Tempests and Slaughter

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.

Varice elbowed her companion. ‘I told you it was him.’ She smiled at Arram. ‘When they said a boy was being advanced, I told Ozorne, “Depend on it. That’s the one I met.” This is your new roommate, by the way. Ozorne Tasikhe, this is Arram Draper. Arram, this is my best friend, Ozorne.’

Ozorne offered his hand with a crooked smile. ‘How do you like the place? Unless Cosmas produces another child wonder, we should be safe with the whole thing to ourselves.’

‘I’m not a child wonder,’ Arram retorted, stung. ‘I’m eleven!’ Then he gulped, recognizing the name. This was the member of the imperial family called the leftover prince. He had just snapped at the emperor’s nephew!

Ozorne’s crooked smile changed into a real one. ‘Are you? And I am thirteen, and Varice is twelve and a half. We shall take the world by storm, see if we don’t.’

Varice sat cross-legged on one of the empty beds across from Arram’s, while Ozorne dragged his desk chair over and slouched in it, smiling. ‘You’ll get used to her,’ he told Arram, who sat gingerly on his own bed. ‘Once she’s decided you’ll be her friend, she assumes command.’

Varice sniffed at him. ‘You’ve never complained.’ To Arram she said, ‘Ozorne and I are in the same classes most of the time. We’ve been friends for two years, I think.’

‘So, what horrible thing did you do to end up in classes with us?’ Ozorne asked. ‘Varice said I had to hear it straight from you.’

Arram gulped. ‘I flooded my classroom.’ He got to his feet and looked out the window. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose! It just happened …’ He faced the two older students again. ‘I still don’t understand why Master Cosmas is promoting me instead of sending me home.’

Ozorne smiled. ‘What was my misdeed, Varice?’

The girl tapped her forefinger against her chin. ‘We were in one master’s gardens, stealing cherries, and you saw a bird you didn’t recognize. You called to it, and called, and – well, I saw a great flood of your Gift roll from your hand, and the next thing I knew, the garden and every tree and plant in it was covered in birds! And then the master came, the one who managed the garden. He wanted us thrown out of the school for its ruin, because the birds refused to leave. I was laughing so hard I was crying by then, and Ozorne wasn’t even listening because he was able to hold any bird he wanted …’

‘All I had to do was point and call, and the bird would come to sit on my hand,’ Ozorne said, dreamy-eyed. ‘Even the hawks!’

Arram sat back down on his bed, fascinated. ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing. In The Magic of Birds by Ayna Wingheart, she writes that the magical nature of birds is such that only the most powerful mages can control more than ten or so, and that even she could handle no more than twenty-three or twenty-four at a time.’

Ozorne smiled at him. ‘What’s this? A fellow bird scholar?’

Arram chuckled and drew a pattern on the coverlet. ‘Oh, no, it’s just for fun. I can’t say I’ve studied.’

Ozorne got to his feet. ‘Well, study or no, let’s have a look at the bird enclosures in the menagerie! Varice?’

She stood and shook out her skirts. ‘I never turn down a visit to the menagerie.’

The two older students were at the door when they stopped to look back. ‘Aren’t you coming?’ Ozorne asked.

‘I wasn’t sure you meant it,’ Arram explained.

‘Anyone Varice likes is fine with me,’ Ozorne said. ‘And you still didn’t tell me how you flooded your class, the Gift of it. We’ve both done that stupid spell, but we didn’t get those results!’

When she saw Arram had a tendency to lag behind, Varice tucked her arm in his and forced him to keep up. To his delight, Arram discovered that the students who cared for the menagerie animals were well acquainted with his companions. Ozorne in particular was a favourite in the areas set aside for the birds. Once he had vouched for Arram – which Arram thought was taking a great deal on trust – the three young people were admitted to the big enclosure that housed the birds who could get along. When the students handed each of the young people a cloth bag, birds flew down from their perches to land on their arms, shoulders, and heads, just as the pigeons did in the city squares.

The bags contained the food specially made up for the birds: small bits of vegetables, fruit, and fat, as well as seeds of all kinds. Arram ended up scattering his to the birds that swarmed around his feet while he watched Ozorne and Varice. They knew the animals so well that they could get them to do tricks for a bite of something.

One large golden peacock strutted over to Arram. To the boy’s surprise, the other birds backed away from him. A student attendant who had been keeping an eye on them all hurried over. She passed Arram another bag of feed. ‘This is his,’ she said, nodding to the bird. ‘His lordship doesn’t like to share with the others.’

Arram poured the bag’s contents into his hand to find it was mostly brightly coloured food: melon, squash, orange, and bits of small golden fish. ‘He’s very particular, isn’t he?’ he asked.

