CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY

Folly

S PRING TERM ROLLED ON. Contrary to what I’d expected, Denna didn’t make any public performances in Imre. Instead, she headed north to Anilin after a handful of days.

But this time she made a special trip to Anker’s to tell me she was leaving. I found myself strangely flattered by this and couldn’t help but feel it was a sign that things were not entirely sour between us.

The Chancellor fell ill just as the term was coming to a close. Though I didn’t know him very well, I liked Herma. Not only did I find him to be a surprisingly easygoing teacher when he had been teaching me Yllish, but he had been kind to me when I was new to the University. Nevertheless, I wasn’t particularly worried. Arwyl and the staff of the Medica could do everything just short of bringing people back from the dead.

But days passed and no news came from the Medica. Rumor said he was too weak to leave his bed, plagued with spikes of fever that threatened to burn away his powerful arcanist’s mind.

When it became apparent he wouldn’t be able to resume his duties as Chancellor anytime soon, the masters gathered to decide who would fill his place. Perhaps permanently, should his condition worsen.

And, to make a painful story short, Hemme was appointed Chancellor. After the shock wore off, it was easy to see why. Kilvin, Arwyl, and Lorren were too busy to take up the extra duties. The same could be said for Mandrag and Dal to a lesser extent. That left Elodin, Brandeur, and Hemme.

Elodin didn’t want it, and was generally regarded as too erratic to serve. And Brandeur always faced whatever direction Hemme’s own wind was blowing.

So Hemme gained the Chancellor’s chair. While I found it irritating, it had little impact on my day-to-day life. The only precaution I took was to step with extra care around even the least of the University’s laws, knowing if I were put on the horns now, Hemme’s vote would count doubly against me.

* * *

As admissions approached, Master Herma remained weak and fevered. So it was with a knot of sour dread in my stomach that I prepared for my first admissions interview with Hemme as Chancellor.

I went through the questioning with the same careful artifice I’d maintained for the last two terms. I hesitated and made a few mistakes, earning a tuition of twenty talents or so. Enough to earn some money, but not enough to embarrass myself too badly.

Hemme, as always, asked double-sided or misleading questions designed to trip me, but that was nothing new. The only real difference seemed to be that Hemme smiled a great deal. It wasn’t a pleasant smile either.

The masters had their usual muted conference. Then Hemme read my tuition: fifty talents. Apparently the Chancellor had greater control over these things than I had ever known.

I forced myself to bite my lip to keep from laughing, and arranged my face in a dejected expression as I made my way to the basement of Hollows where the bursar kept his counting room. Riem’s eyes brightened at the sight of my tuition slip. He disappeared into his back room and returned in a moment with an envelope of thick paper.

I thanked him and returned to my room at Anker’s, maintaining my morose expression all the way. Once I had the door closed, I tore open the heavy envelope and poured its contents into my hand: two gleaming gold marks worth ten talents each.

I laughed then. Laughed until my eyes watered and my sides ached. Then I drew on my best suit of clothes and gathered my friends: Wilem and Simmon, Fela and Mola. I sent a runner boy to Imre with an invitation to Devi and Threpe. Then I hired a four-horse carriage and had the lot of us driven across the river to Imre.

We stopped by the Eolian. Denna wasn’t there, but I collected Deoch instead and we made our way to the King’s Arms, an establishment of the sort no self-respecting student could ever afford. The doorman looked the motley lot of us over scornfully, as if he would object, but Threpe frowned his best gentleman’s frown and ushered all of us safely inside.

Then commenced a night of pleasant decadence the likes of which I have hardly seen equaled since. We ate and drank, and I paid for everything happily. The only water on the table was in the hand bowls. In our cups there was only old Vintish wines, dark scutten, cool metheglin, sweet brand, and every toast we drank was to Hemme’s folly.

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 1020