Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4) (22 page)

He
stroked her hair and kissed her cheek.

They
kept walking, moving between elms, birches, and oaks. Neekeya wanted
to walk farther; she could still see Teel's towers behind her. She
needed a secret place, a place Lari and the other students would
never reach. Chickadees and robins sang in the trees, crickets
chirped, and pollen floated. The autumn air was cool, the leaves red
and orange and golden. It was a beautiful forest, a forest for her
secrets.

"This
looks a lot like the wilderness of Arden," Tam said, looking
around. "My brother and I used to spend many turns hunting in
the woods. Just the two of us, a couple bows, and a couple hounds.
We'd drive our mother crazy. She'd insist on sending guards, horses,
knights in armor, a whole cavalcade to hunt with us, but where's the
fun in that? So Omry and I would sneak out alone to a place like
this, spend a turn or two away from the palace, and just be boys. Not
princes. Not rulers. Just two regular people." He inhaled
deeply, watching a cardinal flit from branch to branch. "We'd
come home covered in scratches and bruises, our faces muddy, our hair
a mess, our boots all torn up. Most times we wouldn't even catch any
game. Mother would be furious, railing about how we ruined our
priceless outfits, but Father always laughed. He was a commoner once,
did you know?"

Neekeya
smiled and slipped her hand into his. "I would go hunting
too—just me alone. I'd hop from log to boulder in the jungle, a
spear in my hand, hunting frogs. I'd collect whole baskets of them,
bring them back home to our pyramid, and we'd feast on fried frog
legs." She looked around her. "Daenor looks nothing like
this. The trees there are thrice as high, and you can barely see the
ground; it's mostly water. The birds there are larger and very
colorful, and great crocodiles roam around everywhere." She
touched her tooth necklace. "Each one of these teeth is from a
beast I battled. We'd eat them too, you know."

He
wrinkled his nose. "Crocodile meat? Frog legs? I'd rather eat
chicken and deer."

She
shrugged. "One's as good as the other." She mussed his
hair. "You speak so fondly of your home. Why did you come here?
To Teel University? You're a prince! A prince of a mighty kingdom. I
know that all students at Teel are highborn, their parents wealthy
enough to pay the tuition, but princes? That's unique even here."

He
blew out his breath thoughtfully. "I told you that in the
forest, my twin brother and I were only two boys. But whenever we
returned to our palace, we were different." He kicked a pine
cone. "Omry is ten minutes older than I am—that's it, only a
moment, the length of a song or two. That means he's the heir to
Arden. He was ten minutes earlier than me . . . and now worth ten
times more." Tam passed a hand through his hair. "I love my
twin dearly, more than anything. I always will. But I had to find my
own path, my own power. I couldn't watch us grow older together, him
a great heir, myself always worth less. When Madori told me she'd try
out for Teel, I knew that was my path too. To become a mage. To find
my own strength. To feel . . ." He looked at Neekeya, brow
furrowed. ". . . to finally feel equal to my twin."

Neekeya
grinned. "Oh, you silly boy!" She tugged him toward her and
kissed him again—this kiss longer and deeper—and when it ended, she
tapped his nose. "I'm trying to keep walking here, and you keep
making me kiss you." She squeezed him closer to her. "Your
brother might become a king, Tam, but you'll be a great mage."
She looked around her and smiled. "I think this is a good
place."

A
rivulet gurgled between alders, full of smooth, parti-colored stones
and orange fish. Twisting roots, fallen logs, and carpets of autumn
leaves covered the forest floor. A hole in the canopy let in a ray of
light, gleaming with pollen. Boulders rose ahead, moss nearly hiding
the ancient runes of old Riyonans, a people who had faded from the
world many years ago. It was a secret place, Neekeya thought, a
beautiful place. A place for hiding her childhood.

She
knelt by an oak and began to dig. Tam helped her, and they worked in
silence. When the hole was a couple feet deep, Neekeya upended her
pack. Her trinkets spilled into the hole—pewter figurines,
seashells, rare coins, spoons, scrolls, and more.

Her
eyes stung. "Thank you, Papa," she whispered. "Thank
you for letting a little girl believe in something secret, something
magical. I love you. But now I seek true magic. Now I leave my
childhood here for safekeeping."

