Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(41)
Descending the stairs, he joined the last straggling teachers hurrying towards the dining room. It was a large room with several tables arranged in a square. As Tyen entered, a man with short white hair looked up, smiled and beckoned, pointing at the empty seat beside him.
“Tarren,” Tyen said as he joined his old friend. “Eating with the rabble again?”
“I may as well, what with all the interruptions I’ve had today,” Tarren grumbled. “How did the Tournament go?”
“Good. Dalle, the sister of last cycle’s victor, won with an interesting design.”
The old man smiled. He tilted his head to the side as he regarded Tyen. “It was good of you to stay and teach here, when you could have left to pursue your own interests. Not many of Liftre’s former pupils are so loyal.”
Tyen shrugged. His decision to stay had nothing to do with loyalty. Not that he did not admire the school and approve of its philosophy of teaching anyone who sought training, but he did not feel the unquestioning bond for this place he’d had for the Academy. Professor Kilraker, by setting Tyen up as a thief and ultimately killing thousands when Spirecastle fell due to his selfishness and stupidity, had taught Tyen that teachers and educational institutions could as easily turn on you as not. Though Liftre was a wonderful place, he was more realistic in his expectations when it came to its self-preservation, or his.
I stay because this place is the best source of knowledge about magic that exists, as far as I’ve been told. It is the place where I am most likely to find a way to make Vella whole again. A familiar mild guilt arose as he recalled the promise he’d made to restore her, neglected for too long. The demand for lessons on mechanical magic had prevented him from seeking a way to restore her to human form. Once I find someone to help or take over the teaching I will have time for it, he told himself, as he had many times before.
Tarren had offered to help seek a cure for Vella. Of all the people in Liftre, only the old man knew about her. Tyen had let Tarren examine her not long after his graduation, ready to take her back and flee if he saw any thought of stealing her in the old man’s mind, whether for his benefit or the school’s. It was a risk worth taking so that Vella would absorb all of Tarren’s considerable knowledge.
Rojiahna, one of the servers, came to list what was on the menu for the evening. Tyen selected a dish and a glass of wine, then was drawn into a conversation about the Tournament with the teacher sitting on his other side.
“I’m looking forward to seeing what their younger brother can do when he joins Liftre,” Tyen finished.
The teacher hesitated before nodding in agreement. “Let’s hope he gets the chance.”
Remembering Dalle and Zeke’s reaction to his mention of the next cycle, Tyen turned to Tarren.
“The students were concerned about a rumour going around the school about a sorcerer called the Raen. Who is he?”
Tarren’s smile faded. “Ah. Of course. You won’t know much about him. He would never have visited a world so poor in magic as your home world.” He glanced around the room. “We’re not supposed to discuss him, as it leads to rumours like these.”
The door to the kitchen opened and servants filed in, each carrying two or three plates in one hand and delivering them to the table in a show of dexterity Tyen had always admired.
“Thank you,” Tyen said as Rojiahna laid a plate before him.
She set down a glass and poured a syrupy purple wine from a round-bellied bottle. “Bel wine from R’parne.” Straightening, she watched him lift the glass.
He took a sip and nodded at the pleasing, spicy flavour. She smiled and continued on.
He started to eat. The Liftre had an impressive collection of beverages from many worlds, and when Rojiahna had claimed she could bring him a different one every night for a lifetime he’d challenged her to do so. So far he could not remember drinking the same one twice, though he hadn’t kept any records and he doubted he’d realise, after so many wines, if she had repeated any.
Tarren, he saw, was not eating. The old man’s gaze was distant and sad.
“Are you all right?” Tyen asked.
Tarren glanced at Tyen and nodded. “Yes. Come see me tonight.” He picked up his cutlery and started eating.
With his friend looking distracted by his thoughts, Tyen turned his attention to the rest of the room. It was abuzz with conversation.
“… of his return has circulated the worlds many times before and proven to be false,” a young female teacher was saying. “What is different this time?”
“The veracity of the reports,” the older woman beside her replied. Her name was Ame, Tyen recalled. “They come from reliable sources.”
Corl, a dark-skinned older man, let out a short laugh. “They said that last time.”
“And great damage was done,” another woman said. “We should not be discussing this, or spreading the rumour further.”
“And if it is true? Would it not be better to warn the worlds the monster is back?” Corl argued.
“Monster?” another teacher injected. “He is no monster.”
“… who may use the rumour to intimidate and bully others,” another teacher was saying as the discussion split into two.
“My people worship him as a god,” a younger teacher said. “Still do. Every time the rumour resurfaces the chance of them seeing their error is delayed by many more cycles.”