Warrior Mage (Book 1) (27 page)

His stomach sank. What if she had somehow heard about the quest for the lodestone too? What if she had come to beat him to it? No, it couldn’t be. Sun Dragon was from a powerful family, and it made sense that he might have a spy in the Great Chief’s palace, especially if he was a key part of the rebellion. But a pirate wouldn’t have such a spy. Yanko did not need to make up enemies where there were none. Or hyperventilate in front of a random wall in a new city.

“Why does the pirate matter?” Dak asked.

Yanko stared up at him, struggling to bring his mind back to the moment.

“Because,” Lakeo said, tapping a finger against Snake Heart’s face, “that’s Yanko’s loving mother.”

Dak arched his eyebrows and looked back and forth from Yanko to the picture. Had he not shared that information with his bodyguard before? Apparently not. He braced himself, waiting for the condemnation that always came when people learned about his mother.

“Huh.” Dak waved up the street. “This way. The Polytechnic is a mile walk.”

Yanko stared after him, then ran to catch up. “That’s it? Don’t you care? She’s killed hundreds, they say, if not thousands. Because of her, my family has been...” He trailed off. Why should Dak care? He wasn’t a Nurian. What was the status of some random clan to him? “Never mind. I guess it’s not important that she’s around. I just find it disconcerting. These aren’t her usual waters.”

“We’ll watch for her then.”

And with that, Dak turned a corner and kept walking. Yanko wished he could so easily dismiss his mother’s presence. He took a long look back at that wall of wanted posters before following Dak around the corner, wondering if it was the last he would see of her. Or not.

Chapter 13

“G
reetings,” a middle-aged man in a white robe said from behind a desk bearing a plaque that read
Admissions
. He smiled brightly, his blue eyes crinkling, and genuinely seemed pleased to see Yanko and Lakeo walk in, even though he had been in the middle of scribbling notes on a pad. Three books lay open on his desk. If the fact that they were carrying all of their belongings, including weapons, surprised him, he did not show it.

“Fair afternoon,” Yanko replied, only then realizing the man had spoken to him in Nurian. That was a relief, since he and Lakeo had left Dak outside. After saying they should not need a bodyguard inside the Polytechnic, he had headed up a hill that offered a view of the harbor to watch for the arrival of that other ship. So long as he wasn’t securing “lodgings” for them in the Turgonian embassy.

“Welcome to our institution. Are you seeking the answers to questions? Or are you interested in enrolling as students?”

The answers to questions—that would be nice.

“How much is enrollment?” Lakeo asked.

“That depends on the field you wish to study—are you students of the Science?” He looked back and forth between them, as if something about their clothing might tell him the answer. “We offer other courses and degree programs, as well, but this particular campus is best known for its mental-science instructors. They teach in a range of specialties from the thermal sciences to telepathy and mind-based animal handling to earth and growing arts.”

“Earth and growing?” Yanko asked wistfully, despite the fact that he was here for another reason.

“Yes, we are particularly well known for such offerings. Because of our nation’s limited land size, we have had to learn to create homeostasis between the inhabitants and animal and plant species, so there is plenty for all. We are at the cutting edge for science-assisted, integrated farming, producing maximum harvest yields while retaining the rich fertileness of the soil for future crops. May I select some brochures for you?”

The man’s bright smile never faded as he spoke, but Yanko couldn’t help but wonder if he was aware of the Nurian condition and had made this spiel based on their nationality. Even if it was a sales pitch, Yanko wished he
could
stay and study here. It sounded like the Kyattese had solved the problem his own people needed to solve. A twinge of envy ran through him at the idea that these people on their islands had figured out what had eluded the Great Land, but he reminded himself that they had destroyed their first continent before realizing they had to change their ways.

“I’ll take a brochure,” Yanko said. It couldn’t hurt, and he was curious what classes here might be like. Even if he had a mission now, that did not mean he could not return one day, so long as he didn’t get himself killed trying to complete Zirabo’s task.

