They waited until the supper bell chimed, but no one banged on the door, demanding to know who had practiced magic without leave. It was the first time one of Arram’s slips had gone unnoticed by authority. For some reason, Diop and Laman chose not to report it, which pleased Ozorne.
When they reached the Upper Academy dining hall, they saw that Varice had already found a table—and new friends to share it with her. Arram actually ground his teeth.
Ozorne sighed. “She’s kept our usual places for us. We may as well show them we knew her first.”
They approached with their meals, and Varice waved to them. “Here are my friends,” she told her newest companions. “Prince Ozorne, Arram, these are…”
Laman, Diop, and their other two friends introduced themselves reluctantly. Diop even said, “We’ve met.”
“Laman and Diop are our roommates,” Ozorne explained as he took his seat. “I just had the pleasure of meeting them today.”
Arram caught Varice’s quick glance from Ozorne to the newcomers. “Well, you might as well get acquainted now,” she told them as Arram sat and dug into his food. “If this summer was any indication, the Upper Academy won’t leave us much time to chat.”
“You two curmudgeons never mentioned you had such a lovely friend,” Laman said, smiling at Varice. “Otherwise we might have been more polite to you.”
Arram watched the meal in silent appreciation as Varice got the new students to talk about themselves and to ask Ozorne about the university. She charmed them, and guided that charm Ozorne’s way as surely as if she wielded magic. Arram was grateful she didn’t turn that his way. He wasn’t certain he could endure the sparkling eyes, the flawless smile, and the attention that had to be for him only. She applied it as easily as Yadeen applied his Gift to the inside of a marble boulder, making each of the young men beam at her and at each other. Even Ozorne, who should have been immune after all this time, ended the meal graciously.
“There, you see?” Varice asked her two friends as they left the dining hall. “A little pleasantry over food, and people see one another in a much better light. So I can invite them tomorrow?”
Ozorne sighed. “You know we can’t deny you anything,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “But if they get nasty…”
“Then we’re done,” she promised. “But when you’re a great prince with a house of your own, you’ll see this is a good way to do things.”
Ozorne smiled. “When I have a house and lands, I hope you two are there to guide me. Being without you both these last few days has shown me how much better I do around you. It seems as if I’m in control of things knowing you’re at my side.”
“The three of us—we’re invincible,” Varice announced, spinning around. “The world had best watch out!”
When the boys returned to their room to study, they found Diop and Laman had invited a number of their new friends to do the same. The older boys took up every space but Arram’s and Ozorne’s beds and, despite the fact that they were supposed to be studying, made plenty of noise. Finally Ozorne looked at Arram, shrugged, and glanced toward the door. That became the pattern for their evenings: they would retreat to a library to work with Varice, then run to their rooms to be in bed before curfew rang out. Their closeness made it easier for Arram to bear the older boys’ dismissal.
As the term continued, Varice and Ozorne invited other friends they made to join their group at meals and library sessions. Their numbers always came and went in the library: it seemed few older students appreciated asking for help from the three younger ones. Some remained.
One evening when Varice and Ozorne had gone in search among the shelves for illusions on roses, one of the other students slipped into Ozorne’s empty seat beside Arram. He blinked at her, brought out of his intense concentration on the laws regarding magic use in Tyra. Prisca, he thought, dazed. Her name is Prisca.
“Arram, hello, do you mind?” she asked in her pretty voice. All of her was pretty, from the tumbles of black curls caught up in a red ribbon net at the back of her head to the slender Northern-style gown of the same color that outlined her curves. Her black eyes twinkled at him in the friendliest way as she placed a hand on his arm. Her skin, he noticed, was a wonderfully warm shade of brown. “This is so much nicer than trying to whisper around poor Varice or poor Ozorne, isn’t it?”
Arram ducked his head. “How—how could I mind?” he stammered. “Only a—a churl would—would mind.” Dolt! he shouted silently at himself. Mumble-mouth! Clod!
“So good of you,” she said, stroking his sleeve with light fingers. She took a deep breath. It lifted the curves between her bodice and the gown’s neckline. Arram clapped his legs together and bit the inside of his cheek to get his rebellious manhood in order. “You smell nice today,” she said quietly, leaning toward him. “Very…outdoors-ish.”
He gave her a wavering smile. “The Northern trees are losing their—their leaves. Master Hulak keeps their own climate around them so they—they grow as they would…you know, at home, and we were raking leaves this afternoon.”
She took her hand away, blushing. “I, um, wanted to ask you something,” she said, fumbling with her slate.
Arram, used to Varice’s polished behavior, startled. She’s nervous, he thought. And she gets awkward, like me! The tight knot that had formed in his chest when she sat beside him loosened somewhat.
“As long—as long as it’s not criminal,” he told her, daring to venture a joke.
She covered her giggle with a hand. “Oh, silly! But…Varice told me that you know basic healing plants.”
“Well…some,” Arram replied. “Master Hulak teaches me in the gardens.”
“Would you help me with it?” Prisca asked. “I’m desperate. I keep confusing some, and the examinations are coming….”
Varice returned and leaned over Arram. “You know you’re always welcome among us, Prisca! And if Ozorne and I are distracting you two, there are private cubicles in back where you can work.”
Arram thought he might die of embarrassment at the obvious hint, but Prisca said eagerly, “That sounds wonderful! So you’ll help me?”
Suddenly the term looked brighter.
—
The first night of December, Arram was woken by a soft thud on his floor. He sat up, blinking. His cubicle glowed with a silver light, and a three-foot-long silver crocodile was on his small rug. A bird the size of a starling sat on its back.
Summoning up a blast of his Gift in case he had to fight, Arram braced his back against his headboard. How did the thing get in here? He was opening his mouth to yell for his roommates to wake up when his visitor said, Do not be a clapperknob, boy.
His Gift still ready for attack, he crept to the edge of his mattress. “Enzi?” he whispered very softly. “You’re so…small.”
You may speak as you like. None of these others will wake. I have no interest in hearing their chatter. The crocodile god looked around the cubicle. Arram’s boxes and books occupied much of its space. You can hardly fit yourself in here.