Chapter 6 #2
My legs feel light and heavy at the same time, as I follow Rosalia down a corridor. My body’s moving of its own accord, as my head tries to understand what’s going on. Surely this is a mistake—I think. Or hope.
Stupid hope.
The reality is that Alayel didn’t show up. Flavio apologized. And then he told Rosalia that I was “permanent”.
I think back to the contract.
I, Alayel Stormchaser, promise Mayara of the Earth a place at the Sky Academy.
A place. He never specified doing what.
Asshole.
Now I’m closer to my goal than I ever dreamed. So close and so far at the same time, which only stings worse.
We enter a large, drab room with some twenty bunk beds and small sunlight holes, from where thin rays peer in just enough to bring some warm light, contrasting with the cool glow of the small lumos jars in the corners. Rosalia points to a large cabinet with many partitions.
“You can leave your belongings here. Your clothes, too, once you change.”
She opens a few of the doors, until she finds an empty compartment. It’s a small box, about ten palms wide and four palms high. Am I truly supposed to leave all my things here? In a small compartment with no lock?
I could turn around and go back to the restaurant, where at least I have half a room. But maybe I want to see where this goes.
The woman takes a gray tunic and a pair of pants from two baskets and hands them to me.
“They should last five days. After that, you can get fresh ones. Throw the used ones here.” She gestures to a large, empty basket, then stares at me, as if waiting for something. “Go on. Change.”
I blink. “Here?”
“This is the female wing. There are bathing chambers and pots outside. And I don’t have all day, girl.”
If I put this uniform on, I’ll be sealing my destiny. This is the time to turn around and go back to the Grease & Spice, where at least I was appreciated.
But I wasn’t happy there.
As I hesitate, a face crosses my mind: Alayel’s. He’s probably laughing somewhere, patting himself on the back for having tricked me. I won’t let him get away with that. I’ll confront him, then make sure he keeps his part of the deal. And if I want to do any of that, the place is here.
I’ll also have a chance to see the eggs again—hopefully. Perhaps I’ll even see what kinds of dragons come out of them.
My decision is made. I place my bag in that cabinet, then peel off my dress and toss it there as well. Standing only in my underslip in front of this imperious woman feels odd, but it’s just a few seconds, as I grab those drab, gray clothes and put them on quickly.
She looks at my headband. “The hair, too.”
“You want it loose?”
She huffs, then throws me a plain, gray headband. “You can use this or tie it.”
I remove my crocheted band and put on the one she gave me. It feels slightly too tight, but I don’t want to complain about something so small. She closes the door of the cabinet, and I make sure to pay attention to the location of my bag. Third row, fifth column from the right.
So small. So insignificant. Lost among a multitude.
At least I left all my coin at the restaurant, so I don’t have to fear that someone will steal it.
I shove down the sour taste coming to my mouth. This is no tragedy. And yet the thought that I might never get to fly makes my chest tighten with such force that pain radiates through my body.
“Ready?” Rosalia asks.
I don’t even know for what, but I don’t want to argue. “Yes.”
She eyes me up and down, perhaps checking if there’s anything wrong in my appearance or countenance, and then clicks her tongue.
“I’ll place you with a recruit on correction for now.
You’ll get your schedule and more details tomorrow.
When you finish, pick any bed here. You can ask where the pots and bathing chambers are. Come.”
Her shoes click-clack on the hard wooden floor as I follow her, my chest still empty and deflated. She uses a large key to open a golden door, then turns to me.
“Ask someone to lead you to the stairs down to the cleaning area when you return.”
I nod.
Another corridor, this one with shiny marble walls, leading to an enormous, open atrium.
We stop by a balcony with small gates opening over a chasm where thick ropes hang from the ceiling, suspending cages and boulders, with pulleys at the top where strong men pull them.
I’ve seen contraptions like this in the port, used to raise small cargo, but never something going up so high, and meant to transport people.
Rosalia rings a small bell, and one of the cages moves down to us. She opens it, we enter, then she rings another bell seven times.
The cage moves up, and I watch my surroundings in awe.
My understanding has always been that the academy is at the bottom, followed by the main quarters of the Sky Guard, but with some overlap in training grounds, obviously. Above it, sits the castle. But if we’re going up like that, they’re interconnected.
We stop some five floors beneath the top, and then she takes me to a bright, large hall, lit by many sunholes, the floor in polished wood, and the walls in pink marble. After we walk by large metal doors, we cross a small, discreet wooden entrance.
