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23. Visiting Hours
🕑 Added 2023-12-23 15:00:02 +0000 UTCA dozen manuals spread out on the floor before him, all open. Some displayed images of mages sitting, legs folded, others held only text, while others showed mages leaping through the air. Oz took a deep breath, circulating his qi. He closed his eyes, focusing internally. Okay. I read a shit ton of books. I can do this.
I was pretty close to the light-body technique on my first try. Or… if not pretty close, I at least got a glimpse of the first steps of the technique. It’s handy for getting around, and useful for fleeing. Given how many people want me, or plain want me dead, I need to hone my escape techniques.
He sent his qi flowing forth from his dantian down his qi passages. As it flowed, his body grew lighter. Continuing to circulate the qi around his body, Oz held on to that sensation, letting it build and build. He lifted onto his tiptoes subconsciously, almost hovering in place. A little more. Evenly. Spread it evenly!
Pushing gently, he glided into the air. He held his breath, only to quickly force himself to breathe. His eyes opened wide in elation. His head peaked one shelf up, enough for him to reach up and pull books from the highest shelves in this hallway. Silently, afraid to speak, as if it might break the spell, he cheered, Yes! I’m doing it!
When he reached about six inches off the ground, his body gently arced back toward the floor. Touching down lightly, he pushed off again, harder this time. How high can I go? Is it limited by my strength and how light I can make myself? I need to—
An urgent thump-thump-thump-thump on the door demanded his attention. Oz startled and lost track of the flow of qi. He thumped down to the ground, falling flat onto his heels, no longer graceful but an earthbound ungainly lump.
He pursed his lips and shook his head at the door. I was so close.
Kneeling, he quickly gathered up the manuals and set them back on the shelves, under a new section labeled Light Body Techniques. “I’m coming!”
“You’d best hurry!”
The voice instantly sent waves of memory through Oz. He scowled. Right. I almost forgot about Professor Keane. How many students did he say were coming? Five? Six? The library’s still kind of messy, but it’s more organized than it was. Hopefully I can keep an eye on six teenagers—
He opened the door and found himself gazing out at the street. Confused, he adjusted his gaze downward and found a dozen shiny button eyes stared up at him from waist height.
—make that six ten year olds.
Fuck.
All of them wore black, pure black from head to toe. The students all wore perfectly conical, brimless hats, reminiscent of the cone part of a snow cone or perhaps a garden gnome’s hat, while Professor Keane sported a brimmed one. Capes with capelets hung from their shoulders, and beneath the capes, the boys wore loose black shirts and black trousers, while the girls wore simple black frocks. A small silver badge over their chest marked the only break from the otherwise monochrome uniform.
Of all the mages I’ve seen since I arrived, they’re the first to really fit the bill visibly, Oz noted, looking them up and down. I guess they’re an Academy, so naturally, they have uniforms… but all the other mages seem to favor robes. Hmm. Something to ask about.
Harried, Professor Keane reached out and caught one student on the verge of falling off the stairs. Another one, a finger in her mouth, wandered off toward the street. He turned. “Maggie, please!”
She stopped and looked up at him with innocent eyes, one foot hovering over the street. “I’m still on the stairs.”
“Harold!”
A plump boy with short red hair cropped almost to his skull let go of a blonde girl’s ponytail. In tears, the girl fled toward her friends, who glared death at the redheaded boy. He stuck his tongue out at them. “Riona called me fat.”
“Well, you are fat,” Riona replied, wrinkling her nose at him. “And stinky.”
“Silence! Silence, the lot of you. The door’s open. Can’t you behave?” Professor Keane snapped, though the snap lacked the bite of true authority. Altogether, Professor Keane and his flock had the energy of a gaggle of trick-or-treaters, with one parent herding a dozen sugar-amped kids around the neighborhood with barely enough energy to keep them all in a general lump.
Oz bit back a laugh despite himself, immediately sobering as he realized what he saw now was a glimpse of his own future. I’m starting to think I got lowballed at twenty-five gold a head.
Misunderstanding his trepidation, Professor Keane leaned in and whispered, “Please forgive them. The Academy accepts all students from all walks of life. They’re all mortal-born brats.”
“Er… yes?” Oz asked. Do mages look down on mortal-born mages? I guess Roan implied that, but… to this extent?
