Chapter 2
Talisa
Mama stiffened next to me, a sign that she was perilously close to losing her temper. I watched her nervously, wondering if we’d traveled all this way for nothing. Mira and Juno pressed closer to me, their expressions tense with apprehension.
“Surely there’s something you can do for us, Clerk Severina,” Mama said. Her voice was still calm. “We’ve traveled a very long way because of the Provincial Magecraft Examiner’s promise of a full scholarship for my daughters.”
The registrar clerk’s lips thinned further. “Promise or not, Mage, ah—” She glanced down at the paperwork. “Isabeau, there’s nothing I can do without the proper seals and signatures. The rules exist for a reason.”
I stepped forward, unable to contain myself. “But we’ve been traveling for nearly a week! I can’t believe you’re making us go home again!”
Never mind that two hours ago, I would’ve welcomed the prospect of sailing back to Herrewick. But the unfairness of this situation cemented my determination to stay and attend the academy.
The clerk’s gaze slid over me. Her thin lips pressed into a disapproving line. “This is precisely why provincial commoners struggle at this academy. All of you people—officials included—show a lack of proper attention to detail.”
Angered by the contempt in her tone, I opened my mouth to retort, but Mama’s hand on my arm silenced me.
“So, Clerk Severina, what options do we have?” Mama asked, her voice level despite the rigid set of her shoulders. “I cannot return home without securing my daughters’ education. Surely you understand my dilemma?”
The clerk sighed, as if our plight was the most tiresome part of her day.
“Very well, Mage Isabeau. Since the enrollment forms, at least, are correct, I’m willing to admit your daughters as first-year students.
But you must pay their housing, meal plan, and laundry fees now.
You can apply for reimbursement once the proper scholarship documentation has been filed and approved. ”
“And how much are these fees?” Mama inquired.
When Clerk Severina named the sum, I gasped. It was more than half of what our family’s combined apothecary shop and clinic earned in a good year.
But Mama didn’t hesitate. “Very well. I can pay the first half from my travel funds right now.”
Relief rushed through me. Those funds had been intended to pay for Mama’s winter lodgings and meals in the capital until she returned to Bernswick in the spring. But now that she was returning home immediately, she wouldn’t need most of that money.
“And the second half of the payment?” the clerk asked sharply.
“Give me a day,” Mama said. “I can sell some jewelry I brought with me.”
A pang speared through me. “Oh, Mama,” I whispered, “not your necklaces!”
She never wore them in public. But when I was little, she used to let Jacinthe and me dress up in them once in a while. I still remembered the weight of gold and polished sapphires around my neck, and pearls the size of chokecherries gleaming against Jacinthe’s fiery hair.
“I brought them with me in case of an emergency like this,” Mama said, her tone brooking no argument. She turned back to the clerk. “I’ll send the rest of the money by tomorrow.”
Clerk Severina scribbled something on a slip of paper and slid it over to Mama. “You can deposit the funds into the academy’s account at any branch of the Imperial Bank in the city.”
After Mama had counted out most of the gold aureus and silver denarius coins from her purse, leaving only enough for the essentials on her homeward journey, the registrar entered our names and information into the academy’s records.
Then Clerk Severina straightened up and heaved a sigh. “Since you all arrived so late,” she pronounced, “and missed the formal induction ceremony, your daughters will have to take the academic integrity oath here. Wait over there while I summon one of the mage-instructors to assist.”
She vanished into the back of the registrar’s office.
We waited for a long time. Mira and Juno, tired of pestering Mama with questions none of us could answer, went to sit sulkily on their trunks.
After an eternity, a door at the far end of the hall opened, and two people emerged. One was Clerk Severina, her arms piled high with folded black fabric, with a stack of pamphlets balancing at the top of the pile.
The other was a tall person dressed in dark blue academic robes. As they approached, I noticed the gold badge of a certified mage shining on the front of the newcomer’s robes.
Mira and Juno scrambled off their makeshift seats and hurried over to join Mama and me.
“This is Mage-Instructor Averin Mundise,” Clerk Severina announced. “They have graciously agreed to administer your oaths.”
Mage-Instructor Mundise smiled at us. “Welcome, first-year students,” they said in a friendly tone. “Severina told me you’ve traveled here all the way from the Western Isles. I hope the seas weren’t too rough.”
