Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4) (25 page)

Her friends still stood at their
desks, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Jitomi had his hands raised as
if prepared to cast a spell against the professor.

Standing by Atratus's desk,
Madori looked at them and spoke softly. "It's all right. Sit
down, friends. Don't fail your test because of me."

Reluctantly, glancing at one
another, they sat down. She had told her friends about her magical
ring; they knew Atratus's punishment wouldn't hurt her. Dozens of
other students filled the classroom, staring at Madori. A
few—foreigners from Arden—stared with pity. Many of the Magerian
students, Radian pins upon their lapels, stared with smug delight.

"Hold out your hand,
mongrel," Atratus said, raising his ruler.

Madori gulped and stretched out
her palm. His ruler would raise more welts, but she knew the ring
would protect her from pain.

"Lari, sweetness,"
said the professor. "Please, step to the front of the class.
You've suffered the bane of this mongrel; I feel it most fair that
you administer the punishment."

Smoothing her robes, Lari
nodded. "Gladly." She stepped toward the front of the
class, chin raised, and took the ruler from Atratus. She turned
toward Madori and a cruel smile spread across her face. "I will
make you pay for what you've done, mongrel."

Madori's heart sank. Her ring
would protect her from pain, but not this humiliation. To have Lari
strike her? She pulled her hand back.

"No," Madori said with
a snarl. "You are no professor here, Lari. You are nothing but a
rich, pampered little—"

Lari swung the ruler. It sliced
the air with a whistle and slammed against Madori's cheek. Blood
splattered.

Madori gasped. Pain bolted
through her, so powerful she nearly collapsed, and she raised her
hand to her cheek. Her heart seemed to stop and she couldn't breathe.

Before Madori could react, Lari
swung the ruler a second time, lashing it like a whip, striking
Madori's other cheek.

Madori stood, shocked, in too
much pain to react. She could barely see. She could just make out
Lari standing before her, smiling in delight, raising her ruler for a
third strike.

Madori blinked.

Thoughts raced through her mind
as Lari licked her lips hungrily, preparing to strike again.

I
have to stop this now. I have to end this. Even if I fail this class.
Even if I'm tossed out of Teel.
She growled and raised her fists, prepared to attack.
This
ends now—

The classroom door burst open.

Professor Yovan raced into the
room, stepping on his long white beard and nearly crashing to the
floor. He panted, his hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed.

"The king is dead!" he
cried out, arms raised, tears on his cheeks. "The king of
Mageria is dead!"

Everyone turned toward the
elderly wizard. Lari froze with her ruler in the air, Madori with her
fists raised. Her friends had run halfway across the classroom to
join the fray; they too stood frozen as if somebody had cast a spell,
turning everyone to stone.

Professor Yovan panted, his lips
trembling. "They say he was poisoned; his sons too. Lord Serin
has ridden to the capital. Until a new king can be chosen, Serin sits
upon Mageria's throne." A sob fled Yovan's lips, but he managed
to square his shoulders and raise his chin. "May Idar bless the
king's soul! May Idar bless our new Lord Protector!"

Madori stared at the old man,
and her horror was too great, too horrible, too impossible to exist,
to feel, to shake her. Everything seemed like a dream. She felt numb,
surprisingly calm, as if her terror had risen so high it formed a
circle with calmness like her ring, a dragon biting its tail.

Yet
no other king will be chosen,
she realized as the blood dripped down her cheeks.
And
even Idar cannot save us now.

She turned to look at Lari, and
Madori saw something new in the girl's eyes—no longer hatred, anger,
or even mockery. Looking into those blue eyes, Madori saw victory.

 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY:
SUNS AND SERPENTS

They huddled in their chamber,
the door bolted shut with magic, a chair propped up under the knob
for extra protection. More magic shielded the window, gluing the
shutters shut, but still the chants pounded into the room, and the
walls shook.

"Radian rises! Radian
rises! Hail Lord Serin!"

Jitomi stood guarding the
window, hands raised as if prepared to cast magic. In the shadows of
the room, he had doffed the thick cloak and hood he normally wore,
revealing a lean body clad in black silk and leather. The dragon
tattoo that ran up his neck and face seemed almost a living thing.

