Cathy sat on a chair outside the principal’s office when Micah got there. She had a tan folder in her hands that almost matched her hair and looked patient, but something about the way she sat that made him think she didn’t expect to be left waiting long. Her back was too straight. She sat too close to the edge of the chair. It looked uncomfortable. Or it would be, over time.
She always made him feel a little uncomfortable at first sight. She had a weird way about her, how she would just strike up a conversation with anyone, jump into a topic or discussion, or say things as if she were ready to defend any claim she made. And she was always friendly, but not necessarily nice.
He wondered if she was on the debate team. He wondered if they even had a debate team. Micah thought he had seen a poster for one, but he had skipped over most of them. Too many options, too little time. With the ones he already had and his alchemy, he’d had enough on his plate …
… right?
Damnit, Alex.
The flute. The flute was easy to learn, right? Or the harmonica? He had to have some kind of hobby.
Maybe he should pick up knitting or something, make everyone he knew a scarf by next winter. Not that Ryan would need one. Lisa didn’t seem to mind the cold too much either.
Pottery? Glassblowing, for his alchemy? No, it needed to be a hobby.
“Hey,” Micah greeted her as he shambled up to the door. It was closed and he didn’t know if he should knock or just go in. A quick glance at the sign reassured him he wasn’t late. Ameryth’s secretary should be in.
“Oh, hey. Micah, right?” she said. “I saw you in Tower Studies. We might be in the same course.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” He glanced at the door again. “Uhm, are you waiting for someone or …?”
“Oh, Ms. Melanie had to go retrieve something for Ms. Denner,” Cathy told him. “She should be back in a minute. She just went down the hall from her office, so I don’t think she went far.”
She glanced down the hall at another door. Micah wondered if they were all interconnected.
“Are you also here to schedule an appointment with Ms. Denner?” He saw the chairs and considered sitting down but thought it might be too much of a hassle, so he scooted back to the opposite wall instead. He didn’t want to crowd the place.
“No. I’m just here to hand in our list of demands.” She flashed him the folder.
He blinked. “Demands?”
“Well,” she cocked her head a little, “‘demands’ might be too strong a word. ‘Advice’ or ‘recommendations’ might be better. Feedback? We’ve been talking to a lot of students and taking note of the school’s performance—since it’s new? You know there is plenty of room for improvement?”
She held out a hand, open palm facing up. Somehow, he got the sense she assumed he was going to agree.
Micah felt a little like he was being put on the spot. “Uhm, yeah? I don’t really know.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “Yes, of course. You’re younger, right? And it’s not like we have a lot of experience with other schools. But I’ve been to prep classes and I’ve spoken with some of my peers, and believe me when I tell you—because I know—there’s plenty of room for improvement.”
“Oh. Uhm, okay.”
Micah was pretty happy with how the school had treated him until now. Then again, he had only gone through boot camp. That had been for the basics—how to prepare, how to behave inside of it, how the structure worked, how to move mana for minor magic items, how his callings worked.
And then there had been the gruesome training exercises and orientation courses to make sure they were up-to-standard on everything else. Aside from a few classes like The Dangers of Healing, he hadn’t learned a lot, but he had built a good foundation for learning more.
What was there to complain about?
Mm … maybe some of the teachers’ attitudes? But that was normal. There were always teachers who were hard on students or whom they wouldn’t get along with it. Fortunately, his parents weren’t involved enough with his studies that they could go complain to them.
Micah briefly imagined Mr. Jung going to complain to his parents and felt a shiver run down his spine.
No, thank you.
“So, we made this list,” Cathy said, sitting back a little so she could open the folder in her lap. It only had a handful of pages in it, but she turned it around and held it out to him with both hands.
Micah sought the top, but frowned at something else. “We? You keep on mentioning that.”
“Just a few of our peers and I. We meet up from time to time. Why? Are you interested?”
“I … don’t know.” Maybe that could be something for him to do? He had never imagined himself in a student council, though.
“Well, if you are, just join us sometime and we’ll get you up-to-speed.”
Micah shoved the thought aside and skimmed the introductory text she had drafted. It lead into an almost bullet-point-like list of demands, beginning with:
Permission for the open presence of clearly marked magic, non-violent summons and familiars on campus during school days for the purpose of training, caretaking, and the completion of rudimentary errands.
There was a small list of the benefits below, in helping [Witches] and [Summoners] level and others with things like teamwork through exposure.
Micah had to agree, that one didn’t seem so bad. Most of the witches on campus hid their familiars in their clothes anyway—if they were small enough to fit. Most of them took them basically everywhere, except maybe the workshop where it was dangerous. Some could change their forms and sizes to become more or less threatening and gain other uses. He had seen one classmate turn her pet bat into a ball of spikes in the Tower once, like a flying pufferfish. It was terrifying to stand near, casually.
He wondered if Lisa knew about this.
A school official, student body elected council to represent its interests and oversee behavior and extracurricular activities, events, and community to city-wide projects. A student council.
That one seemed inevitable, but Micah could understand why they didn’t have one yet. How were they going to elect or appoint a student council when they were only a bunch of first years who didn’t know each other?
Should they have done it anyway?
The list went on.
School official or sanctioned and supported festivals organized by the student body throughout the year, in-house or open to the general public; such as for the Summer Festival, Harvest Festival, Day of the Dead, Winter Solstice, New Year, Spring Cleaning, Sport’s Festival, Registry Anniversary, Climber’s Guild celebrations, Memorial Day, or Open House.
He raised his eyebrows. That one seemed like a little too much. Eleven festivals? From what he knew, schools had, like, two every year. Would those be mandatory? And who was supposed to organize them?
He liked celebrating his festivals in the city … although, he guessed it wouldn’t be too bad to celebrate with his classmates. There were a lot of them who he would like to hang out with more and get to know. Maybe even Cathy.
Mm.
They’d even included the Registry. What were their festivals like?
He read on.
Improved integration of student body organized clubs in the school curriculum, officially or through sanctioning and monetary or personnel support.
He needed a moment to figure that one out, but it was basically just better support for extracurricular activities, right? Right now, they were allowed to form clubs if they had enough members and were then allowed to rent spaces for club meetings, like classrooms or the gymnasium. Some clubs offered by the school had teachers that oversaw them and other forms of support—like the workshop and its budget for [Alchemists], which he was going to get for the first time soon.
That was exciting.
But apparently, they didn’t think it was enough?
Improved integration of the school’s curricular and extracurricular activities into the district and city-wide communities; such as for competitions, Early Bird programmes, community projects, Chore Office relations, Guild relations, Registry relations, and education and training organizations, e.g. the Scouts of Watertown or Little Anne’s Night School for Skill Training.
Micah had never heard of that Night School, but he thought those were the scouts Ryan had gone on a trip with during the Summer. Or had those been the Scouts of Nistar? He wasn’t sure.
He was a little surprised that they wanted an Early Bird programme already. They did know they might have to babysit Early Birds next year then, right? Micah wouldn’t look forward to having to look after people his own age.
