Dawn of Chaos Page 2

  Not that he had ever done anything like that, of course. His studies as a freshman adventurer at the Silver Star had ended up being mainly theoretical. Still, his year there had been a high point of his academic career, even if it looked as though he would have little opportunity to put that knowledge to use.

  That had been a great relief to his family. They had been horrified at his decision to enroll there. That had taken everyone by surprise, and himself as well. He had graduated from the Grand Academy with highest honors the year before, and they had expected him to finally put an end to his studies and take up his long overdue position in the family business.

  Though far from the nobility, the Deneris were a leading family of the Carlissan Trade Guild. Pragmatic to a fault, they had never really understood his interest in scholarship. He had a keen mind and an unusual aptitude for finance, and they couldn't understand his reluctance to settle down and apply it to the needs of the Deneri Trade and Import Company. They had told themselves that his odd flirtations with philosophy and history — and then, adventuring, of all things — were just a phase. An eminently sensible boy in other respects, he would eventually outgrow them, and start to focus on the important things in life.

  Those, of course, were money and status.

  Only he hadn’t outgrown his studies. It had taken some introspection to fully understand his motives in accepting the unexpected offer he’d received to apply to the Silver Star, and for actually enrolling once he had been accepted. It was an act of rebellion, he realized, a subtle gesture of defiance against the expectations of his family.

  It wasn’t that he disliked business, per se. Quite the contrary; he had always had a healthy appreciation for wealth, honestly earned. That last qualification never quite seemed to register with his family, though, who weren’t particularly scrupulous about observing it. Perhaps that was part of the reason he had chosen to remain a student for so many years. Books and learning seemed so much cleaner than what he’d seen of life in the Trade Guild.

  He was still surprised, though, at the events that had finally led him to this day. They had started with a letter from one of his old professors at the Grand Academy. Dean Lander was the head of the philosophy department, which was sponsoring a new academic program. It needed junior faculty who could take on such a responsibility, and Orion had distinguished himself as a student there.

  The idea, the letter explained, was to provide courses for some of the more gifted of the young lords and ladies of the nobility. They wouldn’t be part of the official curriculum, but they would be held at the academy itself. They would bear its imprimatur and carry its prestige. And the pay would, at long last, give him the option of a viable career away from the family business.

  That had been three weeks ago. A blur of interviews and applications had taken up most of his time since, followed by a rush of sleepless nights to develop a curriculum for his appointment as Junior Special Instructor of Philosophy. Now he was on his way to teach his first class.

  No, he had arrived, he corrected himself, as he stopped before the door to the lecture hall. It was one of the rooms that bordered the garden, with an outer wall of panels that could be removed for open-air usage. That was how the room stood now. The sun was shining brightly and the garden was in full bloom. He couldn’t imagine a more perfect setting for his first day of teaching.

  “Ah, Orion! There you are,” a voice called.

  He saw a familiar face striding toward him along the corridor. It was Dean Lander. Orion stepped forward to meet him, and, as was customary at the academy, bowed in greeting.

  “Good Morning, Dean Lander,” Orion said respectfully. “How goes your day, so far?”

  “Correct and deferential, as always, Instructor Deneri,” the Dean observed with just a hint of a smile. “But also quite unnecessary. You’re on the faculty here now, and that makes you one of us. James will do, I think. At least when we’re alone. Still need to keep up appearances in public, of course.”

  Orion nodded. They had always gotten along well, so he wasn’t surprised that his ex-professor was now adopting a more collegial manner with him. He looked around briefly to confirm that no one was within earshot.

  “That will take some getting used to — James,” he admitted with a dry smile. “But I shall apply myself to the task, as always.”

  Dean Lander clapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder. “No doubt you will. So, are you ready for your first day of class? I read the lesson plan you submitted. Impressive. Unorthodox, to be sure. But innovative as well. The review committee had quite a debate over it, as you might imagine.”

  Orion’s eyebrows rose slightly.

  “I wasn’t aware that it had generated controversy,” he said slowly. “Though to be honest I expected it might. I was actually surprised when it was approved without comment.”

  Dean Lander shook his head dismissively. “A reasonable surmise, but nothing to be worried about. Professors of the more “traditional” school are always leery of deviation from the standard lecture format. But these classes themselves are intended to be an innovation. They called for a new approach, and you gave them one. Some of us saw what you were trying to accomplish — and once we pointed it out to the others, it quieted most of the objections.”

  Orion nodded in appreciation. “I’m glad to hear that. So they understood my emphasis on motivation as a factor in designing the curriculum?”

  Dean Lander nodded. “With a little help, yes. As you observed in your proposal, students admitted to the formal programs have already made a commitment to scholarship. But this program is supposed to stimulate interest in such learning. It is to help encourage those with an aptitude for it to understand and appreciate the potential value of academic training. That format required more than just a straight explication of content. It wasn’t hard to get approval for your plan, once it was clear how you wove that motivational focus in with the basic content. In the end it turned out to be much less of a debate than your appointment to the faculty.”

