Pale: 4.6 - Lucy
Author: Wildbow

Lucy

Lucy was woken up by whoops.  A bit later, there was applause.

She had to climb over a comatose Verona to get out of bed.  Avery had already swung her feet over and risen to her feet by the time Lucy was straightened up, the silk wrapping removed from her hair and laid across the books Verona had piled on the bedside table.

Shoulder to shoulder with Avery, she poked her head out the door.

At the very end of the hall, past showers and library, some guys were running out the door, one of them pulling off his shirt, wearing only basketball shorts.

“You want to go, new kids?” a guy asked.

“Morning ritual.  From bed to the bridge, jump.  No hesitating or stopping.  There’s nothing to wake you up like freefall and a plunge into cold water.  Some of those guys do it every morning.”

“How tall is the bridge?” Avery asked.

“Twenty-six feet.  Nice and wobbly, missing a railing in one part, but you don’t want to jump from that part, unless you want to risk skewering yourself on some of the bits of bridge that fell into the water.”

Booker’s rule was to say yes, but…

“It’s mostly the older guys doing it,” the guy across the hall said.

“And I don’t want to get my hair wet,” she said.

“Hey, you don’t need excuses.  You’re two of the new ones, right?”

“Yeah,” Avery said.  “Hi.  I’m Avery.”

“Lucy,” Lucy introduced herself.

The guy wasn’t bad looking.  Fourteen or so.  He was rumpled from sleep, with a crease at the side of his face, had a sleepy look that, if she remembered last night right, was perpetual, and tended to the skinny side.  Nice face, and hair that probably looked nice while it was tidy but was a black halo of bedhead right now.  He wore a long sleeved shirt and plaid pyjama pants, with flip-flops.

Something about the fact that he was the first boy she’d seen who wasn’t like, ready for school, Booker aside, and that she wasn’t fully awake with her defenses up, and everything?  Her brain did a mental that’s a boy he’s a boy somersault.

She extended a hand, on impulse, and then kicked herself for doing it.

But he stepped forward, across the hall, and shook it, smiling, like it was normal.  “Tymon.  Sharing a room with my little bro.”

“We’ve got three of us in here,” Lucy said.  She turned to Avery.  “But… not so bad?”

“Not so far,” Avery answered.  She shook Tymon’s hand.

“Is your sister in another room, then?” Lucy asked.

“Someone’s paying attention.  Yeah.  With another one of the newbies, and their familiars.  Talos and I have ours.”

He put a hand over to the side, and what looked like six rodents all scampered up his arm, one or two ducking under the cuff of his long sleeve, seeming to disappear into his arm with the lump under the sleeve going away, before crawling out again at the collar and shoulder.  They merged together into a single, black mouse with patchy fur and pale yellow eyes, with one tattered ear.

Right.  They were the callers of these great spirits of drugs or whatever.

Maybe not boyfriend material.  They’d been told to be careful and steer clear.

“Is he the spirit you call?” Lucy asked.

Tymon laughed, suddenly enough it startled her.

“No,” Dreg rasped, speaking with an adult’s voice.  “A good familiar is a partner, something you can control, or something you’re willing to be controlled by.  Things as large and wild as Black Gutter do nothing except drown you out.”

“Dreg is a vestige.  Was Aware enough to dip into some Jekyll and Hyde type alchemy, eroded away a good chunk of his Self.  Only a fragment of the person was left, other stuff took up residence.”

“I was almost a doctor,” Dreg said.  “A sip of this, a drab of that, to bring out the sharpness of my mind and my attention to details and diagnosis.  I was an angel to hundreds of people who had nothing.  But the same drug made me frail, and some people broke me to pieces so they could take my stash of herbs and chemicals.  Then I had only the frailty, a shattered body, an old self I’d forgotten, and dashed dreams of what might have been.”

“Don’t get him started,” Tymon said.

“Yes, don’t get me started,” the mouse rasped.

“Nice to meet you, Dreg,” Avery said.  “I’ve got… She’s not my familiar, but it’s apparently similar-ish.  Snowdrop?”

Avery turned back toward the room.

“Snowdrop, come say hi?”

Lucy looked.  Snowdrop slept, barely stirring.

“She’s conked out,” Avery said.

“Verona too, it seems,” Lucy noted, looking at her friend.  She had put her phone into the waistband of her sleep shorts, because none of them had an alarm clock, and she’d been worried the sound or vibration of a dinky phone wouldn’t wake her.  Keeping it in her waistband meant she’d at least feel the vibration.  She checked the time.  Eight.  The alarm was set for eight-twenty.

“My brother calls Glass Prison, and rescued Helei, a naiad.  A more bubbly and pleasant companion to help keep his spirits up.  Jorja taps Drugstore Cowgirl, and she took a bogeyman.  Uhh… doing the opposite of Talos, kind of.”

“Does everyone else have one?” Lucy asked.

“Nah.  Even Mr. Belanger and Mr. Sunshine don’t.  A lot of people only ever pick up one or two of the three.  Mr. Belanger has his study and a wand, Mr. Sunshine has this digital space he’s made, and Mrs. Durocher has En.”

“Having a familiar makes it easier to… I’m not sure I know how to say it,” Tymon said.  “it’s like trying to stop a hundred-mile an hour fastball with your bare hand when you could use a catcher’s mitt.  When there’s two of you, there’s more surface area, some different material, to absorb what comes at you.  The hand’s still there, too, you’re there.  But it’s handy when you do what we do.”

Lucy nodded.  “That makes some sense.”

“Anyway, I don’t want to keep you, and I’m getting hungry.”

“How do we do breakfast?” Avery asked.

“I usually drop off my request at the kitchen on my way to the bathroom, do the basic stuff, come back, grab my tray and then either eat in the room or go outside, depending.”

“That works.  Thanks for the info,” Lucy said.

“See you around.  Watch out for those guys as they come back in.  They might drip and you don’t want to slip or bump into someone while carrying food or whatever.”

She and Avery retreated into the room, closing the door.

“You can be such a lump sometimes, Snowdrop,” Avery said.

Snowdrop, one arm and her head sticking out over the edge of the bed, mumbled something.  “Mmm… merry.”

Avery put a hand under Snowdrop’s head and gently moved her back onto the bed, moved Snowdrop’s arm so her hand and the fork it clutched was at her chest, and then pulled covers around her, bracing her with a pillow so she wouldn’t migrate over to the side of the bed.

Lucy looked at Verona.  Her friend had drooled onto her pillow.  She pinched Verona’s lips closed.  “You could sleep with your mouth closed, Ronnie.  You might drool less.”

Verona made a face, twisted her head around, and resumed sleeping, face-down in a way that made it hard for Lucy to believe she could breathe.

Lucy gathered her things, and made her way to the washroom, with Avery beside her, and the multi-layered case of hair and hygiene stuff in one hand.

