‘Nah, it’s only because crusty old Scipio was there that they wanted us quiet, but he complained about the cold so much I doubt he’ll break his fast in the canteen again,’ the boy replied.
Fletcher rounded the corner into a large room and almost ran straight into a boy with bright blond hair and the ruddy complexion of a northerner.
‘Whoops, sorry, mate. Guess I spoke too soon. Here, let me help with your bags,’ the boy said, pulling at Fletcher’s satchel. Fletcher unstrapped it and let him carry it to a long table that sat in the middle of the room.
‘Rory Cooper, at your service,’ the boy said, shaking Fletcher’s hand. ‘Welcome to our humble abode.’
It was a round chamber, with a high ceiling and two large doors on either side of the back wall. Paintings of battlemages and their demons lined the walls, the faces stern and disapproving. Fletcher grimaced as a draught from the arrow slits blew across the room.
A fetching looking girl with bright green eyes smiled at him through a mass of freckles and wild ginger hair. A blue, beetle-like demon flickered its wings on the table in front of her. Another of them, with an iridescent green carapace, hovered beside Rory’s head, filling the room with a soft hum.
The demons were larger than any insect Fletcher had ever seen, so large that they would barely fit on a hand. They sported fierce-looking pincers, with an armoured shell that shone like burnished metal. Fletcher’s demon stirred under his hood at their presence, but was not interested enough to come out of hiding.
‘My name’s Genevieve Leatherby. What’s your name?’ the girl enquired, flashing him a welcoming smile.
‘Fletcher. It’s nice to meet you. Is it just the two of you? I thought there would be more of us . . . commoners,’ Fletcher said, hesitating at the term.
‘There’s some more of us downstairs, waiting in the breakfast hall, and the second years eat later than we do, so they are still sleeping. We decided to wait till the servants come and announce it, as the time they serve breakfast hasn’t been very consistent so far,’ Genevieve said wistfully. ‘I thought there would be more students too, when I got here. But there’s only five of us first years, including you. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, the lack of summoners is the main reason they let women join the army all those years ago—’
Rory interjected. ‘There’s seven if you count the other two. We heard them last night but they haven’t come out of their rooms yet. Don’t know what a laugh they’re missing,’ he said with a wide grin. ‘They’ll come round. Everyone loves me eventually.’
‘Come off it. You’re an annoying little prig if ever I’ve seen one,’ Genevieve teased, pushing him playfully. Rory gave Fletcher a cheeky wink and pointed at the furthest door.
‘Why don’t you introduce yourself? Maybe see if they can join us for breakfast.’
18
Fletcher pushed the door open to find a short corridor with a row of doors on either side. The door slammed shut behind him as a draught came gusting in from a loophole at the very end of the passageway. He frowned at the sight of it; it was going to be a long, cold winter if this kept up.
He heard movement from the nearest room and knocked, hoping he was not waking them. The door opened at his touch; perhaps the wind had blown it ajar.
‘Hello?’ he asked, pushing it open.
Suddenly he was on his back, slavering teeth snapping at him as a heavy weight held him down. He managed to grip the creature by its throat, but it took all his strength to keep the fangs from closing on his neck. As saliva dripped on to his face, Fletcher’s imp clawed across the monster’s muzzle with a screech, but all that did was cause the creature to yawp in pain with each gnash of its teeth.
‘Down, Sariel! He has learned his lesson,’ came a lilting voice from above. Immediately the creature stopped its attack and sat back on Fletcher’s chest. Still helpless, Fletcher gazed up at it, seeing a Canid almost as large as Sacharissa; the size of a small pony. Yet where Sacharissa had wiry, black fur, this demon’s hair was as blond and curling as a Corcillum lady’s ringlets. Its snout was longer and more refined, with a wet black nose that sniffed at him.
‘Get it off me!’ Fletcher managed to gasp through gritted teeth. It felt like a tree had fallen on him and was crushing his chest.
The creature stepped off and sat panting behind the door, its four malevolent eyes still fixed on Fletcher’s face.