SCA, day two. Mana control test.

As soon as I walk into the lecture room, I regret eating such a large breakfast. The mana gauge rests on a tile-topped, wheeled table in the front of class. I know we’re in for a harrowing few hours; I hope I can keep my food down if it’s as painful as I heard. Gleaming from a recent polish, the spiked implement and steel orbs are even more ominous now than when I first laid eyes on them in Ezio’s office.

“Sorry in advance, Mel,” I say. “From what I’ve heard, a mana gauge isn’t very fun. It’s not too late to head back to the studio. Those street lamps aren’t gonna make themselves.”

“If you’re committed, then I am, too.”

“Good luck!” I whisper.

Ezio calls out my name, interrupting our pledge of solidarity. He beckons for me to join him on stage, and selects a student from each of the other three study groups, supposedly at random.

I’m certain that it doesn’t escape anyone’s notice that I’ve been included in every activity so far, however. I don’t know if I love being singled out; experience tells me that it’s the surest way to unite people against me. As I survey the narrowed eyes and pursed lips in the rows of students, I let out a tiny sigh.

This is like when Bijan was forced to work under me all over again. Back then, I was the “favored son.” Now I’m destined to be the “teacher’s pet.” No one will let me hear the end of it.

“Congratulations on completing the first class quest,” Ezio says, offering us a small clap that’s just on the polite side of mockery. “Everyone found the right syllabus, so that’s a relief. I don’t have to kick anyone out on the first day.”

Ezio is the only one who laughs at his joke. “Anyway! Before we begin with the mana control test today, let’s hear what you discovered about each other and about the course. Zara. Your team will go first.”

Zara salutes at the sound of her name, jerking upright and coming to attention. When her mind seems to catch up with her body’s actions, she blushes, dropping the salute. Ezio isn’t a commanding officer, and she’s out of her apprenticeship until her time at the SCA is up, which elicits a snort from Zviad.

“My group has all determined that we share basic combat training, Sir,” Zara barks. “Our group is still lacking in mana senses in the main, but Filkin has unlocked [Lesser Manasight], so we were able to find our syllabus in the training courtyards. We believe that you put us together to reinforce our martial roots. Sir!”

“I doubt they need reinforcing,” Ezio says with a dry laugh. “But well done. Thank you.”

Zara stands stiffly, her hands like blades at her sides, even though her report is finished. She stares straight ahead and doesn’t move until Ezio hides a smile and tells her, “Dismissed!”

Once she returns to her seat, Ezio leads another round of applause. “Thank you for your observations, Zara. Next up is Lenoire. Tell us about your group.”

Lenoire, a girl I haven’t met yet, gives us an extremely boring rundown of everyone’s age that provides zero insight into her team. She finishes in a quiet voice that’s more whimper than conversation, and slips back to her seat with her head down.

“Thank you, Lenoire. Jahn?”

Boisterous and affable as always, Jahn waves at everyone in the class before giving his report. “We’re probably the oldest group of students in the class, which I’m proud of, personally! That means that we have the most maturity and the most persistence. Nothing was given to us for free. We have no family backing, no special talents, and no rare Classes. Yet here we are! Hard work and mutual support will see us through to the end. And, of course, excellent teaching from the renowned [Scholar], Ezio. Thank you for the opportunity!”

Watching Zviad’s face go blank while Jahn talks brings a conflicted rush of joy and pity. I know it’s rude to enjoy other people’s misfortune, but Zviad isn’t exactly winning any friends with his behavior. Who cares if Jahn is chatty and loud? That’s no reason to throw a silent tantrum. As I think it over more, I realize Jahn’s words aren’t as innocent as I first thought. He’s directly taunting my teammate; I should stick up for Zviad, even if I don’t really want to get involved.

Ezio coughs into his fist politely. “Anything to say, Nuri? Feel free to share anything you want with the class.”

