Si glyph [https://i.imgur.com/mHhTdaF.png]

In the pale grey morning light, boys streamed through the gates of the Arcanum and across the courtyard. Simon took Lorie’s arm.

‘I’ll be late,’ she said.

‘So will I. It doesn’t matter.’

The flow of children had slowed to the last stragglers. Tall older boys strode, small ones sprinted. Most wore House colours. They didn’t pause to notice the father and daughter standing by the gate.

‘I wish you weren’t going,’ Lorie said.

‘I wish I wasn’t going. Especially today.’

She smiled a lop-sided smile. ‘It’s only a school. I’ll be all right.’

A lump formed in Simon’s throat. He wanted to tell her how proud he was, but the words tangled themselves and there wasn’t time for all he desperately needed to say. He squeezed her hand. ‘Most of the students at the Arcanum come from the noble Houses. They’re arrogant, privileged little boys. Don’t let them bully you. And the Masters… well, they’re the same, only older. They know what they know and don’t like changing their minds.’

‘You’re filling me with confidence,’ Lorie said.

Simon shook his head. ‘What I’m trying to say is, you don’t have to be scared of them. They’re just men, like other men. If they’re unkind to you, that’s their failing, not yours. Stand up for yourself, study hard, and whatever happens, we’ll be proud of you.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Her eyes searched his. ‘It’s you I’m worried about.’

He hugged her. ‘I’ll be back before you know it. Now you’d better go, before we both cry like fools.’

She strode across the empty courtyard with her head high, her back straight. When she reached the doorway the boys had used, she turned and waved to Simon, and he waved back, and then she was gone.

The snowcrawler squatted in Potrack Street outside Danta’s workshop, its black, steaming bulk blocking the traffic and attracting the usual Athanor audience of urchins, idlers, and opportunists. Simon pushed through the jostling crowd to where Danta leaned on the snowcrawler’s flank, her scowl warding off the more daring children.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said. ‘You’re late. How’s the hand working out?’

‘Great.’

A red-headed young man approached, grinning. ‘You must be Simon? I’m Jonas vai Oryche.’

Simon shook the offered hand. Jonas’ orange hair and pale colouring went badly with clothes of Oryche black, however fashionable the cut. It didn’t help that he seemed to have recently walked into a door; his nose was one dark, swollen bruise. ‘You’re coming with us?’

‘I’m your assistant. Did Lord Oryche not mention me?’

Simon looked him over. Mostly, he seemed very young. And very ginger. ‘What do you assist with?’

‘Legal documents, copying, dictation, that kind of thing. I’m a Fire Adept too. Might be handy.’

Should we need to set fire to anything. ‘Who else is coming?’

‘There’s the scriver, of course, Scrivist Adept Holomy, that is. He’s over there, talking to—’

‘What’s she doing here?’ The black-robed, round-shouldered scriver stood with a tall young woman in Phylaxes red. Simon had seen her before. She was Eranon’s bodyguard, Riga.

As if she’d heard the discussion, she looked round and stalked toward them. ‘So you turned up at last. Now can we be on our way?’

‘Why are you here?’ Simon asked. ‘Is Eranon…?’

She frowned at him. ‘I’m to accompany you to Sark. Lord Oryche thought it advisable, in case of trouble.’

‘Trouble? What sort of trouble?’

‘Whatever develops. He’s most concerned for your safety.’ She smiled, baring even white teeth.

Simon glanced at Jonas. He’d thought the young man’s face was vaguely familiar, and now he remembered — it had been him, sparring with Riga in the weapons-yard. That explained the nose.

Steam belched from the snowcrawler in a damp hot cloud that rolled over the curious bystanders. A cry of triumph came from the machine: ’Got it! The valve was sticking.’ A tousled head of black hair emerged from the snowcrawler’s hatch, followed by the rest of the speaker — who was a younger version of Danta, complete down to the oil-stained hands and singed eyebrows.

‘This,’ Danta said, ‘is my daughter, Vikki.’

‘She’s coming too?’ Simon eyed the group. Five people would be a tight squeeze in the snowcrawler’s cabin, especially when one of them was Riga.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

‘You didn’t think I was fool enough to drive the damn thing all the way to Sark, did you?’ Danta said.

Simon sighed. A week to Sark, and a week back, crammed into a metal box with four strangers. Plus however long it took to reach an agreement with the miners. He could do it. He must. He’d already taken Eranon’s money.

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

The school room was a single high-roofed hall with three long tables arranged in a line down the centre. Each table had benches either side, full of boys. At the first table, small round-faced boys, feet dangling above the floor, and the second table had older boys, and by the third table, some had sprouted into tall young men.

Three Masters sat at desks on a raised platform along the right-hand wall. One she recognised from her interview as Master Zakary. The other two were strangers.

All of them stared at Lorie as she walked through the door. She halted, not knowing where she belonged. The youngest boys were about eight years old, the oldest fifteen or so.

‘What are doing here, girl?’ the nearest Master asked. He had long white hair tinged with yellow, and a pinched pale face made paler by his black gown. ‘Servants aren’t permitted here in school hours.’

She flushed. She’d worn her best dress. Did she really look like a servant? ‘If you please, sir—’

Master Zakary laughed. ‘Gavin, do you not recall our new student? I would have thought you would remember. You complained enough.’

‘Oh.’ Master Gavin frowned. ‘Is that the one?’

Lorie wasn’t sure if the question was directed at her. Zakary only smiled.

‘Well?’ Master Gavin all but spat the word. ‘Are you the girl?’

