~Chapter Six: Well-Seasoned Vegetables~

For the first time all term, Magical Dueling had assigned homework.

And Colin had asked Eola to help him with it.

So, instead of sitting in her room and working on solving the Call and Calm riddle, Eola found herself on the common room couch with her roommate, studying a primer on mixing footwork and spellwork as a storm raged outside.

It wasn’t hard for her. While she hadn’t mixed in any casting until a couple of years ago, her mother had put her through all the dance steps in the Taron-Li—sometimes for hours at a time. She knew the dozens of basic advancing, retreating, and side-stepping moves by heart.

But Colin—poor Colin—was just as methodical and precise with the sword dance as he was when he sketched spells. He knew the correct answers, but he didn’t know them, and there was a difference. It made him slow in fighting and in the sword dance, and his frustration was starting to boil over. Admittedly, it had been well over an hour, but still, Eola needed this done so she could focus on what mattered—rescuing her parents.

“Alright, Colin. The primer’s saying that if your opponent is advancing in third guard, you can counter that with Spark Shot, Quickened Spark Shot, or a similar cantrip to the left side. It’ll force them to the right, and that opens them to an attack from the left. So, most duelists will cover the left with a barrier. But you can beat that with your own barrier during retreat, which—“

“Eola, please,” Colin groaned. He had the primer in his lap, and he kept staring at it, but his face looked like it was written in Emerald Cursive. “Please, I’m trying. I really am, but I need a break.”

“You need a break?” Eola asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I can figure this out! I just need some time to digest it.”

Eola’s stomach chose that moment to rumble, and she winced.

“See,” Colin said. “I need to digest this primer, and you need to eat something. We’ll go to the cafeteria, see if they’ve got anything that won’t poison us, and then get back to studying.”

“Wait. No. Y’aer’s curse, Colin,” Eola said, but she was too late.

Colin bounced off the couch and disappeared into his room. He returned a moment later, his cloak flung over his shoulders at a shabby-looking angle. He clearly hadn’t put any effort whatsoever into it. “I’m ready.”

“Alright, then,” Eola sighed, picking her own cloak off the couch arm. “Let’s go. We can discuss the Taron-Li homework on the way.”

Colin groaned again as they left the suite and hurried down the curved hall toward the stairwell. The fastest way to the academy’s cafeteria was outside, across the courtyard, and she wasn’t looking forward to crossing the windswept space. Snow blew sideways into her eyes, and she leaned against the wind. Colin stepped in front of her and blocked the worst of it. Her eyes narrowed against the wind as she stared at the back of his head.

Then they were through it, in the cafeteria, and the smell of butter, potatoes, and oven-cooked vegetables hit her. Salt. Pepper. Something more unusual that she couldn’t place. It smelled delicious, and she’d skipped lunch to try to make progress on one of her projects, the Call and Calm rune. Nothing had clicked, but she’d eliminated a few of her less likely possibilities.

All she had left now were the least likely possibilities.

She hurried to find a place in line, and Colin followed her. “You know, Eola, I think that’s the most words you’ve said to me at once,” he said as they waited for their plates.

“Is it?” Eola knew, intellectually, that it was true. She also knew that Colin was a friend—her only one at Varin’s. Catrine Andrese hadn’t let up. If anything, she’d gotten bolder as the number of classes the two girls shared dwindled from four to two. Eola could probably take her in a sword duel, but without First Order magic, the young noblewoman could overwhelm her with raw power. That was part of the Taron-Li that the elf didn’t discuss in his class. First-Order spells’ power counted for more than anything Eola could do.

“Yes.” The plates slid across the counter, and Colin grabbed his. “You only talk about magic. I know basically nothing about you.”

Talking about herself would only, inevitably, bring up her parents, and Eola had sworn not to talk about them. It’d be better for her if fewer people knew why she had to learn magic. Even Colin, who probably had no idea who Lord Card was, didn’t need to know.

The food was a welcome distraction, and Eola carried hers one-handed as she poked at the vegetables with a finger. “What do you think they seasoned this with?”

Colin rolled his eyes, and they sat down.

It turned out to be paprika and a small dose of chili powder—plus more pepper than Eola had been expecting. She sneezed after the first bit. “They didn’t overdo it, but Y’aer, that’s a lot of flavor.”