“Don’t misunderstand. I have nothing against mortal-borns. It’s just… well. Do you know the history of the Sielver Academy?”
Oz shook his head.
Professor Keane cleared his throat, immediately in his element. “Sielver Academy was founded to create a space for anyone with potential to become a mage, mortal-born or otherwise, without any consideration of the conditions of their birth—a true meritocracy. However… unfortunately, the men we sent out into the world to search for mortal students are easily bribed. Although it may have been different millenia ago when the Academy was founded, nowadays, the only ones from the outside world our men find who have ‘potential’ are all, well… the brats of small-time mortal nobles, who couldn’t afford entry into a better sect, nor possessed the talent to be naturally chosen by a Master.”
“Oh,” Oz said, nodding. I understand. Once money is involved, it’s hard for a meritocracy to remain meritocratic.
“Of course, our Headmaster cares not for the pressures of mortal nobility, nor their bribes, so once the children arrive at the Academy, we professors are free to treat them as we wish, with no consideration for their noble background. Unfortunately, this has given the illustrious Academy something of a reputation as a reform school,” the Professor continued.
“Oh,” Oz said, grimacing. Ouch. Their harsh treatment backfired, huh? Instead of getting the best, they were sent the worst, in hopes that the harsh treatment would sort out the brats’ bad habits.
Of course, with the kids starting at age ten or so, they aren’t exactly alcoholics or womanizers, but there’s still plenty rotten a kid can become by ten.
Professor Keane nodded. “Quite so. If not for my personal passion for lifting up mortal-born mages, I would have left for greener pastures long ago. In any case, I’ll be back at sundown. Please ensure all the students are alive and intact when I return. Aside from that, treat them as you will, within reason.”
Oz blinked. “That’s it?”
Professor Keane paused, half-turned away. “Yes?”
Oz shook his head, taken aback. Damn. It really is different in this world. Back in my world, you had to sign a dozen release forms and waivers to be allowed to teach a thirty-minute read-aloud class at the library—with parents allowed in the room, at that! Here, the good Professor can just hand me a half-dozen kids without a single permission slip, and I’m trusted to have them all back at the end of the day mostly intact.
It's actually kind of… refreshing? I know those waivers and legal disclaimers exist for a good reason, but being trusted as an adult is nice, too.
Except Ossian is fifteen.
Oz pursed his lips. Yeah… okay. Maybe there should be some kind of waiver.
“Professor, hold on a moment,” Oz called.
At the base of the stairs, Professor Keane paused. “What is it?”
“Give me a moment. I might have to reject a few of them.”
The professor crossed his arms. “I checked. They’re all weaker than you.”
“Yes, well, give me a moment.” It’s good to trust, but it’s better to verify.
He looked over the six kids, then shook his sleeve back from his tattoo, exposing the controls. Is there a way to filter out people stronger than me? Anyone could have slipped in with the kids, after all.
A character on the side of his forearm glowed silver, the meaning instantly flowing into his mind. Barrier Adjustments.
He touched the character, and a small black panel popped up. A series of characters appeared below it. He squinted, and they rearranged themselves into a facsimile of a keyboard.
>What do you desire?
Huh. It’s like a console input. Interesting. Half as a joke, Oz typed man.
>Stop playing around and tell me what you want.
Oh. There’s someone on the other end. Who…? Is there someone else in the library besides me, Sid, and… Fenrir…
…Or it’s the guy who’s tied up in the center of a complicated magical circle hidden in the library’s secret basement.
Fenrir?
>Good job. What do you want?
Can you adjust the barrier to only let in those weaker than me?
>Duration?
Oz paused. Half an hour?
>That long?
Uh… five minutes? Is that better?
There was no reply. The black box vanished. Oz paused for a moment, then shrugged. I guess he updated the barrier? Nothing looks any different, but I can’t always see the barrier, so maybe—
Golden light blared from the gap where the door hung open. It faded away once more, leaving both Oz and the kids dazzled. Silent for a brief moment, the children all wiped their eyes and blinked, while Oz shook his head. Couldn’t have warned me, huh, Fenrir?
He gestured at the kids. “One at a time.”
Harold and Riona shoved each other back and forth, only for a young boy with a headful of tight curls to step forward past them both. He saluted to Oz. “Mici, that’s me!”
“Step forward, then,” Oz said, gesturing him on.