Come to think of it, would those programmes even exist now that they couldn’t go into the Tower as easily anymore? He wondered how Gardener was doing. Maybe Ryan would know.
The improved integration for the Guild and Registry surprised him as well. Their school already was supposed to be more integrated with them than other schools. It seemed impatient or … like they were just listing everything they could think of?
It was rather vague in parts.
He glanced down. The next demand was about improved agency in room assignments. That he could agree with. One of Ryan’s roommate had left, apparently. Maybe he could move in with him?
But the list just went on, and on, and on. It really did seem like they were just listing everything they could think of. He trapped his crutch against his side with one elbow to free a hand and leafed through the next two pages. The last half page was a paragraph of text that sounded vaguely supporting and threatening at the same time, followed by a list of forty or so signatures.
“Wow.”
Cathy smiled. “I know, right?”
“It’s … a lot.”
She took the folder back and closed it. He was a little glad that she wasn’t forcing him to read the whole thing while she held it out to him.
“Well, we worked on it for two weeks, thinking of everything the school is missing. And it’s a lot. Of course, the school is new, but if we don’t start now it’ll take decades until they’re up-to-speed with everyone else. You have to strike early. I want to have gone to a proper school by the time I leave.”
Micah frowned and glanced at the door to Ameryth’s office. “I agree,” he began, placating her, “I really do, but … do you think it’s a good idea to do that right now? With everything that’s happening?”
Ms. Denner was busy. She had to be. As were the rest of the faculty, to varying degrees. This seemed like it might be counterintuitive or even draw their ire.
Cathy lit up at the question. “No, now is the perfect time to strike. A bunch of students are leaving, you know, and she’s overworked and worried. So she’ll see this list as an opportunity.”
Micah frowned. “An opportunity?”
“Yeah. As something she can turn to. She will pick out one of the easier options at random, something that’s a long-term promise or requires barely any effort to fulfill—probably something that’s beneficial to her as well—and use it to improve morale, you know? We are basically handing her a list of solutions. And look, what’s the first thing she’ll see, then?”
She held up the portfolio again, pointing at the begin of the demands.
“The summons,” Micah realized.
She glanced at the page herself. “More the familiars, but yeah.”
“Why that?” he asked. “Why not one of the other things?”
She weighed her head a little. “We have a lot of [Witches] on our council.”
“Oh.”
“Preliminary council,” she added. “But the other things won’t be lost. Whenever something goes wrong in the future or moral dips over time, what will she think of first?” She smiled and tapped her folder. “She will have this handy list ready to take a glance at and hand out easy-to-do solutions like treats.”
Micah couldn’t help but smile, but he furrowed his brows as well. “I don’t think it’ll work exactly like plan—”
“Oh, no. Of course, not.”
“—and what about the harder-to-do things? Like support for the clubs or the school festivals?”
She nodded as if she had thought of that already. “We’ll continue to work on those, making proposals much more thorough than this and laying all the groundwork for her to just give the approval on them, like making the clubs as good as they can be and convincing teachers to volunteer their support. We could participate in unofficial or in-house competitions. And when she sees how well we do, all she has to do is say, ‘Yes’ … And give us money.”
Micah liked the idea of that. He smiled and hesitated for a moment, wanting to ask if he could also sign at the end as a show of support, but the door to the secretary’s office opened all the sudden and Ms. Melanie glanced out, head slightly tilted.
“Anne-Catherine?”
She shot up. “Here.”
The secretary glanced at Micah for a moment before speaking to the hall. “I will be with you in a moment.” She opened the door wide and pushed a stopper under it with one shoe before stepping around her desk.
Instead of heading right in, Cathy turned to him to finish their conversation, “Of course, all of this will be easier once more students are attending and the school has been performing well for a while, so they get more funds from both the student body and the Guild. We aren’t paying them enough to do everything. But we’re willing to wait a few years. Most of us are planning on doing at least three here. And being an alumnus is its own project.”
“You’re really into this,” Micah said, a little overwhelmed. The student council might not be the right thing for him after all.
Cathy shrugged and threw a bit of her hair behind her shoulder. “Well, you know. But it’s important that we do perform well in the meantime—those of us who are here—so the school gets more support from the Guild.” She glanced down at his leg and smiled. “Get well soon.”
With that, she turned around and headed inside. She slid the folder onto the desk and spoke with Ameryth’s secretary in a friendly tone.
Friendly, Micah thought, nodding to himself, but definitely not always nice. Not that it was a bad thing. He sighed. She wasn’t wrong.
The door to Ms. Denner’s office was closed as Micah followed her in. Somewhere in the distance, afternoon bells rang. He kept near the wall to give them some space and felt a moment of doubt about coming here. The administration office had been able to help him with his other errand: wanting to go to the hospital to do physical therapy exercises during PE lessons so he wouldn’t have to sit around and do nothing. All he needed was the approval of his gym teachers.
No, Micah had come here for another reason. Now, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Her secretary had already seen him. Was it too late to back out?
Ameryth opened the door to her office and slipped a coin purse in her jacket pocket. She glanced at Cathy and Ms. Melanie as if she wanted to say something before her eyes drifted over to glance at Micah near the wall.
Definitely too late, now. Hopefully, she would take it well.
“Ah, Principal Denner,” Cathy greeted her, shifting her entire focus on the woman. “Good day.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Grant.”
Micah tried to catch her eye from the other end of the room to nod at her in greeting, but he didn’t know if she saw. He didn’t want to interrupt.
“I was just handing in the list of … suggestions a few of the other students and I made.”
Ms. Denner locked the door and only seemed to be half paying attention to her. “Is that so?”
“I’ve added it to the student pile. It will be on your desk with the other things by morning,” her secretary reported, shifting the folder behind her counter.
“Thank you, Melanie. I will look into it when I have the time, Ms. Grant. Was that all you came here for?”
“Yes. Just that. I will be out of your hair in a moment. I really do hope you look over it soon, though, ma’am.”
Their principal seemed curious as she peeked over the desk at the folder. She reached out with one hand to open it up and raised her eyebrows, nodding a little to herself.
After a second of reading, she glanced at Cathy. Her voice sounded a little different from how Micah knew it. It sounded almost flattering. “Well then, thank you for your participation. It really does look impressive. Oh, and thank your colleagues who worked on this with you as well, from me. It’s always nice to see students being so involved in the school’s well-being, especially when something of this quality turns out from it.”
Cathy’s smile widened even further. “Uhm— Well, I have high hopes for the school and—” She lifted her hands off the counter and almost spun around before saying, “Thank you. For your time. And if you ever want to speak to us or to me, you know where to find us Ms. Denner.”
Ms. Denner looked a little amused. “Good day.”
“Uh, good day.” Cathy did turn around then and left, nodding to Micah as she walked out the door. She seemed more excited than before and a little flustered.
Strange, she. Like a windmill.
