Chapter Four
Four
A different student might have interrupted the exam and declared, “I am beset by a demon, and I cannot get rid of him.”
Not me. Daziel was gone, and so I’d consider the problem of him solved for now; if I’d learned anything since arriving at the Lyceum, it was I could only juggle what was immediately in front of me.
Right now, I needed to get through this test. My scholarship depended on maintaining high grades, and Theory was my hardest class.
Alongside my cryptography seminar, I was taking six classes—half of them language courses, and then the three classes required for every first-year: Intro to Theurgy and Thaumaturgy Theory, Intro to Household Magics, and Intro to Spellwriting.
Everyone in Ena-Cinnai used spells, but not everyone knew how to tweak them or write new ones.
Letterform magic required writing or carving charaktêres into objects, then painting the charaktêres with neshem oil—a strange, shimmering substance made from crystals mined in the caves beneath the city and the mountains of the south—and reciting the words out loud.
I’d seen spells for everything from floating heavy materials to changing your shoes’ color.
You could buy window shades with a spell pre-carved to make them open when the sun arrived or hand warmers with a spell ready to activate to protect against chilly nights.
The best place to learn to write new spells was the Lyceum, which most students attended for two or three years.
Students took their learnings home, or to an apprenticeship, or into more specialized education.
In Intro to Spellwriting, we learned the three major spell languages, and in Intro to Theurgy and Thaumaturgy Theory, the theory behind each.
After the exam, I exited warily, half expecting Daziel to appear in the hall.
When he didn’t, I let out a sigh of relief and headed to my next classes.
I had Keft I, the study of a hieroglyphic language from before the twelve tribes joined together, then Old Cinnaian, the precursor to modern Ena-Cinnaian.
I did my best to stay focused, but a poke in the back of my shoulder distracted me from Professor Isserlis’s lecture.
“Hey, Bat Yardena,” someone whispered as Isserlis went on about the construct state of possessive nouns in Old Cinnaian.
I turned to see Noam Dimkov holding a pencil.
“I heard there was a demon with you this morning.”
Next to him, two girls watched with avaricious expressions. Gossip flowed at the Lyceum as steadily as the Lersach, and anything fresh spread like wildfire.
“And?” I whispered back.
“How come you know a demon?” he asked.
One of the girls leaned forward—Ami or Ani. We only had this class together, and we’d never spoken. “I heard you’re betrothed.”
“Something to share with the class?” Professor Isserlis cut in. Relieved, I faced front.
Unfortunately, Noam decided this was worth sharing with the class. “Bat Yardena’s boyfriend is in town. He’s a demon.”
Great. Perfect. I noticed Ephraim listening from a few rows over and forced a smile. “Yup.”
Professor Isserlis squinted like she wasn’t sure what to do.
I could practically see the thoughts running through her mind: Humans didn’t date demons.
But I was from the distant high plains, and who knew what people did there?
Also, students were untrustworthy, and we could be pulling an elaborate prank or using “demon” as slang.
She decided, as so many adults did, to ignore us.
“How…open. Perhaps you should discuss it on your own time. As I was saying, this differs from modern Ena-Cinnaian’s use of the construct state because instead of changing the end of a noun, we usually add a preposition.
Though as you can see on page 104, this is not always the case… ”
~ ~ ~
When class ended, I hurried out, hoping to escape more questions.
The breeze was cool as I crossed the Linguistics Quad.
Morning glories added a splash of purple to the white marble buildings rearing against a painfully blue sky.
Something felt off, though, and it took me a moment to figure out what: There were no warblers, no terns, no birds of any kind.
Eerie.
Dozens of food stalls lined the main lunch courtyard.
Back home, I’d mostly eaten local food: beans and barley, artichokes and turnips, berries and mint.
A few shops in Port Naborre catered to sailors from the Taro Islands, the first land you reached when sailing east—they had rich rice dishes with seafood and cold soups made from blended vegetables.
Otherwise, I hadn’t tried much from beyond Ena-Cinnai.
The variety of food in Talum had thrilled me: stews with spices I’d never tasted, fruits I’d never heard of.
Today I bought a carton of cold sesame noodles with shredded cucumbers and carrots, then made my way toward the corner where my friends usually sat.
