By the end of their time all four agreed—once they were outside the classroom—that the lovely, gracious Dagani was one of the hardest teachers they’d ever had, though Arram was willing to wager on Yadeen against her. Dagani had yet to throw a wooden ball at him.
It was a relief to change into sandals and his rough woolen shirt and breeches and report to Hulak in one of his glass winter houses. If the master was impressed with Preet, he neglected to mention it. Instead he instructed her to eat no seeds unless he gave them to her himself. He then fed her so much seed Arram feared she might burst after her lunch.
Sebo’s reaction was a little different from those of the other teachers. By then the bird was awake and happy to ride Arram’s shoulder once more. When the old master emerged from her home, she stopped in front of Arram and eyed his passenger. As she did so, a frown grew upon her face, blossoming into a scowl of fearsome proportions. She smashed the foot of her staff into the sandy dirt.
“Enzi!” she bellowed with more volume than one of her years should have been able to manage.
The crocodile god was there. I was napping was all he got to say before she gave him a frightful blow across the back with her stick.
Arram darted for what protection he and Preet could find in the hut. From its shelter, hiding behind the open door, he could only hear cracks and a few words—“Student…danger…mischief…troublemaker”—when the great crocodile wasn’t roaring. Finally there was a long silence. Arram peered through the gap below the top hinge, only to encounter a glittering, baleful black eye.
“And you were fool enough to say yes to him!” Sebo hissed. “Come outside!”
Arram didn’t think. “I don’t want to,” he replied. Pondering his reaction afterward, he was still convinced only a fool would want to face Sebo in that mood.
She slid her fingers through the crack and grabbed him by the nose. “Outside,” she ordered. She released him.
Arram emerged, rubbing his poor, abused nose. Enzi was still present. The remains of the shattered staff lay on his broad back. He glared at Sebo. I am not the worst thing that will happen to your precious boy, he told her.
“Please don’t say that,” Arram begged. “If you won’t tell me why—”
I will not. You have a destiny. You aren’t allowed to know it.
“Take back the bird,” Sebo ordered.
I dare not, Enzi retorted, just as Arram cried, “No!” and Preet shrieked. Swiftly Preet began to scold, but she was not looking at Enzi. She was looking at Sebo.
Finally the old woman pointed at her. “Very well, very well, be silent, or I will make you be silent!”
Preet gave a last squawk. Arram tucked her into the corner of his elbow and murmured to her that everything would be fine.
To Enzi, Sebo said, “If harm comes to him because of you, I will make you pay.”
Yes, you irascible mortal. And also, I owe you an ebony stick for the one I graciously allowed you to break on my poor back. Enzi vanished, leaving a hollow in the dirt and the remains of Sebo’s staff.
“You didn’t have to be so angry with him,” Arram protested. “I don’t mind looking after her. Neither do my masters.”
“Because you’re a boy, and daft by nature,” Sebo grumbled. “And they are air-dreaming fools! I was going to teach you how to dowse for water today, but I have a headache now. Come in. You can read about dowsing, and we’ll try it tomorrow if it doesn’t rain. And you…” Moving quickly, she scooped Preet out of Arram’s elbow hold. “You are not to distract him. You may sing me to sleep.”
To Arram’s surprise, Preet did just that. She nearly did it for him as well. He was just starting to nod off when the bell for the end of classes rang out. Arram sighed with relief. He didn’t know about Preet, but he was ready for a nap after his brief night and the day’s excitement.
One early February Saturday Arram came back from supper with his friends to find a note on his door from Master Cosmas.
Dear Arram,
Family business calls me away for a week. I have arranged for Master Chioké to join your instruction with that of Ozorne’s.
Be sure to thank Chioké. It is unusual for one master to welcome another’s students into his workroom, and Chioké is stricter concerning these matters than most. He must value Ozorne’s opinion, or mine, or both, to permit this.
—Cosmas
“You know I love you, to agree to be up at such a disgusting hour,” Ozorne announced when Arram arrived for class the next morning. His friend was leaning against the workroom wall, observing his approach with bleary eyes. “Do you even know how many of those things you have in the air?”
“Four,” Arram said. He’d been practicing juggling as he walked from Yadeen’s to Chioké’s.
“Aren’t you worried you’ll hit Preet?” Ozorne yawned hugely.
Preet, who sat on top of Arram’s head, cheeped as if to say she was fearless. Tired as he was, Ozorne chuckled. “I think she would take on armies if she could.”
Chioké bustled up the path, looking fresher and more alert than Arram. He halted before his door and bowed slightly to Ozorne. “Your Highness, good morning.” He eyed Arram. “Must you bring the blackbird?”
Arram blinked, startled: unlike his regular teachers, Chioké did not seem to realize Preet was no ordinary bird.
Ozorne glanced at him, then explained, “Master Lindhall is conducting an experiment, Master Chioké, on how birds raised with humans act differently from those that are captured wild. All of Arram’s masters, even Cosmas, gave him permission to keep Preet with him. And she isn’t at all disruptive.”
Chioké sketched the sigil that opened the door. “Other masters or no, if that bird makes a mess, it goes. I keep a serious workroom for magecraft, not a birdcage.”
Cross, Arram followed Ozorne and his teacher inside. If anyone should be picky about such things, it was Ramasu, who fashioned medicines in his workroom.
They had just begun to eat the cold fruit and cheese that Ozorne provided—nothing like the warm breakfast Cosmas always supplied—when Chioké said, “What has the old man got you studying, Draper?”
Arram blinked and swallowed his mouthful of cheese. Old man? He means Master Cosmas! “C-control, sir,” he stammered, shocked.
“Control over what?” the master asked.
“Kitchen fires. Forge fires if the smiths don’t mind. Starting and stopping hearth and brush fires,” Arram explained.
Chioké and Ozorne traded looks; Chioké began to laugh. “Mithros and Smith’s God defend us, this is the work of children and old men!” he cried. Only those who had been initiated into the rites of the smiths had the right to address their god by name. Others who attempted to do so regretted it. “We study war magic here—the kind of magic that changes empires! That’s what your power is for, young fellow!”