Volinette's Song by Martin Hengst

infirmary had quieted to a distant murmur , and Volinette suspected that the other patients were being put to bed in much the same way that Qadira had treated her.
    Without much else to do, Volinette nestled down into the bed and closed her eyes. It wasn’t long before the quiet shuffling of the healers and the muted sounds of the hospital lulled her into a fitful sleep.
    When her dreams came, they were disjointed fragments of the Trial and its aftermath. The boy who’d had his intestines spilled. Crimson streaks on the stone from where the boys had been smashed by the elemental. Pressure, the water that had flowed over them, ripping many of the candidates from the lives they were fighting for. Tenika’s body flowed past her again and again, the glazed eyes staring at her in mute accusation.
    “You killed her!” Janessa’s unseen voice shouted. “You did it! Murderer! Filth!”
    Volinette sat bolt upright. Silence blanketed the ward. Not even a quiet conversation shattered the stillness. Night outside the slit window was pitch black. Morning wouldn’t come for several hours yet. She rolled over, willing with all her might to fall asleep. Eventually, she did.

     

 
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
    After a couple days in the infirmary, Volinette was convinced that she was falling behind the other students who had been in her Trial of Admission , and that she had become, she had to admit to herself, a whiny mess of a child. Qadira had taken this shift in attitude with the same grace and aplomb that she had shown since Volinette had first met her.
    “None of the others of your class have moved on from their time in the infirmary yet, either, Volinette.” Qadira’s tone was calm, meant to be soothing, but Volinette found that almost even more infuriating. “You will all be released when the last of you is ready for instruction. Until then, you are my guest here.”
    Though Volinette ground her teeth at the restriction, she had to admit that there were worse ways in which to be kept captive. After the first day, she’d be allowed to roam the gardens that surrounded the ward where she was kept. Afraid of going out of her mind with boredom, she had asked for something to do, and Qadira had allowed her to help with some minor tasks like cleaning vials and folding linens. It was during these tasks that Volinette learned that very few of her classmates had escaped the Trial unscathed. Some were wounded more seriously than others, but all were recovering well under the skilled hands of the clerics who had been assigned to their care.
    Volinette wasn’t upset, however, the morning that Qadira entered her cubicle and informed her that her stay within the infirmary had come to an end.
    “Get out,” the elf said, though not unkindly. “This bed needs to be put to better use, and the rest of your class is ready to move on. You’re to assemble in the Apprentice’s Instruction Room.”
    Now that she was faced with leaving the safety of the infirmary, Volinette found herself balking at being moved on in such a perfunctory manner.
    “Are you sure I’m ready?” Volinette’s voice cracked, and Qadira smiled.
    “You’ve been ready longer than most, Volinette. Besides, it isn’t as if you’ll be bereft of a friendly face. Master Casto is your class advisor.
    “Fulgent? That doesn’t sound so bad.”
    “No, Master Casto.” Qadira waved a finger at her. “Remember that you’re a Quintessentialist now, Volinette. You’ll be expected to adhere to the ancient laws and customs. Including the respect due your elders.”
    Volinette blushed and Qadira grinned.
    “Don’t worry so much, Volinette. You won’t be the first apprentice to forget a title or an honorific. You’ll be fine.”
    “But I’m not an apprentice,” Volinette protested. “I’m an Acolyte, in an Order. What if they expect me to know more than the apprentices?”
    Qadira clucked her tongue.
    “I’m sure the Head Master has her reasons for placing you as