The Awakening of Ren Crown (23 page)

“
Ren.”

“Shhh,” I whispered. “Yes.”

There were a hundred different things I needed to learn—laws, paint making, getting around magic restrictions, ferals, layer dimensions, prisons, art magic...

“
Maybe even a guide to getting along with one's roommate, if they have one.”

My hand flew to my mouth. I wasn't sure what would emerge, if the sound trapped in my throat escaped. That was the Christian I knew.

I took a deep breath. One thing at a time. One thing at a time.

“
Free me.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Of course I will.”

“
I will have my freedom!”

There was a handy ritual for determining a soul's state of peace. A minor type of séance that only required intense focus through repeated words and motions. The text said to fill up on energy first, whatever that meant. Food was going to have to suffice, unless I needed to suck someone's essence out Dark Crystal style. I was hoping for the food option.

It seemed like it might be a bad idea to get more Magi Mart food, plus I needed to save what money I had. I chewed the top of my plastic pencil top. The administration packet said the cafeteria was free for all students.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I argued the merits of getting a part-time job and subsisting on Magi Mart food versus going to the cafeteria.

I looked over at my roommate's stiff spine. “Would you like to go to the cafeteria?”

“No.” Olivia's reply was abrupt and cold.

I gave myself a quick pep talk, verified the location on my map, and headed off on my own. Soon, I wouldn't be alone.

Chapter Twelve: The Cafeteria

I liked walking, but climbing up the mountain was a lot more taxing than going down, and after huffing and puffing for thirty minutes, I gathered my nerve and located an arch on the Academy-sanctioned map that propelled me up three circles, then another that popped me the remaining ones to the cafeteria.

The nice feature about arches was that when I looked at them, the interior of the arch showed the view
through
to where it exited. The area around the arch was normal, and walking around one was just like walking around any other large stone structure, but the interior clearly showed a different landscape. It was a lot easier to trust arches, since I could make sure I wasn't entering a swamp or another equally unpleasant hazard.

Top Circle was as populated as it had been the previous day, so I hurried through one of the two dozen doors leading inside the Corinthian-columned cafeteria building, like a mouse scurrying through a barn full of cats. I prepared for a wailing siren of
wiewiewie
, but no alarms pegged me as an intruder.

Ten feet in, I found my feet glued to the floor and my lips parted—the symptoms of another shock, as I'd experienced so many times since I'd entered this world four days past. Someone bumped me from behind. I murmured an apology as my feet took me forward to the balcony's edge.

Since the building stretched almost the entire length of Top Circle on the northern side of the mountain, I had expected it to be enormous. What was unexpected was that the northern wall of the building—the one I was facing—was made entirely of glass, and that the dining hall was multi-tiered.

Dropping down were four long tiers with hundreds of tables on each level. From my view up top, looking down and across the tiers, they were all seemingly
full
tables, too. The massive glass wall consisted of a single pane—obviously architecturally magicked—which displayed a jaw-dropping view of the north face of the mountain and miles of land stretching out from the base.

Enormous chandeliers hung at appropriate distances above each tier, making the ones hanging above the bottom tier look like tangled glittering gold hooks at the end of deep sea fishing lines. Staircases and ramps striped the tiers vertically and diagonally, in an organized Chutes-and-Ladders fashion.

The smell of freshly baked bread permeated the air, and pleasant crowd chatter filled my ears, but it wasn't overly loud—some sort of sound dampener or spell like in the library?

I swallowed the taste of fear, and dragged my gaze back to the top tier. It was filled with dozens of food lines and hundreds of machines.

I numbly got in line behind a group of mages, hoping we were in line for actual food. As I shuffled forward, I gazed out across the hall. It was overwhelming. A part time job and Magi Mart might be a better idea.

No. After Christian's death, I had sat by myself in the cafeteria every day. I could do that now. I wasn't afraid to sit by myself, though it would feel...obvious. Like people were staring and wondering.

I forced my eyes away again and saw that I was inching closer to a line of food that was being served by magic—food whizzing onto people's plates—and less by staff in white uniforms. I did a double-take on the two thin people with ten tiny eyes who were serving at the end of my line.

Ok. I'd deal with that when I got there.

The line east of me had a periwinkle border. My line was bordered in chocolate brown.

I watched the students ahead of me push the buttons in front of the buffet-styled containers. One push and a half-fist sized portion of food was magically delivered to a plate. Two pushes doubled it. I said a little prayer of thanks that I didn't have to actively perform magic, and chose a little of everything—most of it identifiable. Chicken, veggies, fruit. The first ten-eyed person smiled widely and deca-blinked at me, before offering some potatoes. I gamely accepted, praying I wouldn't do anything weird, and smiled back as the potatoes whizzed onto my plate. The other ten-eyed person offered something that sounded like “caniopidas.” I politely declined and added the word to the “look-up” list steadily growing in my head. I also made a note to explore other races in the magical world.

Maybe I could find an explanation for the creature once tattooed on my wrist. I scratched my cuff against my hip, hands gripping the tray in continued panic.

There was no scanner at the end of the line, so I walked slowly to the railing, looking down at my doom.

There were obviously formed groups everywhere I looked. Magical cheerleaders in uniform? Check. Various sports teams? Check. Alexander Dare sitting at a large circular table full of other athletic and deadly-looking types? Check. So much for me never seeing him again.

Irrelevant. I sure as paint wasn't going to sit at that table.

I forced my gaze away, again, and continued my observation, my palms starting to feel slippery on my tray. Two adjoining tables below me were filled with charts laden with incomprehensible symbols, and the diners were yelling at each other and pointing to the graphs. Scientists? Check.

