Chapter Four
Headmaster Tavrinal bent over a few sheets of parchment, his pen scratching as he wrote. The candle beside him dripped wax onto the oak desktop as the flame spluttered lower and lower. Finally he returned the pen to the inkwell and set aside the pile of papers. Massaging his neck, he glanced into the reflective surface of the window behind his desk. There was only a hint of gray leaking into his long brown hair, and the wrinkles around his eyes were mostly shallow. Not too bad for a younger wizard.
Ashter Tavrinal had managed to become headmaster by one simple technique: he knew exactly when not to use magic. Too much spell-muttering tended to make those who administered the school a little nervous. As such, they had been glad to find a wizard without too many wrinkles who also had a tendency to keep his powers to himself.
Ashter brought the candle to his lips in order to blow it out, and felt a slight shiver run down his spine. He had learned to trust that shiver. Instead of blowing out the candle, he whispered a spell to hide its light from everyone but him, then rose and left his study.
The spring night was comfortable, and the moon overhead cast a wan light that painted the Academé in silken shadows. The campus was huge, and even after years as its headmaster, Tavrinal was still amazed by its size. The buildings were all at least two stories high, made from blocks of reddish sandstone that had been quarried from the cliffs that stood just a few miles east. The three buildings in the middle of the property each stood five stories tall—these contained the main classrooms. In the grassy fields close to the Gypsies’ Forest he could see the worn archery butts. Nearby, the churned dirt showed the use of countless hooves in the practice rings. The main courtyard outside the mess hall, now empty, was often the only place where his students could simply be children.
Ashter glanced up at the waxing moon overhead, then around him for whatever had caused his telling shiver. He had no trouble spotting it. A huge, human-shaped form was lurking at the edge of the Academé’s borders. At least, it was trying to lurk, and not doing a very good job of it due to the fact that it was hopping nervously from foot to foot, sending little tremors through the ground.
Ashter approached it warily. As the candle illuminated the figure’s face, he saw that it was a boy. At least, under normal circumstances the Headmaster would have judged him to be not much older than eleven. This “boy” stood no shorter than twelve feet tall with shoulders as broad a normal man’s arm-span, but there was no mistaking the child-like quality of that face. His bright, innocent blue eyes were red-rimmed, as if he had been crying. Despite the headmaster’s spell, the boy-giant could apparently see the candlelight. Tavrinal relaxed—all of his instincts told him that this was no threat.
“I’m scared of the dark,” whispered the child. His voice was a boy’s voice, true, but so deep that you felt it could rattle stone.
The headmaster took a hesitant step forward. “What’s your name?”
“They call me Boom cause they say my voice is like thunder.”
To Ashter’s unease, silent tears began to stream down the boy’s cheeks. This was well outside his area of experience. He patted the child awkwardly on one huge forearm. “There, there,” was the best he could manage.
“Don’t normally come out anymore, since I just scare people. But…” Boom brought one huge fist into the light and opened it, revealing two broken halves of an arrow. “I wan-wanted to give this back,” he sniffed, wiping his nose. He had managed to stop weeping.
Ashter’s sharp memory came to his aid. Unit thirty-two had been out on the shooting range this afternoon. He quickly brought up a mental register of names and faces…and smiled. “Just wait here,” he said, patting the boy again. “Don’t move.”
“Can I keep the candle?”
The headmaster placed the flickering remains of the candle carefully on the open hand and dashed away with as much dignity as a dashing wizard could manage.
He knocked softly on the door to her dormitory, praying she would be awake. She opened the door for him, and he saw that she was already dressed. So she had felt something too. Jataal may have been more right about her than he knew.
She stiffened when she saw him. “What is it, headmaster?”
“I need your help, Miss Morn,” he said. “Please come with me.”
Karenna came. She didn’t ask questions and she didn’t hesitate. She tensed when she saw Boom standing in the moon-lit shadows. Ashter saw her relax quickly, the magic inside her connecting with the benign magic that pulsed from the boy-giant.
“Boom,” he said softly, “this is Karenna Morn. Miss Morn, this is Boom.”
The child-giant waved one hand. The candle had burned down in his other hand, leaving a small pool of molten wax. “Who are you?” she asked, inching towards him. “I thought giants were just a fairy tale.”
“They are,” Boom rumbled. “I’m not really a giant. But when I was little, I accidentally stepped between two wizards who were fighting. The spells made me grow, my clothes too, and did a lot of other things, and now no one wants me.” Ashter had heard of accidents like this before, but never in his memory had the consequences been so extreme or permanent.
