Vassal by Sterling D'Este (reading books for 7 year olds .txt) 📗

could do to convince Etienne to study now. When he got into one of these moods, the most she could persuade him of was eating and drinking, and occasionally sleeping.

If she was perfectly honest with herself, Alphonse knew that Etienne hardly needed to study. He was brilliant. His masters even reluctantly admitted as much. In truth, Etienne stood a fair chance of being a High Sorcerer if he kept on the same path. The title earned one respect and meant a lifetime of  hard work dedicated to the magical arts.

He really would be fine if he didn’t study for the Transformation exam.

She, on the other hand…

With a wince, Alphonse withdrew her hand altogether. She’d have to hurry up those many many flights of stairs now. “Finish that pastry and the tea,” she chided him, smoothing her hands apprehensively down the front of her demure, fawn-brown dress. Hardly expecting a reply, as he had already started reading again, Alphonse shook her head and dutifully turned to begin her ascent.

⥣          ⥣           ⥣

On the hour, the halls of Moxous filled with students pouring from dozens of portals lining the walls. They were never precisely loud, especially not in spring, but the shuffling of feet and the whispering of so many grew into its own sort of thrum.

Usually, Etienne didn’t mind the crowd. He had never really fit in with the other students, aside from Alphonse, but he liked the sounds of all those quiet people in one place. It was as if the academy was a living, breathing thing, as wondrous as it was filled with knowledge if only one had the patience to sift. Or perhaps, if not patience, then determination. Because Etienne certainly had none of the former, a fact he proved again as he raced past clumps of students in the hallway, occasionally bumping into shoulders or elbows. He huffed apologies in his wake, but never stopped moving forward.

Etienne was late, as he often was, having lost track of time while cramming for his Transformation exam later that day. He’d promised Alphonse he would study, after all. And he couldn’t barge into her healing class to tell her about the book, so here he was, sprinting to the room she should be leaving before he lost her in the throng headed to other classes. He was glad, and not for the first time, that she didn’t usually rush out.

Having hurried to reach the classroom, Etienne was disappointed to find the door still firmly shut; it was undoubtedly time for the class change, as evidenced by the students moving around them, so the lecturer must be keeping his charges past time. Etienne sighed. Rushing might be a bit of a bother, but the one excellent thing about being late was that one rarely had to wait.

He hated waiting.

With another sigh, the scholar settled himself against the opposite wall, out of the way of the press of students. The door there was closed as well, though for different reasons. First-year students had classes that let out later than the main population to save them from that mad rush a little longer. Within the room, a young woman, likely an apprentice to one of the masters rather than a master herself, was teaching a class on the fundamentals of magic. Etienne yawned, but with nothing else to occupy his mind while waiting, he could hardly help but listen.

“Alright then, class, let’s see who’s been paying attention. What are the two steps to using magic?” the teacher’s voice floated through the door.

“Getting magic from the Wellspring and then using it!” a treble voice called, impossible to tell the speaker’s gender.

“And why must we pull magic from its source?”

“Because there isn’t any in our world.” A different student this time, less excited. They weren’t entirely correct either. There was magic in Illygad. It had just been brought here by the mages who pulled it from beyond.

“And what’s the most important thing to remember about gathering magic?”

“Only take as much as you can use, or—”

There. Alphonse’s classroom was finally opening to disgorge its captives, and Etienne stepped forward into the throng to find his friend. “Alphonse!” he called when he caught sight of her. “Wait up!”

❀

Alphonse was murmuring in agreement with Colarie over the uses of valerian root when a voice much louder than the rest of the students called out. Called out her name. Long-lashed eyes fluttered shut in mild mortification as Colarie snickered behind her hand. Anyone who knew Alphonse knew she didn’t like to be noticed in public.

It wasn’t proper.

But those same, few people who knew Alphonse also knew she’d tolerate just about any behavior from her best friend.

Colarie dropped her hand as Etienne approached swiftly and batted her lashes up at him. She was a tall girl, easily five inches taller than Alphonse, but he was taller still, handsome with bright eyes and sharp cheekbones. “Hello Etienne, I heard you argued with Master Estan during the illusions written exam… Something about the properties of the visual field?” She snickered again.

Alphonse hadn’t heard this piece of gossip and cast a horrified look up at Etienne. “Did you?” she hissed, her soft voice even fainter now that people were looking their way.

✶

Etienne blinked at Coralie, his thoughts squealing to a stop and changing directions, a bit like a drunk carriage driver. “What, oh, yes. I did. Master Estan’s explanation of the fourth principle of the visual field failed to account for a few small but vital exceptions when dealing with illusions of only two dimensions.”

He looked down at her questioningly. She was blinking rapidly, and it was terribly distracting. Had she gotten something in her eye? There were undoubtedly more natural methods to remove a mote of dust.

“Alphonse, can I speak to you—erm—somewhere else?” Etienne shot a glance at Coralie rather unsubtly.

Alphonse only nodded silently and dipped her head to Colarie in farewell before turning to walk with Etienne towards the unused study rooms.