Red Madrassa: Algardis #1 (12 page)

And at that very moment, Vedaris’ Innate magic decided to act‌—‌or rather,
react
to Sitara’s. His eyes widened in disbelief; it was as if a cloak had dropped from the man’s shoulders. Vedaris turned to Sitara ever so slightly with a whispered, “Do you see that?”

Sitara, still silent but now in shock, indeed saw the same thing. Cartilaginous wings sprouted from the man’s neck to his lower back, rooted in his shoulder blades. White wings.
Huge
white wings. Vedaris gulped and tried to remain calm.

The man, who had stood looking at the flying students until now, turned to face them with a cool and calculating look. After a long moment he said icily, “It’s rude to reveal another person’s true form, you know.”

Sitara, snapped back into reality by the censure, blurted, “I…‌I…we’re sorry. I just, just saw the light bending around you, and then when Vedaris came over, and well…‌it’s like it fell away.” She continued in a rush, almost tripping over her words, “Are you an Ansari?”

Vedaris forbore rolling his eyes, thinking,
Of course he dreckin’ is. What else looks Human but has huge white wings?

“Indeed,” the winged man said, glaring at Vedaris. “I am Thoth, of the School of the Unknown.” He shifted his gaze to Sitara, tilting his head in a big-eyed stare reminiscent of an owl. “The light just fell away, you said? Yet the light would not just fall. You commanded it to do so, unintentionally or not. Always remember that.”

He directed his next comment to Vedaris: “Young man, here is your first formal lesson. Seeing is not always believing. Good day to you both.” And then he turned and walked towards the towers.

Sitara, still shaken, stared at Vedaris. He stared back. “Fire, water, and cane,” she said, in a small voice. “You
do
know what he meant, right?”

“No,” Vedaris retorted, “Do you?”

She sighed and said, a little exasperated, “Well, obviously he’s an Ansari who hides his form but can still fly. You’d think that most Ansari would be in the School of Air, but he’s obviously not. Of course, you’re obviously not in the School of Fire, and yet you’re a dragon.”

Vedaris looked at her suspiciously. “You got
all that
from ‘Seeing is not always believing’?”

Sitara mused, “I wonder how he cloaks his wings, and why? And why didn’t I see it before myself? Why only with you?”

Vedaris rubbed the back of his head, glaring toward the School of the Unknown. “Good question.” At that point, they noticed that Allorna, Maride, and Sidimo had already started heading up the hill to the towers. With a quick glance at each other, they hurried to catch up.

Each of the tower bases was separate from the others, and all were made of white brick. But that’s where the similarity ended. Each had a unique façade, stemming from different structural styles, architectural traditions, and various additions and platforms. The base of the School of Earth looked like a veritable miniature forest. Sidimo looked up, and whistled in appreciation. The Earth School appeared to have an actual greenhouse capping the top of its tower‌—‌a huge, glassy cube that shimmered in the morning sun. It was a little blinding to look at, but he could make out the green of trees and shrubbery behind the panes 20 yards up in the sky.

Even in the Port of Sandrin, greenhouses were few and far between. The Severin glass used to make them was highly prized for the portalways, and there was only one noble family that Sidimo was aware of that could afford to outfit a greenhouse and hire the staff to keep, maintain, and specialize in the plants that grew in them.

Next to the School of Earth stood the School of Healing. Shorter than its compatriots, it looked more like a warehouse than a tower. Four floors filled with rows of glass windows faced outward, shining in the sun. With murmured goodbyes to his housemates, and his eyes focused straight forward on the school, Sidimo strode into his new home.

He shouldn’t have been so enraptured by the mystique of the School itself, because even before crossing its fabled threshold his first patient accosted him. A boy, engulfed in flames, ran straight down the hall towards the gaggle of new recruits standing awkwardly in the doorway. Screams arched from his mouth, and the torturous agony of the flames was etched on his face. Most of the students, standing frozen in horror, didn’t move as he came rushing forward. Sidimo, unable to stop the pain but needing to do
something,
hurried forward to meet him. They tumbled together, flaming body and silk clothes marred by Human sweat and embers.

Sidimo did his best to muffle the flames with his body while calling for the other recruits to help him. He was pleased to note, in a distant corner of his mind, that one girl did not hesitate. She whipped off her cloak to cover the burning boy’s stricken form in a further attempt to starve the flames of air.

Above them, a group of youths had gathered in the balcony that jutted out above the first floor entrance; third year students, by the colored tabs on their shoulders. Laughter erupted from the crowd on the rounded balcony; and fury tore through Sidimo at their callousness. The boy beneath him was literally shaking and sobbing with pain.

It was then that Sidimo realized the stricken boy was not in pain at all. He rolled over to reveal that he was not only whole and unburned, but nearly paralyzed with laughter as he doubled over, clutching his stomach.

At that moment, Headmaster Masadi came thundering in. “
What
is the meaning of this?” The youths on the balcony chose that moment to desert their posts‌—‌or tried. With a quick finger, Masadi pointed at them and growled, “You, you, and you. Kanther, Mary, and Marcas. Don’t think I don’t know that you masterminded this prank. You will see me after the first bell. I have some bedpans that need washing.”

“But sir!” the first boy addressed protested, “We didn’t…”

“Silence!” Masadi roared, then turned to address the erstwhile burning boy, who was now sober as a judge. “You think that burning to death is amusing, Luke? We’ll see how you feel after you’ve tended the burn ward for a full month. You too will join your friends in our little conference after first bell. Indeed, all four of you will see me both today and tomorrow. Or do you have any other thoughts to add?”

