Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) (6 page)

              Small groups began to leave the room as they were given instructions on where it was they were supposed to go. It didn't take long for Shawnrik to find himself the only kid remaining over the age of eight. Shawnrik didn't miss the amused quirk of an eyebrow from the beautiful instructor as she ushered the group out of the room to begin their introduction to the Institute. He might have been embarrassed by the instructor's reaction had he time to think about it, but as soon as they exited the white marble room his senses were assaulted from every direction.

              They emerged into an open pathway, with columns along both sides of the gravel pathway. The air was much warmer here. Shawnrik's heavy winter clothing suddenly felt heavy, and he could feel perspiration beginning to form on his brow. As they walked towards one of the larger buildings in the immediate vicinity, Shawnrik noticed a familiar sound. It was a sound that he had grown up with, and that had been a constant companion to him until the day he left Safeharbor with Ashur and Dunnagan less than two years ago.

              The soft hum of a city, people hurrying to and fro, merchants selling their wares, vehicles moving through the streets; these were the sounds that surrounded him. They were familiar and yet somehow foreign in this new place. To his left, down the hill, Shawnrik saw what must be Serenity Valley. Large, stone carved masterpieces replaced the familiar wood, stone, and brick buildings of home. He could see strange carts moving around the streets without any visible animals to pull them. Once, when he was nine, he had snuck into the Mages' compound and he had seen something very similar, but he was too far away to be able to tell if the vehicles he saw below used the same glowing crystals that the Mages' transports had.

              Thousands of people moved around him within the walls of the Institute, and he had never felt more alone. He had been alone in the village, but there at least he'd had Pedrial to fill the void. Shawnrik didn't know what he was doing here, and he felt sure that he didn't belong.
Is this what you meant for me to do, Vic? Am I wasting my time here?
Shaking his head, he tried to physically force the thoughts from his mind. Victor had told him to learn everything he could, and Pedrial said that one could learn anything at the Institute. Shawnrik would trust in his friend, and do everything in his power to come out of this place a better person.

              The building the group approached had an ancient feel to it; the exterior was dull and worn looking compared to the crisp angles of the other buildings in the area. They entered a large room made of a dark stone that Shawnrik couldn't identify offhand. Everywhere he looked, there were little kids lined up, waiting in lines to talk to adults who Shawnrik assumed were Institute staff or Instructors.

              A room of this size full of kids should have been noisy, but something about the room seemed to mute this effect, and it was easy for Shawnrik to hear the conversations in his immediate vicinity. He began to feel out of place amongst all of the young children as Instructor Daymarr sat down behind one of the tables, picked up some sort of bound paper bundle, and a writing instrument.

              Shawnrik suppressed a frown at the openly curious looks from the children throughout the hall. Looking around he noticed that there were children of every race he had ever heard of, and a few that he hadn't. Elves, Gnomes, Halflings, and Giants seemed to be the most prevalent of the races in the room, though there were a few others that surprised him, like a small group of Orcs, and something that looked like a Goblin, but was built like a Dwarf. He had a moment of relief when he realized that he wouldn't be the shortest student his age, but that moment was quickly quashed by the thought that he would also be the oldest new student.

              “Excuse me.” Part of his mind yelled at him as he was studiously attempting to ignore the rest of the room, and it took him a moment to realize that the comment had been directed at him. Looking down, he realized that the line in front of him was empty, and he was next in line to talk to the instructor.

              “Oh, goodness, I'm sorry,” Shawnrik said, taking a seat on the small stone bench in front of the table.

              Instructor Daymarr gave him a smile that told him everything was alright, before she began reading the papers in front of her. “It says here that your name is Shawnrik.” It had been a statement, but Shawnrik realized that it had also been a question so he nodded. “Good, it says that Elder Lightfeather took you in a year and a half ago, but it doesn't say why.” 

              She had clearly wanted him to give her a reason, but as he didn't know himself all he could do was shrug. The look he received in reply was one that he didn't think he wanted to be on the other end of ever again, but he couldn't tell her what he didn't know.

              “Right, well we can sort all of that out later.”

              “Yes ma'am.” That look returned to her face again, making him want to apologize for whatever it was that he had done wrong.

              “Well, you speak Common well enough, it seems. Can you also read and write?” She seemed to be reading from a list and filling in his answers.

              “Yes, though I have never been to school. I learned how a few years ago,” Shawnrik said.

              “Really? Who taught you?” Her writing instrument had begun to move quickly at his answer, and he immediately became defensive as she asked the question. He knew it was an irrational feeling, but he couldn't control it, nor could he control the memories that flooded in as he considered it.

              “My friend Victor,” Shawnrik said, teeth gritted.

              “And was this friend of yours formally educated?” she asked, still writing, unaware of his discomfort.

              He had not anticipated this as her next question, and the confusion made him falter for a second before answering. “Um, yes, I believe so. He was way too smart not to have been, but I think a lot of it was also things that he had been taught by his...” Shawnrik realized that he didn't know how to refer to Shaylyn in this context. She was not Victor's mother, but she had raised him. He also didn't think that he should tell anyone about a lot of the things that she had taught Victor. Leaving the statement open like that, however, might lead to more questions that he was unable to answer—or unwilling to answer—so he finished the thought a moment later with, “...his adopted mother.”

              Instructor Daymarr was looking across at Shawnrik. He knew that she had registered his hesitation, and he saw the questions forming in her eyes. A tired sigh escaped her lips instead, and Shawnrik was glad when she looked down at her paper and read the next question. “Do you speak and or write any other languages?”