My attention caught on Daziel waving his arms from an otherwise empty table. Of course. The surrounding tables were also empty, but beyond those students gathered. People craned their necks and whispered. Apparently the vaunted Talumizan indifference only went so far.
“Naomi!” Daziel called, as though maybe his waving and existence had been inconspicuous. “Over here!”
I made my way over, grumpy. I could find a professor and make a fuss, ask them to help me banish him—and thereby annihilate my tale of a demon betrothed.
Or…I could try to pretend in public this was normal and Daziel was my betrothed.
Then I could banish him later. It would strengthen my ruse so completely no one would ever bother me about meeting my aunt again.
Trying to act nonchalant, I carried my noodles to Daziel’s table. I eyed the gyro he ate as I sat. He had a whole spread of food lined up: breaded mushrooms, fries, fruit salad, and a tiny cake. “How did you pay for these?”
He took a huge bite of the gyro, tzatziki smearing across his face, and gave me a wide-eyed shrug.
“You’re supposed to give them money! After you order but before you take the food.”
“I know how money works,” he said haughtily. But he did peer very closely at the coins I pulled out.
Once more, I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or annoyed.
But the situation was ridiculous, and the more I watched Daziel cover himself with tzatziki, the more hilarious it became.
My shoulders started quaking, and then laughter burst out.
I folded my arms on the table and hid my face in them, shaking with amusement.
“Are you all right?” Daziel sounded genuinely concerned.
“Who’s to say.” I couldn’t stop laughing. I’d done this to myself. No—my aunt had! No, I would blame the School of Government boys, so obsessed with meeting a member of the Sanhedrin that they’d driven me to this.
“Oh my god.”
I lifted my head at Leah’s voice. My friend stood a few feet away, her braids coiled around her head, her mouth parted.
I smiled weakly. “Hey.”
Daziel beamed at Leah. “Hello. I’m Daziel, Naomi’s betrothed.”
Leah came from one of the many silk farms lining the shores of the Lersach River, so I hoped she’d be less nervous than city folk about demons. Sure enough, she dropped down beside me without hesitating, fixing her gaze on Daziel as she pulled her lunch from her satchel. “What’s happening?”
I offered a wry smile. “I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’ve summoned a demon, and I can’t get rid of him.”
She unpacked a neat box filled with small bites and dipping sauces. “Explain.”
I tried my best. Daziel pouted as I did, which left him looking particularly boyish. His shimmer, I realized, had lessened, though not enough anyone would mistake him for human.
“What kind of demon are you?” Leah asked him.
“The best kind.” Daziel flashed her a smile full of sharp teeth.
There were between three and twelve types of demons—scholars couldn’t seem to agree.
But essentially, there were (1) the mazzikin, (2) wild demons, and (3) high demons.
The mazzikin were small spirits: thousands of invisible creatures up to no good, bound to make you trip or give you zits or infiltrate your bathrooms (bathrooms were always getting infested with mazzikin).
I’d dealt with their symptoms plenty of times back home.
There were high demons, rare as mazzikin were numerous. They ruled over the rest and struck treaties with humans; they were said to look human, too, save more beautiful and terrifying.
Then there were wild demons. The common citizens, if you would, able to shape-shift into human form but not as well as high demons.
Some were cruel, some helpful, some morally ambivalent.
They were mischievous and pesky and confusing.
Daziel’s black eyes and talons, the faded feather pattern on his skin, made it clear he was a wild demon—but whether he belonged to a specific type was beyond me.
Gilli and Jelan arrived before Leah could press further, Jelan focusing on Daziel as she sat. She wore her customary black beneath her red School of Engineering blazer. “He’s still here.”
“I am,” Daziel agreed. “Hello again, Naomi’s friends.”
“We should maybe tell a professor?” Gilli said nervously.
As always, I was impressed by Gilli’s delicate outfit, this time a lacy pink dress and matching headband.
Gilli was one of the few girls I knew who bothered to sew weights into dress hems instead of wearing pants.
Her ensemble, paired with her yellow School of Science blazer—Gilli was training to be a healer—was springlike.
I shook my head. “I’d rather not make a fuss. I’ll try again tonight, after classes. It might be silly,” I added, flushing, “but I don’t want Ephraim and the others to figure out I was lying.”