The sight stuns me.
The room is enormous, with a high ceiling and tall windows with colorful mosaics. White sheets cover some furniture in the corners, while the marble floor has a delicate floral pattern, mirrored in the wooden ceiling.
This is a grand hall. The famous mosaic hall, I suppose, where coronations and balls happen.
Only one of the gorgeous windows has sunlight peering through it, sharpening and brightening a design of a golden dragon.
The other windows are covered with external metal panes, which makes sense, considering the possibility of a dragon attack.
I’m assuming the only reason the one window isn’t blocked is so that the room doesn’t need lamps or lumos jars.
Rosalia looks around, searching for something, then frowns.
I follow her line of sight and see a blond girl, wearing a gray uniform like mine, sitting by a bucket, her head down.
The cleaning crew boss approaches the girl and clicks her tongue. “What’s this? Are you under the impression that correction is vacation?”
The girl gets up quickly. “Not at all, madam. Not at all.” Her blue eyes are swollen and red, as if she’d been crying, and her right arm is in a sling. She’s also quite short.
Rosalia sneers. “Useless miscreant. And yet Foros might like you after all. I brought a novice to help you. Once you’re done, help her find her way.” The woman then glares at me. “Dare step where you’re not allowed, and I’ll personally make sure your days here are over.”
I just stare, stunned by the threat. Does she really think that serving her is that much of a privilege? At least she doesn’t linger, and instead turns around and leaves, her shoes click-clacking away from the room, as I exhale a sigh of relief.
“She’s always like that,” the girl says, her voice small. “You get used to it.”
“You’re in the cleaning crew?” The idea of making a friend is a thin ray of light peering through the dark clouds in my heart.
Her chuckle is sad. “I might be. Soon. If they don’t expel me first.”
“Expel?”
“I’m a recruit. Second year. You’re a first year, right?”
I nod. I should tell her I’m not technically in the academy, but the thought hurts so much that I don’t want to say it out loud.
“My name’s Celine,” she continues. “I don’t recall seeing you…” She narrows her eyes, as if trying to recognize me.
“I’m Mayara. I started today. Just now. I’m… in the cleaning crew.” There. I said it. It would be silly to pretend I’m something I’m not.
She blinks a few times, seeming confused, then says, “Nice. I thought you got training too.”
I shrug. “Tomorrow, maybe. I don’t have a schedule yet.”
“Makes sense.” Her voice sounds strangled, as if she was stifling a sob.
“Are you all right? Is something wrong?”
This time, when she closes her eyes, tears fall. She opens them and points at the enormous windows. “See those glass panes? See how they’re dusty? See how huge they are?”
“Yes.”
“I need to clean them all by five.” She points at a sandglass on the floor, then at her wrapped arm. “And… it’s been hard. If I don’t finish them, I’m out.”
“Out of the academy?”
She lets out a sob. “They think I get hurt on purpose or something, that I don’t want to train. Commander Mallor is on my case. He’ll expel anyone who even breathes wrong near him.”
Mallor. Commander Mallor’s orders, Flavio said. Was this man the one who put me here?
“He sounds harsh.”
She huffs. “Harsh is too kind of a word to describe him.”
And there’s something else puzzling me. “He can expel recruits? But you can’t quit once admitted, right?”
Celine shakes her head. “After you swear, you can’t quit, no.”
“But you can be expelled.”
“I know what you’re thinking. If you want to quit, all you have to do is irk Commander Mallor. But it doesn’t work that way. If they think you’re trying to get expelled, you could be sent to prison.”
That doesn’t make sense. “How would they know?”
She shrugs. “Perhaps they don’t.”
I glance at the enormous windows. The idea of having to clean them all makes them look ten times bigger, but I’m sure everything has a solution. “Tell me what you’re doing, and how you’re cleaning them.”
“I use this, and this.” She shows two pieces of fabric, each smaller than a dishcloth. Then she gestures to a bucket. “I wet one piece here, wipe, then dry.” She points to a smaller bucket further behind. “I can clean the cloth there, if it gets too dirty.”
“How do you go up?”
She points to a flimsy wooden ladder.
I frown, confused. Cleaning with these small cloths would take a week, at least. No wonder she’s been crying. “Is that how you’re supposed to clean the windows?”
She shrinks her shoulders and looks at me, eyes wide. “How else do you clean them?”
“They didn’t tell you how to do it?”
“They brought me here, gave me the cloths and the buckets…”