Page 45 of Into the Isle

I wished I had someone to accompany me, because I still didn’t trust the people around me. Then again, Swordbaron Korvan had always told me the best learning was taught through action. I’d have to throw my feet into the fire at some point, and now seemed as good a time as any.

Trust would be a hard-fought thing to win around here, for a bog-blood. That girl from the dormitory, the cat shifter? She seemed all right. Even though we spoke all of two sentences to each other. At least she didn’t deride me for my half-pointy ears.

The same couldn’t be said about that group I’d seen in the big hall. I recalled the giant man standing near the door, alone, and the pale one in the trench coat, because they both stood out as oddities. Then there was the handsome one who stared at me when I sat down, with Ulf Torfen and some others right next to him.

I didn’t trust that bunch one bit. It looked like they had wanted to take a bite out of me in Dorymir Hall, perhaps for some perceived slight I’d given Ulf.

I needed to make sure to keep my head on a swivel.

And where the hell is Arne Gornhodr? He seems to pop up out of nowhere whenever he pleases. I guessed he couldn’t be counted on either. I needed to make friends “my own age,” so to speak—fellow initiates. The second-years had their own things going on.

“Wipe that startled look off your face, Vini,” Eirik said, snapping me back to reality. “It’ll get you hurt around here.”

I blinked and sighed. “Gods. I’m starting to think coming here was a mistake.”

“Bullshit. You fought to get here. You just might have to fight to stay, too.”

With those parting words, he gave me one more small smile before venturing off south. I stood there and watched him go, standing on the road as other initiates shuffled around me, heading for the Tomes.

I faced the out-of-place structure, smiling at the tall columns and the gable with a rune slashed across its front to denote it as a place of learning.

Eirik was right: I had fought to get here.

Luckily, I’m good at fighting.

I marched toward the library, squaring my shoulders so I wouldn’t appear meek and lost anymore. That Ravinica needed to die a quick death if I was going to make it here.

Just like the bastards who besmirched my name and bloodline will meet a quick end once I figure out who the hell they are.

I did not expect scheduling and tome-gathering to be an all-afternoon affair. There were dozens of other initiates picking up their schedules and books at the same time as me. I felt there could have been a more efficient system than the one that greeted me at Mimir Tomes.

Inside the Romanesque building was a marvel. Rows and rows of bookshelves were pushed against the walls everywhere I looked. Stairs rounded the sides, up to the second and third levels. From the center of the place, which was adorned with soft red carpets to reduce the sound of footsteps, I could peer up and see the bookshelves in the sky on the other levels, ringing the whole structure.

The place was bustling. I spent more time standing in line that afternoon than I’d ever spent doing anything. Interacting with initiates were black-robed, hooded students I learned were called acolytes. They were essentially the librarian’s assistants.

I managed to find the cat shifter girl, Dagny, through a crowd. Her black-and-white parted hair was a dead giveaway, and when I asked if she could help show me around, she obliged me.

The girl was strange, talking in a low voice as if people were watching her. Either she was extremely observant and introverted, or extremely paranoid.

Either way, I liked her. She was the first person to see me as a fellow student rather than a rival, enemy, or worthless half-breed.

Dagny pushed her glasses up her thin nose as she walked me from one room to another. She was the one who told me about the acolytes, who looked more like priests in a secretive cult than helpful scholars.

When we got to the next room, filled with books, tables, and confused initiates, Dagny gasped and abruptly turned around from a middle-aged woman with gray birds-nest hair and a rotund frame coming our way.

The sea of students parted for the woman, who carried herself like a warlord, side-eyeing everyone she passed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, turning around with Dagny to face a bookshelf so she wasn’t the only sketchy one.

“That’s Tomekepeer Dahlia.”

“Oh. Shit.” I didn’t know what the hell that meant.

Dagny saw the expression on my face and expanded. “The librarian. Most knowledgeable person at the academy, probably. And scariest because of it.”

“Is that why you’re frightened of her and turning around to inspect these interesting books on . . . rare insects from the nineteenth century?” I pushed the book in front of us back into the shelf.

Dagny winced. “No. I may or may not have a late return on one of my tomes from last year. The Tomekeeper could take my RA position at Nottdeen Quarter if she feels like it.”

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