Chapter Two
I glanced at the spot I’d dropped my bags, finding it conspicuously devoid of luggage.
Stolen?
Everything I had was in that luggage!
I whipped my head around in a panic, finally noticing a man at a podium who might have been a receptionist.
“Excuse me. Did you happen to see someone take a pair of suitcases? Walnut leather, maroon retaining straps.”
“The unmatched set?”
They mostly match! “Yes.”
“A pair of gentlemen of House Greanderal took them, I believe.”
“And you didn’t stop them?”
His expression suggested I’d asked him to stop a charging basilisk with a feather duster.
I darted outside to find the first of two coaches departing. “Stop.” My voice carried further than intended.
An annoyed Lady Arazniros poked her head out of the coach. “What is it?”
Two elven men in uniform, formal, military-style uniforms, stepped between me and her coach like a pair of closing doors.
The coach with Lady Arazniros departed with a crunch of wagon wheels and clack of claws of the pair of reptilian ospherants pulling it.
“Do not accost the Baroness,” said the first, a hand on his saber, a finger’s width of steel shining between hilt and scabbard.
I stopped dead, hands up. “Woah. I just… I believe there has been a mistake.”
“Indeed,” said the second man. “We are here to safeguard the Baroness from miscreants, ruffians, and rogues.”
“I am not a miscreant or ruffian.” Although the moniker rogue sounded oddly satisfying at the moment.
I spied my luggage in the rear bed of the second coach. “I have no interest in the Baroness.” Possibly a lie. But if I was a rogue anyway, what was a little mistruth here or there. “You may have mistakenly loaded my luggage aboard your coach.”
“No mistake,” said the first man, drawing his saber another finger’s width from the scabbard.
My heart froze. Halamar was a large, civilized city. This wasn’t like the wilderness where one had to be alert for threats at all times. Did I just let myself…
“Do you really think we could mistake those rags for something of the Baroness?”
I took half a step back. They wouldn’t attack me here in the open… would they? “Then why are you—”
“Impounded for inspection,” continued the second.
I took another half step back. I had weapons, of course. And armor. And I knew how to use them.
But both were in my luggage. I wasn’t supposed to need it in a big city.
“There a problem?”
I glanced back to see a hulking human woman I recognized from my class. “These gentlemen seem to want to ‘impound’ my luggage.”
“Ha!” The woman’s booming voice managed to overshadow her brawny appearance. “Same old scam they use to shakedown tourists as in Arania. Here I thought you pointy ears were supposed to be all civilized.”
“Scam?” The second man’s face flushed red as he gripped his saber. “House Greanderal is well within its rights—”
“Pfft. On campus, you clowns can pound sand.” She glanced at me. “Where’s your steel?”
“Aside from my personal dagger… I was informed we were only supposed to carry ceremonial weapons within the city.”
“House Greanderal’s ceremonial regalia just so happens to include the saber.” The first man drew his saber all the way and pointed it at us.
“And the contraband in question is no longer on campus.” The second also drew his saber.
“Ohh, that’s convenient.” She opened the ill-fitting jacket of her uniform and drew an enormous pistol from a holster at the small of her back. “This is my ceremonial ten-gauge shotgun.”
Both men stepped back.
“Ceremonial? That?”
“Great for this ceremony called… hmmm… a funeral.”
It was at this moment, I noticed two things.
1. She was doing a far better job of this rogue business than I.
2. A nekojin woman, also from our class, was removing my luggage from the carriage.
A decoy?
As the old expression goes, don’t look a gift centaur in the mouth.
I stepped between her and the men, a hand in each direction. “Ladies, gentlemen. Let us solve this like civilized people. These gentlemen may depart, and I will file a formal complaint via the academy.”
They holstered their sabers and withdrew.
I turned to her. “Thanks.”
She holstered her weapon. “Brenda’s the name. Friends call me Bloodbath Brenda.”
I’d hate to think what her enemies call her. I extended a hand. “Theodore.”
“You know what that geezer Arel said, all eyes are on us. We mages gotta stick together and clobber anyone who threatens us, right?”
“I am fairly certain…” that’s the exact opposite of what he meant. “Fairly certain nobody will threaten you.”
“Carry a decent weapon, will ya.”
? ? ?
I blew out a deep sigh of relief at the solid, heavy thunk of the dormitory door shutting behind me.
Releasing my luggage to massage aching shoulders and arms, I took in the foyer.
Footfalls and muffled voices echoed from above and below, but the tone was subtly different than on campus.
Hushed and indistinct snippets of conversation were warmer, punctuated by laughter here and there.
Broad marble staircases leading up and down sported curly balusters and a railing thick enough to slide on.
Though of course I was no longer a child who did such things: this was an elite learning institution. And somewhere in this three-dimensional orchestrated swirl of wood and stone, of iron and glass, a tiny corner would be my new home.
As part of the admission, I’d filled out a form about my preferences in roommates. Species restrictions, how loud I was, how late I stayed up, that sort of thing. Yet I didn’t even know a name yet. Just a room number and a brass key.
I huffed, grabbed my luggage for what I hoped would be the last time, and trudged up the stairs.
The dormitory had originally been a hotel across the street from campus and was sold to the academy some time after its founding.
A pedestrian bridge at the third story connected it to the main campus, yet the architecture was distinctly more ornate than the rest. Sculpted details with a maritime theme adorned doors and windows.
Carpets and runners in rich maroons and deep blues.
And little alcoves and bay windows along the halls enticed as cozy study areas.
