Tin Thoughts (The Downfall Saga Book 2) Page 15

  Tomorrow. He’d figure it out tomorrow. Now he had to get caught up on his school work. He slowly walked out of the library, eyes searching the shelves on both sides, hoping that the proper book would jump out onto the floor in front of him.

  He spent the rest of the day at the desk in his room, and he fell asleep long after the sun had set.

  Donovan struggled to focus during his classes on Monday. He misread the secondary scale on his calipers during his class in the Foundry, and as a result, had to come in on Saturday morning to practice measuring the dimensions of a shipment of boards that had been recently received. He kept nodding off in Anatomy, and would have fallen asleep if Cas hadn’t taken so much pleasure in jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow.

  Having survived another day of classes, he decided to try another tack before catching up on his sleep. He walked over to the Administration Building and approached the front desk.

  “Excuse me.”

  “Yes?” asked the girl behind the desk.

  Donovan had trouble diverting his gaze from her cute, dimpled face, and chocolate brown eyes.

  “Oh, right. I ... uh. I was wondering if you kept records of all the students who attend Haven.”

  “I’d get in trouble if I let you look at information about your fellow students. You don’t want to get me into trouble, do you?”

  Her mischievous smile made getting into trouble with her seem like the ideal course of action.

  “Not for giving out personal information, anyways.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I am looking for information of a more historical nature. Say, from a thousand years ago.”

  “Well that’s a different story. None of those students are about to complain, now are they? We keep a roster of the students and their program of study, but I doubt you’ll find anything more than that from so long ago.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “I can’t help but wonder why you’re interested in such old information. No, don’t tell me, it’s more mysterious if you don’t.”

  She got up, and led him down a spiral staircase that ended deep below ground. She pulled out a key and unlocked a wooden door, the top its frame was covered in dust. Donovan gratefully followed her into the room.

  “These books are old and fragile. These rooms are kept extremely dry to help preserve them. You won’t want to stay long or your throat will really dry out. Now, can I trust you in here by yourself, or should I stay and watch?”

  “I’d be delighted by your company, but I’d hate to keep you from your work.”

  “Pity. I think I’d enjoy spending some time down here with you.”

  Donovan tried to clear the lump out of his throat, but it refused to leave. She gave him another smile before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

  Thick tomes were neatly shelved around the room, a range of years written on each of their spines. A quick scan told him that there were rosters covering several hundred years in the room. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, but hoped that he’d find a famous name in one of the books which would lead him to the identity of the man that the statue represented.

  He found the book which covered the decade preceding the Breaking. He gently opened the cover and began to skim through the names listed within. The books were organized by year and then by the program of study for each student.

  Donovan was surprised by the number of names in the book. There were nearly a hundred and fifty names listed as first year students, which was roughly twice the number that had been in his class the previous year. It seemed odd that enrollment had changed so much over the years, but perhaps they had made the entrance requirements more stringent in recent years.

  He found the section listing the Zerenists for that year, and read the fifty or sixty names which were listed. He read the list a second time, and still didn’t recognize any names. He skipped forward to the year before the Breaking, and still didn’t recognize any names.

  He set the book down and carried the next book over to the table. He opened it to the year after the Breaking and carefully turned the pages to find the Zerenists, but couldn’t find them. The book listed all of the War Wizards and then listed the first year students for the next year. He checked to see if the pages were stuck together, but could find no trace of the Zerenists for that year. He checked the next year, and again found no one listed as a Zerenist. Perplexed, he turned back to the year of the Breaking and found seventy names listed as Zerenists. He ran his finger down the list and recognized a single name. Halbart Gowyr.

  Halbart Gowyr was one of the heroes from the Breaking. Donovan remembered the name from Professor Cleary’s class, but he couldn’t recall anything specific that Halbart was credited with accomplishing. At least he now had a name to search for.

  He checked several books from later years and could not find a single Zerenist listed in any of them. Donovan was beginning to think that there was merit to Francis’ theory about an organization trying to hide all references about the Zerenists. Donovan’s only other theory was that they had all died during the Breaking, and no one was capable of identifying and training them afterwards.

  Donovan succumbed to a coughing fit and was reminded that he’d been down here for nearly an hour.

  He returned the books to their place and headed up to the main floor. He said a long goodbye to the girl behind the desk, before heading to the main library.

  He found several books focusing on the Breaking, most were full of stories about the events during the Shem invasion.

  He found a story about the Battle of the Fold which credited Halbart as single handedly turning the tide of the battle. Halbart had apparently snuck behind enemy lines and eliminated most of the enemy’s command staff. The details were lacking, and it didn’t sound very heroic killing a group of officers, but the victory at the Fold bought their army two weeks of rest before the Shem regrouped. Donovan flipped to the next page and his jaw fell open. A full page portrait of Halbart Gowyr was included in the book.