Saying nothing, the third-years slunk off, leaving the new recruits down on the first floor shaking in their boots from post-trauma adrenaline. Masadi fingered his beard and said to the remaining students, “This was not the way I intended for you to start the day. Now, you have you chosen your classes, yes? Good. The first two of the day will be held in Classrooms A and B, straight down this hall. Go along; you won’t wish to be late.”

Out of the seven classes Sidimo had been allowed to choose from,
The Codex of Healing
was his first of the day. As he made his way down the corridor, he realized that this hall had only two classrooms, one to either side, with an advisor’s office at the very end. The class on the left was his. He entered to find a wide room floored with hardwood and furnished with 30 or so individual desks facing a large chalkboard on the front wall behind a podium. He chose a seat in the first row near to the window. At least he could look outside if this class got too boring.

About five minutes after he walked in, a woman with straight blonde hair and a large notebook came in wearing the robes of an Initiate; the collar and hem were embroidered with a blue stripe. She went over to Sidimo’s side of the classroom, where a small desk with a raised cover stood in the corner, and rummaged in the drawers for chalk as she set down her notebook.

The girl from earlier had seated herself next to him…‌not that Sidimo noticed. As he was not noticing, the Initiate stepped to the front of the class and scribbled on the blackboard in large letters:
Initiate Serias of Temblaum
. Under her name, she scribbled
The Codex of Healing
. As she finished she whirled around, dropped the chalk, knocked forcefully on the chalkboard, and then dusted off her hands.

At her signal five students walked in, Probates by the looks of them (including the chastened Mary from earlier), carrying huge stacks of books. “These,” Initiate Serias said, indicating the books with a wave of her hand as the Probates strained under their weight, “are the Codices of Healing. Learn them, memorize them,
breathe them
. In two weeks there will be a test, and if you don’t pass, you fail my class.”

Sidimo started at her in shock and thought,
You’ve got to be drecking joking
. It looked like the girl next to him was thinking the same thing as a Probate came round and dropped a fat text in front of each of them in turn.

At that point, Initiate Serias waved her hand for their attention and said just as sweetly as pie, “Now: I don’t want to see your faces until the test. Do not come to my office. Everything you need to know is in the books.” Sidimo gaped at her in renewed disbelief; there had to be two hundred pages at least in the dusty brown-leathered behemoth sitting before him!

There were some grumbles, and then a student in the third row tentatively waved his hand. “Initiate Serias, my father,” and here he paused before continuing rather pompously, “who is Head Medicus to the Thilati clan, says that we’re not required to be in the classroom at all during these two weeks.”

Serias raised her eyebrows. “Did I say you were, young man?”

“No, Initiate,” said the young man, satisfied that he had proven his knowledge.

Sidimo was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that someone had previously known about this damned requirement and had
still
chosen to take the stupid class. “His father probably told him all the answers,” he muttered.

Chapter 11

O
n the other side of the campus, Maride was facing another sort of test. He had chosen
The Art of the Librarian
as the first of his three practicum-related classes. The note included along with the class instructions commanded the students to meet the Research Initiate at the main library.

As he walked in, he saw five or six other students gathered at the front desk. Maride frowned; they were all carrying four medium-sized texts. As he joined the group, the instructor chose that moment to join them as well. That’s when the day got astronomically worse. Maride did his best to melt back into the other students, for the Research Initiate for this class was the irate library attendant, or
the prick
as Vedaris had referred to him, from earlier. Unfortunately, his see-me-not trick had the opposite effect, because the Librarian’s mouth pursed as soon as he saw Maride, and his eyes narrowed when he took in the lack of books in Maride’s hands.

With a mincing pace, the Initiate took his place before his students. “Callia, come forward,” he said, looking at a young red-headed girl with spiral curls and a dumpy shape. “Young lady, what were my instructions for this class?”

Wincing slightly as she glanced at Maride’s stricken form, she nonetheless complied by intoning, “Librarian Maran, your instructions were to read the four manuscripts of Saran, Goran, Loran, and Siran in preparation for our first week of class.”

“Very good,” the Librarian responded with a sickly-sweet smile. Directing his comments to Maride, he said, “Now, my fine young
felanche
, pray tell why
you
are not prepared with the necessary literature? Or do you think you can flout every rule?”

Maride paled at the insult‌—‌a
felanche
was nothing less than a boy who specialized in unnatural practices with dragonkin‌—‌but saw an opening. “I apologize, sirrah,” he said stiffly, “but I didn’t know I was required to bring the manuscripts with me. Your note said only to read the required texts, and I have done that.”

“Oh, really?” sneered the librarian. “The four rules of categorization‌—‌name them.”

Without hesitation, Maride replied, “Read, Observe, Organize, Place.”

“The best place to store your books?”

“In a medium temperature room without direct sunlight.”

“The best binders in Aphia?” demanded Maran, in a somewhat triumphant tone.

“A trick question, sirrah,” said Maride quietly. “The Aphia don’t bind their texts; they weave them.”

Maran snorted. “Student, I like smart-alecks even less than I like book destroyers.
Where
did you gain this knowledge?”

“I’ve read every book in the royal library of Sandrin, sirrah, and I have a very good memory.”

“Good. You’ll need it.” He turned away and led them into the stacks without another word.

As they walked forward into the stacks, Callia took the time to whisper in awe, “You know he assigned this work over the winter solstice, right?”

Maride glanced at her and said, “It’s a good thing that I’d read it all before, then.”

At that moment, they reached an incongruous metal door. It was quite unlike the ordinary structure of the library stacks, which consisted of plain wood and dusty tomes. The door was carved with ornate shapes in large metal panels, with a sunburst depression where a keyhole should be.