“Charlus is playing games outside,” Simon said, waving a hand at the wall. “He’s going to lose.”
“Let’s hope so,” Gennady agreed, as he took a seat. There had been no way to avoid Charlus’s bragging over having secured a place on a sports team. Gennady didn’t care. It kept Charlus from bothering him at night. “I’m going to Dragon’s Den for the summer.”
Simon blinked. “What for?”
Gennady sighed. “Apparently, I’m going to be a shop-boy,” he said. “Or something like that.”
“Ouch.” Simon winced. “I’m going to Coven. I’ll be working there ...”
“I ... I’m happy for you,” Gennady said. He’d hoped to see Simon in Dragon’s Den. He kicked himself. He should have realised that Simon would be going elsewhere for his work experience. “What ... what did they tell you?”
“That there was a magician who’d taken an interest in me,” Simon said, awkwardly. “And that I was to make of that what I liked.”
Gennady tried to keep the envy off his face. If someone had said that in the mountains, it would only have meant one thing. But here ... he still didn’t understand how sorcerers could build up elaborate patronage networks that tied masters and students into endless chains of obligation. The whole system made no sense to him. But it had also rejected him. If someone had taken an interest in him ...
Simon’s smart. Gennady tried to feel happy for his friend. He’ll go far.
He forced himself to look at Lyndred. “What about you?”
“Apparently, I’m going to spend the summer with a wandering healer,” Lyndred said, a little too brightly. “He travels with a bard. Imagine that.”
Gennady snorted. He’d met a handful of bards, men who made a living traveling from place to place and singing for their supper. They’d had a kind of glamour that even Hogarth had respected, although most folk regarded them as weaklings who’d never done a real day’s work in their lives. Girls talked of running off with them all the time, but Gennady had never known anyone who had. If rumour was to be believed, anyone unfortunate enough to do so would be dumped the moment she fell pregnant. The poor girl would never be able to return home.
“Watch yourself,” he warned. “Bards can be ... dangerous.”
Lyndred’s eyes flashed fire. “I can look after myself.”
Gennady opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Lyndred had magic. She could look after herself. And even if she hadn’t had magic, her family had power. Real power. It would protect her.
“Do you want to be a healer?” Simon changed the subject, a little too quickly. “You’ll spend most of your life making people better.”
“There are worse things to be,” Lyndred pointed out. “And a healer can practically write her own ticket.”
She looked at Gennady. “What about you? Have you thought about what you want to be?”
Gennady shook his head. “I have to get through six years—five years—of schooling,” he said. “And survive whatever he throws at me.”
“Charlus will be sleeping somewhere else next term,” Simon said. “We’ll be able to sleep properly for once.”
“Yeah.” Gennady wasn’t so sure. Simon was his only friend. His only male friend. The odds were good he’d be sharing a room with one of Charlus’s cronies. Thankfully, Charlus seemed to think his friends—the nasty part of Gennady’s mind insisting Charlus was paying his friends to be friends—should come to him, instead of going to them. “You think we should ask to share a room again?”
“I checked.” Simon scowled. “It isn’t allowed, unless we get special dispensation.”
“And we won’t.” Gennady felt another surge of bitterness. “We’re nothing special.”
He forced himself to stand. “I’m going to the library,” he said. “Coming?”
Simon and Lyndred exchanged glances. “We’re going to go for a walk,” Simon said. “We’ll see you later.”
And you don’t want me along, Gennady thought. He wasn’t sure where that had come from, although ... he felt something twist inside him as he remembered, once again, that Simon and Lyndred were from the same town. They had something in common, something Gennady didn’t share. And you don’t have everything at stake.
He nodded to them and left the room, feeling alone. Simon and Lyndred were ... happy where they were. Their families didn’t consider them outcast—it crossed his mind, suddenly, that his family might have disowned him completely—and their siblings weren’t planning to kill them. Gennady’s clubfoot ached, despite all the salves he’d smeared on it. His older brother might have left the village, but his younger brothers would kill him if they were given a chance. Simon and Lyndred could afford to relax. Gennady could not. He wanted—he needed—to learn as much as he could before he was kicked out.
Perhaps I should apply to repeat the year, despite the shame, he mused, as he walked into the library. It was nearly empty, save for a trio of older students working their way through a giant pile of books. It would give me more time ...
He shook his head as he chose a selection of books for himself. The advantages—he wouldn’t be sharing classes with Charlus and his cronies—would be heavily outweighed by the disadvantages. No one would regard him as a great magician if he had to repeat the year. And Charlus would boss him around ... the older students were allowed, even expected, to treat the younger students as their servants. Gennady snorted, inwardly. There’d be no change there, then.
The dinner bell rang, three hours later. Gennady placed the books on the trolley—one cold lecture from the librarian on not putting the books back on the shelves had been quite enough—and headed down to dinner. The hall was nearly empty, surprisingly enough. Simon and Lyndred were nowhere to be seen. Gennady wondered, suddenly, if they were courting. They were from the same social class ... he felt a twinge of envy, which he pushed aside with an effort. It wasn’t as if he was interested in Lyndred. He had Primrose.
Maybe I can find a way to sneak up to see her, before term resumes, he thought, as he took a tray of food and dug in. He was going to miss the school, even though the boarding house served good food too. I’m sure she’d be happy to see me.
He finished eating and made his way back to the dorms. A grim-faced older student stood outside the door, arms crossed over her breasts. Gennady hesitated, wondering if he should turn around and go in the other direction before screwing up his nerve and walking past her and into the chamber. Something had happened, a few days ago, something that ... he shook his head. He hadn’t heard the details, but it had clearly crossed a line. Perhaps it had been Charlus’s fault. He would have bet money on it, if he had money.
The room felt ... odd, as if it wasn’t his any longer. He glanced around, making sure he was alone before parting the wards around his bed and checked for unwanted surprises. The exams were over. Charlus had time, now, to resume his bullying ways if he wished. He’d be in a perfectly beastly mood if his team lost, too. Gennady hoped Charlus had lost. It wasn’t as if he’d be any nicer if he’d won.
Gennady sighed, then opened the drawer and gazed upon his handful of possessions. He didn’t have much that was truly his. Even the clothes he’d brought from the mountains didn’t feel like his. He’d known they’d been passed down from wearer to wearer for the past few decades, mended and patched so often they weren’t the same garment any longer. He ... he packed what little he had in his trunk, putting the school clothes aside. They’d be passed down to the next wearer, he was sure. He’d get new ones when he returned for his second year of schooling.