Clash (The Arinthian Line Book 4) (3 page)

Leera casually punched him on the shoulder when referring to him in a story to Mr. Goss, a gesture Augum translated as,
I forgive you but you’re still a jerk
. He smiled apologetically at her. She gave a wry smile back and continued conversing with Mr. Goss. She was so understanding, so forgiving. It warmed his heart.

Augum was trying to absorb the peace of the fire when the door swung open and in zoomed Jengo Okeke, a very tall ebony-skinned Sierran boy with short, curly black hair, wearing a burgundy apprentice robe under a coat too warm for the weather. He began speaking in a rapid and nervous manner while flinging off his muddy boots.

“Have you heard? Dramask has fallen, we’re done for—”

“Yes, we heard, Jengo,” Leera said patiently.

“Harvus told us in the forest.” Jengo floated over to the table and slumped down beside Mr. Goss. “How long do you think we have? A month? A day?” His eyes zipped about as his voice dropped to a whisper. “Or do you think we’re down to hours?”

“Maybe you should take your coat off,” Leera said.

“Coat … right.” He scrambled to take it off at the table, then seemed to realize he should do it standing up.

“How’s Haylee doing?” Augum asked. She had been training with them, but her leg was inhibiting her concentration. She had broken it during a life-and-death struggle facing harpies on a high mountain ridge. Unfortunately for her, even with the help of a healer, it hadn’t healed correctly, and so she walked around with a pronounced limp.

Jengo finally managed to fight the coat off and hung it up by the door. “Frustrated as always. She hates that cane.”

“Pretty sure that’s not all she hates,” Leera muttered, referring to the fact Haylee was not getting along with Harvus at all, not to mention Ms. Singh. Harvus constantly made comments about Chaska, somehow taking Haylee’s courtship with him personally. Luckily, after moving in to the Singh household, Haylee had found a bosom buddy in Priya. Priya, engaged to be married to Jengo, enjoyed snickering with Haylee about boys and their daft ways, which only gave more ammo to the wretchedly particular Ms. Singh, who already resented having a “pasty and crippled Solian” living under her roof, although perhaps not as much as she hated seeing her precious daughter frolicking about with “that gangly Sierran demon”, Jengo.

The door opened and in strode Bridget Burns wearing a royal blue robe tied at the waist with a golden rope, her long cinnamon hair swinging in a tight ponytail. Leland Goss clung to her hand, his face one giant scar from being melted by Sparkstone’s lightning. The boy was blind and mute but managed to crack a grin which dimpled his one good cheek.

“Hello everyone,” Bridget said with a tired smile as she led Leland to his father.

Just as Jengo closed the door, a stubby gloved hand snuck through, jamming itself between the frame and door. “If you please,” said a stout man with the perfunctory and bland expression of a teacher long tired of his profession. His potbelly was so large he appeared to be with child. He wore an immaculate cream-colored robe fringed with silver. A ridiculous blonde hairpiece sat perched on his head like a sad bird of prey. Augum once made the mistake of asking Mr. Harvus about it, only to suffer “detention”, which out in the woods apparently meant digging a latrine hole.

“Sorry, Mr. Harvus, didn’t see you there,” Jengo said. He turned to Bridget. “Where’s Haylee?”

Bridget rubbed the tiredness from her hazel eyes. “Snuck off to Priya’s, I presume.” She hadn’t been sleeping too well lately, and it showed. Her face was tighter than usual, eyes puffy. Her pert nose was still red from a cold she had recently gotten over, and there were stray hairs poking out from her ponytail.

“Wonder why,” Leera muttered sarcastically to Augum. Haylee avoided being in the same room with Harvus at all costs. If he hadn’t been the only mentor around, she would have long ago stopped taking his stupid lessons, lessons paid for by Mrs. Stone.

“But none of that matters anymore because we’ll all be dead soon,” Jengo said in mock cheer. “Have you heard what the Legion are doing to Sierrans? They cook us alive.”

“That’s the Occi,” Leera said, referring to the undead cannibals the trio encountered back at Bahbell, “and they do that to everyone.”

Augum refrained from saying what he, Bridget and Leera surely had to be thinking—the Legion might not eat people, but they do
burn
them alive.

“Hello, Leopold, how did the lessons go?” Mr. Goss asked with a dimpled smile, placing his son on his knee.

Mr. Harvus’ lips pressed into a parchment-thin line. “Splendidly, Mr. Goss,” he replied without a trace of sincerity. Augum knew the man hated being addressed by his first name, always preferring to keep things “proper” and “civilized”.

