travel back all
that way and then some.

At least winter is over.

The setting sun warmed his back
as they rode away from Muncifer, the clip-clop of Stormheart’s hooves muffled
by the damp earth of the trade road. Edric rode ahead of him, and by the way
the dwarf’s head bobbed, it appeared as though he was asleep in the saddle. The
rattle of Gisella’s armor and gear behind him was a constant reminder of the
penalty should he not fulfill his obligation, although the enchantment cast
upon him by the archmage made it difficult for him to desire anything but
arriving in Vlorey as soon as possible.

They rode until dusk and then
moved off the road to set up camp. As Pancras tied up Stormheart for the night,
he caught a flash on the horizon, a glint of light at the point at which the
setting sun touched the earth. It winked and jounced and then disappeared as
the last bit of sun dipped below the horizon. He’d heard of perfect situations
over water where the setting sun caused a green flash at the horizon, but not
over land.

“See something?” Gisella walked
her horse over next to Pancras and Stormheart, secured her, and unbuckled her
saddle.

“A burst of light. A glimmer,
really. It’s probably nothing, just a trick.”

Gisella strained to focus on the
horizon. “Light reflecting off armor perhaps? By the road?”

“Possibly. Do you think someone
is following us?”

Gisella stared at the horizon for
a moment. The King waned in the sky while the Queen had not yet risen. The Plow
ascended, and all the stars which composed the constellation were fully
visible.

“I doubt it. I can’t imagine who,
unless your draks have decided to follow. That would be very unwise on your
sorcerer friend’s part.”

Pancras felt confident Delilah
would do the right thing, despite her grumbling. Still, he kept silent on the
subject. “Soldiers on patrol, perhaps?”

Gisella rubbed her horse’s nose
and fed him an apple. “That seems likely. Nothing to be concerned about.”

Pancras agreed. He wouldn’t have
brought it up if she hadn’t broached the subject first. Stormheart nickered and
nuzzled Gisella, looking for a treat. Pancras hadn’t thought to buy anything of
that nature. Fortunately for Stormheart, Gisella had another apple she fed to
him.

Pancras joined Edric in building
a fire. Scattered clouds blowing overhead blocked some of the stars, but the
fine spring evening was otherwise unmarred by poor weather. The next morning,
clouds rolled in, chasing them from the mountains in the west. Rumbling thunder
threatened a downpour. The three travelers rode on, aware that outrunning the
rain was a futile task, but making the effort nonetheless.

* * *

Between being chased out of the
undercity by a mob of crazed draks and worrying about his sister, Kale didn’t
have much of an appetite. It was a fact not lost on his mate. Kali eyed him
over their plates of food, her brow furrowed in worry.

“What am I going to do? I can’t
just stay inside the rest of my life. You should have seen them. They thought I
was some god or something.” Kale pushed the meat around on his plate with his
fork.

“Maybe if they see you doing
mundane things enough, they’ll start to leave you alone.” Kali gestured for the
barkeep to bring another bottle of wine. “Today is the Spring’s Dawning
Festival. Maybe it’ll be busy enough people won’t pay attention to you.”

“I guess I could get a really big
cloak. Maybe wear… clothes.” The thought churned in his stomach. He was warm
enough without draping rags on himself like humans did. He would be miserable
bundled up like that.

Kali rubbed the top of his snout.
“Won’t cover up the stripes on your head.”

“I’ll only go out at night. If
anyone asks, I’ll just say it’s a trick of the light.” Kale didn’t like the
idea of slinking in the shadows. If anything, it might draw more attention to
him.

She rubbed his hand as he played
with his food. “I don’t think you’re going to be happy with that.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay up here for
now.”

Kali nodded and smiled. “There’s
plenty we can explore up here. Maybe we can spy on your sister a bit while she
practices her magic.”

Kale perked up, slapping his hand
on the table as a grin appeared on his face. “Yeah, maybe. We can snoop around
there tomorrow and see what we can find out.”

Kale’s appetite returned swiftly
at the thought of sneaking to spy on his sister. Humans and minotaurs weren’t
impressed by his stripes, and though they regarded his wings with curiosity,
none of them ever mobbed him the way the draks in Honeywater or in the
undercity did. The night passed more slowly than Kale imagined it could, and
when it was time to break their fasts, he wolfed down his meal and dragged Kali
away from the table even as she grabbed the final scraps.

Finding the Arcane University
proved to be the easiest part of the day. Everyone knew where it was located.
While most of Muncifer was built on, down, and around cliffs and crags, the
Arcane University was located in a newer part of the city that encompassed
relatively flat land near the south side of the city. Taller than some of the
nearby buildings, a smooth, grey stone wall surrounded it. The wrought iron and
ornately decorated gates were guarded by frowning men wearing tabards
emblazoned with the Arcane University’s sigil. With furrowed brows and
perpetual scowls, the guards watched pedestrians pass by, occasionally
commenting to each other and shooing away those dressed in tattered rags who
jingled coin-filled cups at anyone making eye contact.

“Do you think they’ll let us in
the front gate to watch them practice?” Kali leaned against a wall as she eyed
the guards.

“Probably not. I guess we can
ask, though.” Kale had observed his sister perform sorcery most of his life,
but he was curious as to how the Arcane University would teach a drak who
believed she already knew everything.

As soon as he approached the
gate, the guards snapped to attention. “What’s your business here?”

Kale peered around them,
searching for any sign of Delilah. “My sister is a student here. I wanted to
watch her practice.”

The guard dismissed him with a
wave. “Get out of here, Drak. No visitors and no spectators. Find your
entertainment elsewhere.”

Kali pulled him away from the
gate. “That figures. Let’s go this way.”

She led him around the side of
the compound. The crowds were sparser than at the front of the university, but
no one paid any mind to the two draks. None of the nearby buildings were as
tall as the surrounding wall, and all the trees were carefully trimmed to keep
branches away from the top of the fortification. Kale ran his hand along the
stones as they walked. They were as smooth as glass, yet opaque.