Karenna took his wax-free hand in both her slim ones. She was taller than Ashter; her head came to about the middle of Boom’s torso. “How old are you?” she asked.
“I was eleven when I grew,” he said. “That was…” he lapsed into silence as he thought. “Twenty-six years ago.”
“You’re thirty-seven years old?”
Boom shrugged. “A doctor said my brain and my body won’t grow anymore. He said I’m stuck at eleven, but I know more things than most kids do. I know about…” he paused again, and Ashter could have sworn he blushed, “about where babies come from, and I know about Gypsies and Werebeasts, and about Werenna and Scharon. I know how to live on my own and take care of myself.” He swallowed. “I’m not stupid.”
Karenna stepped closer to him and examined the waxy hand. She began to chip the hardened puddle away with a fingernail, being careful not to scratch him. “No,” she said quietly. “No, you’re not stupid, Boom. You’re just very different, and sometimes humans have trouble dealing with people who aren’t like them. They can be…very cruel.”
Ashter Tavrinal nodded to himself. Every mage, however powerful or accepted, experienced that kind of prejudice at one point or another. And he didn’t even want to imagine what Karenna had had to live with because of her eyes.
Boom sniffed. “You’re not cruel.”
Karenna smiled. “Thank you, Boom.”
The headmaster stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Can you handle this?” he asked, knowing the answer.
She nodded, and he left.
* * *
Karenna watched Headmaster Tavrinal go. She wondered, for a moment, why he had chosen her. Because he knows, said a traitorous little voice inside her. He knows what you won’t even admit to yourself.
“Are you all right?” asked Boom.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically.
“Can I pick you up?”
“What?”
He scooped her up gently in one massive hand. She managed not to cry out as her feet left the ground. Boom lifted her until they could see each other face to face. “All right,” she said breathlessly.
Boom smiled. “You’re pretty. You have nice eyes.”
“Not many people think so.”
“Are you a Gypsie?”
Karenna shifted her position on the wide hand. Finally she said, “I don’t know.” It was probably the most honest answer she had ever given that question.
Boom cocked his head to one side. “You look like a Gypsie, tall and a little brownish. How come you don’t know?”
“Because I don’t,” she snapped.
Boom winced and put her down. Karenna took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Boom; I’m not mad at you.”
“I like Gypsies,” he said, almost as an apology. “They think I’m kinda funny and harmless and let their kids play with me ‘cause their magic doesn’t hurt me. No playing anymore, though. Not since I dropped one.”
“You dropped one of their children!” exclaimed Karenna.
“I didn’t mean to!” Boom explained, looking ashamed and guilty. “He bit my hand really hard. I didn’t mean to.”
“Was he hurt?” she said, trying not to smile. He looked so very comical standing there, huge and unthreatening, nearly crying like the little boy he was.
Boom hiccupped. “Only bruised a bit.”
Karenna sighed a little in relief, but she was becoming rapidly aware that someone was going to hear him. She took his hand and tugged him towards the deeper darkness of the Gypsies’ Forest. “Come on, Boom,” she whispered, “we can’t have anyone finding you here.”
Boom came obediently. She closed her eyes when they first entered among the forbidding trees, praying silently that the Gypsies either wouldn’t see them or wouldn’t care. They went a few yards into the Forest and then Karenna stopped. She looked around at the unfathomable shadows around her. “Will you be all right in here for tonight?”
He nodded. “I live in here. Will you come and visit me tomorrow?”
“I’ll try.” She smiled at him and turned to leave.
Boom put one hand on her shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, and for a moment there was a hint of more than eleven-year-old maturity in his voice and manner.
She pressed her cheek to the hand. “Goodnight, Boom.” And as she stole away back to her own bunk, the forest didn’t seem quite so frightening.
* * *
Tannar heard her open and shut the door quietly as she sneaked back into the dormitories. He had wanted to follow her, had known he should follow her, but he hadn’t. He would follow her tomorrow, he decided.
He sighed and rolled over, pressing his face to his pillow. Oddly enough, the thing he was glad about was not that she had returned safely from whatever errand she had been on—it was the knowledge that Obern had not gone on that errand with her. Still puzzling about why this made him happy, he closed his eyes and rolled over, bracing himself for another boring, sleepless night.
* * *
Vishna turned her head at the sound of footsteps. Avarn entered her study, walking slowly with his hands held out so as not to collide with the haphazard piles of books. “What is it?” she snapped. “I’m busy.”
“You’re always busy, mother,” said Avarn, that infuriating little smile on his lips.