“Jengo, place your boots together, young man,” Harvus said, gloved hands folded together. “It dishonors your father’s home.”

“Yes, Mr. Harvus, sorry Mr. Harvus.” Jengo haphazardly rearranged his boots and scampered out of the stubby man’s way.

Mr. Harvus made a tut-tut sound with his teeth and opened his palm. The boots arcanely arranged themselves into neatness. He then proceeded to do the same to everyone else’s boots. After finishing, he gave the lightest adjustment to his hairpiece. Leera immediately winked at Augum, who had to look away to avoid cracking up.

“I am sorry to hear about your hometown, Leopold,” Mr. Goss continued. “Most tragic news.”

Harvus smoothed his robe underneath his legs as he took a seat in one of the rustic armchairs. “If you will forgive me, Mr. Goss, I have always found that city to be a rotten, stinking hovel infested by rats. I can only thank the Unnameables that it is not, nor ever was, my hometown.”

“Oh, I see. But surely you have family—”

Harvus got up, dusted off the chair, and sat down again. “I have no one, Mr. Goss. My family perished in the necrotic plague. I grew up desperately poor and had to work very hard for everything.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Leopold.”

“Life is struggle and hard work.”

After a thoughtful silence, Augum’s curiosity got the best of him. “So if you’re not from Dramask, Mr. Harvus, then where are you from?”

Harvus’ eyes took in Augum’s wet attire in one practiced movement of displeasure. “My dear boy, why are you soaked? Get changed immediately.”

“But I’m fine by the fire, Mr. Harvus, it was just the ocean Trainer again—”

“You will get changed, Augum Stone.” His voice was deadly soft.

If Harvus had not been an accomplished warlock, Augum would have told him to stuff it. Instead, he yanked his new robe off the chair and strode into Jengo’s room, closing the door. He could not believe Mrs. Stone put so much stock in the man.

“He lacks a proper father figure, it is plain as day,” Augum heard Harvus say through the door. “Now, to answer the uncouth young man’s question, I am from Canterra, the cleanest and most civilized kingdom in Sithesia. In Canterra, savages are slaves, women know their place, and men are genteel bastions of honor.”

“ ‘Women know their place’?” Leera said. “What does that mean?”

“That means, young lady, that women know the Unnameables put them on Sithesia for three reasons—to keep a clean house, to entertain, and to serve their men.”

“The Canterrans have different beliefs than us Solians, Leera,” Bridget said, coming to Mr. Harvus’ defense as usual.

Leera made a disgusted noise. “Does Mrs. Stone know you’re Canterran?”

“You shall refer to me as
Mr. Harvus.
And the venerable Mrs. Stone had not inquired on the matter of my birth before my employment. Prudently, she did not see it as relevant, and nor do I.”

“Why did you get kicked out of that kingdom then,
Mr. Harvus
?”

“
Leera
—” Bridget said in scandalized tones.

Augum suppressed a laugh while getting dressed, wishing he could see the look on Harvus’ face.

“Mind your tongue, young Leera Jones. And I was not ‘kicked out’ as you say, I was forced to leave, a marked difference. You see, Canterrans unfortunately perceive warlocks as … heretical witches. It is one of a thankfully small handful of failings in Canterran class and culture.”

Augum finished changing into his new royal blue robe, signifying he had attained his 3rd degree, and returned to the living room. Mr. Harvus inspected him from head to toe and gave the slightest nod of approval.

“Now hang them up properly, young man,” Harvus said.

Out of spite, Augum took his time fiddling with his wet clothes by the fire.

“Dear me, Leopold,” Mr. Goss said, returning to the topic at hand. “How did you become a warlock in a kingdom so unforgiving with arcanery?”

“Well, they do have an ancient academy, but it is in disrepair and underfunded. Nor is attendance encouraged.” Harvus crossed one leg over the other and placed his hands on his knee. “But that is aside the point. I survived Canterra with great risk, sacrifice and secrecy. I scraped and scavenged and begged for every copper I could to pay for a mentor, a mentor who proved harsh and bitter and angry.” He stared distantly as if seeing painful memories come alive, before blinking rapidly and continuing. “Regardless, I managed to finish my training, vowing to never be poor again.”

“Is it really that dangerous to be a warlock in Canterra?” Bridget asked.

“I assure you it is, my dear. My mentor ended up getting betrayed to a gang of witch hunters just after I finished my studies with him, forcing me to flee.” He cleared his throat lightly, quickly adding, “but otherwise it is the finest kingdom in Sithesia. Unlike Tiberra, with its rowdy, disheveled and dirty people.”

