He furrowed his brow.

A moment of silence passed before sound began to trickle into the room. Not the loud mechanical whirring of the great machine, but a high-pitched thrum. He opened his jaw as if to yawn, feeling the overwhelming need to unclog his ears, but nothing helped. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he tried to lock eyes with the master.

“What’s happening?” he tried to say.

He still couldn’t hear himself, but he was pretty sure he’d shouted that loud enough to be heard through the high winds of a storm.

Glancing around, the room had quickly returned to its normal lighting. The spire and all its coils had looked just as they did moments ago, the skald still resting firmly in the grasp of the brazen claw.

Selkis quickly lowered his hands from his ears, eyes transfixed on the spire. Without looking, he reset the lever to upright, and the sound of gears chugged into motion.

Without waiting, he stepped around the protective glass, now black once more, as it moved slowly up into its ceiling compartment.

“Wait, what are...”

Wellynd tried to say, but either Selkis couldn’t hear him, or he was too focused on whatever just happened.

The master shuffled this way and that, picking up a paper from his desk and glancing at it briefly before moving on and stubbing his toe on the way to get the step ladder.

Eventually he made his way to the top of the spire and, with long metal tongs, plucked the skald from its apex.

Moving the dark rock to a small desk on the other side of the room, he placed it on a leather mat, moving some metal device with an array of glass lenses over top of it, then peering through the layers down at the stone.

It was after a minute of watching the master examine the skald and scribble endlessly onto a sheet of paper that Wellynd began to hear the sounds of the world around him.

“Marvellous, marvellous. Truly a wonder to behold. And only a mere fraction expelled. Would you ever have guessed that, my boy? A whole thirty three times and counting!”

Stepping up alongside the master, Wellynd tested his voice “Mast…uh..Selkis?”

The master wrote another few words before placing his pen down gracefully, and, standing up, papers in hand, his eyes danced to Wellynd before he turned toward the spire.

“Amazing isn’t it my boy?”

“Yeah, I...what happened to my ears? And what were all those colours?”

“Didn’t I warn you? Surely I did...no, no maybe not. You’ll be fine my boy, but next time make sure to plug them. You see there’s a sort of...release of energy. Part of which is most certainly a burst of sound. Not enough to cause any...permanent damage I think. Well I don’t know actually. Not with the refractor that we were standing behind…..I don’t think..”

He paused and looked down at Wellynd, brow furrowed as he looked over the boy.

“Colours you say?”

“Yeah, when you changed that class…that kose…or whatever you called it….it was different colours?”

Selkis eyed him up and down. “Different colours you say? Hmm. Maybe it is. I observe it so often that I don’t really think about what it normally looks like anymore. Colours..yes..that’s interesting…”

Wellynd couldn’t help but laugh at the man’s ramblings; Selkis replied to his laugh with a warm smile, which was quickly followed by his darting eyes looking back at the spire as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Well my boy, I’m happy you could see this. Great shame that you won’t be coming, but what is there to do…I’ve got some things to do now..sorry to rush you off…but….yes…I’ve had a few things that I need to take care of….plans change..but do feel free to wander about, my boy. Just don’t let that insufferable Burke? Reginald? yes…Reginald..catch you. And do give the captain my regards”

Selkis started to usher Wellynd towards the door.

He had to say something.

“uhm…Master bard…..Selkis. Is there any chance you could teach me a few things.” he asked in a playful tone.

“Teach…oh..well…that’s something….Hmm…no…best not risk it boy. I could get in a lot of trouble. Maybe one day…who knows what the future will bring, my boy, but best not anger the powers that be, yes?”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Oh right…of course. Yes. Well. I’ll see you next time.” Wellynd replied before quickly striding out, not wanting the Master to see the deep disappointment now etched upon his face.

Stepping out of the office, Wellynd walked through a few hallways until he stepped out into the back of the Observatory grounds.

Squinting against the late afternoon sun, he blinked before shielding his eyes and clocking the guard that stood at the exit, currently checking the contents of a student’s bag.

A burst of laughter caught his ear from the right side of the grounds, beyond the student-led garden that sat in the centre of the field, and over toward the student residences.

A group of four students spilled out of the middle of three buildings, adorned in their grey robes, the same woven brown book-bags slung across each of their shoulders.

Ambling over to the neighbouring building, the tallest of the bunch peered into the window before banging on it. After a moment, he moved to the door and repeated the process.

