Chapter Five #2
I stretched both arms over my head, feeling oddly energized. For all the work we’d endured, there was just enough free time to stay sane. And students in the mage specialization had formed a wonderful camaraderie.
Hushed voices murmured up from the dormitory’s lounge as I paused at the top of the spiral staircase one level up.
I patted the marble railing. The former hotel was grander than any inn I’d ever stayed in.
My smile broadened as my inner child resurfaced.
I slid down the spiral railing, reveling in the rush of speed, and hopped off to alight gently on the tiled floor with a short slide.
Both hearths glowed and crackled, radiating a delightful warmth into the dim space.
The academy had a modern heating system with radiators, so the hearths were supplemental…
or just ambiance? But at this moment in time, they were perfect.
Partial walls, potted plants, and numerous bookcases split the space into dozens of cozy little nooks and crannies.
At first glance just a few students were present, but the more you looked, the more you saw.
Students tucked themselves deeply into oversized armchairs, reading.
Pairs or small groups clustered in darker corners, chatting in hushed voices.
Couples cuddled up next to the fire. I stepped quietly through the space, glancing, trying to avoid disturbing anyone as I searched for our little group.
Sliding a set of double doors aside, I peered into one of the last spaces: the arboretum.
Cleggs waved at me from a wicker armchair in the far corner.
Though not as grand as the city’s public arboretums, the iron-framed glasshouse was large enough for a myriad of trees, and even a pair of fountains the size of a four-person table, where water trickled from marble statues of a mermaid and a merman.
The broad, waxy leaf of a tropical plant brushed my cheek as I stepped to a circular glass table flanked by a sofa and two armchairs; all wicker, with plush cushions patterned in stylized palm fronds, midnight-blue in color.
“Hey, hey, I was afraid you were gonna spend the night studying.” Cleggs sprawled in the far armchair.
“Not a chance.” I waved to Cleggs, Dion, and Yoi. “Brenda?”
“Was plundering the kitchen,” snapped a gruff voice from behind me.
She bore a serving tray with cut-glass lowballs, a silver pitcher that glowed at the base, and a plate of fresh biscuits with the faint scent of rosemary.
I sidestepped to let her pass.
“Oh-ho! Nice work. What the lady lacks in academics, she makes up for in pilfering proficiency.” Cleggs sat up and rubbed his hands together.
“Who’re you callin’ a lady, little man?” She set the tray on the side table furthest from him and plopped onto the sofa between Dion and Yoi.
As I cracked the pitcher’s lid, steam wafted out with the scent of apples and cinnamon. “Hot cider?”
“Only the best for my friends.” Brenda flashed a toothy grin before jerking a thumb at Cleggs. “And that guy.”
I poured glasses for everyone and slumped into the empty armchair, my entire body just melting into the cushions. “So the mages survive another week, huh?”
“But you’re not gonna survive the brutal defeat in tonight’s game,” said Brenda.
I sat there for half a minute, just soaking it all in. The sights, sounds, scents… the company. It made the brutal week worth it. I straightened up and glanced at the game board laid out on the glass table. “Grand Caravan, huh? Where’d you find that?”
“At the back of the games cabinet.” Yoi, the nekojin woman who’d rescued my belongings from Count Greanderal’s bedecked brigands that first day, spoke at a soft whisper. “There were a few pieces missing, but I borrowed replacements from another game.”
“Nice.” I uttered the word as a half sigh, unsure if I meant the setting, the company, or the joy in being able to relax a little. Probably all three.
“To the mages.” I extended my glass to the others.
“Damn right,” said Brenda.
We all clinked glasses.
The cider was sharp to the nostrils, spicy, and too hot for more than the tiniest sip. It was perfect.
Brenda grabbed a deck and began shuffling, casually showing off little card tricks as she did.
Caravan Adventure was a common board game for two people or two teams; Grand Caravan expanded the playing board for up to six.
The principle was simple: move your pieces, called traders, from your home village to another player’s village while avoiding monsters.
Dice rolls and card draws introduced randomness, but it was a decent mix of chance and strategy.
“Grab your favorite color,” said Brenda. “As long as it’s not red. Red’s mine.”
I fished through the box to pick out stylized midnight blue pieces a little smaller than my pinkie. Each player started with eight, and would win if they could get four to their destination.
