Aki

It was the first day of assessments. Students milled about the courtyard, waiting for the headmaster to give his speech and proclaim the assessments underway. I hated him for the wait. Worry had taken over my appetite and decided I would go hungry until the assessment was over, putting me in a foul mood.

Edon clapped me on my back, catching me by surprise. “Find your spirits, Aki. Our freedom is nigh. Imagine it. We’ll finally be rid of our meddlesome parents, be given the right to make decisions as we see fit, and eat what and when we want. Shop, study, visit the brothels, train, gamble, all whenever we wish to. Imagine.”

“Not everyone can busy themselves with such trivial things. Not like you who’s guaranteed success even in the face of failure.”

Edon took a step back, surprised by the hostility in my tone. He was not used to my ire. He was not used to anyone showing him any ire at all. The gift and curse of being an unwanted scion of royalty.

“Sorry, Edon,” I sighed. “I’ve not been able to keep down any food and my worry has me lashing out without reason.”

Edon accepted my apology with a smile. “I won’t deny the truth, but I see no reason to dwell on it. Besides, you have nothing to worry over. Just as I have been bestowed my status, you have been gifted a sharp mind and commendable talent. I’m not too sure I got the better end of that deal, and many among our classmates—especially after your rise to The Bark and the explosive growth of your sensus—agree and are doubtlessly covetous of your prospects.”

“Attention,” A voice boomed across the courtyard, carried by more than air. Pakur stood atop a raised dais erected beside the academy steps, hands clasped behind his back. I was impressed. I hadn't known his plump arms could reach that far.

“As you all well know,” Pakur said, “today is the last day of winter, and the penultimate day for you as unassessed. After these two days of assessments—whatever your results—you will become men and women of Evergreen, standing on your own merits and no longer chained or upheld by the limitations or successes of your sponsors. By the end of tomorrow, you will decide your own standings, your own futures.”

I shook my head at his words. Not long ago I respected the godlings for allowing the common folk to ascend beyond their station. My hate for Kalin was all-consuming, dragging me through life with dreams of revenge. Work hard, excel, and you will be awarded, they said. I believed them, for that was the only thing keeping my fantasies alive, and thus, me alive. How blind I was to be thankful to those who offered me a solution even as they caused the very problem it would solve. Leahne said it was Lorail’s way to drown with one hand and offer help with the other. I suspected the whole city, the entire rotten Kingdom, from The Old Queen herself to the lowliest of her believers, did the very same.

“I am sure you’re all keen to proceed,” Pakur said, loud without needing to shout. “And so I will leave you all with this: ‘Freedom is bought with power, and power is earned with strength.’” It was a quote from the first of The King’s speeches, the very words that birthed Evergreen. He should have followed it with, ‘And it is up to the strong to buy freedom for the weak, for strength may elude them regardless of an iron will and an inordinate effort.’ It said much that many could recite the first but few could recognize the second.

Pakur pinned the thick scroll he carried to the academy door, letting it unfurl until the end was a handsbreadth from the ground. It was the order of assessment.

Edon bumped me on my shoulder. “Time to become men.”

“I’d wish you luck, but I doubt you’d need it.”

“Then wish me expedience.”

“I doubt my wishes would mean much to anyone.”

Edon shook his head before moving towards the academy doors, the crowd parting before him. Everyone knew he’d be the first name on the list.

I stood on a pedestal in a room too old to be part of the newly built academy. I do not know how I got there. No, I knew how I got there, just not how it was possible. The main doors of the academy, rather than leading me to the academy hallway, led me to a room of dark wood I’d never seen before. At the center of the room was a long table made of similar wood. The assessors sat behind it, tired and irritable. Being a Mud, I was the last to be assessed.

Leahne was first to address me. “What are the advantages and disadvantages of a dense sensus?”

The question was elementary. Still, knowing the answer calmed my nerves. “The density of sensus has one major influence. Potency. Whether for extracting or assimulating alchemical solutions, building or forging objects, casting or implanting illusions, fortifying or expelling energy, the denser the sensus, the stronger the effects.”

Leahne nodded. “A definitive answer. You recited the passage from ‘The Fundamentals of Soul Energy’ almost precisely.” To the word, I thought. “If I didn’t know any better, I would've thought you were reading from it.” I was, in a matter of speaking.

The alchemy assessor, Master Joccol, who sat beside Leahne, leaned forward, his bloodshot eyes digging into me. “I have a problem I’d like your opinion on. Do not worry, I don’t expect you to know the answer. Asking you basic assessment questions would be a waste of time. I thought I’d risk a fresh perspective on a problem of mine instead.” He smiled then, impish as ever. “Also, I’ve always wondered if your genius went beyond your talent for memorization. Care to prove it does?”

