“I’m glad to be back.”
Since Gaul Haddar had left me in charge, and gnomes were big on orderly protocol, Morton was constantly sucking up to me. Today would be no different. “We need your wise leadership. There is rebellion afoot!”
“What now?”
“Mr. Tartaros gave a very rousing speech last night. So moved by his call to action, I even shed a single tear. However, not all of the students agree about this adventuring business. Since you weren’t here, some of them claimed that after Cutter Joran’s threats, you’d fled in fear, abandoning the rest of us to our fate.”
“Well, that’s stupid.” As a follower of Saint Persistence, the idea I’d be such a cowardly quitter was downright insulting. I’d have warned my friends first,thenrun.
“Indeed. I told all who would listen that Mr. Carnavon would never forsake this academy which he has strived so hard to organize. You should have them flogged for their impudence. I have kept a list of names?—”
I stopped Morton before he could get the folded note out of his vest. “Nobody’s getting flogged. We’re being extorted by a crime lord. It’s natural to grouse about that. Where’s Azarin?”
“Last I saw, your lady was in the main chamber for the day’s practice.”
“Great. But don’t call her my lady in front of her, or she’s likely to hit you with a jolt stick.”
“But I thought?—”
“It’s complicated, Morton.”
“Forgive me. Human courtship remains a mystery to me.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Among gnomes, the courting families simply enter into a period of prolonged contractual negotiations, debating the pros and cons of the arrangement for both family businesses until the two sides reach a mutually beneficial?—”
“Now’s not the time.” He was nearly as bad as Trax telling me all I needed to do was kill some whales to impress Azarin. “Gather everybody else and send them to the main chamber. I’ve got to tell the whole school what we’re up against.”
“I believe they’re already there, sir, but I shall check for stragglers.”
I headed for the largest room in the Tube. The central stairwell that we used as our hall had loose dirt and gravel everywhere from the monster barreling down it, and most of the wooden platforms and ladders we’d cobbled together hadn’t been repaired yet. Broken bits dangled everywhere. Seeing that destruction was profoundly depressing after having put in so much work.
There were enough windows and light charms floating above that our big space was kept bright. I discovered that most of our students were already there, though rather than practicing their spell craft, they were sparring. Which was surprising, because many of them weren’t particularly skilled at violence. Today, itwas mostly sticks wrapped in rags playing at sword fighting, and what looked to be some boxing and wrestling.
I was rather decent at the brawling, as Fogo folk have an instinctual love of beating the snot out of each other over petty grievances or rivalries, or just for fun, but I knew nothing about all that slashy, flashy sword business. Rade was our only trained swordsman.
All mages needed some way of defending themselves when their magic wasn’t handy, and having been a trapper, I preferred the pragmatic application of bullets. There were a handful of firearms among us, but we lacked the money for practice ammunition. I had twenty rounds in the loops of my belt, and a few dismantled shells in the fire room I’d been experimenting with recently, and that was all.
Azarin quit her playing at combat and strolled over, happy to see me. “Good to have you back. How went the reconnaissance?”
“The locals were more helpful than I’d hoped. Turns out fishermen and stevedores are a talkative bunch. Only, the stories they told aren’t exactly confidence inspiring. I’ll give the rundown to the whole group. Why the fighting?”
“Practice for our adventuring. We figured we’d best save what element we’ve got left for our expedition rather than use any more up in practice.”
“Smart.” I watched the awkward flailing of some of our students. There were a few who could handle themselves. The rest, not so much. Our ten remaining students came from a wide variety of backgrounds, some of which apparently hadn’t offered many opportunities to learn proper stabbing or head smashing. “They look ridiculous.”
“That’s what Krachma’s been saying all morning.”
“He’s talking to them?”
“He’s not really expounding; more like he paces around them as they spar, grunting out words likeawfulorpatheticover and over. I do think he’s actually trying to teach them, though.”
Krachma was probably our most experienced combatant, and other than his single loss to me, he had the best record in the arena of any of us. I’d only bested him by trickery. In a straight-up battle where I couldn’t fake him out with magic, he’d probably have ripped my arm off and beaten me with it, as he’d done to one poor bastard while rescuing Azarin from Adderlane’s hired goons.
As I watched, the lob stopped two stick fighters. He shook his head angrily, took Bognar’s stick away, and showed him the correct way to thrust it like a short sword. When he handed it back, that student promptly stuck Danny hard in the gut with it. The injured student fell to his knees, gasping, and I think for just a moment, Krachma might have smiled a little at his suffering.
“By the saints, I think Krachma’s enjoying himself.”