She
wiped her eyes and began to shove soil onto the items.

"Neekeya
. . ." Tam spoke softly. "Neekeya, wait."

She
shook her head. "No. I have to do this. This is right. I—"

"Neekeya,
look! The seashell. It's glowing."

She
tilted her head and squinted down into the hole. Indeed, the little
shell—no larger than a coin—was glowing a soft blue. When she
lifted it, the glow faded.

"A
trick of sunlight," she said, yet when she placed the shell back
down in the hole, it glowed again.

Tam
scrunched his lips, reached into the hole, and rummaged in the soil.
He smiled and pulled out a truffle. "Well, I do think you have
something here, Neekeya." He held the seashell in one hand, the
truffle in the other. When he brought them near, the shell glowed
brighter. When he separated them, the glow faded. "A magical
artifact."

Neekeya
gasped and snatched the shell from him. She tested it again and fresh
tears budded in her eyes. "It's true! My father was speaking
truth. It's magic. It's a real artifact. It's . . . not very useful,
is it?" She laughed through her tears. "It's a truffle
finder. Hardly a great artifact."

Tam
grinned. "It's very important. It means your father was right,
that you spent your childhood surrounded by magic. Or at least, that
one of these items is magic. That means there's hope for the other
items too." He lifted a few of the figurines and examined them.
"Professor Rushavel never found anything magical about them, but
this might just be swamp magic, a different sort." He looked at
Neekeya and his face grew solemn. "I think you should keep these
things."

She
nodded. "We'll never lack for truffles again."

He
rolled his eyes. "You'll never lack for
wonder
again. You'll never see your childhood as a lie." He began to
place the items back in her pack. "Take these back, Neekeya.
Keep them. They're important."

As
they walked back through the forest, Neekeya grinned. "You know,
some of these items might be
really
important, like . . . a magical shoelace un-knotter."

He
nodded. "Or a magical nose hair plucker."

She
grimaced. "Maybe something more pleasant—a magical cup that
removes the skin off your milk."

"That's
some powerful magic there. Maybe even some magical, wooden,
Lari-biting teeth? A pair that would chase her around, biting her
bottom?"

Neekeya
laughed. "Now that would be a mightier artifact than even those
Rushavel makes." She sighed and leaned against him as they
walked. They stepped back into the university, carrying with them a
little magic.

 
 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
WINTER SNOW

The bells rang and the seasons
turned, and the first snow of winter fell upon Teel University,
coating the gardens, walls, and roofs with white blankets. When
Madori walked outside, the first to rise, she smiled for beneath her
feet she saw a field of stars, a memory of the glistening sky of the
night.

She smiled not only for the snow
but because she was heading toward her favorite class, Magical
History. As much as Madori enjoyed fostering her growing powers, she
enjoyed learning about the wizards of old: how the wise mage Sheltan
traveled to the distant isle of Orida and tamed the cyclops; how the
Ten Rogue Mages holed up in the mountains for a hundred years before
the Crystal Alliance hunted them down; and even tales of the war
against Eloria where mages shattered the walls of Yintao but perished
against the Eternal Palace.

It helped that Elina Maleen
taught the class, the youngest professor at Teel; Madori had dearly
loved the woman since Maleen had first quizzed her at the trials. The
rest of Madori's Motley found Magical History to be a bore; Neekeya
was taking Artifacts this morning while Tam and Jitomi were both at
Magical Transformations. As much as she loved her friends, Madori
savored this time away from them. It was a time to dream.

This
turn we will learn the story of the ancient Elorian mages,
she thought. She had been waiting for months for this lesson, for
once the night had been full of magic now lost. Madori hoped that
some turn she could return to Eloria with the lost art and teach
magic again to the children of the night.

She walked to the back of the
university, past the library and Agrotis Tower. She climbed a cobbled
path, moving up a hillside dotted with snowy trees, their branches
encased in ice. Cardinals and chickadees flitted between the
birdhouses Professor Yovan had hung here, and a rabbit darted ahead,
leaving prints in the snow. The old stone building rose between
several maple trees, frost upon its bricks. Once a mill, the little
building had become a classroom three hundred years ago when Teel
expanded outside the cloister, its original complex. Now this was
Madori's favorite classroom. Her smile widening, she opened the door
and stepped inside . . . and her smile faded.