He waited a moment longer while Ms. Denner spoke to her employee. He could greet her properly in passing. But when she looked up, she frowned at him and glanced at her watch.
“Mr. Stranya.”
“Yes, ma’am?” He perked up.
“Why are you here?”
“I, uhm— I wanted to make an appointment, maybe, if it’s possible. With you?”
“With me? What for?”
“Just … I wanted to speak with you about the school and, uhm, tuition?” He really was beginning to doubt himself. But if people were leaving, shouldn’t he at least try?
She furrowed her brows a little, but her expression eased up when she offered, “I have five minutes now? Tell me about your injuries. I had heard a little from Mr. Walker, but not enough. How long will you have to wear that cast?”
She waved him closer and Micah glanced down before taking the few steps over, making sure he was placing his crutches right. More than once, he’d accidentally stepped on Ryan’s feet. There was no way he wanted to do the same here.
“Three to four weeks,” he told her, “for both my fingers and my leg. I’m using different methods for both. And I’m supposed to take it easy for a little while afterward, my doctors said, but it all depends on how well I recover, really.”
“The Tower excursion would be in less than three months,” she told him, “I trust you will find other ways to prepare until then? You can learn many simple spells in a month and a half.”
“Oh.” Micah’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “Oh, no, no. I can’t cast spells either. I’m using an alchemical adhesive to make my bones heal faster so any odd mana circulation might ruin that.”
Her secretary seemed a little interested all the sudden, too.
“I see.”
“But I want to use my time for other things!” Micah rushed to explain. “I wanted to focus on my academic studies, catching up there, and Ryan told me he had an idea for something I can do later today. He wouldn’t share, but— Oh, and here.” He leaned against the counter and fetched something out of his backpack. “I wanted to do physical therapy in the meantime, during PE lessons at the hospital, so I don’t fall behind too much there either, ma’am.”
Ameryth was smiling again when he brought out the half-page slip he was supposed to get signed by his gym teachers, but she cocked her head at the mention of physical therapy.
“Supervised therapy? There is no good way to say this, but can you afford that?”
“Not normally, no. But fortunately for me, the man who injured me is also paying for my recovery.”
“I sense a hint of bitterness there,” Ameryth told him, surprising him. Had he said it bitterly? What was even more surprising was the bitterness in her expression when he looked up. “I heard from Mr. Walker. I have met the Rat Hermit a few times during my career. That he would attack two of my students …”
“He wasn’t all … there,” Micah offered. Even as he did, he didn’t know why he was defending the man.
Maybe he just didn’t want his teacher to get upset for his sake.
“Still.”
The word alone finished that argument. She unceremoniously changed the topic. “At least you gained an insight into the Tower’s new challenges, experience, and levels, I’ve heard?”
“Oh, yes. We did.”
“I will be excited to see your updated Proof Of papers, then. I trust you both signed up on the Registry’s offer?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled politely and glanced at the door. “Good. Now— Oh, but one last question. Did you ever learn which floor you were on? I’ve read several of the Tower reports as they are published, but only the newest have any floor numbers. I would be curious to know which floors house a beast like the one that attacked you.”
He was momentarily surprised how much she knew. “No, we never figured it out,” Micah said. He frowned at something else. “But the newest have numbers? I bought some yesterday and they … didn’t?”
“Yes, the ones from this morning? The maps?” She looked at him expectantly, but Micah had no idea.
Maps?
“No, I haven’t been to the Guild yet today.”
“Ah. Hm.” She looked at the door again and back to her office. She seemed hesitant, but stepped around to go unlock it again. “Come. I want to show you something.”
Micah glanced at her secretary in surprise and quickly followed her. Warmth clung to the fireplace like a cloud, a window was slanted to bring a breeze through it, and her desk was cluttered with papers.
She led him to a side room with many file cabinets and shelves and pulled something out of a wide drawer to put on a table next to the door. A painting of the Tower, he quickly recognized. He needed a moment longer to recognize it was a painting of the new Tower and immediately inched closer to get a better look.
Where had she gotten this?
Red lit cavern halls snaked their way up from the bottom and lizards, scaled salamanders, and other critters with too many legs hid underneath rocks or crawled along the glittering stones.
From the center, artificial tunnels dug down into them. They were dug by Kobolds in some places, who even built wood and rope bridges across small chasms. Where did they get the wood for it?
He looked to the left and found cracks spilling out of the wall and sunlight streaming in as the floor connected to what looked like green fields dotted with grasses and trees. The Fields? They wrapped around the illustrated Tower like a staircase with small, slanted ledges all the way to the … top?
At the top, green colors simply faded out as if the painting hadn’t been finished yet.
Micah found annotated numbers next to it, some roughly matching up with some tunnels and where other caverns began. But the longer he looked, the more details he found. He would need a magnifying glass and hours to find all of them.
“The Guild published copies of it this morning,” Ms. Denner said beside him as he searched. “We’ve commissioned a scaled version to be painted inside of the school foyer and the Registry has done the same for inside its libraries. That way, students will be able to study them in passing. I’m sure they will be all over the city soon.”
“Wow. This is bound to help,” Micah said. He could have read as many reports as he liked and still felt like he was walking into the dark. But a map like this gave people a glimpse of it all.
“Can you point out which floor you were on?” she asked him.
Micah nodded. Of course, that was probably why he was here. He searched the lower floors, but those only reminded him of the fire-themed floors of the old Tower, the Salamander’s Den and Dripping Teeth. He spotted centipedes coiled up in pockets beneath stones, but couldn’t find any wax elementals.
He did find a mine cart, stacked to the brim with red crystals for some reason. That color faded to yellow near the center and left of the painting. Hints of yellow tunnels led around and to the side of this Tower, but he couldn’t see anything substantial. Was it the Ant Hive?
His eyes wandered away from the warm colors, up. There was a gap at the ninth and tenth floors. There, the tunnels opened up into larger pockets where Kobolds gathered in groups and Salamanders grew larger. From cracks, magma flowed into pools and pockets. Micah followed those cracks back down. They were hard to see between the glittering veins, but they were there. If they damaged the wrong wall in the lower floors, would magma spill out?
That seemed important to know.
He looked back up again, but it was all warm colors. He couldn’t find the submerged halls of any Sewer structures. He did find something that looked like pools of steaming water and frowned at two dots that might have been eyes in them—but slowly, he began to shake his head.
He couldn’t find it.
“We have other maps,” Ameryth said next to him and went to another drawer. “Most of the ones the Guild has been able to find in the city only lead to the tenth floor. A handful go all the way to the twenty-fifth.”
“In the city?” Micah echoed her. “Have people had these before the changes happened?”
She nodded and laid the second map out. It was half the size of the first and just as finely detailed. “But we lacked the context to understand them. A few volunteers stepped forward to reveal they had them in their possession. A few others have admitted they had destroyed theirs, intentionally or not. The Guild is trying to collect as many as possible to give to the public.”
“And you owned … these?”