Vishna scowled, but only because she knew he couldn’t see her. “Where’s your little pet? Off playing with the clouds again?”
Avarn’s smile faded. “Tannar is…running an errand for me,” he said, his blank eyes glaring at her.
Against her will, she squirmed in his stare. She hadn’t been able to look him in the eye once in the past six years. “Why you allow him such freedom I’ll never know,” she said. “Their kind need to be kept on a short lead; you of all people should know that.” She didn’t regret the words, not exactly. But as Avarn’s fingers lightly caressed the burn scars that formed a mask-like pattern on his face, she did feel a pang of guilt. Vishna knew the scars still pained him; she herself had dozens all over her body. “I’m sorry…” she faltered.
Avarn exhaled softly. “Your concentration was too deep for Mensha to reach you; she sent me to say dinner’s ready.” He turned away from her and began to navigate his way back to the door.
Vishna reached out a hand to grab his arm, and stopped. “Avarn,” she said, but he was gone.
* * *
Karenna watched from the other end of the mess hall as Obern and Shana smiled and chatted together. Laroo and Menee sat beside her, discussing their classes. She did not touch the bland meat and bread in front of her, nor did she hear the twins’ conversation. Her eyes were fixed upon her unit-mates, and they flashed as Shana laughed at something Obern said and laid a hand on his shoulder.
Before her better judgment could stop her, she closed her eyes and whispered a few short words in Elemental. It was a spell she hadn’t tried before, but it worked as it should. Every word of Shana and Obern’s conversation became clear in her ears, while the ambient noise around her faded away.
“...and with those eyes,” Shana said, almost playfully.
“I don’t know,” said Obern. “I don’t think they’d let her in if she really was a Gypsie; Tavrinal’s not some Class One wizard to be fooled by a kid.”
I’m older than you are, she thought, but kept her irritation in check. In truth she was seventeen, a year older than the required age. Her parents had lied to try to keep her away from this place, from all these people who would judge her as these two were doing.
“Tavrinal may be powerful,” Shana said, as if she doubted the fact, “but you just have to look at his face to see that he’s barely touched a spell-book since he was appointed headmaster—he gets by on reputation. And if she really is a Gypsie, kid or not, she should be strong enough to pull the wool over the eyes of a lazy wizard like that.” Her next words were a low murmur, “Those freaks.”
Again, Karenna had to restrain the desire to let her anger loose. But she was glad she’d decided to eavesdrop; this conversation could seriously affect her safety.
“Well, if Tavrinal couldn’t see through her, what could? An Elementar?” Obern’s tone was half disapproving, half mocking. “Anyway, she hasn’t even shown enough magical potential to rate even a Possible Wizard Class One, and you’re a Class Two yourself.”
If Shana was pleased by the roundabout compliment, she didn’t show it. “You weren’t there when those Werewolves attacked our caravan. She’s a mage all right, but whether a decent human wizard or one of those Gypsie soothsayers I don’t know—what kind of race is made up of all mages anyway? And you should have seen the weather that sprang up; it was almost like those stories about the air-water Elementars and the storms they could conjure at will.”
“So now we’re back on Elementars,” sighed Obern, flinging an arm carelessly around Shana’s narrow shoulders. “Make up your mind, Shan. Either she’s a Gypsie-born soothsayer out to infiltrate the Dirantyri military—Werenna knows why—or she’s a magician with weird eyes who’s managed to gain control of an Elementar before she’s even of age.”
“I never said she was a magician,” Shana retorted.
“So, what, you’re more scared of a Gypsie? Honestly, Shan, I doubt they’d use a kid like her to scout out for a raid. I doubt they’d even try to raid a place like this anyway.”
Before Karenna could hear more of their conversation, Tannar’s voice broke her out of the spell. “This seat taken?”
She jerked and stared up at him. The world around her was too loud after her focused eavesdropping. He grinned that not-quite-human grin of his, balancing his lunch tray on one hand. She moved over to make room for him, her senses coming back into clarity. But she continued to glare at the table across the mess hall from hers, and the weariness she felt was, perhaps, more than simply the price of her magic.
). I do give a little bit of set up to why Tavrinal chooses Karenna: Tavrinal thinks "Jataal may have been more right about her than he knew." when he finds her already dressed. Do you think I need more than that? How would I include it?
Then I had to reread several times. 
But should Boom be this weepy? Even though he’s different and traumatised and all, [s]small[/s] young boys don’t like to break down in front of complete strangers. 
Melted wax really, really hurts. 
Rofl, I love that part! The “kids” is still very jarring, though. 
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