I walked out in a daze. My fingers ached sweetly, too numb to feel any pain. I climbed the stairs and walkways to get higher, nearer the ceiling and the howling gale.
What was going on?
I reached my hand forward, moving it against the charged air. It rippled with power, the energy that wasn’t there, the pressure that felt like it might turn me inside out, fill me up, empty me out.
“This can’t be good,” I said quietly, even if I didn’t believe the words. I could breathe so easily, the grip around my neck mostly a memory.
All the people. Fek, butting into my fights, getting his ass kicked. Minnelil, teaching me how to channel. Grit, feeling sorry for me. Feeling sorry. For me.
They understood nothing, and I couldn’t let them get involved. I knew they were decent people. So damn decent. Nothing was as bad as watching them look at me with their sad eyes, brows furrowed in worry. How did they dare?
I had known it before, and I knew it now. Being alone was better.
Maybe, just maybe, something could understand even me. Something that wouldn’t leave, couldn’t die. I hissed out a breath and drew in a new one. Everything tasted like mold and it was glorious.
I held my hand raised, relaxed my face. I didn’t do what Fek or Minnelil had told me. Instead of inside, real power existed aside, beyond. I had to reach further, past everything, past where thought became hard and brittle like glass.
I focused and pulled my hand down, leaving five dark purple lines to hang in the air, one from each finger. They hummed, singing a steady bass note inside my chest.
“Whoa,” I said.
I sat on the edge of the walkway, dangling my legs down. The wind grabbed at the edge of my robe, making it flap. I had been sitting for a while. An hour, maybe two. Snow flew onto my face and melted, water trickling down my collar.
I quieted my mind, drew another purple line into the air. It hung there like a cut in the world. My heart skipped a beat and I grinned at the line, solid and dark. I didn’t know what it meant or what I could do with it, but this was what I had been brought here to do.
Falar’s schedule had a whole day of nothing for me. Read a book, train, it said. Oh, I would train. The meeting with him was to be on the last day of the week. I was supposed to go grovel and let him know how I had made no progress.
A fire flared below me, orange against the darkness. The merchants had started a new one. One was hauling boxes on their wagon, preparing to leave.
Right. I should handle that.
Earlier, I had anxiously waited for the merchants to leave, so I would have something familiar and useful to handle. At the moment, I couldn’t make myself get excited about shaking someone for money.
No matter how much I wanted to keep drawing lines into the air, a copper ant, bristling with blades and rage, was waiting. It was better to get this over with.
“Fine, but this is outright robbery!” the merchant said, hugging his arms around his chest and shivering.
“I can fetch the Bursar to discuss this directly, if you like?”
“No, no, let’s not get hasty. Take your money, you robed bandit.”
“Pleasure to do business with you. Do come back soon,” I said, pushing the jingling pouch and the paperwork into my pocket.
“I will, but I won’t enjoy it!”
The merchant huffed and climbed to his wagon to organize more of his boxes.
Fun guy, had tried every familiar trick to get out of paying and some new ones. Played his part perfectly and made it more fun for us both. I had checked his prices and seen how empty the boxes were. It was obvious the Academy paid well and bought a lot. The Bursar’s prices for parking the wagon, climate protection, and letting the merchants spend a night inside made the calculation more difficult, but I was sure he had still made a bundle.
Earlier, I would have thrown myself into it, maybe tried to get something extra out of the merchant. Now, I couldn’t bother. I wanted to practice, try channeling the nothingness more.
I walked slowly toward the Bursar’s office, drawing a glowing black line into the air. Like breathing, or the complete opposite of it. A hint of mold hung in the air.
“Acceptable,” the Bursar screeched, finger tracing the lines on the paper. I offered her the coin pouch and she emptied it into a drawer that shot out from her torso. The drawer slammed shut and coins started jingling and rattling inside her. After a moment, she nodded, plates sliding up and down. “All accounted for.”
Even though I knew I hadn’t pocketed anything, I sighed with relief. “Anything else you need right away?”
“No. I am up to date. With the paperwork. I will call for you.”
I nodded. She was the most professional… thing in this whole place and working for her still resembled reclining on a couch. I scratched at my ear before leaving, curiosity getting the better of me. “I saw the prices the merchant was asking. They were pretty high.”
“Scoff,” she said, puffing out a tuft of smoke from between her neck seam. “You. Understand why?”
“Not sure. You bring down what you actually pay by fleecing the merchants back, but what do you get for moving so much money around?”
“Humans like large numbers going up or down. It excites them.”
“Huh.”
“Now. Remove yourself. I will call. When there is a need.”
She spun around, coins still jingling inside, focusing back on the mountains of paper teetering around her. I was sure merchants could do the math and figure out how much they were actually getting from bringing their wares here, so who was she actually fleecing? I considered it as I walked toward the door. The chancellor had mentioned important and wealthy people attending the school, so maybe the Bursar wanted to show them…
The wind screamed at me and the snow billowed in violent swirls, white on black. I closed the door, pulling it shut tightly. The Bursar’s games didn’t matter. The power pressed on the back of my eyes, making it clear what was important.