“Only that one,” she pointed at the larger one. “This is a copy of another that I had made so the painter would have something to work with. There will be more.”
Micah nodded, unsure how he was supposed to feel. At least, people were getting the maps now before the Tower opened tomorrow, but … those maps had been a sign, right? A warning? If they had missed those, what other things had they missed?
He glanced at the crest on the edges. Who was the Shepherd that they had known about the changes?
Micah almost chuckled, having a sudden thought. At least, Jason was going to like this—that the Shepherd had known and tried to inform them beforehand. Still, they could have done with a more obvious warning.
He sighed, took a look at the second map, and spotted it. It was darker, in colder colors. Blues and greens. Black stone, mostly. Grey near the top instead of brown like the other. At the bottom, cracks spread into collapsed tunnels and caverns with small lakes. The further up they went, the more the ancient Sewer system became apparent. In some sections it was cleaner, too. One circular cavern reminded him of the lake they had dived into. It even had a pipe jutting out the edge and tiny water drops along the walls that reminded him of slimes.
But at the top right corner, a slash cut into the map almost like a cross-section of a funnel. The left part of the illustration hung down like a doggy ear in a book and revealed archways leading into tunnels. The right side showed massive plants and fungus growing off of a chasm wall, with tiny dots running in two lines—the trail of the centipede’s legs in the stone.
He glanced to the right side and saw an IX. Ninth floor. The colors above it faded out a second before they began, but he saw a line of dark grey stone leading to duff brown and greens.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The Fields wrapped around this Tower as well. Where they met the Tower on this map, the river valley they had been in began.
Ten.
“There.” Micah pointed and almost tapped the painting before he stopped himself. “That’s where we were.”
“Where?”
Micah stumbled a step away to give her a better view and still pointed.
“You can’t see it well here, but …”
He trailed off and frowned as he noticed the left side of the Tower. There, the tunnels opened up into a forest slant that was somewhat shadowed halfway between the tenth and ninth floors. In the humid dark, a forest of fungus, moss, and ferns grew. Near the top was enough sunlight for normal vegetation, one step down from the Fields.
That had been the floor the others were on, above them. It slanted down into the ruins of the Sewers like a cliffside.
“Yes?”
“Oh, uhm. You can’t see it well here, but those archways lead into the Sewer system we described in our report. There. The stairs we took must have led to the tenth floor, Ms. Denner.”
Ameryth took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That’s good to know. I’m glad I showed you this.”
He glanced at her, surprised. “How so?”
“Look at the other map here. The caverns open up near the tenth floor and from there, the map changes drastically. Of all our reports, few have climbed more than ten floors at once. Only the veterans. The Tower overall seems to be more difficult, but not in all aspects at once. There is a large difference between the enemies reported on the eighth floor and those on the tenth.”
“Does the Guild know about this?” Micah asked. If not, people had to know. The tenth floor was the death trap, not all of it.
“There is little the Guild doesn’t know,” Ms. Denner told him. “I doubt this is one of those things. But just to be sure, I was headed there for an appointment anyway. Before I leave—”
Micah panicked, remembering how impatient she had been. “Oh, am I holding you up—”
She shook her head once and held out a hand, gesturing for him to shut up.
“Sorry.”
“Before I leave, I think I know why you wanted to speak with me. It’s about the scholarships, isn’t it?”
Micah nodded and she gestured for him to go on. “I was thinking, since a lot of students seem to be leaving, that maybe some of them were the ones who had gotten scholarships to attend here? And if they left, if those spots would open up for others to qualify?”
“You mean you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled, and Micah felt his relief bleed into nervous tension. He gripped his crutch handle to keep himself from fidgeting. She wasn’t angry with him, but that didn’t mean she would agree.
In fact, her smile did look a little pitying.
Oh, no.
“I’m sorry, Micah. A few scholarships students have left, but we intend to use those spots to invite new students. Too many have left the school and it looks like only more are going to follow. If we don’t find anyone who qualifies for one of the scholarships, of course we will look to our own students. But until then …”
He nodded and looked away for a moment. He had been expecting this—or something like it anyway.
“And of course, you can still qualify for the scholarships next year if you perform exceptionally well, so make sure you get well soon.”
Her words sounded eerily close to Cathy’s. She’s not wrong. Right. Of course, nothing had changed. Or things had changed, but not enough. Not this. He would always have to do well.
He nodded to show he understood and looked back to her as she talked to him, but still—
“New students?” he asked, curious.
“You’ll learn more about those soon enough,” she said and picked up the map again, heading for the drawer. She spoke over her shoulder, “I really have to leave now, however. Thank you for pointing out the floor you were on and helping the Guild with your report. It was exemplary behavior of you and Ryan.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Micah headed out of the room before her while she put the maps back.
She was out of the door in a flash, closing the file room behind her. “And tell Ryan I wish him a swift recovery as well, will you?”
“I will. Thank you, ma’am, for your time.”
She herded him out of her office and locked the door behind her, then said a brief goodbye and disappeared.
Micah took a deep breath in the hallway. He glanced around to make sure the coast was clear and scratched his leg just underneath his cast a little bit. That had been annoying him all day.
He sighed. Do well. It was time to get started on that, then.
----------------------------------------
“Mom? Dad?”
Ryan knocked and stepped into his home. He slipped one arm out of his backpack and his keys into his pocket as he shut the door behind him. Keys. Plural. Since when had he ever needed more than one?
The rain jacket he folded over his arm and headed for the kitchen, the most likely place he would find them. They rarely stayed in their bedroom and it wasn’t like they had a sitting room, or a living room, or a meditation room like other people did.
Would they have those in Cairn? He hoped so. All three and another one just for guests.
The kitchen was empty, but he spotted movement through the window over the sink and stepped into their shared backyard, where they were both sitting on wooden garden chairs up to the wall, his mother with a blanket and mug in her hands. His dad looked like he was dozing off.
The sun was setting, turning the other buildings in the distance into black silhouettes outlined by blue and orange. The large swing tree had lost half his leaves and the other half was turning from the vibrant warm colors of early Fall to more sickly browns that wrinkled. In the dim light, they looked almost grey.
A billion birds huddled in bare branches of the low tree that hung over the fence, tweeting.
Ryan mimicked their tune for a short note to announce his presence. Some birds sounded almost surprised when he did. These didn’t.
“Ryan!” his mom looked up. “I didn’t hear you come in. Come. Sit, sit. Oh, is that the jacket you found?”
He nudged his arm up a bit and glanced at it. “Yeah. I had it appraised. Just got it back an hour ago.”
Next to her, his dad woke up and took a deep breath. It was almost a yawn. “Heya’ son.” He would probably have to head to his afternoon shift soon, Ryan knew. If he had one today. If Ryan hadn’t had to wait in line so much at the Guild, he might have gotten here earlier and had more time to speak with them.
What times would he have to work at his new job? Would he want the same flexible hours as here or would he want a more reliable schedule after a decade of that? Ryan didn’t really know.