They had to wait amid the students who’d gathered to write stuff and drop it in next to the kitchen.  They got paper and little pencils, and penciled out their breakfasts.  Lucy stole peeks at other people’s submissions, and settled on french toast with bacon and hash browns, and juice.  Because one of her hands was full with the case of hair and body stuff, she used it as a surface to write on.

The washrooms were divided up into two sections by a central wall, with a row of sinks attached to each wall, and another wall blocking off most of the view of the row of showers, some of which were already steaming.  It wasn’t exactly private, with a fair view of both bathrooms as they approached the dividing wall, but they headed off to the right, for the girls’ side.  Lucy headed into the shower, which had two sections- one for her clothes and toiletries, and for changing, the other for actually taking a shower.

She showered, changed into a hooded sleeveless red and black top with some writing on the breast and dark grey leggings with some writing on the leg, then migrated over to the sinks.  She ended up waiting for the girl with the doll partner, Talia, to finish at the sink furthest from the door before taking up residence there.  The sinks didn’t have a lot of space around them, and the sink here was by the window.  She was able to set her toiletry case down on the windowsill and spread some stuff out there.  She draped her towel over her shoulders and tucked it into her collar to protect it from her hair stuff.

Some hair relaxer and detangler, because the trip in the back of the truck had done a number on her hair, wide toothed comb.  Tangles dealt with.  She began putting in deep, leave-in moisturizer, sectioning off her hair and drawing it taut before moisturizing it from end to root, because she’d have it pulled back tight when her hair was done.

Avery left the shower and dropped her stuff along the back of the sink next to her.  She began brushing her hair.

“Beginner magical lessons, first thing this morning?” Lucy asked.  “See where we stand after a beginner class?”

“Sure.  I could see Verona jumping straight into the intermediate class.  What was it?”

“I could see her being into that.  Both feet first.”

“She has to wake up to do that,” Lucy said.

Avery finished brushing her wet hair, then put hair stuff on it and brushed her teeth.  Another girl went to the sink two down from Avery, and began to wash her face.

“Would you jump off the bridge?” Lucy asked, working on her hair.

Avery, toothbrush in her mouth, made a quizzical grunt.

Lucy pointed out the window.

Avery spat, then said, “I’d like to try it once.  Every morning, though?  I can’t imagine that.”

“Reminds me of that thing some parents in books and cartoons say,” Lucy mused.  “If everyone else was jumping off a bridge…?”

“My dad used to say something like that.  But he said he wished we were the types to go along with the crowd, sometimes.  If we listened to the crowd maybe we’d be on the same page as one of the other siblings for once.”

The girl two sinks down gave them a curious look.

“Declan said something about ‘what if we hit the ground and went splat?’ and my dad said it would still be worth the peace of mind.”

“Ohhhh,” the girl two sinks down cut in.

“Hm?” Lucy tilted her head to see past Avery and get a better look at the girl.

“I was defaulting to thinking your parents were practitioners.  I thought your dad was being ice cold there.”

“Nah,” Avery said, smiling.

“Avery Kelly.”  Avery shook her hand.

“Lucy.  I’d shake your hand but mine’s covered in conditioner.”

“Cool last name,” Avery said.

“Meh.  If you asked around you’d probably hear something like how my family’s a bunch of magic janitors.”

“Janitors?  What do you do?”

“I’m a knight of seals.  If something too big to kill gets defeated around here, they’ll call my family and we’ll put up a barrier around it.  Or on it, depending.  Which is a once every few years type thing.  The rest of the time, we travel around, checking the old barriers aren’t growing legs or wearing out, and corking up any warren holes.”

“Legs?” Avery asked.  She turned to Lucy.  “We could get Verona to wake up earlier if we convince her she’s missing tidbits like this.”

“Legs, uh… it’s not common, but spirits can get tangled up in barriers.  Then you’ve got a smart barrier that’s adapting.  If it gets really out of hand you can end up with a magical jailer that’s tied into the perimeter or door, sapient and capable of being tricked, corrupted, or distracted.  Happens more if you leave a barrier for a long time or if it has more moving parts, so to speak.”

“I don’t want to take up the family practice,” Milly said.  “It’s so dull, and when it’s not dull it’s traumatizing.  I’m hoping to find something else I’m good at.”

“Sounds hard,” Avery said.

“If I’m not really good at it, then I’ll get either dragged back or kicked out, and I’m not sure which is worse.  If I got kicked out, no high school education or anything, then I’d probably end up a goblin exterminator.”

“That’s a thing?” Avery asked.

Lucy faced the mirror, watching the exchange out of one corner of her eye.

“It’s part of the corking up of the warren holes.  They pop up, spread through the nearby area, usually in the worst parts of town, then after they reach critical mass, they start spreading out.  If you wait until they start spreading out, it’s almost too late.  You’ll end up having to seal a building perimeter, burn it down with the goblins still inside, then seal it again.  That’s without getting into the stuff you have to do to keep civilians from calling in about the fire or whatever.  The civilians in the worst parts of town can be weirdly good at slipping through whatever barriers and defenses you use, but the really good barriers are costly.  Three day job, easy, expensive, and thankless.”

Milly fixed her hair, then did a twenty-second brush of her teeth.

“Sounds like you know a lot about it,” Avery said, diplomatically.

“Have to.  My dad’s had me doing it for the last three years.  Ever since I was twelve.”

“What if the goblins don’t deserve it?” Lucy asked.

“It’s a cost and benefit thing,” Milly answered, packing up her stuff.  “If any of them don’t, and I’ve yet to meet one that didn’t, then the cost of letting the others slip the net isn’t worth sparing those few.  They’re too dangerous, too nasty.”

“Huh,” Lucy said, digesting that.  That sounded like the opposite of justice to her, and raised a whole bunch of other mucky concerns, but after the Zed thing yesterday afternoon, where she’d commented on Nina, she had the impression she’d need to pick the battles to fight, or she’d be fighting until lights-out.

“You’ve got a lot to learn, newbies,” Milly said.

“That whole thing doesn’t sound exactly right to me, but I am a relative newbie,” Lucy said.  “So maybe you’re right.  Or maybe you need to learn more about whatever it is you’re fighting.”

“I guess since your parents don’t practice, you don’t have them coming in as speakers?” Milly asked.

“Nope,” Lucy said, at the same time Avery said, “No.”

“Well, my dad’s slated to come in in a bit.  He’ll probably talk about some of it.  I’m betting if you asked him, he’d say something about how if you get close enough to goblins to get to know them, you’ll come to regret it.”

“See you around, huh?” Avery asked.

“Yeah.  Later.  Maybe we can jump off a bridge sometime.”

Milly departed.  A pair of girls moved to the sinks furthest from Lucy.  One of them was chatting with a boy who stood by the doorway.

Avery gave Lucy a look and sighed.

“I was good,” Lucy said.

“I could have been worse.  Those are some creepy, scary words to hear out of someone’s mouth when talking about thinking, breathing creatures.”

