L glyph [https://i.imgur.com/2vwU4yB.png]

Lorie held her father’s hand as they climbed the steps into the Master’s Hall.

Master Caleb was waiting for them, prowling the floor of the entrance hall under the painted legends on the domed ceiling. He advanced on them, scowling. ‘Why didn’t you let me know?’ he demanded.

Her father hesitated. ‘About what?’

‘Lord Oryche kindly informed us he would be purchasing the Sark find. Is it true?’ 

‘Yes, it’s true. I’m sorry. I would have let you know, of course—‘

‘But not until we’d interviewed your daughter?’ Caleb glared at Lorie, as if this was somehow her fault. She resisted the urge to step behind her father. ‘Don’t act innocent. You knew exactly what you were doing, Simon. I’ve spent weeks persuading the masters to even see the girl. And now I hear you’ve already sold access to the inscriptions, without a word to us. I’ll be a laughing stock.’

‘I’m truly sorry,’ her father said stiffly. His hand tightened on her shoulder. ‘This was no plan of mine, believe me. Do you want us to go?’

‘No,’ Caleb spat. 

He turned and stalked down a corridor, leaving them to follow, and stopped when he reached a small bare room. ‘Wait here,’ he told her father.

‘Can’t I stay with my daughter?’

Caleb shook his head. ‘Not permitted.’

‘Lorie.’ Her father squeezed her hand. His new metal fingers were cold and hard. ‘Just do your best.’

She forced a smile. She wanted to say she wasn’t afraid, but that would be a lie. Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird, her hands were clammy. Yet there was no reason for fear: she had survived freezing storms and a killer dog. The Masters wouldn’t eat her.

‘They’re waiting for you,’ Caleb said.

She released her father’s hand. ‘All right. I’m ready.’

Master Caleb strode ahead of her, his black robe flapping in his wake, and she had to scurry to keep up. He stalked through an open doorway into a large room. Sunlight striped bare floorboards dark brown and gold. Adult male voices murmured in conversation.

She straightened her skirts, took a deep breath, and stepped into the hall. At the far end, three men sat at a long table with one chair standing empty. The sun streaming through the tall windows behind them made them featureless shadows. Master Caleb joined them and took the vacant chair.

She approached slowly, unsure if she was expected to bow, or curtsey, or something. Her father had given her a lot of advice, but it had all fled from her mind. Her mouth was dry and her heart hammered.

She stopped a few yards from the table and squinted at the Masters. Next to Master Caleb, a brown-haired, middle-aged man slouched in his chair, regarding her unease with a slight smile. ‘So you are Lorie?’ he said. His voice was mellow and reassuringly friendly.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I am Master Zakary. My fellow masters here are Caleb, Witt, and Varden on the end.’

The man he’d named as Master Witt stirred. He was elderly, with white hair cropped very short, and he glared at her like she’d done him some personal injury. ‘And your father is Simon vai Oryche?’

‘Yes.’

‘He was my student,’ Master Caleb said sourly. ‘Earth Adept. Could have made Master, if he’d finished his studies.’ 

‘Huh.’ Witt seemed unimpressed. ‘He claimed she could summon a salamander.’

The man on the far right, Master Varden, snorted. He was short and fat, his grey beard streaked with yellowish stains. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’

‘Do you know what a salamander is, girl?’ Zakary asked.

‘It’s elemental fire,’ Lorie said. ‘Or that’s what people call it, anyway. Like sylphs are the manifestation of elemental air, or undines of water.’

Master Witt grimaced. ‘And what do they look like?’ 

‘It wasn’t really visible. I mean—’ Lorie struggled to find the words to explain. The salamander had been so strange, and at the same time, so natural, as if she had seen them all her life without really noticing. ‘It was like when the air on the plains gets hot in the summer and it shimmers, but curled and moving round itself, like a coiled snake.’ 

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‘Her father’s drilled her,’ Caleb said. ‘What else has he taught you?’

‘Nothing.’ She spoke more sharply than she’d meant to. ‘He taught me to read and write, of course, but nothing of the arcane arts. He used to teach my brother from the Prime Grammar, and sometimes I listened.’

‘Entirely ignorant then,’ Witt said. ‘Why are we wasting our time here?’

‘A little patience, Witt. This won’t take long.’ Varden said. The whites of his eyes had a yellowish tinge, and so did his skin. 

‘Who was your mother?’ Caleb asked.

Lorie straightened her shoulders. ‘Rane of Sark.’

‘Sark?’ Witt said. ‘Where’s that?’

‘It’s a mining town, west of Athanor, sir.’

‘Never heard of it.’

Zakary leant forward. ‘What glyphs do you use to summon a salamander?’

‘I don’t know,’ Lorie said. ‘I don’t know the names, I mean. I only know the first half of the Prime Grammar.’

‘Half?’ Witt snorted. ‘I doubt that very much. Tell me—’

‘But you can’t summon a salamander without knowing the glyphs,’ Zakary said.

‘Indeed.’ Caleb sneered. ‘Show us this miracle, girl.’

’Now?’

‘Yes. Now. I think—’ He glanced at the others. ‘—we four Masters can safely undertake to quell the raging flames, should they appear.’

Varden chuckled. Zakary smirked and Witt stared at her with his gimlet eyes.