His mom wasn’t working anymore, but Ryan didn’t know if it was because of the move or the baby. Or a combination of both.
Three months. The exam. The new year. His birthday. Come to think of it, wasn’t the baby supposed to arrive right about then, too? Micah had joked about it, but it was true. He glanced at her stomach and asked, “Is it a boy or a girl?”
He hadn’t really asked after they first shared the news, but now the question slipped out of him.
His dad blinked and stared for a moment before he shrugged. “We have no idea.”
“We wanted it to be a surprise,” his mom said.
They both smiled like stupid idiots.
“But how are you going to prepare, then?” Ryan asked. “Get clothes and gifts and … and a name?”
“Oh, we have a list of names that we’ve been working on,” his mom said. “Don’t worry. We heeded your advice. It’s on my nightstand if you want to go get it?” She lifted one hand from her mug and waved it lazily back toward the house. “Maybe you could weigh in? No promises, though.”
Ryan didn’t move from his spot.
“Are you worried about getting us a gift?” his dad asked, amused.
“No.” He shook his head. “No, I already have a—” He blinked, suddenly realizing something. “How are you going to get down there? Will you be able to bring your furniture with you?”
Would they even be able to transport his present, was the question he wanted to ask. Hopefully, it wasn’t too obvious.
He wanted to get them a rocking chair, too, but he didn’t know how much he would get for the handful of junk they had brought out of the Tower with them. Or if the new Tower even had Salamander wood.
“Well, we were thinking by boat,” his dad said, half-smiling. “But we might take a caravan.”
“They’re cheaper,” his mom threw in.
“Why? You look like you saw a ghost, Ryan.”
“Huh? Oh, no. I’m just … thinking about something else.”
Come to think of it, if he couldn’t go into the Tower for three months, how else was he going to earn money? He would have to drop by the Chores office on the way back and get a flier to see if he could find a part-time job until then.
Suddenly, he had a much better understanding of why students might be leaving schools to go exploring. It was probably even like taking a year off—what Finn was doing. Maybe he could ask him about jobbing.
With his Skills … street lighting? He thought you needed a fire cantrip to do that quickly enough, but they also needed people to tend to the lamps. Make sure they were clean and filled.
“A ghost,” his mom mused. “How do you fight those again? What if they show up in the Tower as well? I heard some people had to fight slimes.”
“We saw some,” Ryan offered. “But they were the size of gumdrops and cleaning up plants. Like snails, but without the eating all the leaves.”
“Mm. I wish normal snails were like that. Maybe they were baby ones?”
“Magic, mostly. And I think alchemicals you can treat your equipment with,” his dad answered her other question. “Don’t some materials work against them as well? I want to say silver, but I’m worried that’s just in the stories.”
He glanced at him.
Ryan shrugged helplessly. He hadn’t really studied how to fight the monsters of another Tower. He hadn’t had reason to, until now.
They stood around for a moment in the afternoon air outside their kitchen. Or he did. His mother wrapped her blanket a little tighter in her seat and sipped from her mug. There was something hot in it. Tea?
It was probably chilly. Ryan kind of wished he had an aura of warmth along with an aura of strength.
“So, furniture?” he repeated, thinking of something. “And when are you going to go? Can I come? Because I can help you move in. I mean, not just as a pair of hands, but also with my [Pack Aura]?”
His mom chuckled and rubbed her belly. “[Pack Aura]. We’re a pack, now, then? Maybe that’s why it’s kicking so hard.”
Ryan’s eyes went wide. “You think so?”
She looked at him, clearly surprised. “No. I was just joking.”
Oh.
Ryan tried not to blush, suddenly feeling childish.
“We’ll take some furniture with us,” his dad said. “And if we can leave during break, of course you can come along. We want you to see the place as well. And we want you to visit often. You can bring your friends along, maybe?”
“Uh, maybe.”
“Now tell us what that does,” his dad suddenly switched topics, nudging his chin at the jacket in his hand.
Right. That was one of the reasons Ryan had come here. The other was the school’s announcement, but he hadn’t even gotten to it yet. First things first. “They didn’t classify it as a relic. They’re hesitant to because we know so little about the new Tower. What if everything people find is as powerful as this?”
His mom furrowed her brows. “That’s a scary thought.”
Was it? Maybe from the perspective of a guard. He didn’t know.
“It’s mainly a protective item, though,” he told her and glanced around to find the small garden stool. He placed it down in front of them so he could look at them while he talked. He raised the yellow jacket up. “The man at the Guild explained it to me like this: It has three layers of wards. The first is sensory and weak, like the surface tension of water. Every time it’s broken, it sends a signal to the others. Depending on how much of it was broken, it sends a stronger signal. The second layer reacts. The greater the danger, the more powerful the second ward is. So it won’t do much against an arrow, but it might help a little with a punch. It’ll help a lot with something large, like a shield or a falling stone, but not if that something large is moving too slowly, or I’m moving too slowly, like if I lean against a wall.”
“Does relative speed affect that?” his mother asked, eyes suddenly focused and curious. She looked a lot more like her work-self right then.
“Relative speed?” Ryan asked.
She nodded. “Is there a difference if you’re standing still, moving away from the force, or moving toward it?”
“I— I don’t know? The man didn’t mention anything about that. But here, I have a report he gave me.” He slipped his backpack off and fished it out, then handed the file over to her.
She took it and leafed through.
“And the third ward?” his dad asked, glancing at the pages.
“It keeps out water. Or fluids, rather. Not all fluids and not everything—a little bit seeps through—but it also filters air that way. Effectively, you could wear this and then breathe under water.”
“A cloak of water breathing?”
“Yeah. It doesn’t work forever, though. They warned me about some sort of poisoning I could get if I used it underwater for days on end. Or if I used it regularly for years. But for a few hours it’s fine.”
He smiled. “Cool.”
“But the fourth layer is the jacket itself,” Ryan said. “The ward might not help against arrows, but the man told me the fabric is supposed to be extremely durable. An arrow would have a hard time piercing it. And a sword. He demonstrated with a knife. I could still get hurt by the force of it hitting me—and it’s the same with strikes that break the second ward—but it will definitely help.”
“And fire?” his mom asked, searching the pages. Her eyes settled on something and she blinked.
Ryan knew which part she had found. “Yeah. It’s supposed to be durable against more things,” he said. The report even mentioned uses in smoke and mists. He held it out. “Look, there’s even tiny holes and slits for sewing on buttons, I think.”
She found them and ran her fingers over one to see through it. “And they wouldn’t call it a relic?”
“He said they were hesitant, but I could request another appraisal in half a year when they knew more. And if I wanted to sell it in the meantime, he advised me to look toward Lighthouse and buyers there.”
“Hm. It also has ‘Light’ and some sort of magic noise …?” his mother mused, looking at the papers.
The noise was apparently a subtle aura for divination spells. While he wore the jacket, he would be easier to find.