The other students were already
in their seats—thankfully none of them Radians, but all of them
Timandrians. But it was not Professor Maleen who stood at the podium
as always, her wild brown hair falling in a great mane, her blind
eyes staring up in wonder as if at living scenes of history. Instead,
hunched over a book and wrapped in black robes, it was Professor
Atratus.

The vulture-like man spun toward
the door and hissed at Madori. She was so shocked she took a step
back into the snow.

Atratus sneered and checked his
pocket watch. "Late as usual. A lack of punctuality is typical
of mongrels." He snorted. "Shocked to see me, half-breed?
Your precious Maleen has taken ill, and you'll find I am less
tolerant of tardiness. You will report to my office after class for
three strikes from my ruler. Take your seat now lest I increase the
count to thirty!"

Madori winced and rubbed her
palm, already feeling the punishment; it seemed that a turn couldn't
go by without him striking her. Ignoring the many eyes following her,
she rushed to her seat and sat down.

Professor Atratus leaned over
his podium, eyes blazing, and slammed his book shut with a shower of
dust. "It says here," he said, a snarl twisting his voice,
"that I am to teach you about ancient Elorian magic." He
barked a laugh. "Elorians know only cheap tricks to fool their
own feeble-minded kind. This class I will teach you something far
more valuable about Elorians." He licked his lips. "I will
teach you the history of their race and prove to you its
inferiority."

Madori's heart sank. She wished
she had fled the classroom the instant she had seen him. She wanted
to bolt up now, to race to the door, but fear kept her frozen in her
seat.

"Mongrel!" Atratus
barked, pointing at her. "Stand. Come. To me, dog."

She could not move. She simply
stared, mouth hanging open.

"Ten lashes from my ruler!"
he shouted. "Stand! To me!"

Reluctantly, Madori rose to her
feet. Before she could take a step, his magic shot out like grapples.
The smoky ropes wrapped around her, tugging her toward him. More
magic slammed against her mouth, stifling her scream. Across the
classroom, students gasped, and one boy leaped to his feet, but
glares from Atratus silenced them.

Madori struggled in the magic,
trying to rip it off, to claim and change the bonds, but his magic
was too strong. He pulled back his arms, moving her like a
marionette, until he placed her beside him. She stood facing the
class, trussed up like an animal awaiting slaughter. The students
stared with wide eyes, faces pale.

"Behold!" said
Professor Atratus. "Behold the menace of Eloria. Behold the
wretched product of the nightcrawlers' invasion of our lands. Before
you you see the corruption of our blood, the mingling of poison with
purity. A mongrel! A creature of sunlight tainted with the blackness
of night."

Madori tried to free herself, to
scream, to talk back to him, even if it earned her a thousand lashes.
But only a muffled whimper passed through the smoky gag.

He tapped her head with his
ruler. Tap. Tap. Tap. Every blow rang through her skull.

"Observe the smaller
cranium," he said to the class. "It is barely larger than a
dog's skull—the result of the Elorian infestation." He smacked
her chest. "Behold the frail frame. This specimen stands barely
five feet tall, weighing less than a child. The Elorian blood weakens
her." He placed his fingers around her left eye, tugging and
stretching as if he'd let her eyeball pop out. "Observe the
freakish orbs. Imagine how much space they take up in the skull,
leaving less room for the brain. Those, my friends, are eyes for
seeing in the dark—for sneaking up, scuttling, and snatching
Timandrian children for their feasts of human flesh."

One student, a young girl of
only fifteen years, raised her hand. "But Professor Atratus!
This one is only half-Elorian. Does her Timandrian half not make her
worthy?"

Atratus sighed and shook his
head. "Sadly, my dear child, the presence of her Timandrian
blood only increases her obscenity. A pure-blooded Elorian is like a
maggot, a foul creature that crawls in the muck. But a mongrel . . ."
His voice trembled with rage. "A mongrel is like a maggot found
inside the body of a beloved pet—more foul by far, for it has ruined
something pure." He stared at Madori and covered his mouth as if
about to gag. "She sickens me."