“Woman, get out of our way!” Chioké shouted. “If you haven’t noticed, we are getting soaked!”
If Faziy was put off, it was impossible to tell. She was dancing as she walked backward. “Arram and I had talked about the lightning snakes, and they found him! Have you ever seen such a thing?”
“Nonsense!” Chioké barked as he nearly pushed Arram into his workroom. “Sheer tribal superstition!” Ozorne followed, while Chioké remained in the doorway, arguing with Faziy.
She seemed not to notice the rain. Ozorne, frowning behind the master’s back, cautiously threw a rain shelter charm out over Faziy. She didn’t seem to notice that, either. “Tribal?” she cried. “In Arpis Narbattum’s Of Elementals, he writes not only of his own experience in sighting them, but of several of the masters in the academy where he worked. They saw them clear as I see you, dancing on the rim of a volcano! The book contains their testimonials, attested to and sealed by an advocate!”
“Seven hundred years ago,” Chioké snapped. A gust of wind blew rain into his face. Ozorne glanced at Arram, who tried to look innocent. Preet made a chuckling noise.
Chioké backed inside and beckoned to Faziy to follow. Ozorne let his protective spell drop when she entered the room. Chioké continued, “Doubtless Narbattum and his companions were giddy on volcano fumes when they attested to it.”
“They were masters just like the masters here,” Faziy retorted. “Would they make so foolish an error? Was Somava Gadav giddy on fumes when she wrote of it in Children of Fire? She saw them many times in her life, and created a glass to show them to those who looked into it!”
Chioké frowned. “I have never heard of this glass or this book.”
“The book is in the library of the Unsettled Age. I’ve borrowed it,” retorted Faziy.
While the pair argued, Ozorne pushed Arram behind a tall screen. He motioned for Arram to remove Preet’s bag. Once Arram did so, Ozorne stood silently for a moment, then lifted his hand, palm out. His Gift streamed over Arram, covering him with pure warmth. Arram sighed with contentment, then winced—it had turned a little too warm. He signaled Ozorne, who relaxed. Now the temperature was just right again. Ozorne let him enjoy drying out while he returned to witness the argument.
After listening to Chioké and Faziy squabble over which authorities and reports were more reliable, Arram could tell that the two masters were now friendlier. Just as good, his clothes were dry. He gathered up Preet’s bag and came out from behind the screen. Ozorne was perched on a tall stool. Chioké and Faziy stood beside the fire, while the master brewed a pot of tea. Both adults fell silent and looked at Arram.
He cleared his throat and said, “I would prefer no one else knew what happened out there. Whatever you want to call it.”
Chioké leaned against a counter lined with models of miniature war machines. “I shall have to tell Cosmas. He is the master in charge of your learning.”
Arram looked at the floor. “About the lightning snakes?”
Chioké sighed. “Young man, until a group of masters in this century of the academy says otherwise, there is no such thing as ‘lightning snakes,’ except in old tales and those of tribal shamans.” He deliberately did not look at the scowling Faziy. “There is a perfectly good reason that whatever we saw happened. I would speculate it was a mixture of your Gift and mine that created those conditions, though to be honest, I would not care to experiment. Next time neither of us might be so lucky.”
“So except for Cosmas you won’t tell?” Arram asked. “I don’t want people looking at me strangely any more than they do.” He glanced at Faziy. She shook her head.
“I may explore the matter on my own, I trust?” Chioké raised his brows.
Arram goggled at him. He was a master. “I can’t stop you, sir. Ozorne?”
“I’m steadfast, Arram, you know that.” Ozorne gripped Arram’s shoulder in reassurance.
The university bells began to ring. “Very well. Time,” Chioké said. “Tomorrow we shall continue to work on battle magic and control.” A bit awkwardly he added, “Honored Faziy, if you would care to continue our private discussion?”
Once outside, Ozorne cast a rain protection spell over both of them and said, “Surely you didn’t mean I wasn’t to tell Varice!”
Arram stumbled a little as they trotted down the path. Ozorne steadied him.
“Won’t it upset her? The snakes? You saw them, didn’t you?” Arram asked, checking that Preet was fine.
“I saw something. Besides, I think your hair will upset her more,” his friend said, laughing. “You look like one of the deep-jungle tribesmen who combs his hair out in a huge ball around his head for sacred occasions. Doesn’t he, Preet? Wouldn’t he make a fine nest right now?”
Preet, who remained in the shelter of Arram’s book bag, only grumbled.
“Chioké improves as you get to know him, I swear. Apparently I didn’t prepare him for how surprising you are,” Ozorne said as they ducked into the nearest building.
“Ozorne, please don’t let him try to make me into a battle mage. I wish you’d told me that’s what you wanted.” Arram stopped and grabbed his friend by the arms. “I won’t do it. I’m not a killer. I’ll never be a killer.”
Ozorne eyed him curiously. “Not even to defend Varice, or Preet, or me?”
Arram sighed. “That’s different, and you know it. I don’t want to be a battle mage, not ever. I don’t want to sweep away a troop of men with a sigil and a snap of my fingers—or a bolt of lightning.”
“You are the worrying-est fellow,” Ozorne said, and shoved him down the hall. “Let’s hurry, or Master Lindhall will mark us late.”
—
After that day, it didn’t seem to stop raining. The jokes about turning into water plants or water birds were far less funny in March than they had been in February. Little fights broke out over nothing at all, even between Varice and Ozorne for a day. Everything smelled slightly of mildew, no matter how hard the students and workers cleaned and dried everything that got wet.
Preet’s song was Arram’s chief comfort. The little bird sang Lindhall’s people and animals to sleep at night and to wakefulness in the morning. In return, Arram always found gifts of her favorite foods in baskets or napkins by the door: any fresh fruits and vegetables that could be had, multi-seeded breads, and pistachios. He never had to worry about Preet going hungry, though she didn’t grow. He assumed that was part of her disguise.
In late March Ramasu was gone for five days. It was not unusual for a healer, not as it would have been for Yadeen, Cosmas, or Sebo, who rarely left the university. Arram had duties in Ramasu’s workroom if the master was not present: peel, seed, or chop any plants left in baskets on the main table, tend the contents of the cook pots, and follow the lesson instructions on the slate, put there by Ramasu’s chief assistant.