              “I learned whatever language it is that they speak in Tranquility Mist. I know a few words of Dwarven, but beyond that...” Shawnrik realized that he did indeed know another language, but as it was one only used by the seedier side of the citizenry of Safeharbor, he decided that they didn't need to know that here. “...No.”

              Her eyebrow twitched as he once again paused in his reply. He found himself hoping that she didn't assume he was slow.

              “What about Mathematics?” she asked a moment later.

              “Well, I can count pretty high, and I can add up my money,” Shawnrik said, not really sure what she was asking. “Is that what you mean?”

              Taking a deep breath, Instructor Daymarr nodded, and wrote some more on her paper before asking. “Where did you grow up?”

              “In the Dock's District of Safeharbor.”

              “Have you ever had any formal education?”

              “No ma'am. I had to learn a lot of things on my own, and then I had some friends that helped me a lot.” As she began writing again Shawnrik had the urge to say, “But I'm not dumb.”

              Surprise crossed the instructor's features for a moment before they softened into something more compassionate. “No, of course you aren't. It is not your fault that you haven't had a formal education before now. I'm going to take a guess and say that you lost your parents when you were very young?” When he nodded, she began scribbling on the paper again, asking, “So you had to survive on the streets? Alone?”

              “For a while, but after a time I was taken in by ol' man Walkins, me and a few other kids. He gave us a roof over our heads and food, in exchange for our work. Then Victor came along, and it was pretty much just him and me, even though we still did jobs for Walkins...”

              “Victor?” She interrupted, looking over her notes. “That is the one who taught you how to read and write?”

              “Yes, that's the one. We did a lot of jobs together until we were pretty much adopted by Nim and Ashur.” Shawnrik smiled at the memories that came forward as he answered, finding strength in the knowledge that he had good friends out in the world.

              “Nim... and Ashur?” Instructor Daymarr asked, tapping the side of her chin with her writing utensil as if trying to think of where she knew the names from. Her eyes grew a little wider a moment before she asked, “Nim Mithriannil and David 'Ashur' Theromvore?” Her voice was a little louder now than it was during her previous questions.

              “Yes.” Shawnrik had known that Nim was sort of infamous throughout Terrazil, but the fact that she knew Ashur's name made Shawnrik a little curious about his mentor's history.

              “So, Victor is around your age as well?”

              Again, she came at him with a question he had not been expecting. Deciding that he had already told her a lot already, he didn't see any harm in filling in some of the details. “No, Victor would be ten now.” Guessing the next question, Shawnrik said, “He was seven when he began teaching me to read and write.”

              The instructor's hand stopped moving for a moment, and Shawnrik almost laughed when he saw the look of incredulity that was on her face. He suppressed the urge, however, because it would have been rude, and he wanted to be on her good side. Shawnrik looked around instead, and noticed that the hall was empty of children, and several of the remaining instructors were looking in their direction, obviously wondering why she was talking about Nim and Ashur.  Yet again he wondered how much he didn't know about his former mentors. After what seemed like a long time, Instructor Daymarr began writing again, and for a long enough period that Shawnrik thought he might have been forgotten.

              “How old are you?” She asked finally, startling him a little.

              “Somewhere around fifteen and a half, I think.”

              “What do you wish to study here?”

              “Everything,” he answered, before he realized that it probably sounded dumb. Instead of another glare, however, when he looked up he saw Instructor Daymarr smiling. He decided that he much preferred the smile.

              “That is the perfect attitude, Shawnrik.” Her approving tone made him feel better, but it also quickened his heartbeat a little, making him suddenly uncomfortable. Before he could consider why that might be, she handed him a piece of paper. “Here is a list of the classes that are available—you should choose at least seven courses of study. You might note that there are several core classes that are recommended; I think that you should take a few of them each term to help you establish a firm knowledge base. Each term last three and a half months, with breaks scheduled between the start and end of the second term so that those of you who need to return home to help with the planting and harvesting can do so. Many students opt to stay with their families or tribes during the second term, so it is usually a much more personal learning environment. On that note, the minimum number of courses for the summer term is five, since we find that some students are not as happy to be doing coursework when they know their friends are out roaming the world. The minimum number of courses returns to seven in the fall to close out the year. You can of course choose to take as many courses as you can fit into your schedule, but we discourage having more than twelve, and encourage at least one day off each Eightday,”

              Grabbing the paper from Instructor Daymarr, Shawnrik noticed that it was printed like he had seen in some of the books that Nim had owned, and he briefly thought it would be interesting to see a printing press at work before bringing his mind back to the task at hand. It was a very long and detailed list, and he knew that he would have to give it careful study in order to know what courses he was going to take. Quickly looking over the list, he realized that there were a lot more than seven things he wanted to learn. “You said that I should choose
at least
seven courses, does that mean I can choose more?”

              That seemed to have been the perfect thing for him to ask, because her face lit up in a smile that was almost dizzying. “It is recommended that you choose no more than twelve, and that is only if you can make them work within the timetable. You will notice that each course has certain days and times in which they are available. Obviously you don't want to choose classes that overlap with each other, but beyond that you have complete freedom as to what courses you choose. Be warned, however, that if you choose a course, you will be expected to complete them to the best of your ability.”

             
Of course I have to complete them,
Shawnrik thought, not realizing that many people quickly became disenfranchised with the concept of schooling. He had never been to school and he loved to learn new things, so he thought that the Institute was just about the perfect place for him to be at the moment. “Yes ma'am.”