‘Yes. I’m Lorie, sir.’

He pointed to the first table. ‘Sit.’

The boys bunched up to make space for her on the end of the bench. There were eleven in all, all between eight and ten years old, except for one boy on the end, who was nearer her own age.

’I’m Phin.’ He smiled. ‘Your assistant teacher for the week. Welcome to the first class.’

She settled on the bench, relaxing a little. A bunch of little boys were nothing to be scared of, and Phin seemed nice enough. He had warm brown eyes. His blue half-cape suggested he was House Anemari, and he had the tanned skin of someone who spends much time outdoors. When he smiled at her, his teeth were very white.

Phin opened a copy of the Prime Grammar and laid it on the table. ‘I don’t know what you’ve studied before, Lorie, but don’t worry. You’ll catch up.’ He pushed the book in front of the boy to his right. ‘Read.’

The boy — a pale, pudgy lump with thick black hair — scowled at Lorie. ‘She’s a girl.’

‘We know,’ Phin said. ‘Even you, Jink, have seen one before. Read.’

‘Yer, but why is she with us?’

‘Because the Master says so. Get used to it. Read.’

With a final glare at Lorie, Jink sighed and focused on the page in front of him. ‘The form of the glyph sin represents jagged teeth. The primary significations are: grip, holding, possession…’

As Jink’s whiny monotone plodded on, occasionally stumbling over the longer words, Lorie’s mind wandered. She already knew this part of the Prime Grammar. In fact, she was fairly sure she’d memorised it all. She could recall the page with the glyph sin as clearly as if the book was before her. The text was crisp and black in her mind’s eye. She scanned ahead of Jink’s painfully slow reading to review the higher-order significations.

Injury, damage, cutting… A dog’s yellow teeth snarling. Her father’s hand — Nana holding it steady. Andra’s knife. The bright spurt of blood on the snow.

‘Lorie? Are you all right?’

She started. Jink had stopped reading, and all the boys stared at her. ‘Sorry. I drifted off.’

Phin smiled. ‘Well, let’s see if someone was paying attention. Sprat, the glyph sin.’

The smallest of the boys flinched. ‘My name’s not Sprat, it’s Korridan.’

‘I’m in charge, so your name’s what I say it is,’ Phin said. ‘Repeat the lesson. Or were you not listening?’

‘I was too. She wasn’t. Why don’t you pick on her?’

‘That wouldn’t be fair on her first day, would it?’

‘You always pick me. That’s not fair either. You’re only being nice to her because she’s a girl.’

‘Yer,’ Jink muttered. ‘Phin fancies her, I bet.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Lorie said quickly. ‘I mean, I can repeat the lesson, if you like.’

‘Bet she can’t,’ Jink said.

Phin glared at him. ‘All right. You try, Lorie, if you don’t mind.’

Lorie closed her eyes. The page drifted into focus, and she began reading: ‘The form of the glyph sin represents jagged teeth…’ She read the complete entry for sin, down to the seventh-level significations at the end of the page, and stopped.

She opened her eyes to silence. All the boys were staring again.

‘You’ve studied the Prime Grammar before?’ Phin said.

‘Yes.’

‘How much can you recite like that?’

‘Um… all of it?’ Since her father had permitted her to read the book, she’d had plenty of time to study. Some of the appendices she wasn’t entirely confident in, but the glyph entries, she was sure of.

‘All of it,’ Phin repeated. ‘So why are you in this class?’

She shrugged.

‘Come with me.’ He stood. ‘Sprat, continue reading with the glyph taw.’

Sprat groaned.

Lorie followed Phin, who walked across the hall to Master Gavin. ‘Excuse me, Master.’

The Master looked up from the book he was reading. ‘What is it?’

‘Master, it’s the new student. She already has a good understanding of the Prime Grammar. I think she should be advanced to the second class.’

‘You think?’ Master Gavin glared at Lorie. ‘The Head Master informed me she was to begin in the first class.’

‘But if you’ll test her, Master, I believe you will find she knows enough to advance.’

Gavin grunted. ‘Girl, the alphabet.’

The alphabet? Lorie had learned her alphabet before she was four years old. He couldn’t mean her to say the alphabet. Perhaps he was asking her to recite all the entries for the alphabetic glyphs? That would take a while… but he was frowning at her angrily, and she had to say something.

She took a breath. ‘The form of the glyph aleph represents the head of an ox. The primary significations are: ox, cattle, animal life in general. The secondary significations are: strength in motion, vitality, stubborn resistance. In the gnostic tradition, it signifies the brute animal nature which must be overcome to achieve self-mastery—’

‘Enough,’ Gavin said. ‘You babble without understanding. Return to the class, both of you.’

‘But, sir—’ Phin said.

‘Enough. When I desire a student’s opinion, I will ask for it. Until then, continue the lesson as you have been instructed. Begone. I have no time for this nonsense.’

They returned to the class. The boys broke from a whispering huddle and tried to look like they’d been studying.

Phin retook his place at the head of the table. ‘Sprat, the glyph taw. Start from the top.’ He turned to Lorie and lowered his voice. ‘Gavin’s an idiot. I’ll speak to Zakary about you. He’s my tutor, and it’s his class you should be in. Meanwhile, you can help me teach this rabble. If you like.’

‘Thanks.’ She smiled. ‘Do we study glyphs all day?’

‘Oh, no. Theory in the morning, afternoon is practical. Have you been studying meditation as well?’

She shook her head. In the practical, at least, she would have to start at the beginning.

‘Somehow,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you’ll find it difficult.’