“I don’t disagree,” Avery said.  “Took me a second to even realize she wasn’t joking.  But we can’t keep making enemies.  Especially when her family might be exactly who we need to talk to about some of the binding stuff we want to do.”

“Are seals and barriers the same thing as bindings?”

“I don’t know, but her family could tell us!  We can’t go to the mat for every single thing.”

“Can’t we?” Lucy asked.  “If we let it go, aren’t we condoning it?”

“I don’t know.  But maybe we need to know more about the particulars before we fight.  Like Zed and Nina’s situation.”

“Do you want me to stick around, keep you company?”

“Do you mean stick around and keep me from making mortal enemies?”

“I mean company.  Really.  Are you nearly done?”

Lucy looked at her stuff.  She was still putting in the leave-in conditioner.  “No.  Go eat.  Feed Snowdrop.  Kick Verona’s ass and get her out of bed, tell her she missed interesting details and stuff, and that might wake her up as much as jumping off a bridge.”

Some of the kids from the bridge came back in.  Eloise and the shirtless guy Lucy presumed was her fiance Ulysse went into the girls shower stall closest to the door, together.  Lucy blinked a few times, not really sure if she believed what she’d just seen.

Ulysse was A+ grade cute, though.  Wavy hair that looked practically golden, slim, with chiseled features, chiseled muscles, shorts that hung low enough that the bones of his pelvis were visible at the waistband.  If Tymon as a generally cute, sloppy boy had made Lucy’s brain do a somersault, then Ulysse was a dense package of individual things that each made Lucy’s brain go pleasantly blank, dissolve into fireworks, or go down crazy trains of thought.

Like… boy band attractive, but without the attached annoyance of the boy band.  Or like a celebrity, but right in front of her face.

She convinced herself that it could be glamour, or… if she remembered what Zed had said, Ulysse was a student of Durocher.  Divine favor?  Was that a thing?  A god reaching down and placing a hand on his forehead, and bestowing the gift of cute?

It could be hiding something awful, maybe.  Eloise had the creepy living tattoo.  Somehow worse than the mouse swarm dipping under Tymon’s skin.

Verona and Snowdrop entered the washroom.  Verona went straight to Lucy, giving her a hug.

“Getting some of that last bit of stink on you before I wash it off.”

“Okay, off, screw you.”

Verona and Snowdrop laughed.  Verona headed to the shower stall, the small bundle of her stuff under one arm.

Snowdrop stood at the sink, then began picking her teeth with her fork.

“Okay, stop that,” Lucy said.  “That’s giving me phantom sensations and making my skin crawl.”

Snowdrop looked up at her and smiled, then began tugging the thin fork through her hair.

“I know you’re keeping the joke going, but please…” Lucy said.  “Come here.”

Snowdrop drew closer.  Lucy turned her around, then, conditioner still on her hands, combed her fingers through Snowdrop’s hair, sorting it out.

“I’m awake as fug,” Snowdrop muttered.

Eloise left the shower, a towel wrapped around her.  She kissed Ulysse, who also had a towel around his waist.  He skipped over to the boy’s side.  Eloise used soap from the dispenser on the wall to wash her face.  Lucy suppressed a wince.

“You going to stick with us while we study?”

“I’m gonna stay awake.”

“Solid plan.  I worry about what’ll happen if you’re off on your lonesome.”

“I’ll leave Avery all alone.  Screw her.”

“Right.  Be careful anyway, right?  Whether you’re alone sleeping or with Avery?”

“Nah.  Maximum reckless.”

Lucy finished sorting out the worst of Snowdrop’s hair, then unplaited her hair and combed it back into her waiting hand, which held it tight until she could snap an elastic into place.  She fixed the stray strands at her hairline with gel on a toothbrush, then did the same for Snowdrop, just for kicks, giving her a curl at the forehead.

Verona exited the shower as Lucy was rubbing on cocoa butter.

“Love that smell,” Verona said.  “Makes me think of friendship and family and stuff.”

“Nah.  Only good stuff.  Gimme?”

Lucy gave Verona some.  Verona rubbed down her hands and forearms.

“Avery guessed you were taking the advanced class,” Lucy observed.  “Immaterial stuff?”

“The enchanting tutorial thing.  I read some stuff last night before bed.  Then depending on how the class is, I might move on to the dead languages or keep doing the enchantment stuff into the afternoon.”

“Alright.  You’re good at arts and crafts and stuff.  Like making Ave’s mask.  Hopefully you don’t feel too out of your depth without the other steps and stuff.”

“Hopefully.  But I think I’d rather figure out what I’m missing and then self-study to close the gap.”

Off to the side, Eloise’s centipede burrowed out of her skin, holding bottles and things as she did her hair and makeup.  Lucy found herself staring, and Verona saw and did much the same.

The centipede whispered something in Eloise’s ear, and she looked Lucy’s way.

“What’s up?” the girl asked.

“I started jumping the bridge last year.  Got over a fear of heights that way.  Now I look forward to it.”

She rubbed cocoa butter across her stomach and lower back, beneath her top, and on seeing Verona start brushing her teeth, skipped ahead to brushing her own teeth.  They finished and spat at the same time, cleaned up, then left together.  Their breakfasts were waiting outside their doors, covered sterling silver trays that were atop a wheel-less cart.  Lesser breakfast things were on the lower shelf on the cart.

Lucy got maple syrup, salt, and butter, then carried her tray into the room.

Avery was partway through eating at the desk, periodically passing bacon to Snowdrop, who lay on the bed, head tilted back, mouth open wide for each new bite.  Lucy took the end of the desk, then dug in, while Verona used the bedside table.

The french toast was homemade bread, thick-cut, the bacon a little crisper than she liked but not in a way that burned out the taste, and the hash browns were everything she’d hoped to get when she’d ordered them, and then some.

“Remember our goals,” Lucy said, after stopping to breathe.  “Binding stuff is good to know.”

Verona held a finger to her lips and pointed skyward.

Lucy nodded, taking another bite.

“Keep an eye and ear out for anything we can use,” Avery said.  “Absolutely.  Keep an eye out for allies.  Minimize enemies.”

“I feel like that’s aimed at me,” Lucy told her.

“Please.  I’m already so stressed out, being here.”

Verona checked her phone, then hurried to finish her pancakes, topped with lemon and sugar.  Lucy fed the last bit of bacon to Snowdrop’s upside-down mouth, as the girl lay back.

They carried their plates out of their room, placing them on the cart, which was now sitting across the hall.  Lucy returned to her room to do a last double-check of her appearance, wiping at her mouth, and then joined the others in the hallway.

They walked down the hall, and a lot of the students had already gathered at the main middle area of the school.  The ‘church’.  Raymond Sunshine stood on the stage, and a lot of the younger students were sitting closest to him.

Alexander stood with some of the older students, Zed included, and a scattered few, young and old, were around a woman with a pinched mouth and heavy makeup.  A few of the oldest ‘students’, like Nicolette’s boss, Chase, were standing back by the door.