“You
will
?” Lakeo whispered when the man turned toward a row of filing cabinets behind his desk. “Do you even know what he’s talking about?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take something on the thermal sciences,” Lakeo said. “And on tuition.”

“Of course.” The man selected pamphlets and pulled them off shelves and out of drawers. “The new semester doesn’t start for two months, so you’ll have plenty of time to peruse our offerings and see if a program here might be right for you.”

“Not for two months?” Lakeo slumped.

“There are preparatory study programs you may wish to engage in before your classes start. As well as tests. Most students already have an understanding of the Science before entering the Polytechnic, but there are remedial programs for those who are coming in fresh. Here you are.” He pushed two huge stacks of pamphlets, books, and diagrams toward them.

Lakeo stared down at the piles. Yanko did not know if all of that was promotional material, or if they had already been given homework.

“You mentioned answering questions...” Somehow Yanko doubted the Kyattese would offer up the secrets of their historical artifacts, so he kept his words vague. “Can anyone do research in your libraries? Or are the materials only available for students?”

“Anyone may access the library. Is there something in particular you’re looking for? I can direct you to the correct room. Do you read Kyattese? Most of the texts are in our language, but there are students stationed in the library to assist patrons. I can contact someone to help you.”

“That would be very useful,” Yanko said. It was everything he had hoped for. He wouldn’t have to use Dak after all and worry about him learning too much.

“Excellent. What is your area of interest?”

“Kyattese history.”

For the first time, the man’s smile faltered, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Yanko supposed it was strange that a Nurian should have a fascination with some other country’s history.

“You see, we—my people—are facing some difficulties in the exact area you mentioned, continuing to grow enough food to support our population. I was sent to study your ways and learn how we might apply them in Nuria.”

“Interesting. You’re very young to have been hand-selected for such a mission.”

No kidding.

“Did you bring any references from professors?” the man asked.

Erg, should he have put Lakeo to work forging academic papers too? “No, I’m mostly self-taught.” What would get him access to the library and the student assistant he needed? “But my family is
moksu
—we’re regularly called upon to serve the Great Chief, at any age.”

“I hadn’t heard that your Great Chief had any interest in sustainable agriculture.” The man’s tone had cooled considerably.

Yanko groped for a way to salvage the situation. Why hadn’t he simply said he was interested in the thermal sciences and then wandered off to explore once he was in the library? “It was actually his son Prince Zirabo who saw my potential when he was visiting the salt mine that my family oversees.” The mine they
had
overseen. “I didn’t think a letter would be required. I’m not seeking any special treatment.”

“Prince Zirabo?” The man’s brows rose. “Ah, I see. Yes, that makes more sense. Too bad he doesn’t have any significant power or sway over there.”

“Yes,” Yanko murmured, though he found it strange that random strangers should know more about his government than he did.

“What have you studied thus far? I ask so I might recommend a starting point and also classes, if you decide to enroll.” The man was smiling again, but Yanko sensed he was being tested, or at least being asked to prove that he wasn’t lying.

“I’ve been helping in the greenhouses since I was a boy, creating my own special soil amendments—is vermiculture popular over here?—and also working in the forest around the property to keep the various plant species healthy and choose trees for selective harvesting. There’s a cave in the hills back home where we grow numerous strains of edible and medicinal mushrooms, taking advantage of otherwise barren space since it gets so little sunlight. I also use the mushroom compost in my soil blend. As for the mental sciences, I can speed up the process of growth or decomposition and sometimes find methods of treating blighted or otherwise damaged plant species. A couple of years ago, my grandmother and I found a way of curing the filbert blight that was affecting our orchards.”

Yanko stopped, more because Lakeo was staring at him with her mouth hanging open than because of anything the admissions director was doing. He was simply nodding his head attentively.

“You can cure filberts, but you made your brother take that arrowhead out of his leg on his own?” she muttered.

Yanko shrugged sheepishly. “I never had a healer for a tutor. People are different. Less bark, fewer leaves. It’s complicated.”