  He looked strikingly similar to Donovan, but had a longer hooked nose. His resemblance to Donovan and the statue was too much to ignore, but that wasn’t what caught Donovan’s attention. A pendant hung around Halbart’s neck.

  A pendant shaped like a ring with a lightning wrapped dagger across the center.

  A pendant just like the one Donovan had found the previous year.

  Chapter 17

  “Why would you ask that?” asked Cleary, staring at the closed door of his office.

  Donovan watched from across the desk as Cleary slowly slouched down in his seat, and everything below his eyes disappeared behind a tall pile of paper.

  “As I’ve already told you,” said Cleary. “I know nothing about your past.”

  “But you suspect something?” asked Donovan.

  “It’s Osmont who you should be talking to. He’s the one who’s trying to find a way to remove the Blood Magic.”

  “What does he suspect?”

  “I ... uh.” Cleary swiped his sleeve across his sweaty forehead.

  Donovan tilted his head to the side and continued to stare.

  “You’ll have to ask him. In fact, let’s go find him right now.”

  Cleary jumped off his chair and scurried to the door. He opened the door before turning back to see Donovan still sitting in the chair.

  Donovan calmly turned his head towards Cleary. He slowly stood up, never taking his eyes off of him. He walked across the room and paused in front of Cleary.

  “I expect the others to lie to me, but I thought better of you,” said Donovan, shaking his head.

  They walked to Osmont’s office and Cleary knocked in a rhythmic pattern on the door.

  “Alden, come on in,” came Osmont’s muffled voice through the door.

  “I need to see you out here, Osmont,” said Cleary.

  “What do you need this time, Alden,” asked Osmont as he opened his door.

  Seeing Donovan stand
ing in the hallway with Professor Cleary, he left his office and shut the door behind him.

  “Causing problems again?” asked Osmont.

  “I just want someone to give me some honest answers.”

  “Are you accusing me of something?”

  “I think that you have been withholding information from me, and I doubt that you will even try to deny it.”

  “Let’s go talk in your office.”

  They retraced their steps down the hallway. Cleary started turning the handle to his office.

  “Information about the Zerenists,” said Donovan.

  Cleary’s hand froze on the half-turned handle, and he swung his head towards Donovan.

  Osmont’s graceful steps faltered, and he stumbled.

  A smile came to Donovan’s lips.

  “Are you going to drop the act now?” asked Donovan.

  Cleary turned towards Osmont.

  “Let’s see if the Headmaster is in his office,” said Osmont.

  Several minutes later they were all sitting down in Marrok’s office, even Osmont had left his customary spot leaning against the door and sat in a chair by the desk.

  “What can I do for all of you?” asked Marrok.

  “I want some honest answers,” said Donovan. He let the silence linger before continuing. “You have some theories about my magic which you are withholding from me.”

  “Let me assure you, Donovan, we would never withhold relevant information from one of our students,” said Marrok.

  “I want the pendant back.”

  Donovan watched as Marrok’s eyes twitched towards Osmont.

  “We do not have it here. We’ll follow up on its status, and will return it to you if it is safe to do so.”

  “Here’s my theory about why you are all lying to me,” said Donovan. “You believe that I am somehow connected to the Zerenist. I don’t understand how I could be connected to a dead cult, but that hasn’t dissuaded you. The pendant that you refuse to let me see is a Zerenist artifact, which is why you won’t return it to me. Do you deny that the pendant is in the shape of the symbol of Zeren?”

  “That is an interesting theory, but one you cannot prove,” said Marrok.

  “You told me last year that by law the pendant is mine. I demand that you return it to me. Let’s go see the Artificers right now.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Marrok. “Yes, the pendant depicts a symbol which was associated with the followers of Zeren, but it means nothing.”

  “Thank you for finally being honest, but I still demand that my property is returned to me.”

  “Osmont can retrieve it when we’re done here, and return it to you.”

  “You don’t need me here for this,” said Osmont. “I’ll go get it now.”

  He stood up without waiting for permission, and left the room. Cleary longingly watched him leave, but remained in his chair, looking miserable.

  “Was there anything else?” asked Marrok.

  “You can tell me what happened to the Zerenists who used to train at Haven.”

  Donovan watched Cleary scraping dirt out from under his fingernails. He turned back to Marrok who met his gaze.

  “I have been doing some research and found something interesting. I was looking at the student roster. Did you know that there were roughly seventy Zerenists in the year of the Breaking, and zero listed afterwards?”

  “Curious,” said Cleary. “I never thought to check something that mundane.”

  “What prompted you to look at the roster?” asked Marrok.

  “Do you know that old tunnel leading out of the side of the Nexus?”

  “It leads to that creepy, mist filled valley,” said Cleary. “Every student goes there at least once.”

  “Right,” said Donovan. “Well if you follow the path up the hill, you will find a statue which bears an uncanny resemblance to this guy.”

  Donovan pulled the book which he’d borrowed from the library out of his pack. He flipped to the page he’d marked, and set the book on the desk so both of them could see the picture of Halbart.