Mici passed through the barrier with no hesitation. Oz nodded to himself. I have no feedback on whether what Fenrir did worked or not, but I guess the kid is weaker than me?
Barely a moment later, silver glowed from his tattoo. He blinked, then looked at Mici, then inspected his arm again, looking closely at the underside of his forearm.
Eight small circles of ink surfaced on the center of his arm. Each circle grew larger, with the smallest closest to his wrist. Only the first one glowed.
Eight circles. What else do I have eight of? Meridians? Then does that mean Mici only has one meridian opened? Interesting.
Even more interesting is the way they appeared when I wanted a way to tell how strong the kids were. I wonder if the symbols react to my thoughts? It is magic, after all, and my arm only has so much room. It’s not as if every single possible control would fit even if I was the most muscular man in the world, and I’m currently a scrawny fifteen-year-old.
He nodded to the next kid. “Come on.”
Riona pushed Harold away and stepped forward.
Even as she did, something flashed high in the sky. Oz squinted up. What is that? It almost looks like—
A spear of ice slammed into the earth, piercing deep into the ground beside the library. Huge chunks of earth flew. On the road, the passersby scattered, running for shelter.
Overhead, more ice spears glittered, whistling through the clouds. They arced down toward the library.
“Hurry, everyone!” Oz shouted, gesturing them all in. I’ll have to trust Fenrir!
The kids rushed for the door in a panic. Harold and Riona got there first and jammed in the doorway. Shoulder to shoulder, they pushed at one another.
“Get out of my way!” Riona demanded.
“You’re the one in my way!” Harold snarled.
The ice spears smashed into the library. Ice shards rained down, sharp as razors.
“Go, go, get inside!” Professor Keane shouted, lifting a hand toward the shards. Vines burst from his sleeves and coiled into an umbrella over the kids. Small ice shards bounced off the vines. A larger ice shard pierced through, slamming into the stairs and shattering into tiny pieces.
Panicking, the kids pushed even harder against one another. “Harold, move!” Maggie screamed.
With a great push, Harold squeezed past Lilian and popped into the hallway, and the rest of the kids tumbled after them in a great disordered mass.
The second the kids landed inside, Professor Keane fled. Pushing the kids out of the way, Oz shut the door before any of the ice could bounce inside.
For a moment, they all laid there, stunned. Riona kicked Harold, and Maggie wriggled her way free, and then the whole pile of kids started churning as the kids untangled from one another.
Oz let out a breath and turned to the kids, smiling. Ten-year-olds. I can do this. It’s just like one of those reading classes I used to volunteer for. No problem. “Welcome to the Grand Magus’ Library. I’m the Librarian, Ossian Vestal, but call me Oz. What does everyone want to read today?”
“Reading?” Riona made a puking face.
Harold yawned. “I’m tired.”
Maggie wandered off, heading toward the stacks.
“Do you have snacks?” Mici asked.
“Everyone stand still for a second,” Oz ordered.
The kids ignored him, continuing to mill about.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Sid!”
Maggie stopped. She looked back. “What’s a Sid?”
“A terrifying monster. It has enormous fangs and vicious eyes, and five brutal claws on each paw,” Oz said.
The kids hesitated. A few of the ones who’d wandered suddenly drew back toward the group.
A fluffy calico wandered out of the stacks. She walked over to Oz’s side and sat, looking up at him.
Oz bent and scooped her up. “See? A Sid.”
“That’s a cat, not a terrifying monster,” one of the kids whose name he didn’t know pointed out.
“She’s a terrifying monster if you’re a mouse, isn’t that right?” Oz asked, looking at Sid.
Sid mewed innocently at him, her eyes big.
He turned back to the kids. They all stared at Sid, entranced. Smiling, Oz gestured them over. Trick them with something cute to get them to quiet down, then start reading. Oldest trick in the book. “Come on. She’ll let you pet her…”
Wait. Hold on. He counted the kids, then counted them again, then counted a third time. He checked his wrist just to be sure, but the same His brows furrowed. “Seven…?”
“No, there’s only six of us,” Harold informed him.
The kids looked amongst one another, confused. Maggie was the first to jolt, staring toward her fellows. “Who are you?”
The children whirled, all staring at one another.
“Who?”
“What’s happening?”
“Huh?”
Oz followed her gaze. Which one?
As his eyes fell on the children, glass shattered. Complete and total darkness fell over the library.