I come back to myself in a rush, realizing that I’ve been standing there silently instead of delivering a report. I nod my head. “Our group is probably the most diverse. For example, both Melina and I are auditing the class, Teuira and Zviad won early-entry scholarships, and Kuuper and Eliakim both got in through the standard application process. We’re from all over Densmore, from the capital to the borderlands. Our skill sets don’t have a lot of overlap, so working together is a fantastic opportunity to learn. I’m trying to keep track of what my classmates have to offer, since our different backgrounds mean we’ve got a lot to teach each other. I have the most to learn of anyone, so I need their help. I’ve already noted down some ideas for future study.”

“Enterprising! What would you ask each student to teach you? Let’s hear your analysis,” Ezio says. Once again he’s singling me out, instead of dismissing me like the others.

I studiously avoid looking at Zviad. If I make fun of him, I’m likely to win the rest of the class over to my side. For a brief moment, I almost give in to the temptation, but I bite my tongue at the last second. We’re teammates. Instead, I pivot to a new tactic. “I couldn’t help but notice that they’re all much younger than I am, which means they’ve learned more solid theory than I have. I am a late bloomer, and that’s being kind.”

I lick my lips while I think, trying to buy time. “Teuira is incredibly gifted with lightning. It’s not something I’m able to Skill into, but maybe I can borrow from her technique. She gave us a brief demonstration yesterday, and I noticed that she’s able to activate her Skills instantly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen mana move so quickly before. I’m sure dealing with a potentially dangerous aspect takes a lot of discipline and work.

“Zviad seems advanced due to his tutoring in the Capital and his sharp mind. He’s my first choice for teaching me about how to circulate more efficiently, as we all saw last class. My guess is that he can also help me refine how I view mana, even without [Manasight] yet. I’ll bet he’s got excellent mana senses, or at least knows the theory inside and out.

“Melina is my colleague. She’s got precise control of her Skills and can shrink or expand their area of influence. I’m sure we can learn from her regarding shaping exercises,” I finish. I’ve left out Kuuper and Eliakim in our study group, but I’ve already talked long enough.

“Thank you, Nuri. Any observations you’d like to share regarding students not on your team? So far, you’ve got a keen eye for people,” Ezio says, his voice warm with approval.

I rack my mind for something that’s both a compliment and critique. I don’t want to let the slight against my teammate go unaddressed. “Uh, Jahn seems friendly and willing to talk—not something I take for granted. He’s also got a broken pocket watch, likely due to carelessness. I’ve noticed he’s sat on it a couple times during class already. He needs to work on awareness. Not one for reading the room. I could repair the glass in exchange for studying together. I’m a glassblower, and he’s clearly had to take a few tests in his day to get in here.”

“You’re a crafter?” Zviad bursts out. “What are you even doing here?”

“Yes. I’m an [Assistant Glassworker],” I say, gritting my teeth. Why is Zviad so stubborn and dense? I’m trying to stick up for him, and he’s treating me like the dirt beneath his feet. “My shop is the Silaraon Glass Works. My father was a [Glassworker] before me, as well as an adventurer. I’m following his path.”

“Whatever. If you’re in my group, learn to pull your own weight. Don’t expect me to help if you fall behind.” Zviad scowls, but he’s smart enough to see that everyone’s watching him, so he leaves it at that. He catches his breath and straightens his jacket. Fixing an imperious and bored look on his face, he rolls his wrist, gesturing for Ezio to get on with things.

Ezio wheels the small table forward and picks up the mana gauge. Light reflects off the polished surface. “Since you’re so eager to participate, Zviad, why don’t you go first?”

“I’ve already taken a mana control test before,” Zviad says. “Why not let the crafter do it? He probably couldn’t afford such an expensive test before.”

“Magnanimous of you, but you’re not getting off so easily,” Ezio replies. “Do you have the previous scores available? I’ll see how far you’ve progressed since your first test.”

“My tutor refused to show me,” Zviad admits.

“Then let’s not pass up an opportunity. Nuri, you can go afterward. Watch closely.”

Zviad shudders, but to his credit, he vaults down and stalks up to stand on the other side of the ornately-inlaid table. I shift over, giving him space. He holds out his hand, placing it palm up on the tile surface of the table, and a ward springs to life.

Ezio lowers the spike until it breaks the skin. A single drop of blood wells up, siphoned away by the gauge, and a spiral of silvery-white light envelops the artifact.

