“What? Why!” she cried. “That’s stupid! This isn’t real, right?”
“Unfortunately for the both of us, it’s very much real,” Maziar said. “And unless we can figure out the terms of our familiar contract, we are very much stuck together, it seems.”
“Bullshit!”
“Say what you like, think what you like, but it’s not going to change anything,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Then fix it!” Ennette demanded, stomping her foot.
“I just tried!” he shouted. “It failed! Which means the terms of the contract are somehow different than the terms written in the circle—which, in words your tiny little mind can comprehend, means I have no idea how to break it! You think I want some useless little human familiar eating away at my mana? Shit!”
Maziar took a deep breath and started to pace. Two years since he’d lost his core, and he’d only managed to cultivate a mere sliver of what he once so naturally had. Having another familiar meant basically having another mouth to feed, which meant it would be even more difficult for him to accumulate anything of value—and the longer it took him to grow his magic, the longer Rhaltz got to live unfettered. Biting his thumbnail, Maziar looked at the girl.
Displaced and trembling, he knew it wasn’t fair to blame her for anything. She seemed to think that this was all just a dream, which meant she hadn’t been taking any of it seriously from the start. Filled with new fear as she began to understand the situation she was really in, her eyes were darting around the room as she made herself as small as she could.
“I don’t see what you’re so upset about, Kreeth,” his fellow student Cardin Zyers said. He was a short, skinny, rat-like boy with ears and eyes that weren’t quite proportionate to his size. He tended to overdress and flaunt his power as if his powerful merchant father should have meant something to any of them, even though the class held more than a few children of nobility that could have crushed him if they felt it was worth the effort. “After all, most of us bet against you being able to summon a familiar at all!”
Though Maziar hoped that Zerathon would intervene, the professor was walking around the circle, analyzing it. He had quite the skill for zoning out the chaos around him when he was focused. It made him a very good researcher—and a very frustrating teacher.
As usual, Maziar would have to deal with Cardin himself.
The other students were snickering as they always did—particularly the ones that were younger and considered themselves ‘prodigies’ because their parents told them they were. They were mocking Maziar, but he knew their disrespect towards him would also be reflected onto the already terrified Ennette. He didn’t need them to make his job more difficult than it already was.
Drawing this out would do neither of them any good.
Maziar felt War’s reaction to his emotions through the bond, and he tried to ease his concern. War might have a better idea of what to do, thought Maziar, biting his lip—but first, he needed to get out of here and get the girl out of the spotlight.
“I don’t need your acknowledgement, thanks,” Maziar said, picking up the kit on the floor that held all of his ritual supplies and throwing it over his shoulder.
“You think this is acknowledgement?” Cardin scoffed with an unsettling grin across his face. “Listen, I’m out fifty stones because of you. Kass and Olamar are the only ones who bet in your favor—the rest of us are gonna need you to pay us back, now.”
Cardin leaned over and put his arms around Kasslir Elutai, who’d been standing off to the side. Maziar tsk-ed and stared at them. Instantly, Kasslir looked like he wanted to escape from the clutches of the nasty little ingrate, but he wouldn’t stand up for himself. He wasn’t that kind of person—and Maziar hated him for it.
Kasslir Elutai was a shy, quiet boy with silvery white hair and startlingly bright blue eyes. The boy looked like his mother. His mother looked like her older sister. Her older sister was Rhaltz’s mother.
Rhaltz looked just like his mother, too.
People like Cardin walked all over him because of his kind nature and delicate appearance, but Maziar had to believe they had no idea who he was, or else they would’ve just let him be. As it was, while Maziar preferred to avoid Kasslir because he reminded him so much of Rhaltz, he also wasn’t about to sit and let Cardin manipulate him.
“Let me guess,” Maziar said, lifting his gaze to meet Cardin’s. “Kasslir wasn’t exactly willing to put that bet in, anyway, was he? I’ll talk to Olamar. So, why don’t we just call it even, and no one gets paid? How’s that?”
Cardin laughed. “What, mommy’s boy doesn’t wanna ask mommy for money?”
“Nah, I just don’t want to deal with your shit, is all.”
“Oh, you think ‘cause you summoned a familiar now that you’re worth something?”
Maziar chuckled. “I just don’t need a familiar to compensate for the rest of me, unlike some people.”
Flushing scarlet, Cardin released Kasslir and raised his hand. He started to speak out a quick wind-based incantation that sent sheer blades of wind flying through the air. Maziar narrowed his eyes, identifying three, and waited till the last moment to dodge. After watching them harmlessly fly past his face, Maziar shrugged and looked back at Cardin.
