as it grew silent outside the carriage, and the others looked at Ebon expectantly.
Darkness take him, then, thought Ebon.
“Fare well,” he said, and though Ebon spoke to Halab, he knew his words would carry inside the carriage. “The next time you see me, I shall be a wizard true.”
He turned and left the courtyard, keeping his pace measured until he was out of sight. But the moment he turned his first corner, Ebon burst into a run.
seven
EBON WAS PANTING BY THE time he reached the Academy. He doubled over to catch his breath. Perspiration soaked through the back of his tunic, and he regretted his flight through the streets. He did not wish to appear for his first day stinking with sweat. But it was too late for such worries. He stepped forwards and rapped his knuckles sharply on the door.
The response was immediate, and he cringed at the sharp cry of the door’s hatch sliding open. There was the old woman, Mellie, her ghostlike eyes glaring out at him. She screamed, “The Drayden!” before he could open his mouth. Then she slammed the hatch shut. Ebon glanced over his shoulder. He had no wish for people to know his family name, if he could help it.
The door clanged open, and Mellie invited him inside with a sharp wave. She seized his wrist as he crossed the threshold, her fingers bony and frigid, but surprisingly gentle as she drew him up the great staircase dominating the hall. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud behind them.
I am in the Academy now .
It was a giddy prospect, and he fought the urge to burst out laughing.
Mellie took the stairs quickly, despite her age, and at the top she whisked him off to the right, stopping at the first room they encountered. Within were many shelves, running from floor to ceiling and covering every wall, all filled with folded black robes. Mellie ran along the shelves, brushing each one with her fingers as though she could see them by touch, glancing back often at Ebon.
“How tall do you stand?” she snapped.
“I—just under ten hands,” he said, squaring his shoulders. How did the Academy manage with such a madwoman serving for their chief attendant?
“Hah! I will give my good eye if you are above nine.” She scooped clothes from a shelf and threw them into his arms. He tried to catch them, but they came unfolded anyway, and one fell to the ground. He barely had a chance to scoop it up before Mellie had snatched his arm and drawn him out of the room again, screaming at him to Hurry! Hurry!
They did not have far to go; she took him across the hall, where he found a simple brick room and a large bronze tub. It was filled with water, and steam rose languidly from its surface.
“Clean yourself,” said Mellie, thrusting a gnarled finger at the tub.
Ebon shook his head. “I bathed just last night.”
Mellie glowered at him and said nothing, still thrusting her finger at the tub.
He swallowed. There was a bench on the side of the room. He carefully laid his new student robes upon it and turned to Mellie, waiting expectantly.
“Be quick!” she snapped. “I haven’t got all day to deal with new arrivals, you know.”
Ebon thought to himself that he did not know, since he had no idea what Mellie actually did. But out loud he said, “Are you going to leave?”
“Humph!” she said, placing her hands to her hips. “Do you fear an old lady leering? I will not leave the room only to have you take an hour to bathe yourself.”
“You expect me to disrobe before you?” Ebon felt color in his cheeks, and found himself growing irritated.
“Merchant children,” Mellie muttered, rolling her eyes. “You are a student here, and no lordling while within these walls, Drayden. If I turn my back, will that preserve enough modesty for your skin to find the tub?”
“Yes,” he said, relieved.
Mellie turned, and he quickly shed his clothes, fearful she would turn if he took too long. As soon as he splashed, she came and lifted his golden
Darkness take him, then, thought Ebon.
“Fare well,” he said, and though Ebon spoke to Halab, he knew his words would carry inside the carriage. “The next time you see me, I shall be a wizard true.”
He turned and left the courtyard, keeping his pace measured until he was out of sight. But the moment he turned his first corner, Ebon burst into a run.
seven
EBON WAS PANTING BY THE time he reached the Academy. He doubled over to catch his breath. Perspiration soaked through the back of his tunic, and he regretted his flight through the streets. He did not wish to appear for his first day stinking with sweat. But it was too late for such worries. He stepped forwards and rapped his knuckles sharply on the door.
The response was immediate, and he cringed at the sharp cry of the door’s hatch sliding open. There was the old woman, Mellie, her ghostlike eyes glaring out at him. She screamed, “The Drayden!” before he could open his mouth. Then she slammed the hatch shut. Ebon glanced over his shoulder. He had no wish for people to know his family name, if he could help it.
The door clanged open, and Mellie invited him inside with a sharp wave. She seized his wrist as he crossed the threshold, her fingers bony and frigid, but surprisingly gentle as she drew him up the great staircase dominating the hall. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud behind them.
I am in the Academy now .
It was a giddy prospect, and he fought the urge to burst out laughing.
Mellie took the stairs quickly, despite her age, and at the top she whisked him off to the right, stopping at the first room they encountered. Within were many shelves, running from floor to ceiling and covering every wall, all filled with folded black robes. Mellie ran along the shelves, brushing each one with her fingers as though she could see them by touch, glancing back often at Ebon.
“How tall do you stand?” she snapped.
“I—just under ten hands,” he said, squaring his shoulders. How did the Academy manage with such a madwoman serving for their chief attendant?
“Hah! I will give my good eye if you are above nine.” She scooped clothes from a shelf and threw them into his arms. He tried to catch them, but they came unfolded anyway, and one fell to the ground. He barely had a chance to scoop it up before Mellie had snatched his arm and drawn him out of the room again, screaming at him to Hurry! Hurry!
They did not have far to go; she took him across the hall, where he found a simple brick room and a large bronze tub. It was filled with water, and steam rose languidly from its surface.
“Clean yourself,” said Mellie, thrusting a gnarled finger at the tub.
Ebon shook his head. “I bathed just last night.”
Mellie glowered at him and said nothing, still thrusting her finger at the tub.
He swallowed. There was a bench on the side of the room. He carefully laid his new student robes upon it and turned to Mellie, waiting expectantly.
“Be quick!” she snapped. “I haven’t got all day to deal with new arrivals, you know.”
Ebon thought to himself that he did not know, since he had no idea what Mellie actually did. But out loud he said, “Are you going to leave?”
“Humph!” she said, placing her hands to her hips. “Do you fear an old lady leering? I will not leave the room only to have you take an hour to bathe yourself.”
“You expect me to disrobe before you?” Ebon felt color in his cheeks, and found himself growing irritated.
“Merchant children,” Mellie muttered, rolling her eyes. “You are a student here, and no lordling while within these walls, Drayden. If I turn my back, will that preserve enough modesty for your skin to find the tub?”
“Yes,” he said, relieved.
Mellie turned, and he quickly shed his clothes, fearful she would turn if he took too long. As soon as he splashed, she came and lifted his golden
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