“Finally, fifth floor.”
Distracted by the fluting of enameled, cast-iron radiators, I noticed the forcefully swinging door too late.
I could have sprang away. I could have shoved my luggage out of the way. I could have blocked the swing of the door.
Attempting all three at once turned out disastrously ineffective.
“Sorry!” yelled a voice as I dropped my largest suitcase, then tripped over it, then careened down the stairs with the rest.
I groaned at the bottom of the stairs, face pressed against a navy blue section of carpet. It was, on such close inspection, indeed a sumptuously crafted floor covering, yet said inspection was not at all worth the journey to get there.
“I’m so sorry.” The voice came from next to me.
I rolled on my back to gaze at a soft-spoken human man with an odd green tinge to his blond hair. He extended a hand.
“It’s fine. Been one of those days.” I let him pull me to my feet. “Actually, it’s been several of those days in a row.”
“I’m Dion, by the way. I remember you from orientation. We’re in the mage specialization together.”
“Theodore.”
The man was slim, fit, and maybe a little taller than I. “I’m usually not like this. At home people call me the tailless neko. I just know where everything and everyone is, and I… I suppose I was distracted by all the excitement. Let me help you with your—oh, no, did the handle break off?”
Damn. And I was so proud of that suitcase.
“As long as the contents survived, it’s fine.”
Dion helped me to my door. “All the mage students seem to be clustered in one area of the dormitory.” He dropped his already soft voice even lower. “I think they were afraid we were going to practice casting fireballs in the halls and wanted to confine any chaos we might cause.”
I snorked.
Chaos swirled around me with no need for spellcasting.
“Thanks for your help.” I waved goodbye to him and fished for my keys.
The dark walnut door swung open, revealing a rectangular room twice as deep as it was wide.
Parquet floor in a warm golden tone, eggshell plaster walls with seashell-patterned crown molding.
A multi-paned window on the far wall extended from knee high to well above my head, with a potted monstera sitting on the sill.
“Hope you don’t mind the plant.” A gnome man lounging atop a corner half-sofa peered from behind a book.
“I thought the place looked kind of… oooh! You’re the one who knows the Blade Baroness!
” Apparently finding this tidbit interesting enough to set the book on his lap, he gazed at me with cursory interest. Maybe chest high to me, with the typical elongated nose and oversized ears of a gnome, his elaborate suit stood in curious contrast to his slumped posture.
The purple velvet vest with oversized brass buttons flopped open, forest-green silk shirt was hopelessly wrinkled, while pleated indigo slacks completed the look.
I wasn’t sure what said look was, but it was certainly a look.
“You mean Lady Az…” uugh, I’d befriend her just to not have to pronounce her last name anymore. “Yes, I suppose I do.” I closed the door with my foot and dropped my luggage.
“I took the left side bunk. You were late, and I had to sleep somewhere.”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” I gazed at the furniture.
Dark wood, probably walnut, with maroon fabric, lots of detailing, and decades of wear.
The arms and legs of most were carved into stylized sea serpents with seashells here and there.
Wardrobes taller than I was, compact writing desks and oak swivel chairs, and a pair of bunks, mine with linens stacked atop it.
I undid the belts around my suitcases and began unpacking.
“Uuugh, I didn’t think to ask if they supplied hangers.” I gazed into the empty wardrobe.
“There’s a bunch of old junk in the attic storeroom.” The gnome had gone back to his book. “Might find something there.”
“Thanks. By the way, my name’s Theodore.”
“Good for you. That’s a solid name.”
I turned to him and blinked.
He turned a page in ‘Thagnor’s Hottest Night Spots in Halamar,’ which, judging from the cover illustration, I suspected had little to do with thermodynamics.
Well, as long as he didn’t snore.
I unpacked into the wardrobe, pausing to consider if I put armor and weapons, or socks and underwear in the single drawer at the bottom.
I decided on weapons and armor, mostly to keep it separate from the rest of my clothes.
Back in my hometown, you’d wear your armor most of the time, but this was the big city.
We were only supposed to need it for field trips outside the city.
“So where are you from?” I asked.
“Hazelhearth. Don’t feel bad if you haven’t heard of it.”
“I’m from Thorncove. Small coastal town to the south.”
“How did you meet the Blade Baroness?” The gnome didn’t even bother looking up from his book this time.
“In the hold of a sinking Empire clipper.” I unpacked a couple reference books and writing supplies onto the little desk, next to a brass glow lamp.
“Cool. Anything interesting happen?”
“We almost died.”
“Looks like you didn’t, though.”
I blinked. The story should have been worth some kind of reaction from him.
“We also found a dead body.”
“Least it wasn’t you.”
I blinked again. Yes, I had trouble reading people. I didn’t always understand how normal people were supposed to react. But…
I tried to mimic his devil-may-care tone. “He’d probably been murdered too, but I couldn’t prove it.”
“It wasn’t you, was it? The one that did it, I mean.”
My eyelids were going to collapse from exhaustion at this rate. “Nooo.”
“Good. Because there wasn’t a check box on the roommate form for ‘homicidal,’ but if there had been, I’d have checked ‘no.’ ”
Should I have said something like ‘not that anyone could prove?’
He set the book down and hopped over to me. “The name’s Cleggs. I was worried that I’d be assigned a boring roommate with a stalactite up their butt.”
“Aren’t stalactites the formations that hang down from the ceiling?”
He grinned. “At least you don’t seem to be boring.”