Time to practice.
An hour later, I stumbled into the Lunch Hall, packed with students sitting at tables and skeletons carrying trays. My stomach growled so loudly some students turned to look as I walked past. Fek and Grit and Minnelil were sitting at the corner of one table, separated from the rest of the students. I took a look around the hall, but it was almost full. In the end, it didn’t matter where I would sit, so I sat next to Minnelil and opposite the other two.
“Hi,” Grit said. “Where have you been? Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Have you been practicing?” Minnelil asked raising an eyebrow at my growling stomach. “That’s loud.”
“A bit, yeah.”
The skeletons brought the food, interrupting the discussion for a while. Food served three times a day, without even asking for it. This place was so unserious. None of these people would last a week in Tenorsbridge.
I skewered a hard-boiled egg and pushed it into my mouth. I chewed while my thoughts still lingered on practicing out in the gale, drawing more lines of dark. I had brought the cold in with me. It made my bones ache sweetly. I ate half of what I had on my plate before saying anything.
While I ate, I scanned the hall. “Where’s Lombarte? I haven’t seen him once,” I said, frowning.
“Ah, he doesn’t demean himself to eat with us plebs,” Fek said. “He rather eats half-tasteless food brought to him in his dorm by his lackeys.”
“Good for him,” I said. If I saw him here, I would keep smashing his face on the tile floor until I held only a clump of wet, red hair.
“Oh, ok,” Fek said, frowning at me.
I smoothed the scowl off my face. I had imagined doing it, and it had felt right.
“So, how did your practice go?” Minnelil asked suddenly. “Any progress?”
I startled from my thoughts. “I tried something new,” I said. She might be able to tell me about all this, explain what I had done and what I should do with it. “I channeled the other stuff. Null? What Falar talked about in his lecture.” While I talked, I rubbed at my neck. The collar felt like it was tightening constantly.
“Noooo, you didn’t?” Grit said, fork stopping mid-way to her mouth. A large piece of potato slipped off the fork to fall back to her plate.
“Dang,” Fek said.
I cursed at myself. I forgot myself for a single moment, and this happens. I dropped my hand off my neck and my jaw tightened as I met their stares. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do here?”
“Well, yes,” Minnelil said. “But you couldn’t even… I mean, channeling the Null is extremely difficult. Much more difficult than channeling normally.”
“Oh,” I said. That explained the reactions. At least I hadn’t done something forbidden or dangerous.
Grit rolled her eyes, leaning back on her chair. She groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “You’re as bad as Fek. Why did I have to end up living with all the savants?”
I’d done something much worse. Goddamn. How to play this off? “I think it’s because of what Jextor did.”
“I heard about what happened,” Minnelil said. “That might make sense. Some effect could linger, holding you connected to the nothingness. You could be reaching it that way. Interesting!”
Fek leaned toward me eagerly. “Can you show me how to do it?”
“Probably not,” I said. “Minnelil’s probably right. I couldn’t before, but now it felt natural.”
“Did you say you needed a lot of credit?” Grit asked. “I think you get ten for being able to do that. And it’s a prerequisite for all the really cool lessons.”
I whistled. I wasn’t yet completely sure about what to think about everything here, but getting the thirty credits worked as a short-term plan. There was always the chance that Falar had been telling the truth, and ten credits were a lot. “Whoa, thanks for telling—“
The collar clenched around my neck and I winced. What the hell was up with it? I wanted it off, right now. If staying here made it choke me again, I should leave.
I stood, holding on to the table to stop myself from clawing at my neck.
“You’re done? Can I have the rest?” Fek said, fork already in hand, aimed at my plate.
“Help yourself,” I said. “I’ll have to figure out something. I think I’ll go read for a bit.”
“Let me know if I can help,” Minnelil said. “They are paying me, remember? I’ll have to go turn in some notes, but I’ll come to the dorm later, ok?”
I nodded. A part of me was happy to know I wouldn’t have to figure all of this out by myself, but the choking feeling was getting worse by the second.
“Bye!” Grit shouted from behind my back.
I walked faster, holding a hand to my throat. I wanted to get out, to breathe the cold and still air, soak in it.
The door opened just as I was about to grab the handle. The gale blasted in, catching my robe and pushing me back into the hall. The wind turned the snow into hail, pinpricks of ice on my face.
Ferne, the rune lecturer, stumbled in, panting and grabbing the door as the wind wrenched it around. She strained against the pull, holding on with both hands. The howl turned into a low thrum and a high-pitched whine as the door slowly closed.
I breathed as deep as I could, pulling in the cold. The choker around my neck loosened.
She finally managed to snap the door shut and leaned her back against it. “Something’s seriously wrong with the weather,” she said, sleet dribbling down her face.
The choker snapped tighter again.