“Join the instructor you’re most interested in studying with.  Ask if you have questions,” Alexander instructed them.

Lucy and Avery crossed over to Raymond Sunshine’s area, and there were a few boys there who were goofing off, so they sat a bit off to the side, to give them room to goof.  Verona stood by the Dollmaker woman.

It was taking a bit longer for the stragglers to arrive.  Lucy checked her phone.  Nine-oh-six.  They’d been told things started at nine.

A heavyset man who wasn’t much taller than Lucy was entered through the front door.  He began exchanging a whispered conversation with Alexander, a vaguely angry look on his face.  He looked… it was hard to pin down.  Red-faced and blotchy, but in a way that looked permanent.  Like he’d been lightly boiled and had scarred over.  His hair was parted and shiny with hair product.

“That’s Bristow,” a girl said.

Lucy turned her head and recognized Jessica, who was one of four people of color Lucy had seen at the school.  The girl who worked in the Ruins, Zed’s friend.  She’d taken a seat near them.

“Jessica, right?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah.  We talked last night.”

Their ‘talk’ had been about five seconds long.  Jessica had grabbed pizza and left pretty much after Zed had introduced them.  The girl had hair that was thick, black, and wavy-straight, chin-length except for the part at the back that she’d braided.  She wore a button-up blouse without sleeves, jeans, and sandals, with a weather-worn yellow raincoat tied around her waist.  A dense checkerboard tattoo encircled one bicep.  It made Lucy think of a loon.

“Who’s Bristow?” Avery asked.

“He came up yesterday, in the introduction speech,” Lucy commented.

“Ex-headmaster,” Jessica murmured.

It looked like he hadn’t give up on the teaching idea altogether.  On top of being short, wide, blotchy, and looking perpetually angry, Bristow was very tweed.  Like a professor.  You didn’t keep dressing that way unless it was integral to your identity.

Lucy could remember what they’d learned from Miss about how Alexander had taken the school.  Planting a demesne here and tying it to the school, so he had more claim to the school.  She imagined that if she were Mr. Bristow, she’d be pretty upset at being ousted, let alone if he knew that it had happened that way.

“Zed told me to look after you three,” Jessica told them.  “That okay?”

“If it’s no trouble, any help is great,” Avery answered.

“I’m surprised you’re in the beginner class,” Lucy said.

“I have a very piecemeal education.  More piecemeal because I’m not always here.  I was self-taught, until recently.”

“The Ruins, right?” Avery asked.  “Or is that insensitive?”

“The Ruins, yes.  Insensitive, not too much.”

“We went to the Ruins for a bit.  Didn’t seem too bad,” Avery said.  “I feel like I’m missing something, because the Finder I asked implied there was more to it.  Again, tell me if I’m getting annoying.”

“Have you been to the Abyss?”

“No.  Want to, though.”

“Some tunnels.  We visited the spirit world.”

“If your body is physical, then the Abyss is… deeply unpleasant.  And the Ruins are like…”

“A walk in the rain?” Avery asked.  “In a creepy place?”

“If you say so.  Sometimes dangerous, but mostly wearying, nothing more.”

“But if your body isn’t physical, if you’re a ghost, a spirit, or if you’re astrally projecting, the Abyss is little more than a dismal sightseeing tour, and the Ruins are like trying to walk on the tongue of a giant who is trying to eat you, starting from the soul, then moving to the heart.  To get where I have to go looking, I must leave my body behind.”

“Got it,” Avery said.  “Good to know.  Um, I don’t know if the offer is welcomed, but if you happened to want any help, I’m interested in exploring these places, and if you were willing to guide me and walk me through stuff, I’d be willing to be an extra set of eyes, or extra set of hands, on a future excursion.”

“I think bringing people with me would slow me down more than the extra eyes would help.”

“I might-” Avery started.  Lucy elbowed her.  “What?”

Lucy leaned in close and whispered, “Wind it back a bit.”

Jessica watched the exchange between Bristow and Alexander with a level stare.  It seemed to occupy her enough that she didn’t seem to notice or care about their whispers.

Very cold, very hard to read.  The most she’d talked had been about the Ruins.

“Any advice?” Lucy asked.

Jessica turned, and gave her a serious look.  Jessica’s eyes flashed, actually flashed, in the midst of turning dark, like Alpeana’s were.  The look faded, and she looked over Lucy again.

“I find,” Jessica said, “the proportion of bad people remains roughly the same.  If ten percent of people are assholes, they’re going to be assholes whether you’re in a big school or here, or in the city or a town like mine.”

“Where are you from?” Avery asked.

“I haven’t heard of Pic River.”

“Reservation.  Five hundred people.  Anishinaabe, or Ojibwe.”

“Ah.  I thought our town was small.”

“Please don’t interrupt me.”

“Sorry,” Avery said.  “Very sorry.”

“The proportions may remain the same, but the smaller the group, the harder it is to find the necessary number of people to surround yourself with, and the harder it is to avoid the monsters who are not Other.”

“I think maybe we’ve seen some small glimpses of the monsters here,” Lucy observed.

“Maybe.  In Pic River, the good people there are some of the best people I know.  I think you have to find a family, found family or blood, and I don’t think Zed, I, Eloise, Ulysse, or Amine can be yours.”

That was somehow very heavy to hear.  Lucy wondered if she’d hoped for a different answer, and if she’d been asking for that ‘found family’ when she’d been asking Zed who she could trust and befriend.

Zed had been right on the money, saying Jessica would be hard to actually befriend.

“Is it a long trip?  Going back and forth?” Avery asked.

“Yes and no.  Yes, because I go through the Ruins and every minute can feel like months.  No, because I leave at lunch and arrive before dinner.  Then I recuperate.”

“Sorry to hear it’s hard,” Avery said.

Jessica shrugged, her expression blank as she watched Bristow and Alexander talking.  Durocher would periodically say something.  It looked like the last stragglers had arrived.

She checked her phone.  Nine eleven.

“Thanks for the input,” Lucy said.  “I did mean more for lectures, or participating in class, but I do… the perspective is good.”

“Oh,” Jessica said. “I haven’t taken many classes with Ray.  He focuses on different things than I do.  Zed says to listen first, study what you don’t get, come back later.”

“Sounds like Verona’s plan,” Avery said.

“They’re wrapping up,” Jessica told them.  “This isn’t lecture advice, but don’t lose sight of the fact that they’re a business, first.  They didn’t help me or my brother when I was asking everyone I could.  When I learned things and became interesting and useful, they extended a hand, so quickly it was like they’d known I was there all along.  You’re here because the business can use you.”

“Alexander can hear things, can’t he?” Lucy asked.

“He’s preoccupied because he’s being challenged, and I wouldn’t care if he heard.  He knows, I know.”

“That we’re here for the money?” Lucy asked.