“No.” His dad had spoken up.
“Huh?” She looked at her husband.
“What?” Ryan asked.
“No. You’re not going to sell it.”
“Oh. I mean, there are people who buy relics from those who can’t afford to donate them,” Ryan explained. “I was thinking—”
“No, you’re not going to donate it either. You’re going to keep it.”
“What?”
He leaned forward on the garden chair and rested his elbows on his knees. “Look, you said you didn’t want to leave the school, right? Or leave Hadica? If you really want to become a climber, Ryan, I want some sort of reassurance. So you’re going to keep that jacket. And you’re going to wear every time you go in. I’m not even sure when you’ll be allowed in—”
“Three months.”
“Hm?”
“The school wants us to go in before the year ends,” he explained, still a little surprised. Of course, Ryan would want to keep the item. It was powerful. He was just surprised his dad was telling him this.
He took a deep breath and nodded. “Right. Well, if you want to go into the Tower with your classmates then, you’ll wear it. Anything to help keep you safe. And you won’t lend it to someone else, or give it to Micah, or to Lisa—”
“What?”
“You fight with a shield and spear on the front lines,” his dad pressed on. “You’ll need all the protection you can get.”
“Micah also fights,” Ryan protested. “He uses a freaking dagger.”
His dad didn’t even try to defend himself. He just shook his head. “I don’t care. I want you to wear it, Ryan.”
“You can’t make me do that. It’s his item, too. You can’t just— You can’t be selfish like that.”
He had meant it as a general statement, but his dad answered as if he had addressed him. “I’m a parent. I’m allowed to be selfish if it’s for my children.”
Ryan stared at him in disbelief. He looked to his mom for support but after a moment, she just nodded.
“Your father is right.”
“Mom.”
“Look, I know you want to protect people, Ryan. But if you’re going to be doing it by placing yourself between them and danger, I want you to be wearing the most protection you can have.” She grimaced as she leaned up to get a hold of the fabric. “And this is it. You won’t be able to protect your friends if you end up getting hurt yourself. I’m sure Micah would understand. Hell, I’m sure he would agree with us.”
Of course he would agree, Ryan knew. But he was fine. He had scrapes and bruises while the other guy had three broken bones and was walking around with crutches. Why were they forcing him to wear this?
“Look, Ryan,” his dad said. “I’m not joking here. If you want to go to that school, if you want us to be able to sleep at night while you go into a completely unknown Tower, I want you to wear it. No objections. Am I understood?”
He stared at him and Ryan wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.
His mom rubbed his shoulder softly.
“Am I understood?” he repeated.
“Okay.” Ryan looked away. “Yes, sir.”
His dad didn’t let up. “Promise?”
“I will.”
He sighed. “Good. Thank you.”
He swung his legs down from the chair and got up with a groan, stretching. “Now, it’s time I stopped lazing around and get to work. Is there anything you need before I go?” He turned to his wife. “Or anything we need at home? I can pick it up along the way and store it in the break room.”
She shook her head. “I’m good. Maybe a loaf of bread for tomorrow. And some … mm, marmalade?”
She dragged the word out, unsure.
He smiled. “Groceries it is.”
Suddenly, the tension was gone and they looked happy. Ryan glanced up at the window. The latch was fixed there. He almost sighed in relief himself, but all he managed was a frown.
Was he the outlier here?
Slowly, he let the tension in his shoulder slip and looked down at the rain jacket, really hoping Micah would agree. What if he wanted it for himself? But that was an argument for another time.
“Oh, put it on,” his mom suddenly said.
He looked up.
“C’mon.”
Uncertain, Ryan got up and slipped the jacket over his shirt. The fabric felt weirdly smooth, but not so much that it didn’t have any traction. It was almost like wax paper, but much higher quality.
Faint trails glowed yellow where he touched it. It was much too large, even for him. The coats hung low and it reached to his legs.
His mom frowned and placed her things aside before holding a hand out. Before Ryan could, his dad helped her up and she stepped forward to put both arms over his shoulders. She pulled the oversized hoodie up and stepped back.
“There.”
Ryan felt oddly comfortable in the oversized coat, and oddly uncomfortable as they stared at him expectantly, like a kid being forced to try on clothes. He still didn’t like how they were forcing him to wear it.
“Hm, you might have to wear something over,” his dad said, “and really sew those buttons on. Are the protective wards working already or …?”
“Wait.” He took both sides of the jacket and laid them over one another for a moment as if he had buttoned it up. Almost, he felt a tiny shift in the air. It seemed a little warmer inside the jacket then. “It should be working now.”
“Do you want us to try it out?”
“How are we supposed to do that?” his dad asked. “Sucker punch the guy?”
Ryan took a step back.
“Mm … oh, wait a moment.” She ducked inside, he heard the faucet, and she came back out with a glass of water.
Ryan took another step back.
“If it doesn’t work,” she cautioned him with a calming hand raised toward him, “better we find out now, right?”
He hesitated.
She was practically grinning. “Right?”
“Right.”
So he stood still while his moment stepped forward and poured the cup over his head. The water hit the hoodie—
And spilled off over an invisible shell that surrounded him all the sudden. It wasn’t like the perfect shell he had seen when he wore the glasses. It bent to match his arms and shoulder, almost skintight, a millimeter over the fabric.
The image of his parents wavered and blurred as if he were looking out a window during a storm. The barrier was further away in front of his head, hanging down from the rim of the hoodie. When it cleared, a few drops still hung here and there. They were smiling at him with high brows.
“Now, I kind of want to borrow it,” his dad said, “and go swimming in the river. Or just duck under in the tub.”
Ryan chuckled.
----------------------------------------
“So this is what you wanted me to do?” Micah complained, a sigh in his throat as he limped down the aisle between two kitchen-like counters.
They were in the workshop, Ryan trailing ahead of him with a somewhat smug look on his face. It was evening and dark out by now. The light from the room caught their reflections in the glass.
He seemed happy enough, which was something Micah had learned to appreciate rather than question. For once, no scowls. Micah was happy enough too, especially because of that, but he complained anyway. That was just the polite thing to do when a friend gave you a chore or errand.
“I even asked Lisa before I came here and she said it sounded like standard Skill training. Whatchamacallit? Priming?”
“Mm.”
Around them, close to a dozen so so people were in the room, even if only half a dozen of them were working on anything. The others were friends or acquaintances, or just working on recipes.
A lot of them were throwing them confused glances.
“And I told you I would make you learn this when we were in the Tower. You couldn’t identify that mana potion, remember? So here we are.” They approached their next helpless victim, so he pointed and asked, “What’s he making?”
The guy opened his mouth and Ryan interrupted. “No cheating.”
Micah groaned. This was the third station Ryan was forcing him to “appraise.” The first had been a standard-issue healing potion. The second some kind of tea with loose alchemical properties.
