It was a quiet time of year. Students were always well behaved as term wound down to examinations: even the mischief makers had their noses in their books or their pens glued to papers, trying to make good marks. Even the dining halls and dormitories were calm.
The Friday after he’d spent his last four nights at Lindhall’s, Arram came by his own room after supper. He needed clean clothes and to put his dirty things in the basket for the laundresses. The older boys were already in their cubicles, studying, he assumed.
He was turning, having gotten what he required from the large chest by his bed, when a pair of hands slammed into his chest. He was knocked backward into his chair. His clothes flew; the chair struck his spine and skull a painful blow.
Laman popped out of his cubicle. “Hekaja and Hag, what’s this?”
Arram ignored him. He glared instead at Diop. “What is your failing?” he shouted. He struggled to his feet, trembling from the surprise, the pain, and the dirtying of his best shirt for tomorrow and an outing with Prisca.
Diop advanced, his fists raised. “You’ve spent every night this week somewhere else, toad pox!” he snapped.
Arram put his own fists up. He’d have preferred to use his Gift, but the penalties for that were far worse than they were for physical brawls. Ozorne had been trying to teach him how to fight. It seemed it was time to put his friend’s teachings to the test. He wasn’t going to back down. “What business is it of yours?” he demanded of Diop.
“Did you read Master Girisunika’s new rule? If we don’t report you, we’re in trouble, too.” He swung. Arram ducked out of the way and punched back, hitting Diop in the chest. He’d been aiming for the older youth’s belly. When he straightened, he met with a fist to the eye. He swung again wildly and missed. His third punch hit Diop’s arm, while Diop managed to get him in the belly. He threw up on Diop’s expensive crocodile shoes.
“You disgusting—!” Diop cried, grabbing Arram’s hair. “Do you know what these cost?”
“That’s enough.” Laman grabbed Diop by the shoulders and pulled him back. “You risk us getting kicked out or put to chores for a term or whatever tortures Girisunika devises.” He then murmured something in Diop’s ear.
Arram had kept a hearing spell in his own ears since an instructor gave him a month of chopping feces-smelling jackal plant for missing an instruction. Now he heard Laman’s whisper clearly: “Remember what she said the last time? It’ll be an Empty Room for you.”
Arram shivered. Empty Rooms were supposed to be horrible: no one could work their magic in one, or feel its presence. Even sight and hearing were muted in Empty Rooms. Either Diop had done something truly bad, or Girisunika was overblown.
The two older boys looked at him. Arram opened his trunk and extracted fresh clothing. “Don’t come back!” Diop called as he walked toward the door. “You’ll think what you got was a love tap.”
Arram flinched, but he kept going. The only thing I could say that’d even worry this pig’s pizzle is if I threatened to tell Ozorne, he thought. I’m cursed if I’ll do that. I’ll fight my own battles.
He was tying his shoes when he thought, Or I could tell Enzi that Diop wears boots made of crocodile leather.
Despite the pain, he grinned.
Twice on the way he stopped to put cold water from the fountains on his eye, but it did little good. By the time he reached Lindhall’s fourth floor, all he wanted to do was curl up on the pallet Lindhall had found for him and feel sorry for himself. Every time he dared to touch the bruise, the thing seemed fatter. He hadn’t been able to see through it since he walked out of his room.
And I can’t sleep or hide, he thought. I have to study. I should have kicked both of them in the gems, even if it isn’t well bred.
Lindhall’s study was empty, for which he was very grateful. Much to his dismay, the hall was not quiet. Preet was screaming at the top of someone’s gigantic lungs, because such a tiny bird was not capable of so much noise.
Stop it! he thought at her as he tried to hurry down the corridor without being heard. Stop, stop, stop—
He thrust open the workroom door to find an irate Lindhall, a laughing Ozorne with his fingers in his ears, and a frantic Varice trying to soothe the small bird in her hands. The moment Preet saw him, she halted her dreadful noise and emitted an actual growl.
“Stop it,” he ordered, keeping his face down so the humans couldn’t see his bruise. “I couldn’t help the delay.”
“I believe we had an understanding that you would be here after your supper as…” Lindhall gripped Arram’s chin with a broad hand and gently forced his head up. “What happened? Please don’t lie to me, lad. I was properly cross a moment ago, and I can retrieve it quickly.”
Arram shook his head. Preet was scrabbling at Varice’s sleeve with her beak and a claw; he took her from his friend and let the bird tuck herself by his ear. Clucking softly, Preet nibbled gently on his earlobe, as if making certain for herself that he was not badly wounded.
“I see no reason why you can’t tell us,” Lindhall said.
“Perhaps it’s pride,” Ozorne suggested. “It would be for me.”
Arram tried to glare at his friend, and found how painful that was when one eye was well swollen. “Can’t I keep some things to myself?” He flinched and looked at Lindhall. “Meaning no disrespect, sir. But I’m almost grown. If I’d stayed with my family, I’d be making a man’s wages by now.” He glanced at Varice. “I could even be married. Surely I can keep some things to myself if they aren’t magical, or they don’t interfere with my schooling. Sir.”
Lindhall said nothing at first, thinking about it. “I understand. Do you still mean to study?”
“We had better,” Ozorne said. “Examinations start on Sunday.”
“Very well. Arram, why don’t you and Preet work in my study? It will be far more comfortable there. Ozorne, would you wait for a moment?” Lindhall asked. “I’d like to write a pair of notes for you to give my runners.”
As Ozorne waited for Lindhall, Varice and Arram settled in Lindhall’s study. Varice sat on the study chair Arram had chosen and ran a soft, cool hand down the side of his face. “Shall I poison their breakfasts?” she asked. Her eyes were as hard as sapphires.
“Wh-who?” he stammered, but he could tell she had guessed the source of his bruises.
“I wouldn’t poison them a lot,” she reassured him with a sparkling smile. “Just enough to keep them vomiting all during examinations. Just so they’ll have to spend Midwinter making them up. I can do it. And I needn’t even use magic, so I won’t get caught.” She shook her head, looking sad. “So many kinds of sickness this time of year.”
He grabbed her hand. “Don’t,” he said urgently. “What if you get the wrong—”
“Stop it,” she said fiercely. “Don’t even try. Ozorne and I know poxy well who they were—”
“Well, then, you don’t, because one stopped the other,” Arram whispered hotly. “And I can handle the other one myself! I’m grown now!”
“Varice,” Ozorne said as he walked back into the room. “Leave be. What were you talking about?”
“Poisoning,” Varice said brightly.