“Place your hands on the orbs,” Ezio says, speaking loudly for the sake of the students in the back. “Draw in as much mana as you can from the reservoir, pass it through your own mana channels, and fill the receptor on the other side. Try not to change the mana or let it leak from your channels. Begin when you are ready.”

Zviad takes a deep breath. He turns to face the assembly, lifting his chin and managing to look down his nose at us, despite our elevated seating. He tightens his fingers around the two orbs, and draws the unaspected mana from the reservoir into his body.

I strain to watch what’s happening, trying in vain to cycle mana to my eyes. Back at our desks, Melina is meticulously noting down everything that’s happening, although her pen slows to a halt when she realizes that there’s no outward component. Other than a few beads of sweat on our classmate’s brow, his struggle is purely internal.

Less than a minute later, Zviad doubles over and throws up on the floor. He steps back to avoid any splatter, coughs, and accepts a towel from Ezio. Wiping his mouth in silence, Zviad projects great dignity, as if daring anyone to laugh at his misfortune.

A pair of Silaraon City Academy assistants stand up from where they were waiting in the corner of the room. I didn’t notice them earlier, but Ezio clearly anticipated that students would be sick. The two work in tandem, one mopping up the mess and the other spraying a cleanser on the floor. Together, they scrub the vomit off the floor faster than I thought possible. They must have cleaning Skills. Wish I could see what they’re doing with their mana.

Even so, I can’t scrub the image out of my mind. The clumps that were on the floor are evidence of the difficulty of the test. Zviad lost his breakfast when his stomach couldn’t take the roiling mana anymore, and my own stomach is tying itself in knots in anticipation of the torture I’m about to heap on my body. Why did I agree to this again?

“Nuri, you’re next,” Zviad commands on his way back to his desk. He’s not actually in charge, even if he’s the de facto leader of our study group, but there’s no room for debate in his tone, so I step forward and lift my hands toward the crowd like an entertainer. I’m no coward.

“You sure there’s not an easier way?” I ask Ezio in jest. It’s a good thing Mikko isn’t here to make fun of me, although the thought of forcing my brother to take this stupid test alongside me finally brings a wan smile to my face. I focus on convincing myself not to hyperventilate.

Ezio gives me a measured look, then slowly shakes his head. “Technically, yes, but that requires more expensive equipment. A borderlands city like Silaraon can’t afford the fancier, non-intrusive tests. Perhaps if you go to the capital someday to sit in on the mage exams, but that’s not likely. Don’t take offense. I didn’t qualify either, despite top-notch scores when I was a student. I was top of the regional circuits, but I didn’t have any noble backing. I’m quite capable; I just lacked pedigree.”

That earns a soft snort from Zviad, but he doesn’t speak up. Regardless of his annoying attitude, I’m impressed by his self-possessed bearing. He acts like his father is grooming him for command one day, which probably isn’t far off the mark. I don’t think I’d appreciate that kind of pressure, but I guess it’s not that different from my own father teaching me glass.

I nod along like I have any idea what Ezio means, although I’m impressed by his claim. Top regional scores? He’s gotta be smart. The borderlands aren’t devoid of talent.

He chuckles. “You have no clue what I’m talking about, do you? We haven’t talked about the politics behind Densmore’s guilds, although the details are in that book I loaned you.”

“Uh, all I really got out of your explanation is that pain is inevitable, but it won’t get me anywhere in life. Great encouragement,” I joke.

Ezio’s laughter overflows now. A good number of the students join him, apparently just as anxious as I am for something to break the rising tension in the room. “Not a bad lesson. Unintended, and a touch cynical, but it’s better to be practical about your prospects. No sense fostering false hope. Well, go on then. You’ve seen how it’s done. Your turn now.”

“Can I see Zviad’s scores before I try the test, so I know what to shoot for?” I ask Ezio as he hands me the gleaming metal apparatus.

“No.” Ezio says immediately. “Stop stalling.” He smiles at me, all sharp edges and mirth. “It’s profoundly unprofessional of me to say so, but after my own teachers forced me to take the test, I’m going to enjoy watching all of you take your turns.”

