Page 1 of Grave Situation

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

As I lookat the rows of faces seated before me, some excited, some angry, some blank, and some… well, let’s just say that “blank” would be a compliment, I wonder how the fucking fuck my life came to this.

Oh yeah, it’s because I have a smart mouth and don’t know when to shut up.

Sighing, I perch on the edge of the desk at the front of the room. The wide banks of windows letting in a flood of morning sunshine are the only good thing in my life right now. “Welcome, all, to the Academy of Mages. You’re here because, for reasons nobody has ever been able to determine, you were born with a Talent, and it happens to be magic.” My gaze skims the room again, and not for the first time since I got stuck teaching this class, I wonder if the gods’ idea of humor is allocating magical power to random people on a whim. “My name is Talon Silverbright, and I’ll be your professor for Introduction to Magic.” I pause. I’ve been teaching for five years, and this is inevitably when?—

In the third row, a young man scoffs. If I remember the student profiles right—and I always do—he’s the third son of a wealthy merchant with the reputation of being a bully. Oh,goody. “You? A professor? You’re barely older than we are. Is this a joke? Who are you really, another student?”

I smile at him. I’ve practiced it in the mirror, so I know it’s not a nice one. “I’m a level-2 mage, little boy. If you like, I can dangle you above the chasm outside to prove it. It’s a lovely fifty-foot drop to the bottom… but I wouldn’t drop you. Would you prefer me to hold you by the ankle or the neck? I’m told the ankle makes all the blood rush to your head and feels quite uncomfortable, but with the neck, your breathing is cut off, so…” I shrug as though the decision is equally weighted. “Your choice.”

For maybe the first time in his life, he seems uncertain. His father’s position probably shielded him from threats, but I don’t believe in babying students. Becoming a mage ishard. It takes dedication and focus and a complete acknowledgment of your teacher’s authority. If I give an instruction that’s disobeyed at a crucial moment, the student could literally die. I’m sure they regret their disobedience then, but they wouldn’t be around to ask. I pride myself on being such an ass to my students that I’ve never lost one.

While Mr. Baby Merchant tries to decide if he believes me or not, a girl in the front row half-raises a hand. “If you’re a mage, why aren’t you wearing robes?”

“Because they’re hot and bloody uncomfortable,” I retort. “All that fabric flapping around just gets in the way. It’s also highly flammable, and you first years have a disturbing habit of accidentally starting fires. I’d rather not be kindling just to satisfy your sense of the appropriate.”

She nods slowly, disappointment on her face. She’s from a backwater farming region, and I’m pretty sure I just shattered whatever fairy-tale idea she had of mages. Just as well. If she thinks I’m a let-down, just wait until she meets Master Freir. He might wear robes, but they’re the same ones he received whenhe graduated fifty or so years ago, and we’re all pretty sure they haven’t been washed since then.

“Okay then. Since that’s settled, let’s move on. In my experience, there are three kinds of student in this classroom right now. Some of you don’t want to be here. Don’t worry, I understand. I don’t want to be here either.”

“Then why are you?” Mr. Baby Merchant snipes, finally recovered from his fear of me actually being able to dangle him over the chasm. I give him a look that promises I can absolutely, definitely follow through on that particular threat, and he shrinks back slightly.

“Because when I was a student, I pissed off a lot of people. All of them being wiser than me, they bided their time until I graduated and then got their revenge by sticking me with teaching this class. It’s the one nobody wants, by the way. Introducing you to magic is tiresome, frustrating, and occasionally dangerous.” I smile at him again. “I’m still not as wise as my old professors and tend to take my revenge at the earliest opportunity.”

His face goes sheet white, but then his mouth twists in a sneer. Yep. He’s going to do it.

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying. You’re probably just a messenger from ourrealprofessor. Tell us where he is, right now!”

I reach out with my magic and open the big window at the back of the room. As the breeze gusts in and half the students turn to see where it’s coming from, I seize hold of Mr. Baby Merchant and levitate him out of his chair.

His scream gets the attention of every eye in the room, and they watch in shock and horror as he floats toward the window… and through it, despite his desperate attempt to grab hold of the frame.

As my magic carries him farther from the safety of the academy and out over the middle of the chasm, I stroll to the back of the classroom and lean out the window. “Neck or ankle?” I call, as casually as if I’m asking whether he likes milk with his tea.

He says something that’s so creatively filthy, I’m impressed. Nevertheless, I tsk. “Choose, or I’ll just drop you.” I loosen my hold on his waist a little. He doesn’t have to know there’s a pillow of air ten feet below him, just in case.

His eyes widen in terror. “Ankle! Ankle!”

Obligingly, I flip him upside down and dangle him from his ankle. “Do you believe I’m your professor now?”

His nod is frantic. “Yes! Yes, Professor! I’m sorry.”

I flip him upright again and float him back toward the window. “No need to be sorry, friend. Questioning things is a sign of intelligence.” As he reenters the room, I close the window and then set him gently in his chair. “Just be prepared for the fact that sometimes, the consequences of asking questions can be different from what you expected. The trick is to ask therightquestions.”

I stroll back to the front of the room as he sags in his seat. Every other gaze follows my steps, and petty satisfaction fills me. I feel a tug at the corner of my mind that’s linked to my twin sister.

“Not now. I’m in the middle of intimidating the new first years,”I tell her, and hear the mental echo of her laughter.

“I wondered why you were so happy. You can tell me all about it later.”

I let go of her mind—I’m the telepath, not her—and give the class my full attention again.

“Where was I? Oh, yes. Some of you don’t want to be here, but since you have an ability that, untrained, can kill you, all your loved ones, and potentially a whole lot of other people,the law requires you to attend the academy. If that’s you, you probably already know that once you pass your first-year exams, your legal obligation will be met and you’ll be considered to have enough control of your powers to rejoin the general population, should you choose to do so.”

A few faces around the room relax. Not everyone wants to be a mage. Some of my peers are irritated by those people. They feel that anyone who’s been “blessed” with magic should be required to commit to life as a mage. Me, not so much. I’d rather be surrounded by colleagues who actually want to be here than those who are forced to be. My uncle is one of those people, and trust me, nobody wants him to have detailed knowledge of magic. It’s bad enough he knows the little he was taught in his first year.

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