For the next three minutes, she didn’t say anything as Colin poked at his broccoli and squash. She was too busy eating. Then, when she’d finished, her eyes fell on his untouched pile. He’d given up on it and was working on his potato instead.

“Are you going to eat those?” she asked after another minute.

“No.”

“Great!” she eyed it for a few more seconds as Colin ignored her. “Can I have them?”

“Your eating habits are weird,” Colin said. “I can’t believe you like cafeteria food.”

“They’re not weird. I just eat efficiently. A lot all at once, as quickly as I can. I’m too busy to sit down and eat three times a day, much less to run to Varin’s Town every time I get peckish.” Another pause. “Well?”

“Sure. I’ll trade you the vegetables for a favor.”

Eola reached over, grabbed his plate, and slid the slightly-too-spiced pile onto her own with her fork. Then she nodded seriously. “Deal. What’s the favor?”

An hour later, as the clock in Varin’s Town struck seven and the storm redoubled, Eola strode toward the towering spire’s entrance. “You really haven’t been to the library once?”

“Not past the first floor gate.” Colin stared at his boots. He’d needed a little help with his armor—an ill-fitting padded coat, light scale breastplate and pauldron, and boots and gloves. No bandolier, no loops for a wand or spellbook, only a satchel bag over his shoulder and a plain smallsword on his right hip. “I’m not…”

“Good at fighting?”

“Yeah. That.” The boy held out a list for her. Eola had looked it over, and just like everything else Colin did academically, it was exhaustively detailed, with book titles, row and shelf numbers, and how many copies existed. It was also smudged and crumpled. She glanced at it one more time and nodded. “Right. Let’s get to it.”

The two students dropped their robes and cloaks at the lockers, double-checked their gear, and walked through the first floor. A few librarians eyed them, and Eola spotted students in every row—including an unwanted, but familiar face. She put on a little more speed before Catrine could notice her, and they arrived at the first gate.

Tagg wasn’t on duty tonight, it seemed. Either that or he was busy.

Eola opened the gate, and they stepped through the tunnel and into the second floor.

The moment she did, the hairs on her neck stood on end, and she shivered. So did Colin. “Something’s not right here,” he muttered.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Swords out,” she whispered back. “You’re on Bright Ball. I’ll do the fighting, just keep our rows lit. First destination is Row Thirty-Five, right?”

“Row Thirty-Five, Shelf One.” Colin drew his sword, then fell into Fourth Guard, ready to cover their left flank. It was the right move in theory, but it looked awkward on Colin. She pushed the feeling down as they started creeping down the tiled central pathway.

Row Thirty-Five was about a third of the way through the floor—there were an even hundred rows of tall shelves, each perfectly straight despite the tiled central path’s upward spiral. Eola hadn’t been past Row Thirty; it was too dangerous alone. But tonight, if everything went well, they’d visit Row Sixty-Three. Colin had insisted on it. According to him, there was a book on rituals there that he needed for an independent study with Clearance.

Ritual magic held no interest to Eola. Something like Call and Calm was fine, but for the most part, the symbols were needlessly complex, the effects took too long to manifest, and the payoffs weren’t worth the time and effort.

“What was that?” Colin asked.

“Nothing,” Eola said quickly. She pushed past the row in question, dragging Colin along before he could investigate. “It wasn’t anything. We’re not interested in Row Fifteen—there’s nothing useful there.”

Colin followed, and they left the nothing they’d both seen behind.

It was odd, though, that she’d seen two glowing yellow eyes right where she’d killed the trog the last time she’d been this far.

Row Thirty-Five was miraculously empty. Colin pulled the list from his pocket and unfolded it, then started pulling books from the shelf and dropping them into his satchel.

Eola watched the main path and the row for a moment, then, as her classmate finished up, snatched the last title from his hand. “Abridged History of the Magecraft Holds and Cities, Volume Six? Really? This is abridged?”

The first five volumes—all at least three inches thick—were already in Colin’s satchel, and there were six more on the shelf. He nodded, looking over Eola’s shoulder. “We don’t have a history course until next term, and we’ve only got four classes a term, plus apprenticeships. I might not have room for it. Where are you from again?”

“Greenarbor.”

“Right, that’s Volume Two, I think. You should give it a read. Might learn something.”

Eola shrugged. “Maybe later. My plate’s full.”

“I don’t know…”