“Lindworm as your castle defender?” Cleggs snorked. “A little on the nose for someone from a forestry town.”
“Says the guy who chooses ogre as a defender.”
“Ogres are a lot of fun. Just gotta watch out if they have a little too much to drink.”
I glanced at him over the rim of my glass. Had Cleggs actually met an ogre in person? It was hard to tell truth from tall tales with my roommate. Not that he spent much time in our room; the guy hardly seemed to sleep. “Uh-huh,” I said, noncommittally.
The first few rounds went uneventfully, as we sipped cider and nibbled biscuits.
“That a self-heating pitcher?” I asked Dion, who was closest.
He nodded. “You want a top-up?”
“Thanks.” I held out my glass. “You guys hear any more about the so-called controversy? You know, about the mage specialization?”
“Pfft! Controversy.” Brenda clunked her glass solidly on the table. “In my neighborhood, something doesn’t count as a controversy until the third corpse shows up.”
“Don’t the merfolk in Lake Arania devour the bodies of anyone the underworld wants to make disappear,” said Cleggs.
Brenda responded with a finger gun. “Exactly.”
Dion shook his head. “Arania. Claims to have the lowest murder rate in the region.”
“Yup,” said Brenda. “But you should see the missing persons list.”
“Umm,” said Yoi. “From what I have heard, it’s not even about the mage specialization. It’s about battlemages.”
“From the time of the Empire?” said Dion. “A century and a half ago. Making a mermaid out of a minnow, isn’t it? Your turn, Theodore.”
I rolled the twelve-sided die, landing on a one.
“Bad luck,” said Brenda.
“Yeah. Pass.” A player had the option of not moving if a roll was especially bad.
I drew a card for a monster encounter—six of mermaids, but I wasn’t near any water tiles, so it didn’t matter.
“So Dion, you’re from Xin, right?” He and Yoi were usually quiet about their lives. I wasn’t sure if they didn’t want to talk about it, or if they were simply overshadowed by the others.
“Our family moved around a little, but yes, that’s where I call home.” He took the die from Cleggs.
“Only been there a few times, but it seems nice.”
Brenda snorked.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “We can’t all live in a grand city. And all of us especially, shouldn’t be so concerned with status.”
She glowered in return. “Yeah.”
“Xin’s not bad,” Dion continued. “I’ve seen neighboring cities along the trade route. I always thought your city of Thorncove was nice. That waterfall was impressive.”
“You hiked out to Flamewater Falls? Nice.”
He handed the die to Brenda. “I guess… we are all foreigners in an elven city. That was your point, right?”
I shook my head. “No point. Just chatting, that’s all.”
Yoi rolled a twelve, moving her traders safely out of ogre territory, before handing the die back to me. Her feline eyes glowed in the dim light, holding mine a moment. “Has Aldyr been harassing you? He is a Halamar local, I believe.” She spoke just a little softer than usual.
“Who?” I rolled a four and passed the die to Cleggs.
“Aldyr. The elf gentleman. I see you speaking to him and his companions occasionally. I believe he is attempting to ingratiate himself with House Greanderal, so I thought after that incident on the first day…”
Brenda snorted. “Ya mean stuff-nose and the spoiled sidekicks?”
“Oh. Those idiots. I didn’t know the guy’s name.
Not really. They razz me from time to time, but I don’t let it get to me.
” It did get to me, but I tried to use it as motivation.
I’d practiced that sort of barbed repartee with my brother, but sometimes it still got under my skin.
“It’s just too bad. Most elves I’ve encountered have been damn courteous.
Cold, but courteous. A few snobs like that sour the city’s good reputation. Why? They bothering you?”
Yoi’s eyes went wide, and the tip of her tail, which had been twitching idly atop her lap, froze. “No. Of course not.”
Rain pattered on the glass overhead.
The panes shook from a distant thunder crash.
“Your turn Yoi,” said Cleggs.
She took the die.
Sephimara wasn’t the only one with problems with House Greanderal, apparently. I swirled cider dregs around the bottom of my lowball glass. “Besides, if they ever did, I know I could come to any of you for help.” I shifted my gaze to Yoi. “And the same in return. Right?”
“Damn straight.” Brenda held her glass out.
We clinked again.