Faculty of Fire (2 page)

“Straight along the corridor and turn left,” Alice repeated meekly. “But why do you want the library?”

“I can’t leave here without taking a look at the library,” Kelnmiir replied. “You never know what interesting things I might find …”

“But there’s nothing interesting in there,” Alice said dismissively. “I read all the books a long time ago. Nothing but boring chronicles and fairytales. And no frightening ones either – there are no mysteries in this old library.”

Kelnmiir gave an ambiguous chuckle. How could the girl know that sometimes the most terrible mysteries were hidden in the most boring old chronicles?

The “library” proved to be a small room with one table and a few sets of half-full bookshelves.

“Someone must have taken a couple of books to read,” Alice said apologetically.

“Never mind, we’ll make do with what there is,” Kelnmiir answered.

Books were his weakness. He adored reading and got involved in the most dangerous adventures for the sake of a single book. But here … of all the books standing on the shelves, there were only two that he hadn’t read. He could tell that at a glance.

“So, what do we have here?” Kelnmiir muttered, while Alice watched anxiously to make sure no one was coming. “This is what I’m interested in – the history of the clan …”

Kelnmiir started reading with incredible speed, turning the pages one after another. Suddenly he stopped leafing though the book and said in amazement, “Well I nev…”

The girl had been watching the corridor all this time, and now she turned back towards him.

“Someone’s coming,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Well I nev …” Kelnmiir repeated, without stirring.

The girl ran over and tugged his sleeve.

“We have to go.”

Kelnmiir didn’t budge.

“Hey!” called Alice, waving her hand in front of his eyes.

No response.

“Come on, let’s go,” the girl repeated and tried to tear the book out of Kelnmiir’s hands. But she couldn’t – he was holding it far too tight.

“Well I never,” Kelnmiir whispered, and then added: “These are incredible claims!”

There was the sound of steps in the corridor.

“We have to go,” said Kelnmiir, suddenly coming back to reality. He tore out the page that interested him and put the heavy volume back on the shelf.

“At last,” Alice sighed. “Just what was it you read in there?”

“Better for you not to know just yet,” Kelnmiir answered “You’ll find out later …”

They snuck out of a side door and Alice led Kelnmiir to the corridors that led to the surface.

“I have to go to the enrolment,” the vampire girl reminded him.

“You’ll get to the enrolment,” Kelnmiir replied calmly. “And you’ll get into the Academy.”

“I hope so,” Alice sighed.

“You’ll definitely get into the Academy,” the vampire repeated. “I’ll help you get in, in exchange for a small favour …”

Scene 1

It was a very strange night. I had the same dream over and over again, until the morning came.

A strange man with narrow eyes, in white clothes that looked like the livery of the Craftsmen, peers into my eyes for what feels like an eternity. He sees straight through me ... he sees my past, my future …

I suddenly realise that just at that moment he’s looking into my future, reading it like an open book …

“You know,” he says at long last …” if I were you, I’d commit hara-kiri …”

“Zachary!”

“Yes, aunt, I’m coming!”

I looked into the mirror again.

Well, now I was definitely ready.

I’d gathered my long dark hair (the way the girls liked it) into a neat ponytail at the back of my head, put on the right suit – the gold one--and stuffed my musicale into one of its many pockets. In my opinion this miniature device for playing music was the finest invention of the last thousand years. I couldn’t imagine how I could get through all long dreary lectures and at the endless balls of the Great Houses without it.

Ah, I almost forgot!

I opened the drawer of the desk and took out a couple of “muse” magic crystals with my songs on them. I happened to like listening to my own compositions. Although it seemed that calling these songs “mine” might be hypocritical. Could you regard music that came to you in dreams as your own? I didn’t know … If by chance I should happen to meet a Craftsman at today’s enrolment for the Academy and he condescended to listen to me, then I would definitely ask him. Then at least some good would come of the day’s stroll. Although how could you really call it a stroll, when I’d be hanging about in the queue all day long?

I had heard from numerous sources that you had to stand in the queue to take the tests for at least half a day, so I’d certainly have plenty of time to enjoy the music today. And who needed the whole business, I’d like to know? Some great honour, this was – to go back to studying again. Just what I’d been dreaming of...

I wasn’t used to formal suits with their terrible tight-fitting trousers and their stupid glossy tuxedos. The gold colour easily picks up stains too, and if anything can possibly be stained, then I’m the one to do it. It’s in my karma. And I always get the feeling that if I put on gold clothes and stand beside one of the gold houses, I’d simply merge into the wall and become invisible … but then – isn’t that’s a great idea!

“Zachary Nickers, come down here immediately, we’re tired of waiting for you!”

Oh, that aunt of mine! I was ready an hour ago; she was the one who made me change. What did she think was wrong with my usual outfit? So what if it wasn’t as smart and fashionable as my holiday suit, it was very comfortable and not as flashy. Now every second person in the street would glance at me with a mixture of envy and hate: “Look at that young pup, all spruced up! He should try getting himself a job, instead of wasting his parents’ money.” But what could I do? We don’t choose our own relatives, especially our parents.

I glanced round my room one last time, put the mirror under my arm and went out into the corridor.

As usual, the corridor was dark – they were always economising on magical energy. Yet another of my aunt’s whims. She counts every single “mag” every day, although we have enough magical energy in the storeroom under the house to open up our own branch of the Academy. I’m amazed my aunt isn’t ashamed to walk down the street and look people in the face.

The aforementioned aunt was waiting for me downstairs, with her two nieces. Aunt Eliza was a stout, middle-aged (100-150 years old) woman with a good-natured face and deceptively humorous eyes. The laughter often danced in those eyes, but only as long as this intimidating woman was happy with the behaviour of everyone around her. If anyone disappointed Aunt Eliza or made her angry, those jolly eyes assumed an icy gaze that many people, including me, found positively frightening.

