Two weeks later, Sarra rode her horse through the two huge iron gates, one baring a T and the other baring a U. She was flanked by her father, who was overjoyed at the occasion and had rambled the whole trip about his university days, and her brother, who was now resting one elbow on this horses' neck, with his face in his hand and his eyes closed.
The gates gave way to a long path, which was lined on each side with huge oak trees. On either sides of the path there was clipped green grass, charmed to stay short, which the students lounged on, and two round pens with horses. In front of them was the university, a huge, stone building, with towers on each side, and wings that stretched on forever.
Sarra could feel the anticipation growing in her stomach, and she eagerly searched the students that passed them.
"Colton's not down here," Rikash said with a yawn. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes at her brother, who sat up and yawned again. "He has class this time of day."
"I'm not looking for Colton," she said fiercely, and the limb of an overhead tree shook.
"Sarralyn," Numair scolded. "I thought I told you to watch your temper until you learn to control your Gift."
She sighed, and cut Rikash another look, only to see him laughing and shaking his curly head.
They took their horses to the stables, and her horse, Eagle, head butted her as they were leaving.
When will you be back? he asked, rubbing on her shirt.
"Soon," she said, aloud, and the stable hands stared at her. She bit her lip. Rikash laughed at her, and she reached out to pull the hairs at the nape of his neck until he cried, "Da! Make her stop!"
Numair took Sarra's hand and squeezed it hard. "No more of that, Sarralyn, or I'll be more than happy to take you back home where I can be your teacher."
Sarra made a face, but stopped. Rikash crossed his arms smugly and marched ahead, beside their father. Sarra hung behind, staring at the vast walls and lawns of the university as they walked. Excitement built in her chest as they mounted the steps to the front of the school, and walked through the massive white doors that led to the marble and stone breezeway. Tapestries lined the walls, depicting scenes of mages and healers, some fighting, some making great things. In the middle of the tapestries were carved names, and Sarra was a little astonished to see her father's name.
"I donated money for a research library," he explained as they passed.
"It's called the Salmalin library," Rikash said. "So we get first priority on all books."
"We do?"
Rikash laughed. "No! Gods, Sarra, you will fall for anything."
Numair sighed, and stopped. "Rikash, don't antagonize your sister! She is in a very fragile state!"
"Sorry," he laughed, and Sarra cut him another look, her anger flaring. A potted plant in the corner of the room nodded its limbs in an unseen breeze.
They mounted the stairs directly in front of them, and Sarra had to concentrate on not slipping on the slick white marble. The stairs twisted up as they went, and when Sarra thought she might just fall over with dizziness, they reached the top. Numair led then down a hall filled with many doors, and at the end was a very large one.
"Now," their father said, placing a hand on the door, "I pulled a lot of strings with Chancellor Dorsat to get you here, Sarra, so please be as respective and charming as you possibly can. And that goes double for you, Rikash, with all the trouble you caused last semester."
"That was Colton's fault!" he whispered heatedly, but Numair shook his head for Rikash to quiet. Sarra chuckled under her breath – she remembered the story of Colton and Rikash trying to taint their much hated biology professor's water with a potion of their own creation, one that would temporally make him speak backwards. Too bad the professor had caught it beforehand – Sarra would have loved to see Rikash expelled for a few days.
Numair opened the heavy door, and they all filed in. "Well, if it isn't my old friend Numair!" said the chancellor, standing as they came in. The room was dark, like a cave, and filled with books and scrolls. Much like Da's office, Sarra thought. Her father shook hands with the man, who was a bit younger than Numair but had wrinkles gathered around his eyes and grey streaks in his brown hair.
"Thank you so much for granting Sarralyn this chance. You will not be let down. She is an excellent girl, and is very intelligent."
"Not too intelligent for her own good, I hope," Dorsat said, glancing over at Rikash. Then he smiled warmly at Sarra, and reached out to shake her hand as well. "Numair, you should be very happy – she is as striking as her mother, and hardly looks a thing like you!"
Numair smiled wistfully at the mention of his wife. "Well, I'm afraid Rikash here got all my traits, including the mischievous ones." Rikash scowled beside him.
"Oh, you certainly couldn't have been mischievous in your day!"
"Oh, believe me, my friends and I were the worst Carthak had ever seen." Numair sighed. "Oh, to be young again," he said distantly, and ruffed Rikash's curls. Rikash scowled deeper. "But we're not here to relive my past, unfortunately – I wanted your own opinion in the matter of where Sarra should start, lesson wise, with her studies."
"Of course! What are her capabilities?"
"Well, there lies the problem. Her Gift is a bit tangled up with her wild magic, and it is very hard for me to tell. I have worked with her on levitating things – she seems to do that fairly easily – but that's about all we tried, right, Sarra?"
"We tried to turn those roses," she reminded him.
"Yes, yes, a very simple color spell," he explained to the chancellor, remembering. "She did well with that – other than coloring one half of my study. Which is were I think her problem lies – in control of her magic."
Dorsat nodded, and was quiet for a while, thinking. Finally, he asked, "Did you ever test her for the Gift?"