Still, he looked at the bubbling fluid over the burner. By the color alone, he would have guessed it was a healing potion. And it was, but it wasn’t standard-issue. It was close. A chunk of it was different and split off into something that was almost like a second layer, but it was still connected to the first by threads. It reminded Micah of a tree-crown. Impressive.
But what was its purpose? The layer seemed oily and viscous, more so than most potions already were. Any fluids they shaped would probably segregate from the rest of the potion if he let it stand, so he would have to shake it well or use a Skill before he administered it.
But what was its purpose? Maybe … was it supposed to separate after administration as well?
He limped closer and took a better look. He started to recognize the wax-like patterns used in healing salves. They were hard to make out when it was heated like this. Was that it? Maybe he was prepping it for mixing it into a salve instead of using ingredients right away, but it seemed a little wasteful to be doing it that way. He was just making more work for himself.
More likely, the second layer was supposed to act as a bandage of some kind to ward off diseases. It certainly looked like it could work that way, but … why do that after the wound had already healed?
This was middle-grade and the effect wouldn’t clean the wound any more than the standard-issue already did.
More work … Micah frowned and glanced at the guy. “Oh, is this training? Are you trying to level, too?”
Belatedly, he realized the guy might just have made a mistake, but he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.
He didn’t nod, but he didn’t shake his head either. He just looked annoyed by Ryan and him going around and prying into other people’s work. But … Micah smiled. He was pretty sure he was right.
“And?” Ryan asked.
“It’s a healing potion that can both work on its own and as a component for a salve so he can reuse it to make something else. It’s for getting more practice out of fewer ingredients.”
“Wow. Cool." He turned to the guy and pointed at Micah. "Is he right?”
The guy sighed. “Yeah.”
“Moving on.”
He led him further down the line to the next person and Micah grumbled as he was forced to navigate around the boy, then switched his expression to placation when the guy thought he was grumbling because of him and tried to move out of the way.
“No, no. I’m fine. Thanks. I’m just— Because of Ryan?”
He just seemed even more confused.
Micah sighed and shut up.
“Tell me what this guy is working on.”
It was Andrew’s station. Micah felt a little awkward being near him since his friend, Forester, hated him. They tended to avoid one another, but they were usually friendly when they had to interact.
He didn’t look very friendly right now. Bad mood?
Micah sighed and squinted at the mixing bowl he had on his station. Might as well get this over with. He was working on an eggshell salve with elements of the healing salve Micah had used for his injuries after the Tower, specifically the calming aspects.
They seemed a bit more colorful, but he meant that literally. There was a thick tan hue connected to bits of the pattern. Again, like a second layer. So it wasn’t just to reduce redness. It was cover it up.
There were also slight healing aspects and something he didn’t recognize at all, but he could infer. A healing salve for burn wounds, maybe? The colorful aspect of it could be for cosmetic purposes during the healing process. But no, it didn’t fit. The salve wasn’t strong enough for anything more than a scrape or rash, unless that was what he was going for, and the third aspect was too strange. It didn’t remind him of healing at all. Along with the second layer, it reminded him more of something else, but he wasn’t sure what. Something he had read recently, or—
Wait, cosmetics?
Micah almost blushed.
“And?” Ryan asked. Then a little quieter, “Is it too hard to figure out?”
“No, I don’t want to say.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“It’s private.”
The guy gave him an annoyed look. “You don’t know what it does.”
He didn’t why. Maybe it was because he sounded a little too condescending or Micah really didn’t like Forester either, but he told Ryan, “It’s against acne.”
Ryan blinked. Then, surprisingly, he seemed excited. “Oh, get that. Ask him for the recipe.”
Bemused, Micah turned to Andrew to open his mouth, but Ryan was there first. “Give him your recipe.”
He made a face. “No.”
“It’s alright,” Micah assured him. “I already have it.”
“Oh, good. Moving on, then—”
“No, you don’t,” Andrew said before they could leave. “How would you know that from just looking?”
Micah rolled his eyes. “It’s golem based. You used candle wax and powdered stone heart with … baby powder and a shot of cod liver oil? I would have to do it myself or consult a recipe book for exact measurements, but it looks like you only need to add water and [Dissettle] it for good measure and you’re done.”
Andrew shut up. Micah was incredibly happy he had been bored enough to read Janet’s essay on alchemical cosmetics in the hospital … or tried to, at least. He still didn’t understand most of what it said, mostly because of her verbiage and the advanced biology, but the recipes were pretty easy to get.
Ryan asked him when they rounded the counter to the next aisle, “Can you make some of that when you’re well again?”
“Oh, uhm … I don’t know. You have to match those to people’s skin types, I read, and I think Garden sheep wool wax is a better base than candle golem wax, anyway. Though, of course, that’s way too expensive to use on cosmetics right now. I can try, but you would probably be better off asking Janet.”
“Mm. Maybe you could try it out for the experience and then we check with her if it’s okay to use? If not, she can correct you, you can try the recipe again, and we can buy some from her in the meantime.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
The next person was already waiting for them, sitting on the counter with her feet on a chair. Daliah looked at them when they approached, the [Witch] girl who sat behind him in class. Unlike Cathy, she was nice but not very friendly. And when she tried to be, she seemed insincere.
Stephanie, from his mana manipulation course, sat beside her and leaned forward to peer at them.
“What are you two doing?” she asked with an amused smile, nice and friendly.
Before Ryan could say his line, Daliah waved at her station and asked, “What am I working on?”
“Uhm …” Micah looked at the bubbling dark liquid and honestly had no idea what it was. “I don’t know. Tar?”
She chuckled and nodded.
Stephanie rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad.”
“Is it a failed attempt?” Micah asked. Delilah nodded and he peered closer. It looked like essence sludge made physical. He had a hard time figuring out what the base components had been, but guessing … “Did you use ink or something? Oh, or were you trying to make ink?”
“Both.”
“Ah.”
“But no, seriously, what are you doing?” Stephanie repeated.
“Practicing,” Micah said.
“I’m forcing him to,” Ryan clarified.
“Yes, but what?”
“How to appraise things,” he explained. “I broke my leg and I’m using an alchemical adhesive to heal it back together, so I can’t train or do magic. I need something else to work on.” They looked surprised—Stephanie more so—and he explained, “For the excursion, you know? Ryan thought learning how to appraise things might be useful, so I’m doing this. Hopefully, I will get an appraisal Skill from it on my next level up. Or just [Identify Potion] or something.”
Ryan nudged him. “No, you want the appraisal.”
“Right. Appraisal it is.” He looked at them expectantly.
“And how long will you have your cast?” Delilah asked, frowning.
He told them about the cast. More people were paying attention now, but others had already returned to their own conversations. He caught Andrew sneaking glances up at them from the opposite side of the counter behind them.
“So you want to do this the entire time?” Stephanie asked them.
Micah nodded. “Yep. As long as it takes, like any other Skill. Well, that and studying ingredients a bunch. [Identify Ingredient] might be even more useful to have if I have to make something on the fly.”
