I gasped at the building. The architecture in Tenorsbridge was wild, unpredictable, and slapdash, but this was something else. The black archway rose from the snow, massive like the Tenorsbridge North Gate, rectangular and hollow. Like someone had half-buried it into the ground, leaving it jutting out to defy the snow and the wind.
“We did the introduction pretty well this time, didn’t we?” Jextor said. “Even if you took all the good lines.”
“It’s an inane tradition,” Falar said, “but it’s good to be back.”
It blocked out the stars, pitch black and featureless. The walls had to be too thin to hold up the ceiling, but they did, anyway. Torches burning with a dark purple flame lined the road all the way until the hollow black rectangle. Snow gathered on the outside of the building, building piles that had to be as large as houses.
As we got closer, I could make out walkways lining the walls on the inside. It was hard to gauge how big the thing was, but that wasn’t what confused me the most. “Where… where are the buildings?”
“Huh, what do you mean?” Jextor asked. “There’s the building. Right there.”
“That’s just a… sculpture!” I shouted, waving a hand at the thing. “There are no houses below it. The walls are too thin for anything! How does it even stay up?”
Falar groaned, leaning back in his seat.
“It doesn’t matter how thin the walls are, as long they are strong.” Jextor said.
“That’s not what I mean!” I shouted.
The carriage came to a stop, lurching one final time.
“Finally,” Falar said. He grabbed the handle on the door and strained, pushing it open.
A freezing wind blew into the cabin, blasting me in the face. It blew in through the holes in my clothes, down my collar and up my sleeves. I gasped, wrapping my arms around my torso.
“Ah, smell that air,” Jextor said, squinting against the gale.
Falar jumped out from the carriage without a word, the wind making his robe flap and snap.
“We need to get you some proper clothes,” Jextor said, twisting to get out through the door. “Come on, the walls hold back the cold.”
As soon as he let go of the door, it slammed closed. The wind cut out for a moment, before the door opened up again and Jextor waved at me. “Come, come!”
I gritted my teeth, pushing forward. The wind whined and screamed, throwing snow into my face. The air was so cold it felt like being cut with a knife.
“Nippy for this time of the year,” Falar shouted, fighting to raise his voice over the howling wind. “We were gone only three days.”
“A lot can change in a week,” Jextor said, grabbing my hand as I stumbled down the steps. “Come now, student.”
He guided me down and pushed me on the back, toward the black archway ahead. The walls weren’t as thin as I had thought, but the building’s proportions still seemed impossible. It was taller than any building I had seen, reaching up at the dim stars, carving an even blacker patch into the black sky. Wind howled as it blew through it, a low, thrumming sound. Did they really expect me to walk into there? The wind would blow the flesh right off my bones. I could only imagine how cold it had to be.
Jextor kept pushing me forward, covering me with his body. His robes slapped me in the face, and he laughed madly, mouth opened into a wide grin, gulping at the wind. Falar pushed ahead, both hands in the pockets at the side of his robe, face hard as his ponytail flapped in the air.
One step after another, my feet disappeared into the snow, boots filling with more of the stuff on every step. Suddenly, the gale receded. The biting cold disappeared, replaced by a tolerable chill. I looked up, mouth wide in surprise. The black ceiling sat above me, the wind still howling through the building. Yet, it didn’t touch me. The air was still and almost warm, feeling heavy like I was underwater.
“There we go,” Jextor said, taking off his hand from my back. “You’ll get used to the noise soon.”
Falar stomped his feet, kicking off snow from his boots. The stone under was bare, with some wet spots where drops of water rained from above. He held a hand out toward a wall. “Hmh, why is it this warm in here? The furnace must be red hot.”
Jextor sniffed at the air, frowning. “There’s a hint of foreboding on the wind. Something is off.”
“The wind howls as it always does. You just got used to the warm, soft lands, Chancellor.”
I ignored their banter as I tried to make sense of what I saw around me. A group of skeletons was shoveling snow, gathering it into a large wall outside the edge of the warm area. A handful of carts and wagons had been driven into the middle, forming a small circle under the black ceiling. A campfire burned there, and a faint smell of smoke lingered in the air.
“Merchants,” Jextor said, following my gaze. “They stay for a day or two, as long as they can tolerate the atmosphere.” He smirked like he had made a joke.
Falar chuckled, so I guess he had. Whatever. The black walls were lined with walkways and stairs, criss-crossing the inside of the structure. The stairs and walkways were made from different material than the black arch. Wood and some kind of grey stone.
People moved on the walkways, entering and exiting through dozens of doors scattered everywhere around the wall. One door opened, and maybe twenty people walked out, one after another. How had they fit in?
“Enough gawking,” Falar said. He clenched his hands into fists and took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with. We’ll have to go meet the Bursar. Explain you to her, stray.”
“I’ll leave you to it, lecturer,” Jextor said. “Duty calls!”
“You coward!” Falar shouted as Jextor pirouetted around and started running away from us, tackling a skeleton that happened to be in his way. It exploded into a shower of bones, raining on the ground and slowly starting to pull itself back together.
The wind brought a faint “Good luck!” from Jextor’s direction.
“…fine. Come on,” Falar said, starting to walk.
I took a final look back to where we had come from. The skeletons stood in place, tethered to the carriage that tilted around in the wind. Behind it was only black and swirling snow, the torches burning impossibly in the gale.