Numair smiled, a little pained, and said, "Daine is very funny about that, and since she never showed any signs, I never did."
"Have you ever heard of this before, being the expert on wild magic?"
Numair shook his head. "But you must remember – Sarra is the first Wildmage of her kind."
The chancellor's eyebrows came together. "How so?"
"She can shape shift as well, and her powers with animals are much more acute than her mother's, yet the strength of their power is the same."
"Shape shift?" Dorsat asked, looking at Sarra wildly. She sighed inwardly and, lifting up her hand, turned it into that of an old woman's, bony and wrinkled, with age spots. She then turned it into the shape of a paw, then back to her own hand.
"I can do it with every part of my body," she said, almost a little sadly.
"Even sex shift?"
She nodded. "But I don't like to."
"Well, Numair, she is certainly a very special girl!" Numair beamed. Dorsat turned to Sarra. "I will have a schedule of classes made up for you this evening, and it will be delivered to your room. I'm sure your brother will help you get settled in this evening – dinner starts at seven sharp. A maid will show you to your rooms. And if you are to have any problems, don't hesitate to pay me a visit!"
They all rose, and said their goodbyes to the chancellor. Then the Salmalins went into the hall, where there was already a maid waiting patiently.
Numair gave Sarra one of his massive hugs. "I'm going to miss having my bright young girl around," he said, releasing her and holding her by the shoulders. "But I know my loss is your gain. Make me proud, my sweetling!" He kissed her forehead, and moved onto Rikash, who got the same hug. Her brother groaned and complained. "And I'll have no more trouble out of you, boy. Remember who is paying for your schooling, and who could easily bring you back to Chorus so you can be my personal assistant!" Rikash made a face, and Numair kissed his cheek. He gave Sarra another, bigger hug, and then left them in the hall, the maid to their right.
"Well," Rikash said, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'll see you around." Then he was off, down the hall and around the curve of stairs.
The maid smiled warmly at Sarra. "If you would follow me?" she said politely, and they started down the hall as well. The maid kept quiet as they walked, giving Sarra time to gather in the university. Instead of taking the stairs, they went to the end of the hall, and walked across a breezeway that was all glass, and suspended over the courtyard. Students walked under them, some in groups, some holding hands, some alone. They reached another hall, and went straight down it, then turned to the right. Sarra became dizzy trying to remember the way, and just concentrated on the halls; the pieces of paper announcing a lecture or experiment, the portraits and tapestries of serene picture, the students who she passed, whom never gave her a passing glance.
Finally, they reached a wing that was very different from the others; it was lined with doors, and the people who lined the halls were mostly girls. The maid walked to a room that, too Sarra's surprise, had a removable plaque with her name on it. She gave Sarra the key she had used to unlock the door, and let Sarra turn the knob.
Her room was much smaller than the one she had in Chorus, and was nothing compared to the size of the bedroom at the Tower, where she spent most of her summers with her parents. It fit a small bed, a desk, and a chest of drawers comfortably, but there was scarcely room for anything else. On top of the bed was the white robe she was to wear over her clothes. She noticed her trunk, which she had sent a few days before she had left, where there, in the corner, the lock unturned.
"There are fresh sheets on the bed, and fresh linens in your drawers. You will share a washroom with your neighbor." She pointed to the left of the room, to a door with a lock on it. "Laundry is taken once a week; bring it to the launderer down stairs. Breakfast is until nine every morning; lunch is at mid-day; dinner promptly at seven. No men on the women's side after nine. If you need anything else, don't be afraid to ask."
"Um – thank you," Sarra managed, feeling a bit overwhelmed. The maid nodded and left.
The first thing she did was pull her quilt from her trunk and spread it on her bed. She had owned it ever since she was little – it had been a gift from her father to her mother, and she had adopted it as her own. It was blue, with horses, songbirds, squirrels, and other various animals threaded in gold on it. It looked a bit odd in the plain, humble room, but Sarra just sighed and pulled out various other items – a glass horse from her father, and book of poetry from her Uncle Lindhall, a small clock her grandfather had made for her which, made from the god's magic, never needed to be reset or have the sun shine upon it. It had two hands, one which told the minute and one the hour. It was carved with many animal gods, and chirped like a songbird at midnight and noon.
She finally sat on her bed when she was finished, and stared out the little window that opened above a courtyard. Suddenly, like a panic, she longed to hear her father's voice, joking or in deep conversation, in the other room. She wanted to open the door and see her mother surrounded by animals, or laughing with her father. A tiny voice reminded her Rikash was here, somewhere, but another voice fought back that that wasn't enough. Rikash had been gone for four years now, and he would bring no homely comfort. She felt a tear in her eye, thinking about her and her father's last embrace, and how she wished she would had hugged him longer.
No! she told herself sternly. This is my new life now. This is my time. With a sudden impulse, she rose, grabbing her cloak, and strode out the door.