“I heard once that most [Alchemist] get their appraisal spells around level thirteen,” Delilah commented. She reached over with a spoon to stir the sludge one more time before she gave up and turned the heat off.
Micah waited for more. When nothing came, he shrugged. He was level ten. That was close enough.
“Yeah, but if you want to do this all that time,” Stephanie said, looking a little hesitant, “don’t you think you should be a little … more conscious of others about it?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You’re annoying,” Delilah told him flat-out, then looked at Ryan. “The both of you.”
Micah glanced up at his friend in a panic, but he didn’t seem to mind so much. He just shrugged and said, “As I said, I’m forcing him to do it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Aha.”
“It’s nice that you’re trying to practice, but maybe you could be a little quieter about it? You’re just walking up to people and annoying them while they work,” Stephanie told him, reproaching him politely. “Look, you could sit over there and try to figure out what we’re making, right?”
She pointed at the workbench next to the sinks on the right side of the workshop. A guy with light brown hair walked by there. Micah remembered him. He was one of the [Enchanters] who came through here. The one Ryan had given that mana crystal. The guy waved a little, a wristband dangling, and Micah caught Ryan waving back. But he kept on walking and left.
He nodded to show he was still listening. If he sat there, he would be able to see everyone, but he wasn’t so sure that was the best solution.
“Wouldn’t that also be annoying, if someone is constantly watching you and taking notes while you work?”
“And he wouldn’t know if he guessed right,” Ryan added. “Plus, he can’t sit there. His leg.”
“Mm … maybe?” Stephanie tried. She shrugged, never really having lost her smile. “I’m just saying.”
“Or you could work with people?” Delilah offered.
“With them?”
“You could ask if they will let you observe and maybe have others try instead of blurting out the answer.”
Micah frowned, but then he caught on. “Oh, did you want to try, too?”
She shrugged.
Stephanie seemed surprised. “You do?”
Pressed to answer, she said, “He’s right. Learning appraisal Skills seems like it would be useful when we go into the Tower. We can take books with us, but are heavy, they might not have the answers, and they might be damaged.”
“Oh, so we can try it out,” Micah said. Excited, he pointed across the table to another station and asked, “What’s he—”
Stephanie cleared her throat. “Micah?”
“Oh. Right. Excuse me?”
The boy there turned away from his conversation with his friends and looked at him. “You mean me?”
“Yes. Can we guess what you’re working on for training purposes?”
“Uhm … I guess?” He checked with his friends, but they didn’t seem to mind.
“Sweet. So do we want to do it with paper or …?”
“How am I supposed to know what he’s working on?” Delilah asked him. “How do you know?”
Micah stopped in his tracks, his excitement fading. Oh. Right. She didn’t have his sight. None of them did. “I have a Skill,” he explained. “[Essence Sight]. I can see bits of magic and alchemical properties.”
“So that’s how you knew what his salve did?” she asked. She nodded back at where Andrew was finishing up his project.
“Yeah. I mean, it only offers me hints. I read an essay about cosmetics a few days ago that helped. But also, I could see a few of his leftover ingredients on his work table.” He pointed at the bottle of cod liver oil.
Andrew frowned and leaned to the side to see the bottle himself. He glanced up with a scowl. “That’s cheating.”
Micah shrugged, suppressing a smile. Andrew hadn’t sounded too angry when he said it.
“So I guess you would need hints as well?” Micah asked, frowning as he thought about it. “It really would be harder for you to practice, then. I mean, you can use chemical properties to collect information. Color, smell, vapor, viscosity. There is only so much somebody could be working on. Weight, maybe. Other properties are harder to gain without testing for them, which can be dangerous to you and the potion. But you could take samples and test them. Temperature, boiling point, freezing point, consistency, reactivity. Stuff like that. Maybe you could crush crystals in them to look for opposites. Most healing potions turn to sludge when you mix them with poison crystals, like the Cataracts’. And maybe ingredients could act as hints for practice purposes. This is supposed to be a priming exercise for the Skills after all. Otherwise …?”
He looked up and realized most people were looking at him now.
“Oh, what?”
Delilah was making notes. “No, no. Go on. This is good stuff.”
“I don’t really know …” he mumbled, trailing off.
“You guys do realize there are chapters on testing alchemicals in our textbooks, right?” Andrew said, holding up his to a chapter with an illustration on testing a sample. “Page eighty-two.”
“It starts earlier than that,” somebody else called, their own textbook out. “Eighty.”
“Oh, let me see,” Delilah said and hopped down to look in with Andrew’s. Micah shuffled over to peer in as well.
“Hm, so we really could practice this,” she said after skimming the page and looked up. “Is anyone working on some standard stuff?”
The first boy Ryan and he had hassled together raised his hand and said, “I am, but they already blurted the answer out.”
“Yours was easy,” Andrew scoffed. “Everyone knows what the standard healing potion looks like.”
Micah looked around at what people were working on and pointed out one station where they were making an incomplete light potion. That seemed like it could be a nice challenge. “How about that one?”
In a minute, half of them had gotten slips of paper out—some stolen from others who had cheap notebooks with them—and were participating in guessing what it was supposed to be, checking the ingredients lying around, their textbooks, and what they could see from a distance.
The girl who was working on it looked put on the spot and like she wanted to reveal what it was just to get the six of them to leave.
Ryan tapped Micah on the shoulder at the back of the group and jerked a thumb backward at the door. “I’m going to, ah, go to the bathroom really quick. I’ll be right back, then.”
He seemed embarrassed about it.
Micah shrugged casually. “Alright.”
He stepped out of the room and glanced left and right down the hall as if he didn’t know where the nearest bathroom was, then rushed off in the wrong direction.
Micah smiled in amusement and peered over the nearest person’s shoulder to see what they were guessing.
When everyone was done, Delilah asked their group. “So, what is it?”
They revealed their papers, some more extensive and detailed than others. Most got it right. One had guessed completely wrong, saying it was an incomplete fire potion of some sort.
Light potion turned out to be right.
“So what were you working on?” one guy asked Delilah. Micah thought he was Mason, who was allergic to nuts.
She frowned. “Micah already had it right. Ink.”
“Yeah, no. I know that. But what for?”
Stephanie raised a hand back at their workstation. She hadn’t come along to guess. “I want my own spellbook,” she said. “She was helping me.”
Their eyebrows both shot up and Micah had a thought. He turned back and called, “Hey, do you know Saga?”
It was a while before Ryan came back and they soon ran out of things to appraise. Micah had a chapter on ingredients open and was studying them instead, but quickly got bored of that. People left.
When Stephanie did, she walked by his table and asked, “And you’re really going to do that for the next six weeks?”
He looked up and nodded cheerfully. “Yep.” Then he kept on nodding, turned back to his page, and kept on nodding, and stopped nodding when he mumbled, “Yep.”
He took a deep breath and groaned. This time, it was genuine.
"Good luck, Micah," she told him.
"Thank you." At least, it was better than nothing.