There really isn’t that much to say about the two nieces – two perfectly ordinary fifteen-year-old girls, blonde-haired twins quite incapable of relieving my boredom with intelligent conversation – although it was no problem for them to raise my fury to white heat with their idiotic comments.

“Just how long can you spend preening yourself ?” one of the nieces – I think it was Flo – asked sarcastically.

I’ll never be able to tell the two twins apart. Everyone else can, but it’s quite beyond me. And as if to spite me, they always wore absolutely identical clothes.

I ignored the twin and proceeded out into the street, dropping the mirror on the table beside the door.

The tiresome girls followed me, whispering and laughing quietly. My aunt came out last and locked the door with a magical crystal that activated the complex system of protective spells.

“Well then, children,” she said as we moved along with the crowd towards the centre of the city, “now I’m going to tell you a little bit about what lies ahead of us. First of all, there’ll be the usual test of power and affinity for the basic elements, but you’ve probably heard about that already, so we won’t waste any time on it. If you pass this test, which is very unlikely indeed …” – my aunt looked in my direction with an offensive smirk, “… then the real tests begin. Although the tests are different for every individual, I can give you a few pieces of advice. Firstly, speak only the truth. The Craftsmen are extremely shrewd, and you’re not likely to fool them. Secondly, don’t be afraid to ask questions and don’t rush to conclusions. The tasks are not as simple as they seem. And thirdly, don’t even think of contradicting the Craftsmen. They can’t stand that. The last person who contradicted them still can’t even light a lamp.”

Kate and Flo fell silent in fright.

Yes indeed, there was nothing easier than lighting a lamp, all you needed was a simple energy interaction, that is, the lamp itself and couple of “mags” from the store room. Of course, I’d heard that the Craftsmen could take away the ability to use “mags”, but this was the first time I’d heard of them taking away anybody’s abilities completely, even the very simplest ones that were essential to daily life. Without the basic ability to control magical energy, I couldn’t even have listened to my musicale. How horrifying!

As we moved along in the stream of people, hurrying to take the tests, we met disappointed crowds of people who hadn’t passed the first, initial stage, moving in the opposite direction. They looked angrily at the people who still had to take the tests and made their way to the alehouses. This was an old, well-established tradition. On the day of the tests those who were unsuccessful (that is, almost the entire city), relaxed in the alehouses, cafes and restaurants, so that next day they could forget their own failure and be happy for those who had been successful. But today they were furious with everyone and everything, and gleefully shared their feelings with the people walking past them.

Towards evening the festivities wound down of their own accord and were followed by something like a period of mourning. Everyone felt sorry for himself and got absolutely drunk (apart from the women and children, of course). Children (under fifteen) were untouched by the cares and excitement of the day, while women had never been all that enthusiastic about the Academy anyway. Of course, marrying a Craftsman was regarded as an honour, even my own eligibility as a bachelor paled in comparison to a genuine Magician. [1.]
[1. The terms “Craftsman” and “Magician” are practically identical, although there is a substantial difference between the two concepts. This question is treated in greater detail in
The Legend of the Gift of the Dragon
, which can be borrowed from any municipal library. (Here and below notes are by the author.)]
Although there were always a few girls and women among the successful applicants (I didn’t know what their motives were), in general they weren’t very keen on studying the Craft – but then I only knew all this from hearsay and books, since I was still too young to have seen an enrolment. I really didn’t have a very clear idea of what I’d be missing if I didn’t pass the tests. And for certain very good reasons, I was in no danger of getting into the Academy.

“Zach!”

My best friend Chas hurried towards us, with his shock of red hair. He brimmed over with energy as always, smiling from ear to ear as he led his latest girlfriend (or maybe she wasn’t even his) along. The girls were always buzzing around this cheerful well-built fellow, but I was the only one in our circle who didn’t envy him. As far as I was concerned, girls were nothing but trouble.

“Chas, have you already taken the tests?” I asked impatiently as he approached with that special swaggering walk of his.

“Not yet, we agreed to got together,” he replied, slightly offended. “So, shall we go then?”

I looked enquiringly at my aunt.

“Well, off you go …”

Oho! This was easier than I’d expected!

I turned happily towards Chas …

“… only take the girls with you, I have some business– I’ll collect them outside the gates later.”

That was all I needed.

“But, aunt …”

“And don’t start playing the martyr, you can manage it, it won’t do you any harm.” There was a steely note in my aunt’s voice.

Oh yes, the only danger threatening me was a possible heart attack or a sudden deterioration in my hearing caused by the two girls’ constant twittering. Did I really look like a nursemaid?

I wagged my finger at the girls, trying to make it as clear as possible that they were looking at the most unhappy man in the world, and set off after Chas.

Chas’s friend, a dark-haired beauty (what else could you possibly expect?) took the girls in hand, and a minute later they were all laughing together.

“But where’s Liz?” Chas asked in a whisper when his new flame had walked on ahead of us, arm-in-arm with the two girls.

“There is no Liz,” I replied wearily.

Everyone seemed to make a point of asking me: “But where’s Liz?” Liz was a wonderful girl, we’d had good times together, but her plans for the future were ambitious. She wanted very much to become the wife of a genuine Craftsman (now do you understand what I was saying earlier?) and he had to be at least third rank. She had shared this intention with me at the moment of our parting. And since I could never be a third-rank Craftsman (on which point I agreed with her completely), I had to understand that our relationship had been no more than a temporary arrangement. I did understand, and that was the end of that. I immediately began to notice what I had overlooked before: her arrogance, conceit and hypocrisy.