  Orion’s eyebrows rose again, though he otherwise kept his expression carefully neutral.

  “I didn’t know that, either,” he said after a long pause. “And I have to say that it is a little disturbing. Should I be concerned that my tenure here seems to have been accompanied by so much controversy?”

  “Not at all,” the Dean said hastily. “The program itself was controversial, as you well know. Your qualifications were excellent, and never a cause for concern.”

  Lander paused, as though debating with himself. When he spoke again, it was in a hushed tone.

  “That concern came from another matter,” he said. “And one that we should probably discuss in a more private setting.”

  He gestured toward the lecture room, and Orion led the way in. Dean Lander continued once they were inside and had closed the door.

  “This is something I’ve debated talking with you about,” he went on quietly. “Deliberations on faculty assignments are privileged, as you well know. They are not normally discussed with anyone, much less with the candidate himself. However, this issue is one that I suspect you may have known nothing about — and if so, I believe that you should. I trust that I can count on you to keep this conversation in the strictest confidence?”

  Orion nodded quietly. He kept his face composed, struggling to control a growing sense of dread.

  “Your appointment became controversial because of a perceived attempt at influence on your behalf with one of the regents,” the Dean explained. “It appears that your mother requested an audience with Lord Oster, and used it to speak in support of your application. Were you aware of that?”

  Orion’s blood ran cold. His family was notorious for its extensive contacts in the Trade Guild, as well as among the lesser nobility. It was equally notorious for its success at using them to curry favor. Deneri Trade and Import had acquired charters for several royal monopolies, including the lucrative mining contracts with northern Landis. But why would the
y intervene on his behalf, given their antipathy to his studies?

  When he remembered where he had been prior to receiving this offer, though, their intervention suddenly made sense. They had never understood his interest in scholarship, but they had also never actively opposed his attendance at the Grand Academy. It was something they could parlay into a source of status, and they took advantage of every opportunity to brag about it.

  The Silver Star had been another matter entirely. Traditional Kalaran culture had looked askance on adventuring, as a profession, for thousands of years. Despite the many benefits it had brought to the world — such as the discoveries of ancient knowledge and artifacts from before the Grim Times — it had historically carried something of a social stigma, particularly to the more provincially minded.

  Orion’s family had threatened to cut him off and throw him out of their home at the very idea of studying for such a profession. And for the first time in his life, he had openly defied them. On-site room and board was a requirement of all students at the Star, he had countered, and his grades had earned him a large enough stipend to support himself. Just large enough for the spartan lifestyle of an adventurer-in-training, but enough. He would attend, taking nothing with him but the clothes on his back if necessary. If they chose to disown him for it, he would not try to stop them.

  They had relented in the end, when it became clear that he would not be dissuaded. But they had also never stopped pressuring him to abandon “this reckless and irresponsible decision.” Certainly they would have preferred that he join the company, but being an instructor at the Grand Academy was at least a respectable alternative.

  It was also something they knew he would find attractive. It would offer opportunities for him to make important contacts — ones that he could, they would believe, eventually be persuaded to use to help the family business. And nearly anything would be better than letting him continue the course that he had embarked on.

  “No,” he said emphatically. “I was not. If she did, it was without my consent. And I must say that I am deeply disturbed by this revelation. Such an assignment should be based on academic merit, not on the exercise of personal influence. If this was the basis of my appointment, then I must, and with regret, tender my immediate resignation. I will stay on until you can find a replacement, of course, but it would be inappropriate to remain in my position given these circumstances.”

  Lander shook his head. “Just the reaction I was expecting. And no, I won’t be accepting your resignation, so you can put that thought out of your mind right now.”

  “You misunderstand,” he continued, as Orion frowned in confusion. “Lord Oster was not your sponsor, and your mother’s attempt at favor-currying didn’t help your application. Instead, it nearly killed it. You got the job despite the questions and misgivings it raised. Because your record spoke for itself, and because your sponsor spoke forcefully in your defense.”

  Orion closed his eyes, feeling a mixture of anger and gratitude. Gratitude toward his sponsor, who of course he assumed all along had been Dean Lander himself — and anger toward his family for sullying his achievement with their machinations.

  “Thank you for letting me know about this,” he said quietly. “I will need to think carefully on what to do about it.”

  “Quite so,” Dean Lander agreed. “Your sponsor was able to save you this time, but in future you may not be so fortunate. He convinced the committee — with some help from me, I’m proud to say — that you were an honorable man who would never have countenanced such meddling. Moreover he seemed to know quite a bit about your family’s regrettable habit of favor-currying, and didn’t hesitate to educate the others about it. Lord Oster was particularly mortified.”

  Dean Lander paused as Orion looked at him in surprise. So his old professor hadn’t been his sponsor. Who had? He found himself suddenly consumed with curiosity, but he also knew that this was not something he could ask the man to reveal.

