“It’s just a stupid thing I learned working in Tycho’s lab.” That was far from the truth. What I’d done in there should have been impossible. I’d never heard of anyone who could pull aspects out of the air and channel them directly through their serpent without passing them through their core or aura. “I don’t want to make a big deal about it. Clem’s probably going to be embarrassed as it is.”
And she was, which worked out to my benefit. For once, Clem took the first explanation I offered and didn’t chase after me for more details.
Thank the Flame for small miracles, I guess.
The Slip
OTHER THAN CLEM’S NEAR miss with the garbage disposal, classes went by without any notable incidents. I kept showing up and tried to pay attention. While my clan could, and no doubt would, help cover up any failings in my grades, I didn’t want that. To master the dark urges of my Eclipse nature, I needed to learn as much as I possibly could.
Which was easier said than done, when I spent every day nervous there’d be another attempt on my life. It wasn’t so much that I was scared of the assassins, as I didn’t want anyone else to get caught in the crossfire.
If something happened to any of my friends because I’d become the top target for a heretic hit team, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
It didn’t help matters that the Portal Defense Force had tightened their security around the school for reasons entirely unrelated to the attack on me. As far as I knew, none of the school’s authorities or staff had any idea there’d be an assassination attempt on school grounds. The PDF were concerned about heightened risks of terrorist attacks following a series of minor, but still worrying, incidents in the overcities. Someone had been breaking into government buildings and spray-painting “Free the Slave” on the monuments to the Empyrean Flame.
It was obvious to me that this was the work of the heretics, but the PDF was positive it was related to Grayson Bishop’s trial.
“Why would anyone take Bishop’s side?” Rachel asked my friends and me at dinner one night. “He was caught red-handed dealing with the Locust Court. I’m surprised they bothered with a trial.”
“Of course there’ll be a trial,” Clem said. Her mother was an adjudicator, and her whole family firmly believed in the rule of Imperial Law. “Even with ironclad proof, the code of Empyrean Law demands that we conduct an investigation and give the accused a chance to defend themselves against the crimes they’re charged with. I know it seems unlikely, but there’s always a possibility that Grayson didn’t actually do any of the things he’s been accused of.”
That drew a lot of raised eyebrows from the rest of the table. It was one thing to defend the system, it was entirely another to pretend like we hadn’t caught Grayson’s Locust emissary red-handed. Tycho had even presented Bishop’s journal at trial, confirming what I’d already known. There wasn’t much wiggle room there.
“It will all be over in a few months,” I said and scooped up a spoonful of the best chili I’d ever had. It was spicy, with just a hint of chocolate sweetness and the faint bitter bite of coffee. The meat was tender with the right amount of chew to it, and I’d already finished one bowl topped with diced onions, sour cream, and sharp cheddar cheese. The second helping tasted every bit as good as the first had. “One way or another.”
“Let’s hope so,” Eric said. “My clan is just about sick of this case. We’re ready for it to be over. Most of us just want to get past it so we can repair the damage all this has caused.”
I felt bad for my friend. Grayson was a member of his clan and had been one of the world’s five sacred sages. He brought prestige and honor to the Resplendent Suns, and his fall from grace had plunged Eric’s clan into turmoil over whether to support their former elder or condemn him before the trial.
We kicked the subject around for a while longer, then let it go. There was nothing any of us could do about the case, and arguing about it would just end with hurt feelings. As always, we drifted away after dinner, heading off to do homework or study for the next day’s classes. The School of Swords and Serpents was one of the most challenging environments I’d ever experienced. Between the physical demands of martial arts training for four hours every morning, the mental demands of our academics, and the fact that every time I touched an inscriber I broke something, I ended every day more than ready to hit my bed.
These days, though, I didn’t get the bed.
Hagar did.
I’d been relegated to the couch in the sitting room, which was comfortable, if a little short for my long legs. I’d floated the idea of trading places every other night, but Hagar wasn’t having any of that. As my handler, she thought she had seniority, and she abused it at every turn. She got the bed, used up all the hot water before I could take my showers, and had even rearranged the furniture according to some plan that made no sense to me.
Which is why most nights, I went to the small library rooms to research more about my Eclipse core. Since my advancement, its hunger had changed. It was easier for me to control now, but it was also greedier. Every time I was even the slightest bit irritated or annoyed, my core wanted me to remove the source of that annoyance immediately if not sooner. I was also getting more paranoid, though it was open to debate whether that was from my Eclipse nature or from the recent assassination attempt.
The small research cells worked on demand. If you concentrated on the type