“Come!” Falar shouted.
I moved to follow. What else could I do? At least I would get to see what made these creeps so frightened.
The large wooden door was cut into the black stone. Behind it was a sprawling hall, reaching into the distance, with every wall lined with shelves filled with books. The floor, walls, and the ceiling were made of dark wood.
I leaned back to peek out the door, making sure I wasn’t crazy. The wall couldn’t have been more than five steps thick, but the room had to be at least thirty, with other doors leading even further in.
Falar reached past me to pull the door closed. “You’ll disturb her papers. It’s the last thing we need.”
I coughed as the dust in the air caught in my throat. The place smelled of paper, like the library of the orphanage had smelled. Something whirred behind a massive circular desk, piled with stacks of paper so high that I couldn’t see over them.
Falar leaned toward me to whisper. “Just don’t say anything to upset her.”
I frowned at him. He licked his lips and started walking toward the desk, hands clasped behind his back.
“You. Are back,” a voice hissed. It sounded like someone sharpening a blade, a whisper with an edge. The stacks of paper covered the person talking, but she sounded enraged, brimming with resentment.
“You’ll be delighted to hear we could cut our trip short due to a lucky coincidence,” Falar said, placing a pouch on the table. It jingled. “The rest of the travel expenses, returned.”
“Excellent. I will process it. Later. Your tone suggests. You have something to add.” The words came in short bursts with small clicks and snaps between them, like someone was counting them out with an abacus.
“Yes, the coincidence concerns a new student. A very promising one,” Falar said, throwing me a look.
The movement behind the papers stopped. “It is past. The budgeting period. The student’s tuition will be. Fully funded by a patron. I assume?”
“Not… exactly,” Falar said. “I suggest the Academy could extend a scholarship—”
A pair of metallic hands, ten fingers on each, shot out from between the stacks of paper and wrenched them aside. Gears screeched and whirred, as something resembling a massive copper ant leaned forward over the desk. Countless, interlocked metal plates slid across each other, building a face with a deep scowl on it on the thing’s head. “Extend. A Scholarship?” it screeched. Papers billowed all around it, fluttering in the air.
I flinched reflexively away. The smell of oil and the sheer animosity rolling off the ant made me want to turn around and run. It snapped its metal jaws, plates grinding together. A tuft of steam escaped its neck, sounding like a small whistle.
A third hand rotated around the creature’s shoulder to slam on the table. Five of its fingers were tipped with scalpel-like blades, with the other five ending in copper fingertips, worn shiny. “Thus forfeiting the tuition fee? Lecturer Falar. You dare?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” he said, licking his lips. “Also including lodging and meals? It would be to the benefit of the school. Chancellor Jextor wholeheartedly—“
“The chancellor’s opinions. On matters of money. Are misguided. At best. Traitorous at worst.”
The thing was terrifying, like a coiled spring ready to snap. The intricate and polished plates organized into an even angrier face. At this moment, in this room, it had all the power. And unlike people with power, this thing seemed to hold nothing up its sleeve. To be fair, it had no sleeves. No backstabs to watch out for, just frontal assaults.
“Nevertheless—“
“No. Take your candidate and get out of my sight. Or I take your head,” it hissed.
I imagined a single tiny gear holding back the ant from grabbing Falar’s head in its clawed talons. I could respect that. One of its arms shot out and snatched up a paper still fluttering in the air. The other two arms held up two piles of paper that were about to fall on top of it. I planted my feet, put my hands on my hips. “I’m not here to beg.”
It stayed looming down over Falar, but the plates around its head slid, swiveling the face toward me. “A scholarship? Room and board? It seems like you are.”
I nodded my head at Falar. “He might be.” I waved a hand at the teetering piles of paper on the desk. “That’s a lot of papers. I can read and write. I’ll work for my keep.”
“You’ll focus on your studies,” Falar said, glaring down at me.
The thing reached one of its arms out and snapped with a bladed finger near his face. A spark shot at his forehead. “Quiet. Lecturer.”
Falar flinched back, his face going from strict to meek.
I think I like this Bursar.
The plates formed a frown on its beautiful metallic face, mimicking a squint. “Can you. Count?” it hissed.
“I can,” I said, lifting my chin. The orphanage hadn’t bothered teaching me a lot, but I had been able to read, write, and count already when I ended up there. Many others didn’t, and didn’t learn either.
“We’ll see,” it said, leaning back. “I will find the necessary funds. Somehow. What is your name?”
“Lina,” I said.
The plates slid down and up across its head. A nod, I guess? One of its arms struck out like a snake, whining shrilly and pinching a single paper from the middle of a pile between two fingers. Both Falar and I flinched back.
“I will find her. A place to sleep,” it said, sliding the paper over the desk at us. “Meanwhile. You will fill the form. Impeccably.”
“Yes, Bursar,” Falar said.
Holding back the smile got harder. I could almost hear his teeth grinding together. It was warm in the hall. The smell of oil was nothing compared to what I was used to. Working here would be like a vacation, and the thing scared Falar, which was a bonus. Here, I wouldn’t have to worry about him acting like a creep.
“Lecturer,” the Bursar said as we turned to go.
Falar sighed, his shoulder slumping. “I almost hoped…” he muttered.
“I will do this for you. Her work will count as the mandatory return-favor. Pray she works well.”