she did.” The cleric trailed off, leaving Volinette sure that there were other thoughts left unvoiced. “Master Casto and the others will ensure that you know everything you need to know.”
No amount of additional hedging would prevent Qadira from pushing her out of the small cubicle in the infirmary. The cleric gave Volinette a rudimentary set of directions that would lead her back to the instruction room and then all but shoved her out of the door. Volinette wondered if the sense of foreboding that settled into the pit of her stomach was what baby birds felt when they were shoved unceremoniously from the nest into the cruel world.
As Volinette made her way through the gardens and courtyards of the Academy of Arcane Arts and Sciences, she looked at the Great Tower and began to fully appreciate the beauty of the obsidian monolith that would dominate her days until she finished her instruction.
The Great Tower of High Magic was the pinnacle of Quintessentialist achievement. A towering construction of glass crafted from the nearby beaches of fine black sand that gave the city its name. It had taken the life’s work of hundreds of mages to create the maze of walls, rooms, and caverns that had become the central pillar of all magical knowledge within the Human Imperium.
“Hey! Watch where you’re walkin’!”
Volinette, consumed as she was by the awe and beauty of the tower, had walked right into a young man stocking a cart that sat on the path toward the building that housed the School of Sorcery. She stumbled backward, tripping over her feet, and landing hard on her rump. The stall-keeper was crouched by the cart, picking up the fruit she’d carelessly scattered and brushing off the worst of the dust on the plain tunic he wore belted around the middle.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammered, scrambling to help pick up the round red fruit she’d knocked from the cart.
The young man took the fruit from her trembling hands and dropped it, without ceremony, back on the pile. He offered her a hand, helping her to her feet.
“Fresh meat, huh?” he asked, casting an appraising eye over her with a twisted grin. “No lasting harm done. Pretty impressive, huh?”
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the building that had consumed so much of her attention that she’d forgotten to watch where she was walking.
Volinette blushed, her cheeks going as red as the fruit she’d just help ed return to the cart. She tried to reply, but found that the words just wouldn’t come. Instead, she stood there under the gaze of the stall-keeper, wishing she could just melt between the stones under her feet.
The young man looked at her a moment longer, then laughed. His guffaw seemed to snap Volinette out of her paralysis , and she gave him a sharp look before she also started laughing.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I must seem the total moon-brained fool. I’m Volinette.”
“A pleasure, Volinette.” The young man thrust his hand out at her, staring at her until she seized it and gave it a good pump.
The merchant plucked a piece of fruit from the basket and shoved it into her hands, folding them over the sphere. He winked at her and nodded toward the footpath.
“I suspect you don’t want to be late, so you better hop. Take this. Consider it a gift from the Merchant’s Guild.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“You can and you have. Otherwise, you’ll have offended me, miss.”
Volinette peered at him. He appeared to be completely serious. Not wanting to offend him, she tucked the offering in the pocket of her tunic.
“You’re very kind. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Better move.”
The rest of her journey to the classroom where she’d be taking her instruction was uneventful. A squat stone building, built with massive blocks of gray stone, dominated one corner of the Academy grounds. A sign over the doorway declared it to be the School of Sorcery, founded in 3623. For over
No amount of additional hedging would prevent Qadira from pushing her out of the small cubicle in the infirmary. The cleric gave Volinette a rudimentary set of directions that would lead her back to the instruction room and then all but shoved her out of the door. Volinette wondered if the sense of foreboding that settled into the pit of her stomach was what baby birds felt when they were shoved unceremoniously from the nest into the cruel world.
As Volinette made her way through the gardens and courtyards of the Academy of Arcane Arts and Sciences, she looked at the Great Tower and began to fully appreciate the beauty of the obsidian monolith that would dominate her days until she finished her instruction.
The Great Tower of High Magic was the pinnacle of Quintessentialist achievement. A towering construction of glass crafted from the nearby beaches of fine black sand that gave the city its name. It had taken the life’s work of hundreds of mages to create the maze of walls, rooms, and caverns that had become the central pillar of all magical knowledge within the Human Imperium.
“Hey! Watch where you’re walkin’!”
Volinette, consumed as she was by the awe and beauty of the tower, had walked right into a young man stocking a cart that sat on the path toward the building that housed the School of Sorcery. She stumbled backward, tripping over her feet, and landing hard on her rump. The stall-keeper was crouched by the cart, picking up the fruit she’d carelessly scattered and brushing off the worst of the dust on the plain tunic he wore belted around the middle.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammered, scrambling to help pick up the round red fruit she’d knocked from the cart.
The young man took the fruit from her trembling hands and dropped it, without ceremony, back on the pile. He offered her a hand, helping her to her feet.
“Fresh meat, huh?” he asked, casting an appraising eye over her with a twisted grin. “No lasting harm done. Pretty impressive, huh?”
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the building that had consumed so much of her attention that she’d forgotten to watch where she was walking.
Volinette blushed, her cheeks going as red as the fruit she’d just help ed return to the cart. She tried to reply, but found that the words just wouldn’t come. Instead, she stood there under the gaze of the stall-keeper, wishing she could just melt between the stones under her feet.
The young man looked at her a moment longer, then laughed. His guffaw seemed to snap Volinette out of her paralysis , and she gave him a sharp look before she also started laughing.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I must seem the total moon-brained fool. I’m Volinette.”
“A pleasure, Volinette.” The young man thrust his hand out at her, staring at her until she seized it and gave it a good pump.
The merchant plucked a piece of fruit from the basket and shoved it into her hands, folding them over the sphere. He winked at her and nodded toward the footpath.
“I suspect you don’t want to be late, so you better hop. Take this. Consider it a gift from the Merchant’s Guild.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“You can and you have. Otherwise, you’ll have offended me, miss.”
Volinette peered at him. He appeared to be completely serious. Not wanting to offend him, she tucked the offering in the pocket of her tunic.
“You’re very kind. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Better move.”
The rest of her journey to the classroom where she’d be taking her instruction was uneventful. A squat stone building, built with massive blocks of gray stone, dominated one corner of the Academy grounds. A sign over the doorway declared it to be the School of Sorcery, founded in 3623. For over
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