The man chuckled. “Yes it is, young fellow. But I believe I can be of assistance in your quest.” He closed a couple of the open books on his desk, peered under some papers, then opened a drawer. “Ah, there we go.” He pulled out a small communication orb, the glowing orange sphere nestled in a wooden base. He set it on the desk, rested his palm on it briefly, then said a line of Kyattese that included his name, Director Kelleoan, or something that sounded like that and a question.

A moment passed, then a harried monosyllabic reply floated into the room. If Yanko had to guess the equivalent, he would have made it, “Yeah?”

The director’s brow creased. “Who is this, please?” Yanko recognized that as one of the four Kyattese phrases he knew.

Another pause. “Akstyr.”

Given the size of the campus, Yanko would have found it surprising if the director knew all of the students, even assistants, by first name, but he said, “Oh,” as if he knew exactly who he was talking to.

The director placed a hand on the orb, studied the bamboo floor thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “I believe his Kyattese has come along well enough to be of use to you. That is if...” He turned his thoughtful gaze toward them. “Would you have difficulty working with a Turgonian?”

Lakeo issued a low growl from deep in her throat.

Yanko elbowed her. “Not if he’s here to seek greater education and enlightenment, as we are.”

Lakeo snorted, but didn’t object further.

“Wonderful. I’ll send you over.” The director removed his hand from the orb. “Akstyr, you have a couple of Nurian visitors coming. They need help with research.” He repeated the words in his own language.

Another yeah-like grunt came back. This Akstyr did not sound enthused. He asked something in Kyattese.

The director’s voice grew firmer when he said, “No.” He dropped the orb back in his drawer and smiled again. “He’ll be waiting for you. This pamphlet—” he opened a cardboard foldout with a detailed map on the inside, which rose from the page to hang in the air in a three-dimensional display, “—will show you the way.”

“Thank you.” Yanko accepted it, as well as the armload of other papers and pamphlets, and led the way out.

Lakeo followed, her own pamphlets in her arms. “This Akstyr sounds like a troublemaker.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” Following the map’s lead, Yanko led them down pathways and past numerous buildings of glass, bamboo, and lava stone. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t be entrusted with helping students and visitors with their research.”

They parted on the path to allow a student in shorts and sandals to stumble past, his arms so laden with books that he could barely see over the top.

“Or maybe he got in trouble for something, and this is an extra duty he’s received as punishment. Isn’t that how you usually ended up with extra duties in the mines?”

“That’s certainly how I ended up having to create illusions of trees for you.”

“Except for the time when I pummeled you in the practice ring, and you had to help me because of your embarrassing defeat.”

“You shoved your boot into my... special parts when I was looking the other way.”

“Yes, that’s pummeling, isn’t it? If you’re dumb enough to look at a girl in the middle of a sparring match, then your special parts deserve attention from a boot.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Had Yanko truly been thinking that he liked having her along on his quest? He bared his teeth.

A couple of students studying under a cypress tree lifted their heads from books to watch them go by, or perhaps to watch Lakeo. Thanks to her height, her muscled arms, and the bow, she looked more like a soldier reporting to headquarters than a student. Yanko did not know if he fit in, either, with his swords belted at his waist, but he did still have that giant tome in his backpack. Maybe he could take it out and cart it around in his arms.

They entered the large, three-story library building, the foyer cool, thanks to the black stone walls and floor. People of all ages roamed about, books open in their hands or notes clenched as they strode about with determined expressions on their faces. One aspiring telekinetics mage strolled past, his stack of books hovering over his shoulder.

“How come you can’t do that?” Lakeo asked.

“I can, sort of. Just not with anything important that I wouldn’t want to break.”

“So if you were going to sweep a woman off her feet and carry her into your bedchamber—” Lakeo looked at him, made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh, then went on, “—you’d want to use your arms instead of magic, eh?”

“It would depend on the woman.” Yanko walked to a directory by the door, which showed a map of the three sprawling floors of the library, including numerous wings and out buildings that had been added over the years. All of the rooms were labeled in Kyattese, and some of the major ones had titles in several other languages, as well.