am-books Chapter 5 - Nightmare
Chapter 5 - Nightmare
She awoke to Lily shaking her, saying "wake up! Wake up!"
Mirian clutched her chest, hand trembling.
"Gods above," Lily said, shaking slightly herself. "I hope the whole dorm didn't hear that."
"Huh?" Mirian said intelligently.
"The screaming. You were screaming. You were screaming really loud."
Mirian blinked. "Oh. Shit. Sorry. I... was having a bad dream." As she said it, though, she was thinking, I've never had a dream like that before. Usually, she forgot her dreams. If she didn't, they were really generic, like getting chased through the woods by a bog lion, or forgetting she had a presentation in class. The only time she'd had nightmares, like, real nightmares was when she was really little.
"Well, I guess. I damn near had a heart attack. Please don't have any more dreams like that."
Not that it was something she could control, but she said, "I won't. Jeez. Really sorry."
"Okay. Well, I'm going back to sleep."
It was still only four o'clock. "Yeah, me too," said Mirian, but then she just lay there, and when it became clear there was no way she was going to be able to go back to sleep, she got up, dressed, and left.
Mirian ate breakfast in one of the dorm's common rooms, paging through her notebook, checking to see how well she'd memorized the truly ludicrous number of magichemicals and categories. The study session had helped a lot.
She sat there for awhile, appreciating the quiet of the morning. When a gaggle of second and third years came in, she left, heading out early to her class.
The Alchemistry exam was ten pages, and as students flipped through them, a collective despair began to make itself feel present in the class. As Professor Seneca patrolled the aisles, the growing worried expression on her face dealt another blow to the class's morale. Mirian kept her head down and stayed focused.
After the Alchemistry exam, she felt like she'd hiked a mountain. She had absolutely no idea how well she'd done, only that she never wanted to label or draw another magichemical diagram again. However, true to what Nicolus had said, the questions they'd studied had been a lot like the ones on the test. After the exam, though, three other girls surrounded him to talk about something, so she didn't check in with him. No sense getting involved in whatever that was about.
In Myrvite Ecology, Professor Viridian had a more recognizable plant. "Jelly Bell," he said, smiling to the class. This plant didn't warrant the warded pot or the gauntlet. Jelly Bell was aptly named: It looked like a jellyfish grew a stem. Inside the transparent bell were a cluster of blue-green leaves. The draping tendrils looked spiky, but were actually soft, and Viridian demonstrated that by running his hand over them. As he did, the plant glittered. "Harmless to touch, harmless to harvest. The plant is impossibly bitter, and a powerful laxative, but unless you need to defecate very badly, I wouldn't recommend eating it. It looks like tiny dew drops form on the leaves inside the bell, but it's actually hydromyrite phosphorus, 31-A. Again, very useful in...?"
Valen seemed to be the only person who ever answered questions in class. "Common glyphs," she said when she was called on.
"And?"
"Water-based elixirs."
"Very good," he said, beaming. "Now today, we're going to learn why if you plant Jelly Bell in your garden, it will simply die." This involved writing down a few magichemicals, but mostly, it became clear that Jelly Bell, along with a great number of magical plants, depended very much on fungi that lived in the soil, and those fungi, in turn, were very particular about what kind of soil they could grow in. It also seemed to only grow directly above the Labyrinth. It didn't seem to matter how far down the Labyrinth was, as long as it was below. This potted sample was apparently one of five samples that had been successfully grown in a greenhouse.
"The complex ecology required for so many myrvite species is invisible to us, yet totally critical to their survival," the professor said. "This in turn explains why so many magichemicals can only be obtained by expeditions into the wilderness, or the Labyrinth. And yet, because we cannot synthesize these chemicals in any laboratory, they are our only source of these critical resources. A strong argument for preservation and care. In the short term, it's more profitable to cut apart the forest and sell the pieces. But that makes long term profits impossible. The clever arcanist finds a way to protect the source of all their spells, and thinks to the future."