“Truly, a teacher among teachers,” I reply, which earns me another round of laughter.

I examine the mana gauge again, amazed that it’s capable of causing such agony. The gauge is essentially a simple metal rod that splits in the middle into two prongs. Each of the rods lead to a metal ball the size of my fist: the transmitter on one side, and the receiver on the other. A set of cables ties it all together, but I’m not sure what their purpose might be.

All I have to do is to take in the unaspected mana through one node, circulate the energy through my channels, and deposit the remaining mana. Whatever I manage not to lose through leakage or mismanagement goes into the other node. The difference between the initial and final mana capacities is my raw score, which is then converted into a curve based on previous readings throughout history, if I understood Ezio’s previous explanation correctly. I’m not sure how the relative scores update in real time, but Ezio insists it’s a modern marvel of magic.

I take a deep breath, grasp the testing tool in each hand, and grind my teeth as I try to work up some courage. “What if I don’t score very well? Will you still teach me? Are we sure this is worth it?”

“It’s not about where you start,” he intones in a tired voice. “Every good [Instructor] will tell you that it’s about how you apply yourself and where you end up. Long term goals, Nuri. I’m sure you’ll be terrible at first. Most people are. And then we’ll get to work fixing you. By the time we’re done with you, I’ll take an alarming amount of pride in seeing how far we’ve come.”

I close my eyes, squeeze my hands around the testing nodes, and heave at the mana in the reservoir. White-hot pain erupts across my palm, eating away at each fingertip, invading the skin and bones of my wrists and elbows. I bellow in agony, twisting and fighting against the flood of corrosive torment, but I discover that I can’t let go of the testing apparatus even if I want to.

Fear flashes through me. Why can’t I let go? Is this really just an elaborate prank? The flow of mana holds me in a vice grip, bound in place by some additional element of magic that Ezio never told me about. I groan in primal terror, like an animal caught in a trap, and I almost forget that this is a test of control.

The thought flashes through my mind in a thunderclap of clarity, bringing me back to the task at hand. Control. It’s just like my glass training orbs. Trembling like lighting has struck my limbs, I nonetheless force my tortured mana channels to absorb as much of the energy as I can. I circulate it throughout my metaphysical body, greedy now not to allow a single drop to spill, and it courses through me in a torrid flood of power.

My reaction is far worse than Zviad’s, a distant part of my mind notes—the part that isn’t screaming in terror. My muscles seize and spasm, and drool starts to dribble down my chin, but I grind my teeth together and keep working the energy from one side of the testing apparatus to the other, forcing the receptor to fill until I can’t hang on anymore.

My teeth grind together in torment. I’ve never felt anything like this, not even when I was eleven and Lionel and Mikko talked me into stomping on an ant hive. The angry swarm of fire ants poured out of their nest and stung me all over in their zeal to defend the hive. Mad insect patriotism. I would gladly live through that a thousand times over rather than wrestle with this mana torture device any longer.

And yet.

I’m determined to last longer than Zviad. He might have the edge in training, in backing, and in talent, but I’m stubborn to the bone.

I hang on for another minute, shaking so hard my teeth are rattling, before my strength is completely spent. With a cry of defeat, I release the mana and collapse to my knee. My fingers are frozen in place on the testing nodes, too fried to let go, but the pain finally stops. I let out a whimper like a dog that’s been kicked by a cruel owner, and sag down until my forehead bumps into the cold, tiled floor.

I don’t know how I drift in a void before Melina’s voice breaks into my consciousness, as though through a thick fog. “Steady, Nuri. I’ve got you. Let’s get back to our seats.”

Hands hold me under my shoulders and behind my head, lifting me back upright. Vision returns by degrees, and I see Melina and Ezio peering down at me in concern. They assist me to my feet, and I hobble back to my desk in a daze.

I’m proud to say that I didn’t throw up. Not many people can make that claim; by the time all the students are done—other than a handful who refuse the test—only three of us have kept our breakfasts inside our bodies. It’s not much, but it’s a start. Pain and danger are in my future if I refuse to content myself with making cups and bowls and window panes for the rest of my life. So be it. I’ll do whatever it takes to walk this path.