“Not money,” Jessica said.  “Keep an eye and an ear out for anything about Bristow or Alexander.  People will take sides, soon.”

“Alright,” Lucy murmured, glancing at Avery.  She wished Jessica was a little more inclined to elaborate on things, but Alexander was clearing his throat.

“If you’d like, you can take workshop six,” Alexander told the Dollmaker, speaking loudly enough to get the students’ attention.  “We’ll take the library as a study space?  Beginner class, Ray will teach here.  Seniors, if you have any questions or requests, Mrs. Durocher will make herself available for the morning, and Seth will be making himself available to get anything you need.”

Seth was apparently one of Belanger’s apprentices, a surly looking teen with wild hair.

There was a bit of commotion as people left, chattering, and some students joined their groups last-minute.  The youngest ones heading to the beginner group.  Talia was talking to her mom for a second before joining their group.

“Where are the seniors going?” Avery asked.  Some of Alexander’s group, Lucy noted.

“They come here to collaborate on private projects and take the occasional advanced project, and ask visiting teachers for input.  That’s three groups of five or six students, I think, then Seth, a few others.”

Lucy wondered what those projects included.

Mr. Sunshine was clean-shaven, and took off his sunglasses to hang them on the front pocket of his shirt, a black button-up.  His hair was slicked back, but long, and the part that wasn’t touching his head broke up into wavy zig-zags.  His belt was the most colorful part of his outfit, next to his sunglasses, and it was gray.

It made his eyes stand out.  Very green.  He carried his laptop with him as he walked around to the floor in front of the stage.  Or altar or nave or whatever it was.  The podium loomed behind him.

“Younger students, move closer to the front.  Don’t be scared,” he said, as he placed his laptop beside him.  “I byte with a y, but I don’t bite.”

“That’s awful, Mr. Sunshine,” a boy said.

Ray smirked for just a second, before expertly hiding the emotion.

Their class had fifteen students in it, it seemed.  Some, like Jessica were surprisingly old, which made Lucy feel a bit better.

Avery and Lucy ventured closer, sitting on benches toward the middle of the pack.  Jessica sat behind them, Lucy noted.  The girl seemed to be very serious about doing as Zed told her to, and looking after them.  Which just raised the question: why was Zed so interested in that?

“Talia?” Raymond asked, pointing.  Talia nodded.  “Lucy?”

“Verona’s absent then.  Good.  Then I know the rest of you through our older records and process of elimination.  Compiling a lesson plan, there.  I don’t have the forms for you two, so please listen, find a copy of Essentials in the library, and study to fill in the gaps.  If any of you lied on your forms to puff yourselves up, you’ll have to do the same, and study aggressively to live up to that you that you purported to be.  For now, I’ll assume you were honest and you know what you said you knew.”

Of course Verona’s little ploy would bite them in the ass, while Verona was nowhere near here.

Well, she’d agreed to it.  She just had to hope it wasn’t too much of a detriment.

“Let’s skip ahead to chapter seven.  That seems to be the point that most of you start to become shaky.  There are many kinds of appeal to the spirits, including the standard…”

He clicked a button.  The room went dark, the windows suddenly letting in half the light.  A glowing circle with a triangle within it appeared in the air, like a hologram, with little motes of blue dust floating away from it.

“Basic shamanism, elementalism, and simple actions.  If you wanted to knock a door down or set someone on fire, this would do.  From here, we can branch out…”

He hit the button again.  The diagram divided into three.  The top one looked like it was built into a diagram of sun, moon, and stars, with zodiac signs littering the area around it.  The bottom left one had a circle with a hieroglyph-like bird set within it, and writing in something like latin around the rim.  The bottom right one had a wave-like motif, and a symbol in the middle that looked like the decoration on the point of a fancy crown.

“Into other, complex types.  You’ll learn these approaches after.  We call them the celestial, argumentative, and heraldic approaches, but that won’t be on the test.  You can use any you want, but one type is probably best for your purposes, and if you want to do something very specific and very big, then you may find something like the standard diagram is unnecessarily complex, compared to going out and learning another type of diagram.”

He hit a key.  A verse of what looked like poetry, written in the air in glowing blue letters, a crow with a sword in its mouth, and a simple circle with a man standing in while three more people looked on from without appeared.

“There are other ways to make appeals.  The right words.  Do you say ‘I want’ or ‘I need’?  Do you say ‘give me’ or ‘grant me’?  You can spend a lifetime learning the differences between these.  Remember that they-”

Mr. Sunshine reached up, standing on his toes, and took hold of the handle of the blue outline of a knife that the crow held in its beak.  He lifted it down, and weighed it in his hand, before using the point to indicate the crow, that now looked down at him, and the silhouette of the man and the man’s audience, who had turned their heads his way.

“They being the spirits, are watching and listening.  They are your audience, and you can imagine yourself on television for a live performance, and they’re watching you to see if you make a mistake, or if you do something cool.  You can get them on your side.  You can make them into enemies, to the point that they’ll take the worst interpretation of whatever you might do.”

He glanced over the room.  “You might cringe and choose to watch something else if you see someone mess up their line or embarrass themselves during a live show.  The spirits will leave you for a time if you lie, in the same way.”

He indicated the bird he’d taken the sword from.

“Symbols.  Themes.  Devices.  Objects take on meanings.  Do this well and they’ll come to admire you.  A joke about bytes-with-a-y and bites-with-an-i might get a groan out of you, but a spirit enjoys it if you can make those jokes and connect ideas.  Name things well.  It matters.  Know what a bird might symbolize.  We can guess what a crow represents, can’t we?”

There were nods around the room.

“Put your hand down,” Ray said.

She hesitated, then dropped her hand.

“Lastly, presentation.  Not just what you say, but how you say it.  If you present yourself well, they can look past small mistakes.  If you dress the part, then that helps.  Examples?”

A boy put up his hand.  About three years older than Lucy.

“An easy way for spirits to know they should gather, or stand up and pay attention.  Anyone?”

“Put your hand down.”

“Yes, masks, but please don’t disrupt the class.  Anyone else?  Not just articles of clothing, but…”

“Easy,” Avery whispered.

“Colors?” Dom asked, from the front row.  “Royal purple, funereal black?”

“Absolutely.  Also materials.  Are you wearing cotton or polyester?  I could get away with wearing polyester as a technomancer, but a hedge mage?  What would that say?”

“No offense, Mr. Sunshine, but I don’t think anyone can really get away with wearing polyester,” a girl said.

The class laughed.  Mr. Sunshine smiled.

“Consider also,” Mr. Sunshine addressed them.  “Are the clothes old and familiar to you, or are they new?  If you’re transforming into something or someone else, old and familiar clothes that are very much yours could hold you back.  One of these things may not make a big difference, but a few of them together could make the difference.  Miss Ellingson, would you join me up front?”

So he wanted her to participate now?  She stood, frowning a bit, and walked around the one bench to go up front.