Professor Viridian was apparently nostalgic for another era, Mirian thought. Two hundred years ago, the world was still wild and untamed all over. Cities and farms only survived behind walls and armed patrols, and any travel was inherently dangerous, as chimeras, drakes, and other myrvite predators often attacked caravans. These days, thanks to spell engines powering wards and helping clear cut wild areas, travelers could move between the major cities without risk of dying, even if they didn't take one of the magitech trains.
Artifice Design was just more presentations, but the only thing Mirian bothered to take notes on was Professor Torres's critiques. Several of her peers had spent upwards of 10 drachm—half of her monthly rent!—on their simple devices and still managed to make sub-par junk.
Arcane Mathematics wrapped up its final lesson. The exam would be after the weekend. Then, after the last exams and practicals, there would be a week of rest before the second quarter started. Mirian had already planned what classes she would take, and from whom. Sadly, Professor Jei was not teaching anything else. "Busy with project," was all she'd say. Mirian thanked her for her wonderful teaching at the end of the lesson, and almost thought she saw Professor Jei smile—but no, she never did that.
Then it was Fifthday night, and all that lay before was the weekend.
Mirian went straight back to her dorm.
"Duels?" Lily asked her.
"Duels," Mirian said, smiling. She changed into her duelist's uniform, complete with the poofy pantaloons and fencing jacket. For Mirian, these possessions ranked just under her notebook and scribe's pen as her most valued things. They were nice—far nicer than she could afford. The woven jacket had a layer of drake scales at the shoulders and chest, and the dueling gloves were wyvern leather, dyed black on the outside but with bright red palms. She'd won them as a prize in her preparatory school for finishing first in the region's youth duelist tournament. "You want to come?"
Lily looked at the stacks of notes and books at her desk with tired disgust. "Yeah, hell, why not."
There was nothing Mirian liked to do more on a Fifthday. Rapier dueling was a time-honored tradition for arcanists of every time, though the tradition was slowly withering as guns and spell engines made the sword a useless relic for anything practical. Torrviol Academy was one of the few institutions that still required it, though even they only required it for students looking to graduate as battlemages or combat sorcerers.
However, they strongly encouraged dueling, eximontar riding, and racing, and students obtained another honorific seal on their degree if they regularly entered into those events. A great deal of that was reputation. For a long time, Torrviol had produced not just arcanists, but well rounded and physically fit magic users who were the mainstay of the Baracuel armies. Graduating from Torrviol had usually meant being fast tracked in the officer corps.
"Bout," the judge called, and Mirian gave a respectful bow. Not a smirk, Valen, she thought.
"Nice," Lily said when she sat down again.
"That's how those usually go," Mirian said, with no small amount of satisfaction in her voice.
"Selesia here was admiring your form," Lily said, gesturing to the girl next to her. Selesia was a fourth year student wearing the bronze tassels, and uniform of dark and light grays.
Selesia blushed and said in a thick accent, "That's not how I phrased it," but Lily just laughed.
"So what brings you here?" Mirian said, ignoring her roommate.
"Oh, you know. Something to do on a Fifthday. I just like watching."
For some reason, Lily found that even funnier.
Selesia, it turned out, regularly came to these events, but knew very little about them. She had transferred from one of the academies in Akana Praediar, hence her accent and unfamiliarity with the sport. Mirian was more than happy to explain. "The footwork is the most important part," she said. "Watch Liamar there, for example. He always moves so he's just out of range of his opponent. If the blade just barely misses, he doesn't even have to bother parrying, and it's easier to see your opponent's body moving than figuring out whatever they're going to do with their wrist and the blade."
They went back and forth, then Liamar's opponent overextended, trying to get that last bit of extra range. Liamar used a circle parry to drag her blade out of position, then gave a lightning riposte.
"If you want to watch a master at work, Liamar's the best I've ever seen. He might be the best in Baracuel," Mirian said.