"They are growing in
numbers," the Elorian said grimly. His large, oval eyes gleamed
a dangerous blue. "Hundreds now march outside, chanting for this
tyrant."

Guarding
the door, Tam sighed. "If only Serin
were
a tyrant, we could hope to rebel against him. But it seems he's more
of a beloved leader, at least judging by the reception he's getting
here at Teel."

While Jitomi stood ready to cast
magic, the young prince had opted for his dagger. Weapons were
allowed at Teel only for ceremonial reasons—family heirlooms,
religious blades, or magical artifacts—to be kept sheathed at all
times. Yet this was no normal turn, and Tam's blade gleamed. The
prince's eyes were dark, his lips tight, his muscles stiff.

Neekeya too stood with a drawn
blade. Her sword was long and thick, its silver hilt shaped like a
reptilian claw. The swamp dweller—normally bright-eyed, ready to
smile, a naive girl lost in a foreign land—became a fierce tigress
here, a beast ready to pounce. Her lip peeled back, revealing her
teeth, and her eyes blazed.

"I say we fight them!"
she said. "I'm a warrior. I'm not afraid. We'll slay Atratus and
take Lari hostage and not release her until Serin steps off the
throne."

Tam raised an eyebrow. "That's
not a bad idea."

They all turned to look at
Madori—Neekeya growling, Tam somber, Jitomi staring silently.

Madori sat upon her bed,
caressing the copper coin that was her last memento from her father.

Simple
change from our meal in the tavern,
she thought, looking at the coin.
I was so scared then, but now I miss that turn. Things were so much
simpler then.

Her cheeks still stung from
Lari's assault. Madori had healed the wounds with her magic, but the
scars remained, pale and prickling. As her mother bore the scars of
nightwolf claws upon her face, Madori's countenance now too was
marred, perhaps forever, mementos from a different sort of beast.

"Well, Madori?" Tam
said. "What do you think? What do we do?"

She raised her eyes back toward
her friends, and a lump filled her throat.

"Why do you ask me?"
she said, not without anger, and closed her fist around the coin.
"What makes you think I know what to do? Why listen to my
words?"

Neekeya tilted her head, her
crocodile tooth necklace chinking. "Because . . . we're Madori's
Motley. This is our quartet and you're our leader."

Sudden rage filled Madori, and
she leaped from her bed. The chants still rose outside, and the walls
shook as hundreds of feet pounded down the hall outside their door.

"Your leader?"
Madori's voice rose so loudly she was almost shouting. "I never
asked to be your leader. I don't want to lead anyone. Who am I to
choose for you?" She looked at them one by one. "Neekeya,
your father is a mighty lord, ruler of a pyramid. Tam, you're a
prince for Idar's sake. Jitomi, you're the son of a noble warrior of
Ilar, heir to a great pagoda overlooking the moonlit sea. Me?"
She gestured at herself. "I'm the daughter of a gardener. I'm a
half-breed. I'm from a backwater village. I'm . . . I'm . . ."

Her words failed her, and her
eyes stung.

"You are the strongest,
wisest student in this school," Jitomi said, finishing her
sentence. Leaving the window, he stepped toward her and held her
hand. His grip was warm and firm, his eyes soft. "I will follow
your guidance. If you ask me, I will fight for you."

Fight?
Madori walked to the window and peered through the crack between two
shutters. A hundred students or more were marching outside, trampling
grass and raising torches.

"Radian rises!" they
chanted over and over.

Lari led the march, shouting out
her hatred. "The Light of Radian now rules Mageria! Our light
will purify our kingdom, driving out the mongrels, the nightcrawlers,
the swamp barbarians, and all the cockroaches that infest our
fatherland." The crowd roared their approval and Lari cried out
louder. "Undesirables will burn in our fire!"

Madori turned away, facing her
friends again.

Neekeya was shaking with rage.
"That spoiled daughter of a snake! I'm going to wring her neck.
Who does she think she is to speak like that?"

Madori sighed. "She knows
exactly who she is. Mageria's new princess."