“There are other things that are a part of presentation.  Imagine, if you will, an actor appearing on your favorite show, that you know is a jerk offscreen.”

Lucy turned her head swiftly, glaring at him.  He was oblivious.

She wasn’t missing that insinuation, right?  She looked back-

Avery was pressing her hands together, pleading.

He typed on his keyboard.

Lucy closed her eyes a second and literally bit her tongue.

“Karma is the long-running tally of how we’re doing.  It’s hard to shake bad karma in the same way that the actor in our analogy might find it hard to make up for having said something rude to an actress.  He can be charitable, stick to good behavior, but memories are long.  Karma stays.”

Mr. Sunshine typed something on the keyboard, then hit a button.

The room was plunged into a bright white, but not in a way that made Lucy’s eyes hurt.  Objects were faint and transparent, to the point that she could see the sky through the roof, where the sun was twice the size and black, surrounded by lines and numbers that tracked its movement across the sky.  Other celestial bodies she couldn’t identify were tracked in similar ways, making the sky a webwork of diagrams.  Like ash and falling snow, motes of white and black drifted down.

And each student was a silhouette, pale, with motes of black floating in them.  Some concentrated around different parts of the body.  The mind, the mouth, the hands, the chest, the gut.

She looked at herself, and saw the motes in her breast.

“Lucy here has more bad karma than some of our new students, but… not bad overall.  She wasn’t raised by practitioners, so I would attribute the slight difference to the more minor missteps that a practitioner parent would discourage.  Good.”

I didn’t consent to this kind of analysis, she thought.

She looked at Avery, who made the gesture again.

She bit her tongue harder.

“Karma is influenced not by human law, but by the universe’s machinations.  Are you being fair in word and action?  Fighting someone by striking them from behind is uneven, and may incur you a few motes of black karma…”

Raymond reached up and caught one out of the air, before holding it out.

“…a debt paid in minor misfortunes, worse practices, and other detriments, over the course of days, weeks, months, or a lifetime.  How and where you tend to act may dictate how and when you find yourself paying the karmic price.  An effort toward explicit fairness, or even a courageous act where you meet someone at less than your full strength may earn you good karma.”

He held out a mote of white.  He released the two into the air, then tapped keys on the keyboard.

The lighting changed.  Everything became a slow-motion flow of smoke, but where transparent wisps overlapped, they painted silhouettes and details.

She wore the fox mask here.  More smoke traced the outline of her cape.

“This is what one might see with a particular variety of the Sight, ignoring connections.  Lucy here-”

She felt something brush her hair.  She stepped away from him, turning on her heel.

She almost snapped at him, then held her tongue.

“Please don’t touch my hair,” she told him.

“It was an accident.  It’s admittedly hard to see in this.  Please don’t interrupt.”

She drew in a breath, then stepped a bit closer, but not quite as close as she’d been.

“Turn ninety degrees sideways?”

She gave him a look, then turned, facing him.

He stepped around so he was behind her again.  “The power we have may find ways to reveal itself to the world.  Lucy here makes a good example.  As we get stronger or weaker, we may be able to see that in the Sight.  Look at the color in her hair.  Like a blush-tinted ember, glowing from within.  From the roots, a bit darker.  I could interpret that she spent power recently.  Draining this power.  These gauges can be very useful, for judging where we stand, and if one does not naturally manifest, then they can be handmade and designated.  A practitioner of the practice of Law, concerning themselves with the rules of the universe and of karma, may wish to keep a barometer for that type of karma, or even count the different kinds and origins of karma.  Another may wish to track the state of their body, or even the magical trinkets they have in their possession.  They can be overt, for status, power, and that ever-so-important presentation, like Ms. Ellingson’s wonderful hair here, or they can be hidden, a painted picture of a bouquet in a locket.  How many flowers does it have?  What color?”

Mr. Sunshine pushed it down.

Lucy contemplated just how badly it would go if she acted on the surge of silent fury she felt.  Maybe a flung-down dog tag, a rune?  A stabbing?

“Presentation, symbols, and rhetoric go together with the right diagrams for a greater ritual.  But there is one core element.  Anyone?  Basic principles.”

“The power you use?” Dom asked, from the front row.

“The power you use.  What’s the origin point?  Power drawn from the spirit?”

The room’s appearance shifted, to become something very much like the spirit world Lucy had visited together with Verona and Avery.  The floor was covered in an inch of water, littered with flower petals.  She could see the nose of the ‘mask’ she wore in spirit, and her hair was far longer, pale pink tendrils blowing across her shoulder.

Other students changed as well.  Avery had the deer mask.  Jessica had two silver lines running down from her eyes, her skin and hair beaded with moisture.  Dom, Talia, and Jorja weren’t as affected as some, but Lucy could see how Dom’s hands were paler.  Talia resembled her doll and her doll resembled her.  Jorja had little pastel pellets littering her hair and shoulders, in stark contrast to how dark her clothes and hair were, and how grim her expression was.

“Spirit is one source of power.  Basic, simple, easy, but it can be hard to negotiate for the particulars, or to control the fine results.”

Everything was decorated.  Every surface with a curl of gold.  The air smelled like incense, spices, and fruits.  It wasn’t bright like the other places she’d seen, but it felt like there was a lot of glare, light reflecting off of places so that there was always something glittering and trying to catch her eye.  Like every part of Ulysse had sparked the mental stutters, fireworks, and imagination, everything here sparked the same.

The scene shifted.  From gilded and gold to the natural.  Vines crawling.  Berries, fruits.  Branches extended indoors, weaving around things until they looked like they’d always been meant to be there.  The smells and sights that found her nostrils and eyes made her imagine that keeping to the rules about not eating in strange places would be very hard.  Being closer to nature, at the Blue Heron Institute had made her want to be more active and stretch and maybe played a role in why her brain was reacting like it was to boys.  And this felt more outdoors than any place she’d been, even with the four nature-covered walls of the church around her.

Again, things changed.  The walls became fronts for other buildings.  Figures moved within.  Things that were like goblins but beautiful instead of small scrambled about.  Some called out, their voices indistinct, as they held out baubles and things.  There was no sun, anymore, but it felt like it was all a very pleasant shade to dwell within, here.  The air was filled with music, and she took a step forward without meaning to.  Students before her stirred, restless.  Her eyes roved over the things in the church, and she knew Verona would have been inspired by them.

Frost crept over everything.  The creatures fled.  Storefronts closed and shuttered, and the shutters became wall without window.  When Lucy looked up, the walls extended up as far as she could see, and she had no idea if it was night or day, indoors or out.  The frost curled out over everything, in brilliant, kaleidoscopic patterns, and what didn’t captivate the eyes like optical illusions reflected things.  She saw a glimpse of herself, clearer than in any mirror she’d seen, and closed her eyes before she could see too much.