Ozorne wandered over. ‘One day I’ll have a menagerie of my own, and I’ll have all of them,’ he announced. ‘They’re called goldwings. They come from all the way across the Emerald Ocean.’

‘I only see this one,’ Arram said, looking around.

‘We have two here, and the emperor has the other four. Now, come, have you seen ordinary peacocks before? I’m sorry, your lordship,’ added the prince, bowing to the goldwing, ‘but you have to admit they’re pretty, too. Or at least the males are.’ Ozorne hooked Arram’s arm and dragged him off to view birds with more colours in them than he’d ever seen in his life.

They barely made it to supper on time. Varice had refused to go until she’d changed her gown. Boys might be happy enough simply to dust themselves after birds had shed all over them, she informed her two friends, but she was not. They made it to the dining hall just before the monitors closed the doors.

‘Close one,’ a monitor chided as they skidded into the huge, noisy room.

Ozorne grinned at the older boy. ‘Close still counts!’

Arram had thought they might have trouble finding a table, particularly with him in tow, but it seemed that Varice was as confident in the dining hall as Ozorne was in the menagerie. She swept through the lines of serving plates and dishes, not only making sure of her own choices, but seeing to it that the boys took proper foods as well. Then she led the way to a small, shockingly empty table near one of the doors that led to the outdoor tables and a garden. The door was open, but no one took advantage of the tables outside: the air was cooling off. Instead Varice and Ozorne sat at that empty little table and pointed Arram’s new seat out to him. Only when everyone had eaten at least half of their dinners did Varice allow Ozorne to open the subject of water magic.

It was the best evening Arram had enjoyed at the university. Ozorne had some clever ideas on how to harness the power that had gone wrong that morning. Varice gave Arram some spells and charms for the manipulation of water she had learned from cooks and cook mages. If he worked hard he’d have them memorized by the end of the week. The water spells wouldn’t get away from him any more!

They chattered outside one of the school’s many libraries until the end-of-study bells told them it was time to get back to their rooms. The boys escorted Varice to her building, where she was housed with older girls, then ran for their dormitory. Ozorne showed Arram a shortcut by way of the gardens behind the buildings. They were approaching their own place when Ozorne held out his arm to stop Arram. They halted in a grove of lemon trees planted in the edges of the garden. Two figures in the brown shirts and breeches of the university stable and field staff were standing at Ozorne’s window. The shutters were open; Ozorne had told Arram he always left them that way.

‘I’ll get the guards,’ Arram whispered.

Ozorne put a hand on his arm. To Arram’s shock, the older boy was chuckling softly. ‘Just wait,’ he murmured.

One of the would-be thieves boosted himself up and over the ledge. The second followed. There was a yelp.

‘Come on!’ Ozorne said. He raced for the door to the building; Arram followed, wondering if he knew any battle spells. He’d learned Ozorne had fighting lessons after university classes four days a week, but he’d had nothing of the kind.

When they entered their room, Ozorne produced a ball of light, one of the few magics they were allowed to do outside class. Arram gasped. Two ragged men lay on the floor. They looked as if they’d fallen into bronze spiderwebs and been rolled up in them.

Curious, Arram went over and poked at the substance. The man inside it spat at him. The webbing itself was far thicker than spiderweb and not sticky, but these men would not be going anywhere until they were freed by a mage. He looked at his new friend.

‘I thought we weren’t allowed to cast anything but tiny spells in our rooms, and only with permission,’ he said, curious and awed.

Ozorne chuckled. ‘Silly lad, I know that. But the university understands I might be a particular temptation to those who don’t value their positions here.’ He walked over to the other bundled thief. ‘Master Chioké cast this trapping spell for me. Would you let the housekeeper know we’ve caught fish in our net?’ he asked Arram. He nudged the man with a toe.

Arram was at the door when he heard his new friend ask softly, ‘Are you Sirajit? I’ll know if you lie.’

That’s right, Arram thought as he knocked on the housekeeper’s door. Ozorne’s father was killed fighting Sirajit rebels. Arram had only been in Carthak for a year then, but he remembered the student in black, and the memorial celebrations for the hero father. Even though Siraj had been part of the empire for years, its mountain people still resisted imperial rule and frequently tried to fight it off.

When he returned with watchmen, Arram found Ozorne still questioning his captives. As far as Arram could tell, the men were unharmed.

Feeling himself to be in the way, he retreated to his own part of the room as the guards chained the would-be robbers and took them out. Ozorne followed them to the door and slipped a few coins into one guard’s hand. ‘For your trouble,’ he told the man.