“But there was thunder.”
He nodded. “Right on top of me for a bit. Even in little storms I can see flickering in the clouds, but there was nothing this time. And I suppose I do feel, uh, prickling as a storm advances. But only in the ones with lightning. Not the mild ones.”
Sebo stared off into the distance. Finally she asked, “Have you told anyone else? About this storm?”
Arram snorted. “They’d make fun of me and call me—” He was about to say what they really called him, “an ignorant tribesman,” until he remembered that Sebo was born to a tribe. “A fool,” he amended.
She smiled grimly. “You’ll have to learn to catch yourself better than that, if you mean to enter a prince’s service.”
A prince, Arram thought, dismayed. Ozorne. Ozorne will have to live close to court.
She patted him on the shoulder. “Tell no one. Not any masters, either—I’ll decide who should know. It’s not just students who think only ignorant tribespeople believe in the lightning snakes. You were right to tell me, though. I think you know that. Don’t worry about it anymore.”
“But something was going on, wasn’t it?” Arram asked. “Someone else who knew about lightning snakes did something, or got Faziy or someone else—”
Sebo put her hand over his mouth. “And you’ll keep that to yourself, too,” she ordered harshly. “Understand? Or do I have to put a silence on you?”
Arram shook his head.
She took her hand away. “You are too cursed clever for your own good. Learn to hold your tongue. Now, bring up your protective spells. We’re visiting the hippos.”
“Do we have to?” Arram complained, but he stood and did as she ordered. He would think about her warnings later.
—
In twelve days the locks on the kitchen were removed. The students descended on the dining hall as locusts might on a field of wheat. Ozorne returned that night and piled his plate before joining them. Preet hopped to his shoulder once he’d eaten for a little while and began to inspect him, running her beak through his hair and over his cheek, then wandering down his arm to inspect his hand. Finished, she peeped at him until he stroked her.
“Yes, I’ve lost weight,” he told her and his silent friends. “The emperor is strict in his mourning observances. I was more concerned for my mother’s health than my own. I was finally able to persuade her physician to give her yogurt drinks during the day.” His smile was long and sly. “He discovered he was more afraid of me than he was of the emperor, at least in such close quarters.”
The others laughed. Arram patted his friend’s shoulder, but something about that smile and the flicker in Ozorne’s eyes disturbed him. He dismissed the feeling. Doubtless the healer was made nervous because Ozorne was now second in line for the throne and too powerful to offend.
“How fares His Imperial Majesty?” Gissa asked. “The shock of losing another heir must be dreadful.”
“He does as well as any man who began the decade with seven heirs and now has two,” Ozorne replied. “Now, please, everyone, let me eat.”
The others laughed and obeyed, turning to talk of their classes. Ozorne listened, his eyes alert, even as he devoured the contents of his plate. Once he’d finished, he sat back with a sigh. “You’ll help me catch up, won’t you?” he asked Arram.
Diop, their old roommate, was seated with friends at the next table. He looked over at them, a strange light in his eyes. “There’s a laugh,” he told his companions, his voice loud enough to be heard by everyone nearby. “I’m surprised they don’t arrange for him to take all of His Highness’s examinations.”
Ozorne tapped the table with his finger as he half turned in his chair. “I don’t recall anyone asking you to join our conversation,” he said mildly, despite that tapping finger. “I have yet to hear it said that I have not done very well on my own.”
Diop sniffed. His tablemates were trying to hush him, but his voice got louder. “But now you need not bother. Only command your freak to manage your studies for you, Your Highness.”
“You are even more obnoxious than you were when you lived in our quarters,” Ozorne replied, his eyes not wavering from Diop’s face. His finger still drummed the surface of the table. “For your information, the three of us have shared classes—and work—for a number of terms. I have yet to see you in our classes.”
“Did you have to pay so the other two could share your…classes?” Diop asked, his voice full of rude suggestion.
Ozorne lifted the finger he had been drumming and pointed to the doors. “Out,” he ordered quietly.
Diop stared at him for a long moment. None of the students who were listening seemed to breathe. Then he gathered his book bag. “You’re not emperor,” he said, his voice shaking. “And the three of you are nothing special.” He spat on the table and walked out.
“Well!” Varice’s voice shook. “Somebody sat on a snake.”
“People are jealous,” Tristan murmured with a shrug. “They would like to get to know Prince Ozorne better, but Highness, you limit your circle to Arram, Varice, sometimes Gissa and me, and anyone we may be courting. People grow bitter.”
Ozorne’s eyes glinted sharply. “I won’t have my friendships dictated by the likes of Diop Beha.”
“There is advantage to be had, Your Royal Highness,” Tristan replied simply. “Perhaps not with Diop, but with others. You could use allies.”
Ozorne looked at Tristan but said nothing.
Arram said wistfully, “I should like to know what put the bur in Diop’s anus.” As Ozorne and Gissa choked on their drinks, Arram explained, “He never liked us, but he hasn’t gone after us for months.”
“He was kept back this year,” Varice said, stacking her dishes and placing them tidily on her tray. “At least half of our first-year Upper Academy class has been kept back. Maybe you only looked at your marks, with the fasting and the prince’s memorials, but I look at all the marks. Every fall class is reduced by a good number. The students are held back, or some go home, or switch schools.”
When Arram stared at her, Tristan said drily, “Here is where the winnowing starts. Each term more of us will be left behind to repeat the one before. Not all mages are equal. Surely you knew that.”
Arram had known it in a vague way. Since it never had anything to do with him or his friends, he hadn’t spent time worrying about it. He barely knew what year he was in these days.
“Forget Diop,” Ozorne said, putting a hand on Arram’s arm and on Varice’s. “I’m just delighted to be back where I belong. Tell me all the gossip.”
They talked school and palace gossip until Gissa reminded them of the night’s studying yet to be done. When they scattered, Ozorne looked more vigorous than he had when he’d first sat down at the table.