They spent the rest of the evening there, with Mirian alternating between chatting and bouting. She lost to Liamar handily, but got two quarter points, which she considered an overwhelming victory on her part. Selesia was interesting to talk to, because despite Akana Praediar's importance in the modern era, Mirian knew only a little about it. She knew that it had been colonized by various peoples from Baracuel, and she knew it was now an industrial center where most spell engines were made, but not a lot more.
When Mirian ended her third bout, Selesia was explaining the basics to Lily: "It was like Baracuel, five hundred years ago. It was dozens of different kingdoms and republics, all constantly trading, warring, forming alliances, gaining and ceding territory. It never unified, though, that was its downfall. The Baracuel colonists that crossed the Rift Sea were ideologically committed to conquest. The nation of Akana Praediar emerged from them, and the other nations there fell, one by one. Now, there are only a few left, and they're only partially sovereign. It's... well, it's a bit complicated. I'm both a citizen of Akana Praediar, and of the Takoa Republic, which is only semi-autonomous."
It all went past Mirian. She was thinking of her last bout. She'd won, but it had been close. Talk of politics and history were always a bit beyond her. The only reason she could point to Akana Praediar on a map was because it was its own continent, and the only reason she could point to Baracuel on a map was she lived here.
"What brought you here?" Mirian asked. "I thought the academies in Akana Praediar were better than the schools here. All the richest students sail off to learn there now because they're so much more prestigious."
"Well. They wouldn't take someone like me," Selesia said, the scorn clear in her voice.
"Oh," Mirian said. She knew exactly what Selesia was talking about, too. Prejudice was everywhere in Baracuel, too. For all her life, Mirian could remember people taunting her or excluding her because they thought she was from Persama. The stupid thing was, she wasn't even from Persama, she just had slightly darker skin than the average Baracueli. Sometimes people got nicer when she told them that, but why did they even judge people on their looks in the first place?
After Mirian's last bout, Mirian packed her dueling jacket into her bag and put on the usual jacket, then the three of them went off to one of the Torrviol diners. Part of their tuition covered one free meal a day, and Mirian almost always made hers dinner.
Selesia was still nattering on about history: "...and the founders knew that to really accumulate expertise, they had to ensure the students were focused on nothing but their studies, so they banned alcohol and gambling, but provided free meals to each student. Back then, that was a commitment, because Torrviol was on the border wilds, so the farms were constantly being attacked by myrvites...."
The dining hall itself was, like a lot of the buildings, at least six hundred years old. The pillars holding up the roof were genuine marble, and the ceilings ornately carved wood, though the bright colors on it had faded to almost nothing through the years. By the kitchens, the ceiling was a sooty black from all the smoke that had missed the chimneys and wafted into the rafters. Now, the kitchens were outfitted with simple spell engine stoves that were smokeless. Today, the room wafted with the scent of boiling fish and sizzling baduka boar. It was always crowded around dinner time, though by now it was late enough the students packing the place had thinned out to a reasonable number. For another hour, they ate and chatted about classes and life.
They walked back to the dorms together, parting when they got to the place in the road where it split off to the different buildings. Selesia said her goodbyes, and Lily and Mirian headed back to their place.
"She was nice," Mirian said.
"I think she likes you," Lily said.
Mirian blinked. "What?"
"I'm just saying." Then, seeing Mirian's expression, she laughed. "Well, I didn't think you'd noticed."
"What are you even talking about?" Mirian said. "We were just talking!"
"You didn't see how she was looking at you?"
"Like what?" Mirian was flustered. She'd dated someone in preparatory school, so she wasn't totally oblivious to how that sort of thing worked just... well, she was pretty oblivious. But it couldn't have been that obvious, right?
"Well," Lily began, but then as they opened the door to their room, she stopped.
The clay stopper Mirian had fashioned had eroded, and now, in addition to the bed being soaked, the sheets had a slick sheen of clay on them and the ceiling was sagging where the plaster had been drenched. "Oh for the Gods' sake!" she cried out.