Page 2 of Grave Situation

“Some of you,” I continue, “are excited to be here. You were thrilled when your tests showed you have an aptitude for magic, and you can’t wait to throw yourself into your studies.Ican’t wait to see how many of you still feel that way at the end of the year.” That was a little mean, even for me. The truth is, most of the students who feel genuine determination right nowwillmake it through to graduation. Their ideals and preconceptions will change, but a lot of them probably knew there was something different about themselves even before they took their tests. I did. I’ve known since I was a small child that magic was my destiny.

“And then there’s the third group.” My tone indicates what I think of them. “You’re not all that excited about the idea of being a mage, but hey, everyone knows that mages live here in the City of Knowledge rent-free, right? All you’ve gotta do is graduate, and then you can spend the rest of your life coasting by, all because of an accident of birth. That has to be better than farming, or trading, or squabbling with your siblings for a share of Daddy’s money.” I don’t bother to smile this time. “I’ve foundthat those of you in this group don’t tend to read the curriculum or try to find out the hierarchy of mages, so let’s take a minute to go over that. First, you spend four years at the academy. That’s four.” I hold up four fingers, because in past years I’ve given this speech and then had someone ask me how many years it would take to graduate. He was one of the students who kept accidentally setting himself on fire, too.

“Now, it might not be four,” I caution. “Some of you might need a little longer. Magic is powerful and unpredictable, and learning to control it isn’t easy. But at a minimum, it will takefour”—I hold up the fingers again—“years to graduate.”

A hand at the back goes up. It belongs to one of the eager students—who is from a family with six generations of mages. She probably already knows a few tricks. “What if we learn fast? Can we skip ahead and graduate early?”

I shrug. “One thing I’ve learned since I came here is not to say ‘never.’ Things that seem impossible could just be problems we don’t have the right knowledge to solve yet. Having said that, it hasn’t happened in the seven thousand years of the academy’s history. There are often exceptionally bright students who are quick to master tasks. Your teachers will give you more advanced tasks that are tailored to your abilities if that’s the case. There are reasons the masters don’t want students graduating in fewer than four years.” I don’t tell them what those reasons are. It’ll give them something fun to speculate about over lunch.

“So, I’ll bet you’re all thinking, four years until graduation, then a life on Easy Street.” I fold my arms. “Sorry. That’s wrong. Once you graduate, you’ll be a level-1 mage. By then, your special skills will have made themselves known, and you’ll be apprenticed to a master who specializes in that field. You’ll be expected to continue your studies, to hone your abilities and become a level-2 mage. Depending on your aptitude and focus,that takes an average of six years.” I hold up six fingers. “The fastest anyone’s ever done it was in two years.” I lower one hand and fold down three fingers on the other. I did it in three years. I was distracted, though—Tia was on courier duty for eight months during that time, and having her so far away so often messed with my focus. I’ve since worked out how to deal with that, as long as we’re not separated over huge distances for more than a month at a time.

“After you become a level-2 mage, you’ll continue your studies. On average, it takes longer at level-2 than level-1, because that’s when you’ll start dealing with the exotic stuff.” Aka, the fun stuff. “Most people get to level-3 within eight years.” I’m aiming for the end of this year, myself, which will be three again. My next goal? To become the youngest ever mage to attain the rank of master. The record currently is by age thirty-four, so I have seven years left to do it. “Once you’re at level-3, it can take anywhere from two to twenty years for you to be recognized as a master.” I smile. This time, it’s kind and benevolent. “So if we add all those average years up, we have four, plus six, plus eight, plus nine. What does that equal?”

Mostly blank faces stare at me, and I resist the urge to sigh. “Twenty-seven,” the farm girl in the front row says quietly, and I nod.

“Yep. Twenty-seven years. And why am I telling you all this? Partly because I’m required to by the curriculum. Mostly, though, it’s so those of you who think you can coast by once you graduate realize that you can’t. Not for about twenty-three more years, at least. A mage who is not showing progress toward achieving mastery is not welcome to live in the City of Knowledge. If the master you’re apprenticed to isn’t satisfied with your work, they will request a peer review. A panel of three other masters will be appointed, and if they find you aren’t sufficiently invested in your studies, you’ll be asked to leave.If you remain at any level beyond a time that is considered acceptable, a panel will be appointed, and you’ll be required to prove that you’re making sufficient effort. If you cannot do so, you’ll be asked to leave.”

All eyes are on me now, and several students who previously looked bored now seem somewhat panicked. Good. I’m somewhat gratified to see the spark of determination in the eyes of Mr. Baby Merchant, though. Either I got through to him, or he’s planning to murder me.

Interesting, either way.

“The only people who get to live on Easy Street in the City of Knowledge are the masters, and that’s because once you’ve studied and fought for twenty-seven years or more to get to that level, you don’t want to take it easy. You want to learnmore. But don’t worry,” I add, “if you don’t want to devote the first half of your life—and probably the rest of it—to the art of magic, all you have to do is pass your first-year exams. Then you can go back to farming or trading or scheming to stab your older siblings in the back. Believe me, that would be a lot easier.” As my uncle can attest. Though, to be fair, he hasn’t actually tried to stab my father in the back yet, and even if he did, not many people would blame him.

I clap my hands. “Now! Before we get started, does anyone have any questions?”

The room is dead silent, and I sigh.

“Really? Nobody? You’re amongst the less-than-one percent of the population with an aptitude for magic. This is the first class of your first day ever learning how to use this aptitude. Your years here will be filled with learning, power, and danger, and you may well die before you graduate. And you don’t haveanyquestions?”

A boy with red braids slowly raises his hand, and hope bursts inside me. “Yes?”

He whispers something so softly that even with a spell to amplify my hearing, I don’t catch it.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again—a little louder?”

He blushes and says, barely loud enough to hear, “Could I go to the bathroom?”

Fuck. My. Life.

“It’s down the hall to the left,” I tell him resignedly. “Hurry up. You don’t want to miss too much.”

He scurries out, and I eye the rest of the class. I know from past experience that some of them will shape up into something I can actually be proud to have been a part of, but right now…

“There’s a copy of the curriculum on each of your desks. Turn to page one, and let’s talk about what we’ll be learning this week and what I expect of you by the end of it.”

They reach for the neat stacks of paper—because of course none of them looked already—and a ripple of excitement runs through the room when they see that we’ll be studying fire first. I fucking hate teaching them to use fire.

“Who would like to read first?” I ask, resigned to my fate. Maybe one day, I’ll learn not to have a smart mouth.

CHAPTER TWO

By the timeI send the class off to the mess hall for lunch, and then their afternoon classes—Meditation, Continental History and Politics, and Life Skills—I’m just about ready to set them on fire myself.

I hate teaching.

Hate it with a passion and loathing that mere words cannot describe.

And I hate baby mages—untrained, sometimes unwilling, always clumsy. Some of them are barely capable of thinking, much less understanding the vast concepts behind magic use. Was I ever that way? Did my professors despair of me as I despair right now?

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