When she opened her eyes, she was in the market again.  There was chatter, sharp, in a variety of strange languages.  Bells rang and tinkled everywhere, and the air was musical with the sound of creaking wagon wheels, carts, and things that were Other, with creaking limbs and lumbering gaits.  The residents here that offered their wares were bent, stooped, or part animal, coming in all sizes, from the giant to the small.  When there was beauty, it was heartstopping.  A fine, elegant woman standing at the back of the room.  A young man with hair that became like peacock feathers, that he wore wrapped around his body, in a tantalizing way.

Maricica was from a place like this.  She would have been one of those beautiful figures in the background.  All the more beautiful for being surrounded by the crooked and ugly.

Others were looking behind Lucy.  She turned, then backed away swiftly, narrowly missing a small figure so wrapped in robes that its true face and body couldn’t be seen, snatching for her wrist.

At the raised back of the church, a withered old man with long pointed ears held up a baby, swaddled in pastel hues that seemed wrong amid the wet stone, roots, leafless trees, and the buildings that had been carved into the surfaces around them.  It shouted something in a native language.

At the sides and back of the room, creatures made bids.  Holding up coin, bent sticks, and books.  And for a moment, she forgot that it was fake, and she felt the desperate need to save that child- to offer something.

The scene moved away.  The outdoors taking over.  The leafless trees became a rule.  The path through the church became rough stone, the church itself a ruin, like something that had once been like that great, intricate hall of gold leaf and fine decoration, with everything gold and great torn out.  The ruin of the church had a cloth tied to the highest points, and she felt a bit of sorrow because whatever it had been a part of had been more beautiful than any and all of the places she’d just seen.

She hated the emotions these places were pulling at.

There was singing, a beautiful, mournful voice joining with a rough-edged, vulgar one, and she shivered.  She knew, even though she couldn’t identify the language, that it was a Faerie singing alongside a goblin.

And then they had a roof and walls again, pulling together whenever she wasn’t looking.

Not gold but bone, not cloth but spiderweb.  Humans in fine clothing knelt along either wall of the church, bowed, heads bent, hands clasped.  Like people were meant to bow low before a great king, queen, or terrifying emperor.  But the king, queen, or emperor- she had to check.  They weren’t here.

And as she watched the unchanging scene, beautiful in its own way, horrifying as she looked into each thing and saw more fine details, like polished white teeth by the hundreds, she came to realize they were bowed in case that terrifying figure made an appearance.  Like anything else was the worst thing imaginable.

She heard a click, out of place.

They returned to the bright room of motes, white and black.

There, they remained, for long minutes, so many of them pale cut-outs of white with darkness floating in them in varying amounts.  A few students were half-filled with darkness and that seemed like a lot.

“That,” Ray said, after a short while, “was the Faerie.  Seven courts.  Rituals and practices you do with that power may be fragile.  In the moment, they are strong, captivating, but over the long term?  Can you truly remember what you saw?  What you felt?”

Lucy tried to recall some of the intricate designs, the things she thought Verona would like, or the music.

She struggled to.  All she remembered was how upset she felt as her emotions had gotten away from her.  Like Ray had hit a button and made her feel something.

“If you can, you may be lost.  Glamour-drowned, they say.  Once you can recall it, you may be able to think of nothing else.  It will always have a part of your brain, of your self.  At best, you can carve out a part of yourself.  At worst, you belong to the Faerie.”

Spooky.  And… Lucy had to admit, she still felt pissed.

“Again, Karma.  Restricted, orderly.  Firm cause and effect.  If-and-then.  If I do this, then that.  Firm contracts, letter of the law, and heavy prices.”

The brightness changed.  Instead of the bright sky and the see-through ceiling and walls, there was-

A figure, taller than any mountain, loomed over them, glowing softly from cracks along its body.  Clothing was hard to distinguish from elaborate skin and beard, riddled with details.

A man with a spear, so tall he might well extend into space, reached out to wrestle with a woman, cowled.

Lucy’s body was darker than some.  Jorja’s body was bright.  So was Jessica’s.

“The divine.  Capricious.  Know what you deal with.  Unlike the karmic, they get frustrated with firm rules and exact wordings.  Bore them and even the most rule-based divinity will take action against you.”

They went from brightness to darkness.

The church, if the church was abandoned for two hundred years.  Wind blew through broken windows and carried choking dust.  Something lay dying and twitching on the broken glass of bodies.

“The visceral.  Physical power.  Brutal, unforgiving, often with a way of biting the hand that would use it… sometimes as an always thing, sometimes it waits for the chance.  The price is that it will take chunks out of you, or your lifeblood.  In goblin practice, it may poison you after it pricks your flesh.  In the Abyssal, it may cut you deeper, longer to heal.”

The roof was gone, and rain fell down around them.  Lucy’s hands went to her hood, ready to flip it up.  Then she stopped.  It wasn’t soaking her.

The scene changed, subtly.  The gaps became wider, and the scene shuddered, like a train was running through it.

“Ms. Ellingson?  Would you please relax?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re agitated.  Please relax.  I would like to explain and move on to a practical lesson, but I can’t do that like this.”

You’ve been telling me to shush, you’ve been keeping me from raising my hand…

“Would you step out, please?  I am doing my best to include you in the class when I don’t have data on you.  I will include you more after I have a better idea of where you stand, skillwise.  For right now you’re being disruptive.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she said, doing her best to not sound snappish.  “You asked me to stand here, I’m standing here.”

“And I’m thankful for your cooperation.  Seeing your hair and appearance change, when it’s so very clearly broadcast is very useful, I think.  But that clear broadcast is getting in the way, now.  Settle down, or step outside.”

“I can’t just turn off emotions.  Can I sit down over there, or?”

He sighed, looked down at his laptop, and typed.

A churchy-wall with a little window of blue glass rose up between herself and him.

“What the actual fuck?” she asked.

She turned, looking back toward the other students, to look for Avery, and saw another wall rise up into place.

She was boxed in.  She looked around, looked up, and saw the light flare.

The walls dropped down and away, smoothly, like blades through butter.  One flickered, like a bad graphical glitch.

She was outside the classroom, on the front steps.

She pushed on the door, and it was locked.

Fucking frustrating stupid what the fuck-

She resisted screaming at the door.  She remained there, angry, willing that anger to be disruptive for his class.

A minute passed.  She tried the door again.  Locked.

Her ability to resist screaming got worse.  She stopped only because of the fact that she was pretty sure that Mr. Sunshine wouldn’t care, and the students would judge her.

Fucking pain in the ass fucking dragging her up in front of the class, making an example of her, playing with her emotions and then shutting her out of class when she was upset about it?

She felt eyes boring into her from behind.  Familiar eyes, she thought, as she turned.

Zed had emerged from one of the smaller buildings that formed a half-circle around the field at the center of BHI.  Without the cars parked on it, she could see the tint in the grass where a heron’s silhouette was marked on it.

“Ray can be a dick sometimes.”  Zed stood at the foot of the stairs.  He was sweaty, his hands greasy, as he wiped at them with a rag.

