Page 9 of Grave Situation

I nod. “Lots of them. But they aren’t your priority right now. Air is. And if you don’t master it, you’ll have to repeat this year and wait even longer to learn world history.” I narrow my eyes.“Not to mention, I will be most displeased to have to teach any of you again after this year.”

They all instantly return their attention to trying to blow out candles.

When my class finally leaves,I have a pounding headache that’s just made worse by the mental itch of worry that’s been chasing me since the night the dragons had their collective tantrum. I decide to detour past the infirmary and see if I can sweet-talk whoever’s on duty into doing anything about it.

The infirmary is on the other side of the academy, and although there are several ways to get there, at this time of day most of them are inevitably teeming with loud, annoying students. I skip that ruckus by taking a slightly longer route through the main receiving halls used for visiting dignitaries. They’re empty, rarely used at all, and in one, I sneeze three times—clearly the housekeeping staff is being neglectful.

I step into the great entrance hall, and as I always do, I take a moment to look up at the soaring cathedral ceiling. The stone arches so high above frame windows that let soft winter light filter in and make what could have been a forbidding place quite warm and welcoming.

Then my head throbs and itches, and I start toward the other side of the hall. It’s not as quiet as usual; the guard at the massive front doors is arguing with someone trying to enter. I slow down a little and look while trying to seem like I’m not looking.

“You can’t come in,” the guard—it’s Prentice, I know all the guards from having bribed them to look the other way while Isneaked out as a student—insists. “Only mages and students and invited guests. Sometimes messengers.”

“I’m a messenger. I have a very important delivery to make,” the man insists. Taking him in from the side of my eye, I frown. He doesn’t look like a messenger. He looks like a farmer who came directly from his fields. He also looks like a southerner and speaks with a decidedly Camblish accent. It’s a long way from Camblin to the City of Knowledge for a farmer to come.

“What’s your name, then? Messengers are all registered on the list.” Prentice waves toward the document on the wall beside the door.

“I’m Wat Shien. I have to see Master Samoine.”

I slow even more. What does this man want with my master?

Prentice scans the list, though from his smirk, he already knows the man isn’t on it. “Sorry. You’re not on the list. I can let the master know you were here. If you let me know where you’re staying, he might decide to invite you back.” His tone says how unlikely that is.

The farmer—Wat—shakes his head. “No, I have to see him. I have to give him this.” He digs in his pocket and pulls something out, showing it to Prentice.

The utter silence that follows stops me in my tracks.

“Of course,” Prentice says, his tone completely different. “You need to take that to the master right away.”

What. The. Fuck?

CHAPTER FOUR

Trying notto swear out loud, I detour toward the doors, where Prentice is busy giving a complete stranger directions to my master’s rooms. As though it’s perfectly normal to let people wander willy-nilly through the Academy of Mages.

“Hello,” I say, forcing a smile onto my face. “How are you today, Prentice?”

They both look at me, almost startled. “Mage Silverbright!” Prentice smiles back. “Need a favor?” My propensity to bribe people into making my life more comfortable didn’t end when I graduated from being a student.

“Not today, thanks. I couldn’t help overhearing some of what you were both saying. Am I to understand that this man—Wat, isn’t it?”

Farmer Wat nods.

“Yes. Wat isnoton the list and doesn’t have an appointment, but you were going to let him in anyway?”You complete imbecileis left unsaid but heavily implied.

“Yes, sir. He needs to bring something to Master Samoine.”

I press my lips together and nod, wondering if he can even hear himself. A quick probe with my magic shows no spells, no compulsion that would influence him this way. I may notbe a master, but I’m a very strong telepath—there are only a few people in the world with the skill to craft a compulsion I wouldn’t be able to detect, and most of them are right here in the city. “I see. Well, perhaps he could leave a message and set up an appointment.”

They shake their heads in unison.

“I need to deliver it to him today,” Wat says earnestly. “It came back after all this time.”

Alarm bells screech in my head. “You didn’t happen to encounter any dragons recently, did you?”

His eyes go as wide as saucers. “Dragons?” he breathes. “Fuck no. I wouldn’t know what to do if I saw a dragon.”

So much for that. I don’t know what’s going on here, but my head still aches, I’m hungry, and there’s no way I can allow Wat free access to the academy. “What about if I take whatever it is to Master Samoine? I’m his apprentice.”

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