Sworn To Raise: Courtlight #1 (9 page)

Making her way into the Bookbinders’ District took a few minutes. She finished her flavored-ice along the way, licking it carefully to avoid getting drops on her dress. She made her way between the bookshops, heading for the one that looked the most decrepit. It was a three-story building that leaned slightly to the side, like an old man with a cane, and curtains fluttered out of the windows on each floor.

As she entered the building, a small bell chimed. It was nowhere near the door – in fact it floated five feet in the air in the center of the room spelled by magic. She looked around with a smile. It looked as if more dust had collected in the four weeks since she’d last come here.

She saw that the books weren’t as precariously piled as before. This time the stacks across multiple tables were no more than three or four books tall. Books took up space on floors and in the corners. The room was dark, dusty, and moldy—and she loved it. She weaved between the tables, heading for the back corner, where a small children’s area was set up. The next primer was already there, bound in green cloth that designated it as Primer Two. Primer One, which she’d brought with her to trade, was bound in brown.

Gathering her new primer, she headed up to the second floor, where two of the journeyman bookbinders and the shop owner were hunched over loose pages in the filtered light. They all held thick needles in their hands as they hand-sewed the pages together. The books—or the fancy ones, anyway—wouldn’t stay like that. She’d asked the owner about that on her last visit, confused as to why her primer had a proper spine and hard casing. It wasn’t just sewn together with just a bit of thread. Jovelin, the store owner, stood over a large desk to her right. He had told her that a formatter was brought in once a month for the fancy books. The rest were sold as-is to the outlying towns and the poor.

She brought the second primer to Jovelin with a cheerful, “Hello!”

“Hello, yourself, young lady,” he said as he shifted his spectacles from the top of his head to his nose. “Ah, I see you’ve finished the first primer. Already?” he asked curiously, a sparkle in his eye.

She nodded eagerly, dislodging her scarf from the top of her head in the process. As she shoved it back into place, he said, “Well, I’ve always enjoyed seeing a young person who reads. As promised, you can trade the first primer for the second at no cost, if…” He let the end of his sentence linger.

With a small smile, Ciardis said, “If I promise to come back and teach your daughter a few dance steps.”

He gave her a big smile. “Yes, this weekend will be good.”

Suddenly a young girl in a tan dress came rushing down the stairs. She rushed up to Ciardis with her blonde curls flying behind her. She screeched to a stop almost on Ciardis’s toes, wobbling a bit before regaining her balance. Ciardis laughed at the five-year-old girl and said, “Hello, Mala.”

“Hello, Ciardis,” Mala said a bit shyly as she attempted a curtsy.

“Are you ready for your lessons this weekend?” Ciardis asked with a smile.

“Yes! Papa says we can dance in the wordies’ room on the third floor!” Mala said eagerly.

Ciardis hid a grin, thinking how cute Mala was. “Wordie” was Mala’s word for the wordsmiths who worked in her father’s shop. They created the stories and ideas that became the books he bound and sold. “Isn’t that right, Papa?” Mala said to Jovelin as she turned to look up over the desk and confirm.

“That’s right, my poppet,” her father assured her.

“Then I look forward to it, milady,” Ciardis said as she dipped a teasing curtsy to Mala. Mala grinned, delighted.

Ciardis bid good day to Mala, her father, and the two binders, then exited the shop to return to the Guild. She’d needed to get back and do Sephrane’s laundry for the week.

The next morning, she woke to a small message glowing in her
tobama
ball, a small, crystalline orb that held notices, and, in this case, voice messages from mages. Yawning slightly, she raised her hand and tapped the glowing orb that sat by her bedside. Knowing she’d be able to hear the message even from across the room, she stumbled over to the armoire to grab a simple dress to slip on. Damias’s voice came echoing out.

“Ciardis, wear pants and a tunic…and bring coffee.”

He sounded irritated, she thought with a light grin. If there was anyone worse than her at getting up in the mornings, it had to be Damias. Taking off the dress she’d just put on, she rang the bell to the kitchens and asked for a tray of coffee to be brought to her room. As she struggled with tugging the tunic over her head, she realized that she had no idea where
the meeting was supposed to be held. Then a knock sounded at her door. She shouted a quick, “Come in!” as she fussed with the ties on her bell sleeves.

Teachene peeked her head in and then hurried over to her struggling friend. After they’d settled the ties, she said eagerly, “Our interviews will be held together!”

Ciardis looked at her with wide eyes. Teachene giggled, knowing instantly what the look was for, and said, “I
know,
right? Vana and Serena in the same room? It’s going to be something to see!”

Ciardis rolled her eyes. “I think that’s something I could do without seeing. You were
there when they had that out-and-out screaming match at dance rehearsal.”

Teachene shuddered. “And to think, recruits are warned against embarrassing their sponsors. Really, it should be the other way around. Hopefully this time will be less…public.”