That she’d been able to feel him looking at her…

What had Charles said?  That the weakness of magical seeing was that sometimes the target could look back?

Had Zed been looking at her with magic?  How intensely?

“He doesn’t mean to,” Zed added.  “You’re pissed?”

“Yeah.  Putting it lightly,” Lucy huffed.

“He can’t deal with pissed,” Zed said.  “Any other emotion, he could probably roll with it.  But not that.”

“Then he needs to learn to deal.  Or a student with less restraint than me might murder him.”

“Probably,” Zed said.  “Probably needs to learn to deal, I mean.  Yeah.”

“Give it time.  I think he’s incapable of holding grudges besides the one.”

“One?” Lucy asked.  “Nevermind.  Not my business.”

“His son,” Zed told her.  “Hector.  Got sick midway through university.  Terminally sick.  Ray went to the literal ends of the Earth, into realms and into places that hadn’t been seen with eyes for thousands of years.  To find an answer.  A cure for all that ails.”

Lucy thought of her dad.  But she’d barely known he was sick.  The doctors had barely known he was sick.  His liver had given out from the hepatitis, and from what Lucy had overheard her mom saying to Ran and Barb, Lucy’s grandparents, it wasn’t impossible that the white doctor hadn’t been accustomed enough to black skin to look for the yellowing of jaundice.  Maybe.

“Hector was so mad that Ray was gone while he was dying that he didn’t even entertain him.  The way I heard it, he wasn’t willing to listen to two consecutive words Ray had to say.  When someone else tried to explain, said Ray was only trying to help, Hector wanted to know what would’ve happened if Ray hadn’t found a cure.  If Hector had died while Ray was out searching.  He thought it was unforgivable.  Ray thought it was unforgivable that Hector didn’t have faith in him.  Ray could kill gods, create worlds, set up three of the websites that practitioners all over the world use… why couldn’t he be assumed to be able to find a cure?”

“Slapped his dad’s hand away, and then he passed.  I think about it a lot.  Maybe to Hector, having that dad who could slay gods, make gods, do all these things, but who was unable to be by his bedside in a time of need?  Maybe that was some great betrayal.  Ray’s a… particular, obsessive, and weird guy.  I think Hector inherited some of that.  I don’t think Ray has ever understood it.  But seeing someone angry?  Quote-unquote unreasonable?”

“I can’t turn off feelings.”

“Go for a walk then.  Or bury it under other emotions.  When he gets to me, I dig up a really pointed pity.  Or my love for the man.  Or whatever’s ready at hand.  Or I walk away.  Some social mores are lost on him, and he’ll walk away from conversations or let you walk away and move on with his day.  To him, it’s efficient.”

Lucy sighed, and the sigh became a huff.

“Go for a walk,” Zed told her.  “Take in some nature.  Whatever.  Everyone’s going to have classes or instructors that really get at who they are.  I’ve… I had a class where I had to face myself at a time I really, really didn’t like myself.”

Zed went on, “They’re not going to penalize you for being absent, and even in cases where there are guest lecturers with very tight time windows, you can usually find a senior student who’ll walk you through what you missed.  It gets hard sometimes, they know it.  They work around it.  Find the current and just… flow with it.”

“That makes me more pissed,” Lucy said.  “I don’t know why.”

“Go.  You may be the first student this semester who needs to take five or take fifteen.  There’s going to be a bunch more.  I’ve really got to get back to my project, here.  They’re paying me for the help, it’s bad karma to defy the spirit of the deal.”

Zed headed back to the building with the workshop in it.  She could hear an engine running as he opened the door.

She walked, traveling the perimeter of the school, trying to refocus.

Couldn’t lose sight of the goal.  She’d had glimpses of the Faerie.  If they ended up having to deal with Maricia… would they run into a place like that?  Or other faerie from a place like that?  Or maybe Guilherme?  Was there a chance he was a culprit, with his mysterious conversation partner that was tied into his alibi?  Would she get to that warm place of tantalizing smells and nature, while chasing him?

What defenses could they erect?

With nowhere specific to go, she decided to head to the bridge.  Simply out of curiosity about the jump, and how rickety it was.

It was a whisper, a sound on the wind that she could have dismissed as her brain playing tricks on her.

But out here, in nature, with barely any other sounds…

…Ellingson… Kennet…

She walked the path, stepping away from the one that was supposed to lead to the bridge.

She found them, not that far from the school or that deep into the paths.  The Dollmaker, Graubard, and the ex-headmaster, Bristow, talking.

She recognized them, and in the same moment she connected faces to names, they looked at her.  She felt the answering recognition like a plucking of a guitar string.

She turned and walked away, her heart pounding.

Had they been talking about her, in the lead-up?  Mr. Sunshine hadn’t even been able to connect her name to her face.

So why were a guest teacher and ex-headmaster able to?

Someone else had to be tied into that.  But was that someone Alexander?  Or someone from home?  A Faerie?  A goblin?

“Verona,” Lucy whispered.

She looked for and saw the connection.

Glancing behind herself to make sure they hadn’t followed her out, she retraced the steps she’d taken since leaving that conversation with Zed.

“Verona,” she said, again.

There was a twinge again.  Verona opened the door to one of the buildings.  Then she waved for Lucy to come, smiling.

“Didn’t have to call a third time.”

“Nah.  Got bored at beginner class?” Verona asked.

Lucy thought about telling her, but that would have to wait, just in case.  It was possible Bristow and Graubard would talk to Alexander in the meantime, but… those chances were slim.  And they’d been out a distance from school.  Maybe intentionally talking outside of Alexander’s view?

“Where’s your teacher?” Lucy asked.  She looked around the space.  It looked pretty extensive, with lots of counters, some short bookshelves, and adjacent rooms that might have been more dorm spaces.  Maybe for senior students who needed to sleep near the workshop overnight.  Or just more dorm space.

“Out for a pee break, I think,” Verona said, welcoming Lucy in.  Verona had her scissors from the awakening ritual sitting on a diagram on a sturdy counter with a slate top.  There were another twenty students around the class, many working in pairs or trios.  “Waiting for her to get back before I open fire.”

“It’s complicated.  I think I impressed her, though.  I’m glad I did some reading last night.  Turns out that Librarian animus makes some great book recommendations.  Amusing how that works.”

Just how much attention are people paying to us?  How serious was that talk?  What did it have to do with Kennet?

“Catch me up?” Lucy asked.

Verona turned a book so it was at an angle both she and Lucy could read, and she beamed, excited and happy.

Lucy only frowned.  The anger of dealing with a pain-in-the-ass teacher forgotten but not lost, replaced with a deep and abiding concern.

It could be nothing, a rational part of her said.

It isn’t nothing, answered that other part of her, that had just been lit up with simulations of karma and divinity, colored with spirit and seven shades of Faerie, and shaded with darknesses both visceral and ruined.