The group was boisterous when they left their lesson, laughing and smiling as they made their way up the stairs. Fletcher, Othello and Seraph were the only ones who had been able to create wyrdlights; small but serviceable ones, that floated by their shoulders. The others had managed to project a thread of blue light, but were unable to find the focus to form the ball. In spite of this, their first taste of spellcraft had been exhilarating, and Rory and Genevieve were not the sort to be jealous of their friends. Even Atlas was rubbing Barbarous’s head with a happy smile plastered across his face.
‘I’m going to practise wyrdlight control in my room,’ Seraph announced as they reached their chambers. ‘I could push it about, but I’ll never keep it as still as Arcturus did!’
He disappeared into the boys’ chambers, Sliver following in his wake. There was no sign of Sylva, once again having disappeared. Fletcher was not sure why she had been allowed to skip the first lesson, but he was eager to make amends.
‘I wonder if we should have waited,’ Rory said in a morose voice, looking at Malachi in a different light.
‘I love Azura to bits, but I can’t help thinking that we are going to struggle now. If Arcturus finds it difficult to capture a new demon, what hope do we have?’ Genevieve mumbled in agreement. Fletcher could think of little to lighten their spirits, yet it was the usually taciturn Othello who spoke next.
‘You might not be able to capture a demon as powerful as a Barkling yet, but maybe you could capture another Mite. Living so close to the front lines, one hears things about the different kinds of battlemage. Some have one powerful demon that is difficult to control, whilst others have many smaller imps, as the orc shamans do. Would you not prefer to send a swarm of Mites at your enemies? You might even be able to send several Mites into the ether and use their combined strength to bring a more powerful demon back,’ Othello said, scratching his chin.
‘Hey, you’re right,’ Rory said, an enormous grin on his face. ‘Imagine a thousand little Malachis. That would be something to see!’
Seraph walked back into the room, brandishing a sheet of paper in one hand and a small cloth bag in the other.
‘Look at these!’ He displayed what turned out to be a timetable in front of them. ‘Just three all-day lessons a week after breakfast, with optional arms training in the basement on the fourth day. The rest is free study! We can do whatever we want for the rest of the time.’
Rory laughed and slapped the table, sending Malachi flying away with a reproachful buzz.
‘Whoops!’ Rory said, holding out his palm for the aggrieved insect to land on. He gave him a light kiss on its green carapace.
‘That’s not all! They paid us what’s left of our first month’s wages. Who needs university when you can join the military and get paid to study?’ Seraph said, jingling the bag. ‘There’s sixty shillings in here.’
‘I think a trip to Corcillum is in order!’ Genevieve exclaimed, her face lighting up with a bright smile. ‘That’s more than my mother earned in a month and she worked all day long. Let’s go after lunch.’
‘I could definitely do with visiting a tailor,’ Fletcher agreed, fingering the ragged hem of his shirt collar.
‘My family will be worried about me. I would welcome the chance to let them know I have . . . some friends here.’ Othello tugged at his beard shyly.
‘It’s agreed then. Who said that we wouldn’t have the coin to go to Corcillum? It will probably cost us an arm and a leg to get there, but it will be worth it,’ Seraph said, rushing back to his room.
Footsteps echoed on the stairs behind them, followed by the sound of voices.
‘Who could that be?’ Fletcher wondered out loud.
‘So you see . . . they’ve stuck me in with the commoners when my blood is as pure as yours. It’s an absolute disgrace! I’m sure if you talk to the Provost on my behalf I can move in next to you.’ It was Sylva, followed by Isadora and the other noble girl.
‘Ugh, this place is smaller than my bathroom,’ Isadora sniffed, wrinkling her perfect nose as if she could smell something foul in the room.
‘I know! You should see my bedroom. Let me show you,’ Sylva said, trying to drag Isadora towards the girls’ quarters. Isadora stopped and looked at the group, narrowing her eyes when they settled on Othello.
‘Hang on,’ she said, stamping a delicate foot. ‘It’s time I told these commoners how things are going to go down this year.’
Isadora stalked around them like a mountain lion on the hunt. She exuded an easy confidence that put Fletcher on edge.