  When Marrok finished looking at the page, Cleary turned the book towards him, flipped it to the previous page, and began reading.

  “I don’t know what you expect me to say,” said Marrok.

  “Did you see what was around his neck?”

  Cleary flipped back to the portrait and turned the book for Marrok to see.

  “Now, will you tell me what you think is going on?”

  “Quite honestly, we don’t know.”

  Donovan waited for Marrok to continue.

  “You’ve heard Cleary’s theory about the cyclical nature of the Breaking. We’ve discussed the possibility that a sect of Zerenists has managed to remain hidden for all these years. Anyone who would worship Zeren would have no reservations about practicing Blood Magic. We have no idea where you fit into this, or how you ended up at Haven.”

  “Is it possible that I’m one of them?”

  “We can’t discount the possibility.”

  “Which would mean?”

  “That there might be some important information trapped inside your head.”

  Marrok refused to answer any other questions, and the meeting ended abruptly. Donovan was ushered out of the room, but Cleary stayed behind with the Headmaster. Donovan walked down the hallway to Osmont’s office, and waited until he returned with the pendant.

  Osmont dropped the pendant into Donovan’s outstretched hand.

  “One pendant, as promised.”

  “Why couldn’t you have been straight with me? You were the one person here who always treated me like an adult, but now I find out that you’ve been withholding information because you think that I couldn’t handle it.”

  “I had my reasons, and that was never one of them.”

  Donovan made a show of hanging the pendant around his neck, before leaving.

  He returned to his room. He pulled off the pendant and turned it over in his hands. The pendant had seemed so important to him mere minutes ago, but there was no way that it would help him to reconnect with his family.

  He opened his lute case and hid the pendant between the side of the case and the padding inside. He closed the case and slid it back under his bed.

  His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten recently. He left his room to grab a meal.

  Tomorrow was a new day.

  Donovan felt miserable the next day. He’d thought that getting some answers should have elated him, but instead he was angry knowing that they had intentionally lied to him on many occasions, and he still felt that they were withholding information.

  He skipped all of his classes that day, and spent it in his room staring at the ceiling. He tried to put all of the pieces of information together but he felt like he was trying to construct a puzzle with half the pieces lost under his bed.

  He was in a better mood the next day. He demonstrated the proper maintenance for all of his tools on the first try, and spent the last half of the class talking to the older students working in the Foundry. He was amazed by what they could make when combining machinery and magic. One student was assembling a clock so small that it would fit into a breast pocket. The student looked through a large lens, which magnified the tiny gears and springs, and carefully picked up the components with his magic. They’d float through the air, steadier than any hand could hold them, and gently fit themselves in their proper place. When the clock was assembled, the student pulled out a piece of paper and ran through a long list of checks before finally winding up the spring to see if it worked.

  Buoyed by his success in the Foundry, he didn’t let his limitations dampen his spirits in Illusions. Professor Nikka had taught the class how to make their illusions move, but still maintain their integrity. Most of the class had worms or other simple creatures crawling across their desks. If you looked at them from certain angles, they would become indistinct, and every once in a while, they became transparent when the stud
ent’s concentration began to wane. Donovan still couldn’t project his illusions away from himself, so he settled on creating complex patterns that moved across his skin. He stood in the corner of the room, facing a full-length mirror sitting on a stand. The wall to his left was dark red, while the one on his right was bright orange. He focused on changing the color of his face and hair to blend into the two walls. It was difficult to get the proper perspective and the uneven lighting in the room forced him to subtly add a gradient to each color. Professor Nikka watch him from across the room, a faint smile on his face.

  Donovan received a surprise after lunch when he was walking across the courtyard for his swordsmanship class. Several other professors had gathered and were having a conversation with Professor Jairdan, including Osmont.

  Donovan wanted to go ask what was going on, but he resisted the urge and stood with the rest of the students.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked Alicia.

  “That’s the selection committee for the thing with the dwarves,” she said.

  “I know, but why are they here?”

  She shrugged her shoulders and they waited for class to start.

  Professor Jairdan call Ravyn and Caddaric over before class started, and they had a quick conversation.

  Jairdan approached the class, flanked by Ravyn and Caddaric.

  “We have a special treat for you today,” said Jairdan. “The selection committee has narrowed the potential captains for our team down to these two.” She patted both of them on the shoulder before continuing. “Since they are both in my class, I offered to have a little competition between the two of them. Won’t that be fun?”

  She received a few mumbled responses.

  “That’s what I thought. Everybody is so enthusiastic that they don’t want to waste any energy. Now here’s how this is going to work. Each of them is a team captain. They will take turns selecting members of the class for their team. These teams will fight a mock battle where your goal is to eliminate the opposing captain. The captains can defend themselves, but can only stand within a small area on the battlefield. Simple enough, right? Let’s start picking teams, and then you’ll be given several minutes to work on a strategy before we begin.”