  “I won’t presume to advise you on how to handle this matter,” the Dean continued gently. “But such meddling by your family can only hurt your career. You will need to protect yourself from it. Indeed, it may end up hurting their own position as well, and more than they realize. Political sentiments are changing in Carlissa, and things will likely be very different for them under King Danor’s new reforms.”

  King Danor’s new reforms. Orion could feel the tumblers falling into place in his mind at those words, unlocking the answer to the question that he had contemplated only moments before. The city had been awash for weeks in rumors about the new laws that the King and the High Council were preparing to proclaim. And it was no secret that the King’s father had been intimately involved in drafting them.

  “The Archmage,” Orion said suddenly. “He was my instructor at the Star this past semester, for my course in magical theory. He spoke highly of my work. He was my sponsor.”

  Dean Lander grinned. “You didn’t hear it from me, dear boy,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

  A sharp knock at the door put an abrupt end to their conversation, and it opened before they could respond. Through it, they saw a grey-haired woman with her hair tied into a tight bun. She stepped quickly into the room and delivered a flawlessly efficient curtsey.

  “Dean Lander,” she said. Her manner was brisk and no-nonsense. “The students are here for their first lecture.” She turned to Orion. “I assume this is Instructor Deneri?”

  The Dean nodded and made introductions. “Dame Marjeune is Mistress of Lessons at the royal palace,” he explained. “She has been assigned the task of coordinating attendance for your classes.”

  The matron stepped out of the doorway, and two armed palace guards entered the room. Orion saw them look around, expertly doing a rapid threat assessment, and then choose standing posts at the end of the room near the open walls to the garden.

  He smiled. A year ago, he wouldn’t have understood what they were doing or why. Now he was unconsciously performing the same assessment himself. The students must be collected in a group in the corridor outside with additional guards at the rear of the retinue, he surmised. Otherwise, one of them would have remained in station by the door.

  “You may enter now,” Dame Marjeune called.

  The students began filing into the room. Their behavior was more orderly than Orion would have expected, given their ranks and station. He watched them as they walked by, giving slight nods of greeting to the two teachers as they took their seats.

  As expected he counted fifteen of them, boys and girls of varying ages spanning their teenage years. He also noted that they appeared to be under limited control, despite the orderliness of their entrance.

  The girls sat together in a group, whispering to each other. Some of them threw glances at the boys and giggled. He noted with alarm that several of the looks were being directed toward him, and turned hastily away.

  The boys seemed to be a more varied lot. Some seemed shier and more studious, but others were bolder and carried themselves with an insouciant air.

  Orion waited until they had all taken their seats, and a third guard had closed and assumed his post by the door. Then he walked forward to take his place beside the lectern at the head of the class.

  “Young lords and ladies,” Dame Marjeune began. “You are here today at the Grand Academy of Lannamon to begin a course of academic instruction in the subject of philosophy. Each of you has been nominated for this opportunity by your tutors, and your attendance requested and approved by your families. The Grand Academy is the finest institution of learning on the eastern continent, and some of the noblest of the aristocracy have numbered among its students. To study here is an honor.”

  Orion noticed several faces in the class turning to look at him. Clearly, not all the students were convinced by Dame Marjeune’s words. They knew he was not of the nobility, and a few of the haughtier students would object to being instructed by him. His authority was likely to be challenged by the group,
and he would have to be prepared for that.

  He quickly began to formulate a plan. There appeared to be no real coordination among the boys. They would probably challenge him individually, and that would make them easier to handle. The girls concerned him more. They might work together, but would also be less openly aggressive …

  His attention came back to the room when he heard Dean Lander speak his name. Dame Marjeune had finished her admonishments to the class, and had given him the floor to complete his introduction.

  “Instructor Deneri will be your lecturer for this course,” the Dean explained. “He is a recent graduate of the academy and one of my most accomplished students. You may also find it of interest that he is a journeyman adventurer, and has studied metaphysics at the Silver Star under Lenard the Archmage himself.”

  A startled murmur rippled through the class. Orion smiled inwardly. The statement had seemed to throw the students’ preconceptions about him into disarray. That would likely make his job easier …

  “He carries the academy’s full authority to conduct the class and to administer and grade examinations, so you would be well advised to attend him. I leave you now in his care.”

  The Dean turned and bowed to Orion, and to Dame Marjeune, and then strode from the room. The Mistress of Lessons took a seat by the door. Orion stepped up beside the podium to begin.

  A thrill of excitement ran through him. It was finally time! The class was his, and sudden confidence rippled through him like a surge of the Magic itself. His preparations had been thorough, and he saw the lesson in his mind now like a map laid out before him — with all the topics to visit like places, clearly marked. He had earned this position despite all odds, and had been recommended by the Archmage himself!

  Even news of his family’s clumsy interference could not dim his enthusiasm. It was the last straw in their deteriorating relationship, he knew, and he would have to deal with it when the time came. For now, though, he was finally ready to begin his new life as a teacher and a scholar.