Wellynd watched them chat, until a moment later, when a small boy with a mop of wild brown hair opened the door, a tall stack of books balanced precariously in his hands.

Rushing out of the building, he turned to close the door behind him, but lost his balance and spilled books and papers in all directions.

The group erupted in laughter while the boy scrambled to pick up his materials, crunching loose papers into his fists as the rest of the group began walking down the cobblestone path that would lead them directly past Wellynd.

Sighing, he glanced back at the guard who was still occupied with a now growing line of students on either side of the gate.

It seemed they were a little short on guards today. Maybe the side exit would be less busy.

Turning around, he walked down the weathered cobblestone path that ran parallel to the Observatory, passing a handful of classrooms, each with a set of three windows and a door.

None of which had any classes currently running.

A few leaves danced through the wind as the breeze picked up. He caught a half-yellow one that tried to dance past him and rolled it in his hands, the subtle crackle of the withering leaf filling the silence of this empty section of the grounds.

Up ahead, he could see the junction he would turn to exit. Back to Revenshore. Just beyond he saw a set of three windows, all of which were illuminated. A class was in session.

He’d have a reasonable enough excuse if he were to get caught. He was walking towards the exit, after all.

He stepped toward the nearest window, taking care to avoid any fallen leaves that might rustle under his feet, stopping just six or so feet from its line of sight.

“…would need much more Kose for it to be effective,” said a firm voice.

There was that word again, kose. The window was open.

Crouching, he inched closer until he knelt a mere foot from the open glass.

Taking shallow breaths, he slowly peeked through the open shutter.

A tall man with a white beard and ochre skin stood at the front of the class, his blue and yellow robes clashing against the muted greys who sat facing him.

“But…can’t we just pull from Gwyn if that’s the case?” asked a girl from the front row after a few moments of silence.

“There’s several complications to that, and not something you’re likely to learn any time soon…For next week, be sure to read section 37 of Principles, as we’ll be conducting some of the drills that Observer Algar discusses. Now, let’s get outside. The sun should be right in your eyes about now. Perfect for today’s drill!”

Wellynd shuffled back at the sound of chairs pushing out from desks.

Without waiting, he turned and dashed around a nearby oak.

He stood, his back against it, breathing quietly as he heard the chatter of the class. Glancing up at the canopy above him, he grimaced. While the rustling leaves did cover the sound of his movements, it also obscured the conversations he longed to hear.

It felt like minutes passed before he dared a glance around the tree.

He let out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding.

The last student in the double-file line was nearing the front of the Observatory, about eighty or more yards away.

He decided to wait until the students were no longer in sight before walking back to the now dark classroom.

The door opened with a consistent creak, its wooden frame was old and cracked where it met the stone housing of the building.

Wellynd paused, the door only opened a foot, but heard no response from within the room. He peeked his head through, and though it was dark, the class seemed empty.

He stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

To the left, the class opened up into a sloped section of seats, extending quite a bit farther than he’d imagined from the outside. To his right was a small section of seats on flat ground, each with an attached arm that folded into a personal writing space. In front of the seats stood an ornate wooden dais, with large chalkboards framed in the same ebony wood.

While the building itself seemed old, the quality of the furniture and accoutrement of the room was finely crafted of rich material.

Glancing up, he saw an intricate series of lamps affixed to the ceiling, a thin brass wire connecting them all in series. The brass wires extended down to the wall at places where more lamps were affixed. Tracing the wire, he saw that it ended right beside him, running into the top of a brass box, laden with a series of eight crystal spheres, patterned in a diamond shape. He ran his fingers along it.

Was this a jant?

Even the lighting in here was far more intricate than any of the common buildings of Revenshore.

Wary of the device, he decided not to waste time figuring out how to light the room, and instead made for the dais.

The windows would be enough to see by in the afternoon light.

Turning back to the dais, he stood in front of it, and pretended to address a class that sat in front of him.

There must be a hundred seats in here.

The dais had a piece of chalk resting on its top ledge, with a drawer and a few shelves underneath. There was a book on the shelf that he placed on top of the dais. It was a green leather tome, the binding worn and slightly loose, its pages, stitched together with a burgundy thread, were barely hanging onto the spine.

Wellynd flipped it around to reveal dull gold lettering embossed across the cover, in a delicate script.

Principia Eikonum, I