Mage-Instructor Mundise looked very young for a faculty appointment. They were maybe thirty years old at most, with the olive complexion common in the capital, long black hair bound at the nape with a plain blue ribbon, and kind dark eyes.
We all returned the mage-instructor’s smile. “It is getting a little late in the year to cross the Caelrith Straits, Mage Mundise,” Mama said. “But it went well enough.”
“Glad to hear it, Mage Isabeau.” Then Mage-Instructor Mundise turned to me and my sisters. “Mage-students, are you ready to swear your oaths? Your mother and Clerk Severina will stand witness.”
I nodded. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the twins copying my gesture.
“Very well. Please raise your right hands.” Mage-Instructor Mundise raised their hand, and I noticed ink smudges darkening the long, slender fingers.
“Now, repeat after me: I, (state your names), having been granted admission to the Imperial Academy for the Magical Arts, do solemnly swear and affirm the following.”
We obediently repeated the first part, substituting our names in a temporary clash of voices.
The mage-instructor continued, “That I shall uphold the statutes, ordinances, and traditions of this Academy, and shall submit myself in all matters to its lawful authority.”
Once again, we repeated their words.
They continued reciting the oath, pausing after every clause to allow us to repeat their words.
“That I shall obey without reservation the rules and regulations set forth by the governors of this institution.
“That I shall not invoke, attempt, channel, bind, release, or otherwise manipulate arcane forces except under the explicit permission and direct supervision of a duly appointed mage-instructor of this Academy.
“That I shall neither give nor receive unauthorized aid in any examination, trial, written exercise, laboratory demonstration, or practical working; nor shall I falsify, alter, or misrepresent any scholarly work submitted under my name.
“That I attest upon my honor that I am of pure human descent, and that I knowingly conceal no blood, pact, bond, or heritage contrary to the laws of the Imperial Dominion of Human Lands.
“That I shall not endanger this Academy, its faculty, its students, or the peace of the Dominion through reckless conduct, seditious conspiracy, unlawful enchantment, or unsanctioned alliance.
“That I enter these halls in pursuit of knowledge, discipline, and service to the Imperial Dominion of Human Lands.
“Should I violate this oath, I submit myself to censure, suspension, expulsion, and such further penalties as the Academy and the Crown deem just.
By my word and by my will, and under the eyes of the Seven Sacred Disciples, I bind myself to these terms.”
When we had finished speaking, Mage-Instructor Mundise inclined their head. “Your oath has been given and witnessed. From this day forward, let your minds be disciplined, your power restrained, and your loyalty unbroken.”
Then Mundise’s face broke into an astonishingly sweet smile. “Welcome to the Imperial Academy for the Magical Arts, students. I look forward to seeing you in my first-year Fundamentals of Magecraft lecture this week.”
“Thank you, Mage-Instructor Mundise,” I said, in the same breath as Mama.
“It was my pleasure.” They raised their hand in farewell, and swept gracefully away, vanishing through the door at the end of the hall.
“Now that the formalities have been taken care of,” announced Severina, “I’ll issue your handbooks and robes.”
She thrust the pile in her arm at Mama. The pamphlets slid from their precarious perch. I lunged forward to catch them before they hit the floor.
They were titled Welcome to the Imperial Academy for the Magical Arts – New Student Guide.
“And I’ll warn you now—any use of magic outside of classes is grounds for instant expulsion. Do you understand?” Severina glared sternly at me and my sisters.
We nodded in unison.
“Good. Now, you are required to wear your academic robes to your classes and all academy events. If you lose or damage them, you will be charged for replacements.”
Mama shook them out and examined them before handing me the longest one. The twins received the two shorter garments.
“Ew, scratchy,” commented Juno as she draped the pleated black wool around her shoulders. The only color came from the academy’s imperial eagle logo embroidered on one side of the collar in cheap yellow thread, and “Year One” embroidered on the other side.
“Those are the standard commoner robes,” the clerk said in an icy tone. “If you want anything finer, you’ll can buy it in the city.”
I took the heavy fabric, running my fingers over the coarse wool.
“You’re lucky we still have a suite available in the Western Tower dormitory,” the registrar continued, handing Mama three brass keys. “Your daughters’ rooms are on the third floor, Suite 314. The commoners’ quarters.”
She might as well have added where you belong for all the scorn in her tone.
∞∞∞
We might not be allowed to cast spells and charms now, but Mama had no such restrictions placed on her, thank the Twelve Gods!