The halls were filled with girls, most her age, some younger. They stood around doors, chatting and laughing, and looking at her as she went by. She walked to the end of the long hall, to a staircase, which she went down. The bottom of it led to another hall of rooms, and a door behind her that opened into a courtyard. She went into the courtyard, shrugging on her cloak and slipping on a pair of gloves. It was cold, but snow was only gathered in the cool corners of the walled area. There were two large planters, cased in bricks, where two fruitless pear trees grew, their limbs looking like long bare arms that stretched for the sky. There were planters for flowers, as well, though none dared grow in this weather. There were bare rose bushes against the wall, and they had white quilts wrapped around them, to keep the frost from damaging their spring buds.
Sarra realized, as the door shut, that there was someone in the courtyard, a man. He was leaning against one of the planters, his back to her. He seemed to be reading something. Sarra tired to be quiet, and went to sit on the other planter. But there was hardly quiet around Sarra Salmalin – suddenly dozens of winter birds flocked to her, calling out in their fluting voices, making Sarra laugh.
"Easy," she whispered to them. "We must respect others in this courtyard." The birds, though, were too excited over her appearance, and wouldn't stop their squawking. The man at the other planter turned in annoyance.
Sarra was about to apologize, but she stopped, seeing the man's face soften. Then he spoke her name, so easy and homely, her cold limbs became warm again. "Sarra?"
The man stood, and walked over to her. She stood as well, and the birds fluttered off, promising to come back. The man took her hands easily in his, like they belonged there.
"Sarra, it can't be you! I heard you were coming, but I didn't think so soon and – look at you! You are so beautiful!"
Colton smiled down at her, standing a good four inches over her head. His blue eyes were as beautiful as she remembered, and his hair still a soft blond. His skin was darker, though, and heavily freckled, and his voice was much deeper – so deep Sarra could hear it in her own chest. His hands squeezed hers.
She laughed, suddenly embarrassed. "You look quiet a bit different, too. You're a grown man!"
He shrugged, and let go of her hands. "Is it true you have the Gift now as well?"
"So it seems."
They stood a moment in the silent awkwardness, Sarra pulling her gloves up tighter around her wrists. She noticed that he wore the same deep blue cloak her brother owned. It flowed around his tall, thin frame, opened so Sarra could see the black breeches and white shirt he bore underneath. She cleared her throat uncomfortably.
"I'm assuming that Rikash has shown you around," Colton finally said, breaking the silence. Sarra laughed.
"He was gone the moment Da left us! I have no idea where I am going in this school."
Colton's eyebrows rose. "Your father was here? Ah, I'm sorry I missed him. I really wanted to ask him some things." He regarded the ground with a harsh look, then sighed wistfully as a loud bell tolled in the distance. "Well, I guess I should show you the dining hall, if Rikash has deserted you." He made the gesture for her to walk abreast with him, and they went back into the hall, the warm air instantly melting their faces.
"How goes your studies?" she asked as she followed him, trying to remember the different halls he glided her through.
"Well. I hope to go to Carthak in another two years."
Sarra came to a halt, and Colton did a double take to make sure she had not fallen down.
"Sarra?" he asked.
"Why would you go to Carthak?"
He seemed instantly alarmed, and several passing students were staring at them. He took her forearm and pulled her on, explaining simply, "To get my black robe."
"But . . . there cannot be two black robes."
"Who says?" he asked lightly.
"No, no, that's not what I mean." Sarra sighed, looking down at the dark tiles. "I mean, they will not present a black robe to two mages at the same time."
"What are you getting at?" Colton's voice wasn't so light anymore.
"Colt, if you and Rikash try to get your black robe at the same time, you'll have to fight for it!"
At that remark, Colton straightened. "I am older than Rikash, so I, hopefully, will receive mine first. And I realize we are on the same level," he continued, when Sarra opened her mouth, "but I hope to soon surpass him. Hopefully, I will have my green robe before the summer."
Sarra bit her lip as they entered the large dining hall. She did not like the thought of her brother and Colton dueling over a robe, merely for the fact that Rikash would easily beat Colton. Now that she had the Gift, she could sense the full strength of her brother's power, which was enough to rival her father's fairly easily. Compared to what she felt coming from Colton, she was very apprehensive.
The dining hall was a high ceilinged room with four rows of long wooden tables. There was a serving line, much like the one in Chorus, which the students stood in, laughing and talking as they waited their turn.
Colton took Sarra to the line, and they stood in another silence as they waited, Sarra deep in thought. Colton cleared his throat. "I'm going to sit the line out," he said. "You're welcome to join me."
"No, no," she said, taking off her cloak and putting in over her arm. "I'll just wait." As Colton disappeared, she felt a tap on the shoulder. To her surprise, it was Rikash, his robe over his clothes as well, his bright grey eyes smiling.
"Can't do much to separate those two. I'm surprised she hasn't been hanging off his mouth all day."
"What?" Sarra asked, her voice harsher than she intended. Rikash pointed to the table Colton had gone to. He was sitting by a golden haired girl in an equally golden robe, with his hand on her back. To Sarra's absolute disgust, he gripped her chin and kissed her hard on the mouth for several minutes.
Sarra couldn't take her eyes off them. It was like watching a battle before her eyes, a battle between her heart and this evil girl, and the girl had just drew a sword straight through her beating heart.
"Who – who is that?"
"Davon. Colt's betrothed."