Lorie took a deep breath and steadied herself. She could do it, she knew she could. That time in Caleb’s office, she’d failed, but that was only because she’d been surprised by her father’s asking her, when before he’d told her not to try. And since then, she had practiced a little in secret, and it had worked every time.

She cupped her hands in front of her and willed herself to relax. She had to imagine herself back in the cosy kitchen of their house in Sark, half-asleep in the warmth of the stove, her mother singing softly. Her insides churned. How could she relax, with those four watching her like cats ready to pounce on a vole?

But she had to; she couldn’t let her father down again. Hadn’t she lit a fire in a blizzard, and thrown flames in the face of a mad dog? Four men shouldn’t scare her, even if they were masters.

She just had close her eyes to think of the fire, of the symbols dancing in the red heart of the flames, how they vanished and returned… The flames knew the secret signs, the unvoiced name of the salamander. The silence deepened. Between her hands, something stirred, a soft warmth enveloping her fingers.

She opened her eyes.

All four masters stared at her, her and the salamander cupped in her hands. Its friendly heat prickled on her skin as it extended a tendril to explore her forearm. 

She smiled. Her father had said this was dangerous, but it didn’t feel dangerous to her. The salamander was like a puppy, so warm and comforting. It only wanted to play.

Varden and Witt whispered to each other. Caleb looked furious.

Zakary frowned. ‘How did you do that?’

The sharp question pierced her warm bubble. ‘I—I don’t know, exactly.’

‘Dismiss it,’ Witt said.

Reluctantly, she allowed the salamander to slip away. It thinned and faded into the air, taking with it the sense of warm comfort. In the sudden chill it left behind, she shivered.

‘Surely that’s not possible, Zakary,’ Caleb said. ‘It’s some sort of trick.’

‘If it is,’ Zakary said, ‘I’d give a great deal to discover it. How did you learn to do that, girl?’

‘I used to watch the fire,’ Lorie said. Her voice faltered. They wouldn’t understand, would probably make fun of her.

Zakary raised an eyebrow. ‘Go on.’

‘I thought I saw shapes in the flames, like the glyphs in my father’s book. And then, on the journey here from Sark, it was so cold, and I just kept thinking about the fire, about being warm, and I felt… I knew the salamander would come, if I called it.’

Varden laughed. ‘The girl’s mad. We should give her to the monks.’

‘Can you do anything else?’ Zachary asked, his voice quiet.

‘I don’t know.’ Her eyes felt hot. She feared she would cry, and then they would all laugh at her, or pity her, which would be worse. She blinked back the tears and bit her lip. If she told them about throwing fire from her hands, she didn’t think even Zakary would believe her. Besides, she had no idea how she’d done that. It just happened. ‘I haven’t tried.’

The men looked at each other.

‘Well?’ Caleb said. ‘Have we heard enough?’

’She has no theory,’ Witt said. ‘She’d be starting with boys half her age. Why disrupt a whole class to accommodate—‘ He gestured to her, as if he couldn’t bring himself to mention her name. ‘—this.’

‘It’s impossible.’ Varden shook his head. ‘Outrageous. I won’t have women in the school. I simply won’t. It’s monstrous. Only trouble can come of it. I told the Headmaster so quite plainly, and he agreed.’

‘I’m not sure,’ Zakary said. ‘Clearly, she has some ability.’

Witt sneered. ‘Perhaps our youngest master appreciates a pretty face.’

Zakary scowled at the older man.

‘Enough,’ Caleb snapped. ‘We’ve seen enough, and I think our decision is clear. Girl, you may leave.’

It was a long walk back to the door, and every step of it the master’s stares drilled into her back, wishing her gone. She trembled as if her muscles were exhausted with tension, and when she eventually reached the doorway, she stumbled and sagged against the corridor wall.

When she reached the room where her father waited, he sat in one of the hard chairs, fiddling with his metal fingers. She stood in the doorway, her head too heavy to hold up.

He looked at her, and his eyes widened. ‘Lorie—’

Tears filled her eyes. She fled to his arms, buried her face in his chest, and sobbed. 

He hugged her. ‘Did they treat you badly? I should have insisted I stay with you. Who was it?’ His voice was harsh with anger, but not with her. 

Lorie scrubbed her hand across her eyes. ‘It’s all right. They weren’t rude or anything, it’s just…’ What should she tell him? The truth, she now saw, was the masters always intended to reject her. The interview was a sham, a play in which she had no real part. She could have pulled live rabbits from her sleeves while reciting the Second Grammar, and they wouldn’t have cared. Her father charging off to shout at Caleb wouldn’t make any difference. Nothing would. ‘It didn’t go well.’

‘Light, I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have started this. It’s not fair on you. Once I dreamed of sending Sam to the Arcanum, and then when you… I just wanted you to be safe. Safe and happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.’

The tears had run down to sniffles. She forced a smile. ‘It would be wonderful to go to school. I want to learn so much.’ She had allowed herself to hope and dream, and that had been a mistake. Now the dream she’d lost ached in her chest, and she wanted to shout and sob and hit someone, like Sam when he was small and in a rage. But she was nearly a grown woman, and a grown woman didn’t act that way. ‘If it’s not possible, then it’s not. It’s not your fault. Life isn’t fair sometimes, and there’s no use being miserable about it. We just have to get on as best we can.’

He kissed the top of her head. ‘You’re wiser than I am.’

‘It’s what Nana told me, when mother… Please, can we go home now?’