Reign of Shadows Read Free Page B

night, the breathtaking display of colors
from the light spirits.
    That
was living.
    But
here, in the marshy lowlands, the winters were bleak and rainy and the summers
were hot and insect-riddled. Beautiful days were wasted cramped inside
classrooms. The joy of life, the urge, the passion were all driven away in
favor of severance, which meant to be cold, aloof, detached, emotionless, and dead as far as he was
concerned.
    Caelan
tipped back his head to look at the starry sky. His heart ached for freedom.
But even if he sent for the scrivener and wrote another letter to his father,
begging for release, it would be a waste of time. Beva E’non wanted his only
son to be a healer; therefore, the son would be a healer. Close of subject.
    Accept
it, Caelan told himself as he and Agel crunched across gravel, then reached the
cobblestones. Grow up and do as you’re told.
    But
even when he forced himself to concentrate and really tried to do his lessons,
his heart wasn’t in the work. He wasn’t a scholar, never had been. And always
in the back of his heart gnawed the question of what kind of healer he would
be. How could he cure anyone? How could he reach the depth of empathy necessary
to sever illness and suffering from
the lives of his father’s patients?
    Ahead,
from the side yard, a shadow suddenly emerged from the darkness. Long-robed and
hooded in cerulean blue, it carried a long rod of yew carved with the faces of
the four wind spirits. Its left hand was held aloft, and upon its palm glowed a
pale blue flame not of fire. It saw the boys and paused, then headed toward
them.
    Dragging
in a breath of exasperation, Caelan stopped so quickly Agel bumped into him
from behind.
    Agel’s
breath hissed audibly. “Gault have mercy on us.”
    Caelan
turned his head. “Run,” he whispered. “Take the passage by the stables and slip
into the hall of studies through the side door. It’s always open at this hour
for Master Mygar.”
    Beside
him, Agel was tense with alarm. “But the proctor—”
    “Shut
up and go! I have so many demerits another won’t hurt me. Just go.”
    As
he spoke, Caelan gave Agel a shove. Ducking his head, Agel shuffled away; then
abruptly he broke into a run and vanished from sight.
    The
proctor veered that way and lifted its staff, but Caelan stepped into its path.
    “I
have permission to be out after Quarl Bell,” he lied loudly.
    Proctors
did not split their attention well and tended to confront whatever was closest.
Figuring this out had enabled Caelan to avoid them many times. But now he
danced nervously across the path of the proctor a second time as it tried to
look in the direction Agel had gone.
    The
proctor finally turned its hooded head back to Caelan and pointed its staff.
    Caelan
backed up warily. That staff could strike with lightning speed to enforce the
hold’s many rules. He had the bruises to prove it.
    “Master
Mygar released me from late drills for an errand,” he said quickly. “I’m to
report back to him after supper.”
    The
proctor, its face unseen within the depths of its hood, stared at Caelan in
grim silence. Extending its left hand, it cast the truth-light at him.
    His
heart sank, but he knew better than to flinch.
    The
light flowed over him from the top of his head and spread slowly down. Caelan
scarcely breathed and kept his lie uppermost in his mind, visualizing old
Master Mygar with his food-stained robe and toothless gums.
    The
pale blue light flowed over him in a shimmering glow. At first its color did
not alter, indicating the truth had been told. Caelan began to hope he might
get away with this.
    Then
the light faded to sickly yellow.
    Caelan
gulped but resigned himself. All this meant was a couple of stout blows and no
supper tonight. The black mark would go on his record, and tomorrow he’d have
extra drills from Master Mygar for lying. Unpleasant, but easy enough to endure
when he had to.
    The
proctor stretched forth its left hand again, and the light spread