“Oh, grow up, Scorio,” snapped Naomi. “You think we’d be treated the same?”
Scorio’s frown deepened. “We have to be.”
To which she only sighed, crossed her arms, and leaned her head back against the wall to stare straight ahead.
They sat there for a spell until the door opened and Helminth emerged without her notes. “The chancellor will see you now.”
Scorio arose slowly. He wanted to protest, but the Hell Whip’s expression was severe and distant; he’d find no ally there.
Instead, he led the way into the room beyond, which proved to be a massive office, the ceiling sloping down at a subtly oblique angle, the far back wall composed of massive panes of glass that showed the city beyond. Praximar sat at a desk whose massive size was dwarfed only by the scale of the office; it was a lone island in a pool of light in an otherwise stark and empty space. A few doors were set against the left wall, but otherwise, the office was bleak and imposing.
Chancellor Praximar remained seated as they approached; he was dressed in sober robes of charcoal gray, and he watched them with an expression of disappointment and weariness that only infuriated Scorio further.
“Instructor Helminth has told me the particulars of this infraction,” he began, not asking either of them to be seated. “And I am gravely disappointed. The Academy was glad to honor Imperator Sol’s request, but I must admit we did so with some measure of trepidation; you are both unknown elements, and we feared that you would prove unable to adapt to the Academy’s system and regulations. It would seem those fears were well-founded.”
Scorio went to speak, but Praximar raised a hand to forestall him. “Understand the following. This is your first and last warning. Imperator Sol asked that you be readmitted, but that was all. Your continued presence in these hallowed halls depends upon your ability to observe the rules and prove yourselves model students. If you are unable to restrain your tempers, if you strike or wound another Great Soul or otherwise break a single rule, then I will have no option but to have you cast out of the Academy once more, and depending on the nature of the infraction, perhaps be forced to do worse. Am I being clear?”
Scorio took a deep, shaky breath. The man’s tone was infuriating; grave and solemn, saddened and disappointed. “Excuse me, Chancellor, but why is Kuragin not receiving a similar warning?”
Praximar smiled as if glad of the question. “Because Kuragin is an exemplary student. It is no coincidence that his first infraction involved the two of you. He has been adequately punished, and I am confident he will return to his normal behavior. You both, however, are far from having an exemplary record. I need not get into details. You know very well how you have strayed in the past from the high standards the Academy upholds.”
The chancellor shook his head sadly. “Alas, there is no room at this Academy for students who are unable to follow the few regulations we impose. Which is why another infraction of any kind will be grounds for termination. All that I ask is that you obey the rules and regulations of the Academy. Surely that is not too much to expect of you?”
Naomi continued to stare blindly ahead, her jaw tightly clenched.
Scorio once again inhaled deeply, then bowed his head. “Of course, Chancellor. We understand.”
“You do not speak for your classmate,” said Praximar, tone chiding. “Naomi?”
Still staring straight ahead, she managed a jerky nod.
“Insufficient, Emberling.” Praximar’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll ask one more time. Do you understand?”
Naomi slowly tore her gaze down to stare at the chancellor, and for a long, aching moment said nothing. Then, her voice devoid of emotion, she said, “Yes, Chancellor. I understand what you are saying.”
“Very good. Now, let us put this unpleasant exchange behind us, and look forward to a brighter future, shall we?” He smiled and stood up. “Make us proud, students. Excel, work hard, and stay out of trouble. Dismissed.”
Scorio and Naomi bowed, turned, and marched out of the office. When the double doors closed behind them, Scorio went to speak but Naomi kept striding swiftly ahead. He jogged to catch up and studied her profile when he did.
“Hey. That wasn’t that bad.”
She made no response.
“I mean, it could have been far worse, right? He could have expelled us without giving us a second chance—”
“Stop talking,” she said, tone murderous, and began rapidly descending the stairs.
Scorio slowed, blinked, then hurried after her. They made their way back to their suite in silence, and when they returned, they saw that Leonis and Lianshi were absent.
“We should get to class,” said Naomi. “Or they’ll use our tardiness as an excuse to throw us out.”
“Look, I lost my temper back there.” Scorio stepped before her, blocking the way to the door. “Sure Kuragin was being an ass, but I shouldn’t have head-butted him.”
“You did the right thing,” said Naomi, eyes narrowed. “Because there was no arguing with him. And if you hadn’t hit him, someone else would have come at you next, and then again and again until you snapped.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You really don’t get it, do you?” Her eyes blazed. “They don’t want us here, Scorio. You’re a Red Lister. I’m common-born. We don’t fit their narrative. We’re outsiders. They want us gone, and they’ll find a way to pry us out no matter what Imperator Sol said. So you did the right thing. You showed them you’ll not let them push you around. But there’s just one little problem with that.”
“What?” asked Scorio again, fighting against the rising tide of bewilderment within him.
“Not letting them push you around will get you expelled.” Her voice quietened. “Either you swallow your pride and become their punching bag, or you stand up to them and get expelled. Those are your choices. You ask me? We’ve got maybe an Eighthday, maybe two, before we’re out. Enjoy it while you can.”
And with that, she brushed past him and strode out the door.
Scorio stared blankly at the far wall of ferns and the hints of the steamy pool beyond, feeling his expression harden, his jaw clench. Then, with a savage jerk, he pulled his satchel of scrolls from the wall peg and followed.
Chapter 48
The rest of the Eighthday passed in a blur. The innocent joy in availing himself of the Academy’s resources sluiced away under the double threat of the upcoming tournament and the realization that he was on hostile ground. No longer did he take the stares as indicating admiration or wonder, but now saw them as accusations. And each time he began to feel good, to relax, or lower his guard, all he had to do was catch Naomi’s flat stare, and his resolve would harden.
He played the runs conservatively, no longer attempting to catch the lead pack, but instead working on setting a punishing pace that he could keep without losing his wind. Breakfast was a hurried affair, then each morning he was thrown into a different class, reviewing everything from the geography of hell to the nature of fiends. His favorite proved to be the class on the known powers of hell; the world outside of Bastion proved to be immense, varied, and populated with a bewildering number of fiends and potentates amongst whom the Great Souls fought, negotiated, and co-existed.
“I thought it was just war out there,” said Scorio to Lianshi as they left the class, new books under his arms. “Armies of Great Souls throwing themselves endlessly at the enemy.”
“There aren’t enough of us,” his friend replied in amusement. “If we declared war on all of hell, I don’t think it would notice. No; the goal is to reach the Pit, and there are many ways to get there.”
“So it seems.” They walked in silence for a spell, Scorio steeped in thought. “But most of hell doesn’t even seem… I don’t know, that bad? Strange, sure, dangerous, but more like…”