“Start by explaining how I’m not drunk or hungover,” Graem demanded, sitting forward in his chair. He leaned on his staff to keep himself from toppling over. “I remember drinking quite a lot.”

Orrin had been trying to figure out where to start his story and was glad for the easy out. “I have a spell that changes toxins in the body. I just reduced the alcohol to nothing.”

Graem squinted and snapped his fingers. “[Remetabolize]?”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t get angry, I didn’t scan your skills.” Graem patted his chest and grunted. He stuck a hand into his robe pocket and sighed in relief as he drew a pipe. “While I appreciate the lack of hangover, don’t use that on me again without my consent. If I’m not at least a little hammered, I become difficult to be around. Or so I’m told.”

He plucked a container from another pocket and took a pinch of whatever was inside. He let a few red and green crystals fall into the pipe. A flash of his hands and a small tamper was between his fingers. As Orrin watched the man in charge of running the Sanerris School pack his pipe with what were obviously drugs, he began to doubt Anabella’s plan even more.

“Continue then,” Graem said as he took the first puff from the lit pipe. “Why are you here?”

“After my friends and I tried to save a prisoner from Lord Sanerris, I was captured. He wanted information from me and sent me to his mother’s place,” Orrin said, watching the puffs from Graem’s pipe turn a multitude of colors before fading into regular white smoke. “She wants your help. I think she’s planning a coup to—”

Graem struck his staff to the ground. It stuck where it landed and a small burst of air went past Orrin. He didn’t have time to react and fell out of his chair.

“Get up, it’s just a sound barrier,” Graem reached down and pulled Orrin to his feet like he was a toddler. The man was strong. “You shouldn’t say things aloud that could get you killed. This is Mistlight, not whatever backwater town you come from.”

Orrin ran his hand through his hair as he sat back down in the chair. The adrenaline from thinking he was about to be in a fight was making his hands shake. Orrin took a chance and flipped [Mind Bastion] on and off again. His breathing evened and his heart rate slowed back down.

“Impressive. Was that [Calm Thoughts]? Maybe [Calm Mind]?”

Orrin glared at the man. “Part of the information that Lord Sanerris wanted from me was what my skills are. Anabella knows enough and if she didn’t tell you my spells, I’m not going to either.”

Graem took another hit from his pipe and let the smoke curl from his nostrils. He tapped some dust from the pipe on the table next to them and slipped it away in his robes. “If Anabella knows, I’ll find out eventually. Information is how she pays me. I’m trying to create the first compendium of all known skills and spells. Anabella has been my best source of data for years. But enough about that. She wants back in the game? How does she plan to…” He trailed off for a moment and snapped his fingers again. “A honeypot.”

“A what?”

“You’re a honeypot. It’s a wonderful [Glamour] by the way. Did you do it or did she?”

“I’m not a honeypot,” Orrin retorted, redness creeping up his neck. He’d thought the [Glamour] was a way to keep his identity a secret but hearing the words out loud from Graem made him rethink what Anabella had done. He did look objectively better. A more chiseled jawline. A dimple to compliment the slightly wider smile. Orrin didn’t dislike the way he looked normally but even he could admit the current version of him was better equipped to seduce someone.

“Whatever you say,” the man rested his chin on his elbow, resting both atop his staff. “She needs three votes to put her back in the Mistlight chancellor position and her son won’t be giving her his vote. That means she needs Tonsa or Madvarr’s vote. Which one of the children are you supposed to sway? Anabella will already have Palmer’s vote and Wellan will have made plans to keep his daughter safe. You’re supposed to friend her too, aren’t you? How much did I get right?”

Orrin tried to keep his face neutral and rolled his eyes. “If she already told you the plan, why ask me?”

“She didn’t tell me anything about the plan,” Graem said with a smile. “My passion is learning about the System. It’s why I’m a [Librarian]. However, as my late father used to say, I have a way of sniffing out the truth in social situations. He wanted me to be a politician or at least a [Lawyer] but people bore me to tears. Everyone is so predictable. The System isn’t. Did you know that there are thirteen different ways to get [Remetabolize] that I’ve figured out so far? You don’t have an amulet, so you aren’t part of the Hospital. You don’t strike me as a [Poisoner] or even an [Alchemist]. You’d have to be a pretty high-level [Alchemist] to get [Remetabolize] this young and you went on a suicide run to try and kill Mistlight’s ruler. So that means there is a fourteenth way to get the spell. Mind telling me now and saving us both a lot of trouble in the future?”

Orrin’s palms were sweaty against his pants. He tried not to move a muscle during Graem’s speech and was only now realizing that he might have left the frying pan that was Anabella’s sharp mind only to fall into the fire that was Graem’s inquisitiveness.

In other words, Orrin was fucked. He was a terrible liar and if he tried to use [Mind Bastion], the logical thing might be to give the man some information. But Orrin had a hunch that the [Librarian] class might have a skill or two on finding a way to the right answer. Like a hunter in the forest trying to find his prey, Orrin could see Graem’s body primed and ready to dart forward and take what he wanted. Praying that he what he was about to do wasn’t the epitome of stupid, Orrin took a chance.

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“Help me make friends with all three and I’ll tell you where I got [Remetabolize].”

“You bought it in the Store.” Graem waved his hand. “I want to know what skill or spell you bought before that unlocked it. I do know your class name but I’ve never heard of it. Do you know how you unlocked it or was it random? What other spells do you have? Are any of them class unique?”

Orrin sighed, watching his only hope go down in flames. “I’m beginning to see why people think you’re difficult to be around. You ask a lot of questions.”