“As if,” muttered Ciardis as she grabbed some of her books. “I think the whole city block heard that last fight.”

At that moment, a second knock came at the door, with a chime to indicate it was the household staff. Teachene went to open it with Ciardis close behind her, hoping it was the coffee. It was. Grabbing the carafe from one young maid, Ciardis told her thanks, as the girl curtsied in return. To Teachene, Ciardis said, “I hope you know where the interviews are supposed to be held.”

“Yep,” replied her friend, as she took a fruit and breadbasket from a second maid’s hands.

They hurried to an upper floor, and Ciardis grinned when she realized they were going into the tower. The top of the tower was a beautiful atrium with glass windows that opened on all sides to the fresh sea air. She was happy the meeting was being held there as she hated being crammed into windowless, hot rooms.

As they arrived, they saw that none of the others had arrived yet.
No surprise there
, thought Ciardis.
Damias must have messaged me from his room.

She and Teachene busied themselves unpacking the fruit, jams, and bread from the basket while they set the coffee down. A few minutes later, to their relief, Serena, Damias, and two other women arrived. When they were all settled in around the round table in the center of the room, Damias cleared his throat—after gulping half his mug of coffee, of course. “Ciardis, may I present to you Lady Vana, the sponsor of Teachene, and Mary Windstorm, Teachene’s tutorials instructor.”

Ciardis nodded, trying to swallow a small bit of bread stuck in her throat. Teachene discreetly passed her a glass of water before she started choking, and Damias gracefully moved on. “Teachene, I am Damias Firelancer, Ciardis’s instructor. This is Lady Serena, her sponsor.”

Teachene nodded. Ciardis had finally gotten herself under control, though not without a withering glare from Serena. Teachene, sitting beside her, kicked her foot under the table.

“Well,” drawled Vana, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ciardis. The first Weathervane to be chosen in decades…how
special
.”

Ciardis gave her a tight smile, catching the disdain in her tone.

Serena raised her glass. “To our girls!”

Damias, Vana, and Mary completed the toast with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

Half an hour later, Ciardis was miserable. The bickering had started the moment the toast had ended. Ciardis had hoped the interview process would begin immediately but the sponsors and tutorials instructors seemed to be leisurely munching on breakfast and making small talk in advance. Pleasantries had gone out the door when Serena had commented—or sniped, rather on the topic of Vana’s poorly dyed hair.

Once, Mary had to physically hold Vana back from slapping Serena over some insult, and Damias looked like he had a headache from the constant abuse flying around. Apparently deciding that he’d had enough, Damias rapped a small fork against his glass of water, signifying an end to the petty snipes between the two warring parties. “Let’s just get on with it,” he growled.

“Fine.” Clearing her throat, Lady Vana said, “As we all know, Chimaeran girls are famed for their ability to temporarily change their appearances to mimic any human form.”

“Just the girls?” whispered Ciardis to Teachene. It wasn’t as if either of the two sponsors was paying them any attention, anyway.

“The boys can change into any animal form, magical or mundane,” Teachene quickly whispered back.

“Vana,” said Damias in a warning tone. He had noted that she’d gone back to a glaring contest with Serena.

“Which is why,” Vana hastily continued as she turned from glaring at her nemesis, “We’re here not to discuss your promotion to trainee level but the preparations for your patron hunt and the future use of your magical talents during the Hunt.”

“Yes,” said Serena, seemingly determined that Vana would not have the floor for long. “As I told Ciardis when she arrived, her extraordinary talents mean an automatic conferral of trainee status.”

Damias looked at Mary and tilted his head to her indicating that she had the floor.

Mary smiled, looking at Teachene and Ciardis. “Since the both of you have already been accepted as trainees, now we’d like to discuss your patron candidates.”

Both Ciardis and Teachene sat up straight at that. This was definitely new.

Ciardis frowned; she had heard of the innocent-looking little beasts. They were favored hunting targets of the nobility who lived on estates near Vaneis. The nobles, many of them from the bloodlines of mages, had delighted in facing the magical threat of the
Rabiae
They ran the little animals down on horseback and speared them. The problem was that once speared, the
Rabiae
emitted a foul purple stench that clung to clothes for days. Ciardis had spent many a day scrubbing fabric clean of the rank odor, which never deadened the olfactory sense as most bad smells did.

“The
Rabiae
are a byproduct of the Initiate Wars of over two centuries ago,” Damias said. “They were designed by manipulative mages to appeal to children.”

Vana and Serena shuddered delicately, and Vana said, “With those cute floppy ears and soft fur, many young mages come across them and keep them as pets. These ‘pets’ slowly steal every drop of power these children have. The mage children who retain them as pets then become mundane.”

“It is for reasons like this that certain categories of magework have been restricted, and must be approved by Imperial mandate before commencing,” said Mary. “But the Rabiae have already been created, and are impossible to eradicate with magic. As such, we’ve done our best to make practical use of their kind.”