Another table was full of students playing handheld devices with a projection coordinated in the center of the table. Gamers, check. And, wow, I had to try that. There were tables with people arguing about politics and rights and resolve. Activists, check. I looked for an art table, hoping, but didn't immediately spot one. The tables stretched on and on. At a school of fifteen plus thousand, half of the student population seemed to be here. I made a mental note never to come at this time.

There were no empty tables anywhere, just empty chairs scattered here or there. The tables near the end of the ramp to my left seemed to be populated with more eclectic mixes. I nervously gripped my tray. I would cautiously approach one of those.

“
You can do it.”

Easy for you to say, I thought back at him.

Christian would have approached any of the tables and fit right in. Christian was the master connector, an extrovert. People loved him. I was a number two, an introvert.

I had always been the number two to Christian's number one. I was the one who observed people and examined peripheral events while he charmed and conversed. I had always provided the extra pieces of information he might otherwise have missed—the details and shading, decoding the symbolically painted sky, and whether it showed a portent of doom or the rolling calm following the storm.

My palms were now actively sweating. I needed him back. And yet, I needed to
get
him back. Heller's Catch-22 looped in my brain.

Oh, for the love of...
Buck up
, I yelled at myself internally.

I heard Christian laugh.

Before my courage deserted me, I made a beeline for the ramp on my left and let it take me down to the first tier and one of the tables with empty chairs.

I had made friends with Will, right?

However, in my mad dash and pressing anxiety, I somehow chose an all-female table which included a few girls decidedly of the popular variety.

“Hi,” I said brightly, cursing fate and panic. Three of the girls looked at me blankly, two frowned, and one gave me a piercing gaze. She opened a container of juice, and I noticed her hand had three rings on it.

Oh, crap. I had no idea what that meant, but when he had been showing me the hologram, Will had said something about avoiding three-ringed mages. I had been in an Alexander Dare induced haze at the time. Not good.

“New?” She asked in a lilting voice. The other girls gained more interested expressions, as if scenting blood in the water.

Not good at all. I managed a small laugh as a number of responses ran through my head.

Just transferred!

No, just thought I might meet some new people!

New to
this
table.

But any further conversation would reveal me for how very new I was, so I stood there like an idiot, leaning over the empty chair, butt poking back, slippery fingers gripping my tray, and wished I had stayed in my room after all.

Then the sketch of Christian, smoking and broken upon my floor, sapped of its life-giving paint, came to mind. I
needed
to survive in this world.

My magic reacted, swirling suddenly from under my cuff—and all I could think was, please, oh, please don't blow the Homecoming Queen from existence. My eyes rose almost automatically and pulled to the right and amazingly I saw a familiar boy working his way along a second tier ramp. Will was walking, light almost shining around him, and I felt like my suddenly broken lifeline had been given an extension.

“Oh, no. Sorry about the interruption. There is my lunch date. I thought he said to meet him up here. See you around, I hope!”

I made a very poor and obvious strategic retreat, and didn't look back. There were fifteen thousand mages at this school. They'd never remember me.

Will was slipping into the crowd as I dashed down to the next tier via the closest ramp—a ramp that was unfortunately leading in the opposite direction that I needed to go. It took a concentrated effort to keep an eye on him. How did people find anyone in here?

I lost sight of him for a few moments, but then saw him sit at a table, still glowing with an internal light. I once again was a complete pillock and quickly darted forward. There were several empty spots at his table. I took a deep breath as I drew closer.

“Hi. Um, I was wondering if I could join you.”

I got a couple of “great, new person coming to ruin our group dynamics” looks. Will just looked surprised. I gripped my tray. I could handle being told no. I braced myself for the rejection.

“We are discussing our group project for Transcendental Physics in Politics,” one of the guys at the table said condescendingly.

“Sorry. Didn't realize. I'll just—”

“No, it's my fault,” Will said quickly. “I asked Ren to join me for lunch. I forgot.”

A warm rush of feeling swept me.

Another one of the members looked at Will. He looked half-starved and there were circles beneath his eyes. “That is exactly your problem, Tasky. You lack a brain sometimes.”

“Better than a conscience,” Will shot back.

The conscience-lacker sighed heavily. “Just sit, whoever you are. We will talk over your head, then you can continue on your lunch date with Tasky.”

“Er, ok.” At this point, I'd take it. I put my tray down and settled into a seat.

One of the prettiest girls I had ever seen sat down next to me. Or rather, she gracefully slid into the seat. Blonde and graceful—a lithe Botticelli wearing three very conspicuously located rings. Nervousness rushed through me.

“
Hot,”
Christian said appreciatively.

Which he followed up with—“
Such a delicious soul, suck it out too!”

Christian's voice seemed to be splitting even further, which was concerning. But I wondered if this was a point in my favor. That he was in a between-state of some sort.

Another tray plunked on my other side, and a cute, sporty looking guy sat down. He flashed me a smile and opened his drink. “New?”

I could feel Will's intent stare.

“Er, to this group, definitely.” That seemed safe, and my tongue was all but useless in my mouth. I felt Will relax, even three seats away.

“Lucky you. I'm Mike.”

“Nice to meet you, Mike.” I held out my hand. “Ren.”

“Great, Bessfort, if we could
continue
...” someone said.

I didn't have to say much, thankfully, as the seven people around me bickered and argued and debated concepts I had never heard of. Needing to soothe my nerves the only way I knew how in this situation, I withdrew my notebook and a drawing pencil, and allowed my mind to capture images. I had always sat with Christian and his friends at lunch, drawing and soaking up their theatrics.