Graem smirked but waved his hand for Orrin to continue. He told the man about his new name, Casimir Hale, and the genealogy he had to memorize. That had Graem rolling his eyes. “Leave it to Anabella to make this more complicated than it needs to be. Just tell everyone to keep their questions to themselves. You don’t need to talk about family in school. Most are there to learn not play at politics and the ones that are here for less academic reasons aren’t worth being around.

“My dreamwhisper will kick in soon. I’ll be blissful and talk less. We should go register you for your classes before that happens. I’ll figure out how you’ll pay me for my help later.”

“I’ve only picked four classes,” Orrin told the beefy man as he snapped up his staff. The rush of wind coming back toward Graem didn’t surprise him as much this time. “I need to take one more, preferably with Finley.”

“Who?”

“Finley Madvarr.”

“Oh, him. He’ll take Battle Class. I don’t know what other classes he’ll take but I doubt you’d be able to get into any of them,” Graem continued to talk as he opened the door. “He’s been here awhile and you haven’t taken any prerequisites. Come along.”

Orrin argued a bit more but Graem either chose to ignore him or his dreamwhisper, whatever that was, had kicked in. By the time they arrived in front of a large building on the far west side of Mistlight, Graem was barely standing up straight without the support of his staff. Orrin had a sneaking suspicion the man only had it to keep upright when he was intoxicated.

“Professor Graem, you’re actually here for orientation,” a woman’s voice drifted through the second door that Graem knocked on. The first had been the backdoor of a restaurant across the street. “I’m not sure you’ve been on time for a decade.”

“Wren, get this one into the classes he wants. I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me up for two days,” Graem said and pushed Orrin through the door. “I’m very serious. No wakey.”

Orrin tried to apologize as he almost stumbled into a woman shorter than him. She pirouetted and caught his shoulder as he passed, keeping him from falling on his ass. “Graem, don’t you dare. You have a class tomorrow afternoon. I will go to Lord Sanerris if you don’t show up.”

“Threats, threats, threats,” Graem mocked her, moving his hand like a mouth. “I’ll tell on you. You have to do what I say or I’ll tell mom. Really, Wren? Has it come to this?”

Graem blinked hard and yawned like he was waking up from a long nap. “Don’t ever work with your siblings, Casimir. Wren, please get Mr. Hale settled up and I promise to be in attendance for my class. But I won’t be at orientation.”

Wren only stood up to Graem’s shoulder but the way she looked down on him made even Orrin shrink back. “If you do not show up for your class, I will have you stripped of library access for two weeks.”

“I’m the [Librarian],” Graem’s words started to slur as he argued back. “You cannoth take my booss.. booo-k-s.”

“Get upstairs, I’ll deal with you later.”

Orrin watched in shock as the mountain of a man drooped his head and stomped out of the room like an angry child. He glanced around and noticed the room they were in was actually a bedroom.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where he was taking me—”

“Follow me, please. Casimir was it?” Wren’s voice had changed from the stern headmistress used against her brother to a calming timbre that had Orrin on edge. People who talked like that always had a dark side they hid away and Orrin suspected he’d just witnessed some of her authoritarian side used on her brother. It was safer to be polite.

“Yes, ma’am. Casimir Hale.” Orrin was proud of himself for getting the name right.

Orrin followed Wren out of the only other door in the room. He stopped for only a second when he realized he was standing at the front of a classroom.

“Professors have rooms and offices close to their classrooms. Most of us don’t live here full time but it’s nice to be able to sleep when we need to without walking across town,” Wren explained with a quick glance at Orrin. “You’re new and probably have some weird combination of skills my brother is interested in learning. Make him sweat it out… for me.”

Orrin found himself smiling back. Yep. She’s the dangerous type who gets you with the friendly act.

“The registrar’s office won’t be open this late but I can fill in the paperwork for you. Do you know what sort of classes you want to take? Classes are expensive but we have scholarships.”

“I think I’ve been signed up for most of my classes already but I need to take one more,” Orrin answered and hurried to add, “My grandma wanted me to come here and chose for me.”

“Family can be like that.” Wren led him down a few more hallways before stopping in front of a closed door. She put her hand against the wood and it clicked open. “What class do you want to sign up for?”

Orrin cursed Graem for abandoning him. He had wanted to scan the lists and see if Finley had signed up for any classes. He couldn’t ask Wren. Anabella had been clear to only trust Graem, which Orrin was beginning to think was a huge mistake.

“I’m not actually sure,” Orrin admitted slowly. “I was hoping to look at what was available to me.”

Wren sighed and pushed the door open. The room was nothing more than a small study room with a single table in the middle. No chairs adorned the table but a single book was open on it. Against the far wall was a shelf of books. Maybe twenty in total.

“The books on the wall there have the classes that are available for students. Most have a minimum sign-up requirement, so it’s best to get a few other friends to agree to the class. The blue one on the top left has most of the pre-requisite classes for higher-level courses. As this is your first semester, you should look there.”

“How do I know if any of the classes are available?” Orrin asked, genuinely curious. Maybe they had a magical book that changed the color of the ink or a quill that floated along and wrote the updates into each book.

“The registrar keeps track but since she’s not here,” Wren flipped the big book in the middle of the table around to face Orrin. “You can take a look in here. It’s the main registry. Every student has to fill out their classes and only once a class has been approved by the professor can it be written in here. Let me know what you want to do.”

Orrin couldn’t believe his luck. She was letting him read the book that held the classes that Finley was going to take. It couldn’t be that easy, right?