“But Tiberra is a very different culture from Canterra, Leopold,” Mr. Goss rebutted. “Tiberrans are naturally loud and messy and colorful, with great big hearts that fill the size of a room.”

“Then perhaps they should use those hearts to hire street cleaners. I find them simply disgusting.” His eyes flicked to Leera, as if she reminded him of those streets. “Young lady, are you sitting on that filthy floor wet as an autumn dog?”

“Fine, I’ll get changed,” Leera said. She snatched her new blue robe before striding to Jengo’s room.

Augum gave her a
You got into trouble too
expression as she passed, recalling how Leera once tried standing up to Mr. Harvus only to be run over by a barrage of phrases like, “What an absurd and immature thing to say!” and “You will regret speaking to me in such a manner, young lady.” Mr. Harvus then proceeded to have Leera, a nearly fifteen-year-old girl and almost a lady, stand in a corner with soap arcanely stuck in her mouth. The man managed to make even Mrs. Stone look lenient.

“Bridget did very well today,” Harvus went on. “She reduced Jengo to a puddle of confusion and fear in back-to-back castings.” He gazed fondly at Bridget as if she were his very own daughter.

“Jengo did very well too, Mr. Harvus,” Bridget said.

Harvus barely attempted a smile. “I am sure he did.”

The door opened and in walked Kwabe Okeke, Jengo’s father, wearing a gold and scarlet tunic. “Greetings, everyone,” he said with a slight Sierran accent, flashing a tired but genuine smile that disappeared the moment he laid eyes on Mr. Harvus. It was no secret Mr. Okeke did not like Harvus, though he would never outright say so.

“You’re home early, Father,” Jengo said, standing to take his father’s coat, a practice he had begun since his father consented to Jengo marrying Priya.

Mr. Okeke’s thick brows gathered with worry. “I closed the mine early. The news of Dramask hit the men hard.”

“Can we afford that, Father?”

“There are more important things than money, Son. Some of the men have family in Dramask and departed immediately. None of them believed the city would fall.”

“Well you certainly tried warning them, Father. I told them the place would burn to the ground. In fact, I forecasted it three tendays ago.”

“You also said Antioc would get swallowed up by a giant earthquake,” Leera added dryly, returning to the room wearing her new robe, “and that Blackhaven would get annihilated by a comet, and—”

“Yes but this is different—”

“Because you finally guessed right?”

Jengo sighed. “I should see how Haylee, Priya, and her mother are doing. They must be in an awful state at the news.” He put on his boots and coat before leaving.

Bridget pursed her lips at Leera.

Leera shrugged. “I’ll apologize later. Anyway, too bad you’re scared of heights, Bridge, the platform has a heck of a view.”

“I’m sure it’s the
view
you were looking at the entire time.”

“Oh, I almost forgot, Bridge—” Augum quickly interrupted as Leera turned a bright shade of pink. “Nana has a big quest for us.”

Bridget took a seat at the table. Mr. Goss gently handed her Leland, as he often did, perhaps enjoying seeing him being so loved. She placed him on her lap with a cooing smile. The blind boy had a tight hold on the Agonex, which looked giant in his tiny hands. He constantly held on to it these days, and always seemed to know where it was. Mr. Goss was at first greatly worried about him handling it—until Mrs. Stone had a private word. Leera theorized she was hoping it would unlock some hidden potential in the boy, something Bridget found utterly preposterous, claiming such an ancient artifact needed no end of complex training to use.

Harvus frowned at the Agonex. Augum had overheard the man privately make his opinion clear to Mrs. Stone how inappropriate it was placing an artifact of such import in a “blind and unfortunately daft” boy’s possession, but she had dismissed his worries with a terse but quiet reproval Augum wished he had heard.

Bridget smiled at Leland as he squealed from the bouncing he was receiving on her knee. “A quest?” she asked. “What kind of quest? Must be serious.”

Augum turned over his wet shirt by the fire. “It is, but we can’t go on it until she thinks we know what we’re doing with the 4th degree.”

“Not to mention the Reflect spell,” Leera added with a tired groan.

Mr. Harvus straightened in his chair. “Why have I not been informed of any of this? What sort of quest?”

Augum ignored Harvus, well knowing how much it would infuriate him. “Nana wants the three of us to go to the library of Antioc,” he said to Bridget. “We’re to do it during the warlock tournament there, wearing a necrophyte disguise to blend in.”