“Was that it?” Maziar taunted. “I insulted your manhood, and that’s all you’ve got to throw at me?”
“You little—!” Cardin’s face contorted into a twisted, ugly thing as he started casting another, larger spell. This time, though, Zerathon finally decided to pay attention and cast a quick dispell. The wind Cardin had gathered exploded with a pop! as if it were a balloon. Scowling, the other boy glared at the teacher for taking his chance of petty vengeance away, but Maziar was able to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Enough. Enough!” Zerathon scolded. “What is all of this? Save it for your dueling classes—or at least a class where I am not the professor in charge, so I don’t need to do more paperwork than Maziar’s already given me!”
“He started it!” Cardin yelled, pointing at Maziar.
“Who, me?” asked Maziar, innocently. “What did I do? I didn’t lift a finger! I can’t even use combat magic!”
“Both of you, stop it before I curse you all into silence!” Zerathon said. “You may not have started it, Maziar, but you certainly are intent on using me to finish it. Don’t think I don’t know how this works.”
“Professor! I would never!” Maziar said, overacting as he clasped his hands over his heart. “Just who do you take me for?”
Zerathon leveled his eyes on him. “I take you for Maziar Kreeth, for that is exactly who you are,” he said, his left eyebrow twitching as Maziar stuck his tongue out with a grin. “Now take your… Miss Ennette here, back to…”
Zerathon paused. Where, exactly, was Ennette supposed to go? If she was a human girl, it wouldn’t be right for her to return to the dorms with Maziar, nor could she stay in the familiar stables. The servant's quarters, perhaps? But if she were a servant, she would have to be Maziar’s exclusive servant, which could get complicated in the eyes of the other students.
Shaking his head, Zerathon dreaded the paperwork that he would have to do later as a result of this. Should I… just quit? He wondered. If he quit, maybe he could avoid everything.
“For now,” he started, “Why don’t you take her to South Cradle’s common area until I have a chance to speak with the council about what, exactly, we should do with her.”
“Um,” Ennette squeaked. Zerathon turned, surprised that she had taken the initiative to walk up to him first since she’d spent most of her time cowering in the circle. “Is there really no way for me to go home?”
Easing his expression, he gently patted the young girl on the head.
“Where is ‘home’ for you, my dear?” he asked.
“Connecticut,” she said hopefully. Zerathon drew a blank. “It’s next to New York?” she explained. “Everyone knows New York City, right?”
“I’m afraid I do not,” Zerathon said.
“Is it across the sea?” Maziar asked. “Or are you perhaps from a different plane, after all? It felt a bit like you knew too much to be from a different plane, but… you are speaking our language, even if your accent is a little odd. What do you call your world?”
“Earth,” she told them gloomily. It seemed whatever hope she had left was quickly diminishing as their conversation went on.
“Earth…” Zerathon repeated, then shook his head. “I wish I had some words of comfort for you, child, but I’m afraid I’m not familiar with your world.”
“I see,” Ennette said, pulling her long, bright copper-colored hair over to cover her shoulder. It was a bit of a mess, and she absently tried to brush through it with her fingers. Zerathon was about to help her by casting a grooming spell, but then she said in a quiet voice, “This is the kingdom of Varsal, isn’t it?”
Blinking, Zerathon said, “And how would you know that?”
“I…” Ennette stopped and looked between him and Maziar—namely at Maziar, who raised his brows in confusion.
“Something wrong?” Maziar asked.
“It’s just…” she started again. She seemed reasonably uncertain of everything that she was seeing and hearing. “Is there… anyone else I can talk to about this? In private, maybe?”
“Why?” Maziar crossed his arms and tilted his head.
“It’s just that you’re…well, Maziar.”
“And that means…?”
“I’d really rather not tell you until I’ve talked to someone else about it,” Ennette told him. Contrary to her hesitant behavior, her words were quite firm. “Seriously, I don’t want you anywhere near me if I can help it, but I really don’t want to talk to you about it.”
Zerathon saw Maziar’s face twitch in a way that meant he was about to start something again, so Zerathon cleared his throat, interrupting him before he had the chance.
“In light of the situation,” he said, glaring at Maziar, who took to grumbling instead. “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll take you to the Grand Magician and explain everything that happened today. Maybe she’ll be able to help you more, anyway.”
“Why her?!” Maziar shouted, spinning around.
“Maziar! That is enough! She would be involved in one way or another! Perhaps sooner is better,” Zerathon said warily. “This way Ennette shouldn’t have to have any more to do with you than she likes. Heavens know no one should be forced to deal with you.”
“But—!”
“No ‘buts’! Everyone! Class is dismissed!”
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