"Why are you telling me that?" Corbyn asked.
Stellan was quiet for a moment.
"Because watching the Council remove a student from Valdenmere on day one is bad for the academy’s reputation," he said. "And I care about this academy’s reputation." He stood, straightening his jacket. "Don’t mistake that for friendship."
"I wouldn’t," Corbyn said.
Stellan walked past him toward the exit without looking back.
Corbyn stood alone in the emptying hall.
He’s not wrong.
Ishtar’s voice moved through his mind. Not from outside. From the bond itself, like a thought that arrived in the wrong voice. He’d been half-expecting it. She’d told him in the infirmary that mental communication cost nothing. Full appearance was different. That cost mana he didn’t have yet.
The Council will move quickly. They don’t like anomalies.
’Do you know what they’ll do?’ Corbyn thought back.
In Aldric’s time they would have tried to study the class. Contain the summoner until they understood what they had. A pause. I have been in this world for less than a day. I don’t know if that has changed.
’Has anything surprised you so far?’ Corbyn thought. ’About how different things are?’
A longer pause this time.
The architecture is unfamiliar, Ishtar said. The ranking systems have changed. The names of things are different. Another pause. But people are the same. That boy who leads from the front row. I have met a hundred versions of him across a hundred different eras. Patient. Careful. Watching to see what you are before deciding how to respond.
’And what am I?’ Corbyn thought.
Unknown, Ishtar said. Which is the most interesting thing you could possibly be right now.
A voice came from behind him.
"That was either a warning or a trap."
Corbyn turned.
Lyra. Three feet away, notebook under her arm, watching the door Stellan had walked through.
"Which do you think?" Corbyn asked.
"Both," she said. "Stellan doesn’t do anything for one reason." She looked at Corbyn. "He’s right about the Council though. They’ll move fast."
"I know."
"Do you have a plan?"
Corbyn thought about the Y he’d pressed. About his mana tank hitting zero on the first summon from a dead man’s pool. About a fourteen year old promise Ishtar had made to a man who walked into a gate and never came out.
"Not yet," he said.
Lyra looked at him for a moment.
"Get one," she said.
Then she walked out.
Corbyn stood in the empty hall for a moment longer.
Three Draves banners above him. Nothing with his name anywhere.
He thought about his mother.
Then he picked up his bag and walked out into the evening.
Tomorrow, Ishtar said in his mind.
’What about tomorrow?’ Corbyn thought.
Training begins.
Corbyn almost asked what that meant. Then he decided he’d find out in the morning and saved his energy.
The campus was going quiet around him. Lanterns lit the stone paths. Other students moved in groups toward the dormitories, conversations low.
He walked alone.
He was halfway to the commoner block when he noticed the path split ahead. Noble dormitories to the right, larger buildings, more windows. Commoner block straight ahead, smaller, fewer lights, the kind of building that made no promises.
He went straight.
At the door he stopped.
From inside — movement. Something scraping. A drawer being wrestled with and losing badly.
He pushed the door open.
His room was no longer empty.
A bag sat half-open on the second bed. A jacket thrown over the chair. And a boy crouched in front of the desk with both hands on the stuck drawer, pulling at it with the intensity of someone who had made this personal.
The boy looked up.
Shorter than Corbyn. Brown skin, close-cut hair, the kind of face that defaulted to easy without effort. He looked at Corbyn. Then at the drawer. Then back at Corbyn.
"This drawer," he said. "Is it always like this?"
"Yes," Corbyn said.
The boy let go of it, stood up, and wiped his hands on his trousers.
"Dex," he said. "You’re the one who broke the pillar."
"I didn’t break it," Corbyn said.
"Your summon broke it."
"Technically the pillar wasn’t rated for the soul signature load," Corbyn said. "Hardware issue."
Dex stared at him for a second.
"Is it true she made people step back without moving?" Dex asked.
"Some of them," Corbyn said.
Dex nodded slowly, like that confirmed a theory he’d been running.
"I have a feeling," Dex said, turning back to his unpacking, "that interesting things are going to happen around you."
Corbyn set his bag on his bed and sat down.
"Dining hall opens in twenty minutes," Corbyn said.
"I already found it," Dex said, folding a shirt with more care than the drawer deserved. "Also found the commoner line versus the noble line situation." He paused. "Prepared myself emotionally."
"Good," Corbyn said.
"Is the food decent?"
"Functional," Corbyn said.
"Functional." Dex zipped his bag shut and grabbed his jacket. "I can work with functional."
He looked at the drawer one more time.
Then at Corbyn.
"Tomorrow," Dex said. "That drawer and I are going to have a conversation."
"It won’t open," Corbyn said.
"Then I’ll have the conversation by myself," Dex said.
Corbyn almost smiled.
They walked out together into the corridor, Dex already asking questions about the campus layout, Corbyn answering as best he could given he’d only been here since this morning, which Dex pointed out was still more than zero days which was what he had.
By the time they reached the dining hall they had covered the fastest route between the commoner block and the main buildings, the existence of the west wing reading room, and the general atmosphere of a first day that had been considerably longer than its hours suggested.
They got their food and sat down.
Outside the dining hall windows the academy was settling into its first evening with them in it.
Corbyn ate and thought about plans.
He didn’t have one yet.