"And I'm Arden's prince,"
Tam said. "We can go to Arden—all of us. We'll sneak out of the
school. We'll take refuge in Kingswall at least until this blows
over." He sighed and his shoulders stooped. "Maybe this is
a fight we cannot win. Maybe all we can do now is flee."

Again they looked at her for
guidance. Again they awaited her words.

And
I? I just wish my parents were here. They're war heroes. They would
know.
She lowered her head.
But
perhaps that is my greatest lesson at Teel University—that I must
become my own woman now, no longer a girl in the shadow of heroes but
a heroine myself.

She spoke carefully. "We
cannot flee. Serin's fortress guards Hornsford Bridge, the nearest
crossing into Arden. Magerian castles watch all major roads and
smaller crossings; with the king dead, those castles now belong to
Serin too. If we flee this university, Lari will have her father hunt
us. Nor can we fight Lari here; she's too powerful, and too many
follow her."

Neekeya wrung her hands. "If
we can't flee or fight, what do we do? Just cower?"

Madori
thought back to Headmistress Egeria's words in her tower.
We
must be brave. We must fight them at every turn. You will stay at
Teel, Madori, and you will learn magic . . . you and your friends
must pick up this fight.

"We
survive,
"
Madori said. "Lari might march outside, and Atratus might be
spewing his bile in his classrooms, but Headmistress Egeria still
leads this university. This is still an oasis of reason, even with a
few mad dogs within our walls. The Radian Society of Teel wants us to
either fight or flee; one way they can crush us, the other be rid of
us." Madori squeezed her coin. "So I say we do exactly what
they hate, exactly what they're railing about outside our window. We
stay. We study. We show them that we will not be intimidated, we will
not be drawn into a war, and we will not run." She nodded,
gaining confidence with every word. "The year's classes are
ending. Next year we will take all our classes together, and none of
those Atratus teaches. Madori's Quartet will remain together always.
We will take turns watching even as we sleep. We are in danger, but
we will withstand this."

Figurines shook on the shelves,
and a picture frame fell, as the boots stomped in the hallway and the
cries pealed.

"Radian rises! Hail Lord
Serin!"

A strange silence blanketed Teel
University next turn. As Madori's Motley walked along a columned
gallery, heading toward their next exam, they heard none of the usual
laughter, conversation, and songs that filled the university. The
chants from last turn had died too. The ash of torches swirled upon
the floor, the only remnant of the Radians' rally. The quartet passed
by only one other student, a jittery girl who rushed down the
corridor, her head lowered. Even the birds seemed subdued; only a
single crow cawed as it circled above.

The quartet was near the
northwestern Ostirina Tower, about to enter and climb to their
classroom, when they heard the horns blare.

"The Horns of Teel,"
Madori whispered, a chill gripping her. "The headmistress
calls."

She shuddered. Madori had spent
many hours reading history books in Teel's library; according to
them, the Horns of Teel blew only in the most dire circumstances,
calling all students into the cloister to hear the headmaster or
mistress speak.

The horns blared again—a high,
ethereal sound like the cry of some unearthly being. Madori had never
seen the fabled dragons of Eloria—it was said that only one still
lived—but she had always imagined their cry sounding like this.

Students began to emerge from
classrooms like ants from a disturbed hive. Eyes darted and hands
were wrung. Madori's Quartet was caught in the stream as hundreds of
students headed toward the cloister.

When the horns finally fell
silent, every student at Teel stood in the courtyard, first to fourth
years. An eerie silence covered the university. Then, with the
shuffle of robes, the crowd parted to let Headmistress Egeria walk
toward the stage at the back, the place where she had first addressed
Madori and her fellow applicants many months ago. For the first time
since Madori had met her, the old headmistress walked with a cane,
stooped over, and it seemed that she had aged many years since the
last turn. Egeria had always seemed old but also vigorous and
vivacious; now she reminded Madori of how her great-grandpapa had
looked in his final days.

"Headmistress," Madori
whispered as the elderly woman hobbled by her.

Egeria raised her head to look
at Madori. Tears filled the headmistress's eyes. She whispered, her
voice so low Madori barely heard.

"You must look after them,
Madori. You must look after the others." The headmistress
glanced behind her and paled. Furtively, she placed a folded piece of
paper in Madori's hand.