I nodded weakly.

“Good,” Joccol said. He rubbed at his bald head—a self-inflicted and preemptive practice against what his experiments would’ve done for him. “Consider this, if you will. Imagine you are trying to combine a hot and cold solution. By mixing them before using the basic matrix of assimilation, the effects of each would be diminished, the sharing of heat lessening their efficacy. My question is, how, if possible, would you combine the mixtures without letting this happen.”

My voice was small when I spoke. “Are the effects of each amplified by assimilation, or is it a case of building a more…specific result?”

Joccol laughed. “Good, you are considering the question in earnest. I was afraid you would spout some convoluted matrix or other in the hope I’d be awed by your knowledge of the niche. Good. No, it is simply an amplification of complementary effects. Questions of creating new formulas for specialized effects are beyond my expertise.”

“And may I ask if you’ve already investigated the possibility of changing the temperature of the base solutions in a manner that wouldn’t affect their efficacy?”

“Yes.” Joccol looked downcast, almost ashamed. “I was unable to make headway on that front.”

“I can only think of one possible solution, and I highly doubt it would work.”

“Do not keep me in suspense.”

“Forgive me if this is an absurd proposition, but what if you changed the physical properties of both in such a way that they would remain somewhat separate when mixed. In doing so, both may retain more of their thermal properties before assimilation.”

“Mm, I doubt that would work. Even partially mixed, such close contact would—” Joccol shot from his chair, eyes wide.

Pakur, who sat in the middle, seemingly asleep, rapped his knuckles on the long table. “Sit down, Joccol.”

Joccol eased back into his seat, his gaze stretching further than the confines of the room. “Of course,” he whispered. “Why had I not considered that.”

I smiled to myself, confident I’d passed his question.

The next four assessors asked simple questions. Master Delz, the assessor for mathematics, asked a question about percentages. Master Kleo, who taught languages, asked me to translate a common proverb from Golodonian. The penultimate question was the easiest, given by Master Juner, the assessor for history. He asked me to name the seven gods of Evergreen. An uneducated Mud would’ve known the answer.

Only Master Leonak’s question remained. He was a hairy man, grizzly and thick and all too fond of himself for it. His humungous arms, disproportionate to the rest of his body, lay before him on the table as he leaned on his elbows, fingers interlaced into a double-handed fist.

“You are far too scrawny for my liking,” he said. “A man ought to have some meat on him before he can call himself a man.”

Pakur, still with his eyes closed, rapped his knuckles on the table once more. “Spare us your comments, Leonak, and ask your question.”

The Golem snorted but did as he was told. “What is the most important attribute of any structure and how do you achieve and maintain it?”

The question was broad. Too broad. Any answer I gave was likely to be incomplete. My mind raced. Thoughts of why he’d trapped me with an impossible problem flooded my mind. I took a deep breath and pushed them aside.

Leonak gave me a toothless smile and leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking against his considerable weight. “If you can’t answer the question, just say so. We have been here too long for you to needlessly squander what little remains of this day.”

I looked back at him. I was usually good with details. It served me well. Panic and fear had always tried to take that from me. Anger, when I could muster it, had always given it back.

“Balance,” I said.

Leonak waited for me to continue. When I didn't, he boomed with laughter. “That’s not even half an answer.”

“I believe that was the answer to your first question,” I said.

Amusement gave way to confusion, and then, realizing my meaning, anger. He surged from his chair. “Do not play a game of rhetoric with me, boy!”

Pakur cracked open an eye and looked at the lumbering assessor sideways. “Whatever the case may be, he is right,” he said. “You’ve asked your question.”

Leonak turned to Pakur. “Then I’ll rephrase it.”

“No,” Pakur said. “The question has been asked, the answer given, the assessment completed.”

“I say he failed my question.”

Pakur cracked open his other eye, throwing Leonak a look of mild irritation. “I will overrule you. If and then you press the matter, broaching it to the council, my ruling will stand. Are you willing to proceed?” Though asked casually, the question simmered with murderous intent.

Leonak sat back down. Slow. As though he was using the time to think his way out. When it ran out and he retook his seat, he grumbled, “Fine.”

“Fine?” Pakur asked.

“I retract my verdict.”

“And?” Pakur pushed.

Leonak’s temples twitched. “I concede to your judgment.”

Pakur stood, rubbing at his swollen gut and ignoring Leonak’s glare. “Good. Now, if I’m not mistaken, we are done with this year's assessments.” He turned his languid gaze to me. “Congratulations, young Aki. You’ve passed the stage of theory. You may go.”

Though my boneless legs seemed determined to hinder my leaving, I did so without hesitation.