Darkness surrounded him when he awoke with a start. Jyx tried to stretch but his fingers met cold, smooth oak. He couldn’t stretch his legs either, as his feet pressed up against something solid. Jyx tried to roll over but wood met him on every side. Panic seized him like a leathery hand around his throat. Madame Snytches was known to lock errant students in the chest in her office. Was this the infamous chest? Had Markus turned evidence on him and given him up?
Jyx scrabbled at his wooden tomb until he could wriggle onto his side, legs tucked behind him and arms across his chest. He explored the wall in front of him with his fingers until he found a crack. The panicked hand loosened its grip on his throat. He worked his nails along the crack until he found a keyhole.
The memory clattered through his brain, dragging wakefulness behind it. He wasn’t imprisoned in a chest. He was hiding. Jyx had climbed into the empty cabinet in the library and drawn the doors closed behind him. He must have fallen asleep waiting for the librarians to leave. Their mindless chatter had invaded his thoughts and made him dream of dancing teacups.
He opened the cabinet door a crack and pressed his face up to the narrow opening. The library lay beyond, spread out in silence like a banquet of knowledge awaiting hungry guests. Moonlight streamed through the stained glass windows, painting vivid pictures across the flagstone floor. Only the gentle tick of the ornate grandfather clock disturbed the peace.
Jyx pushed the door, slithered out of his hiding place, and sprawled across the floor. He rolled onto his back and seized his numb legs, digging his nails into the muscles to spark life into his limbs. Spikes of pain flared in his calves as feeling returned, and he hauled himself upright using the cabinet. He closed the door and drew a sigil over the lock. The librarians would continue to believe the cabinet to be out of use, leaving it empty for his nocturnal excursions into the archives.
The spiral staircase lay on the other side of the vaulted room. Jyx bent down to pull off his boots, and padded across the floor in his stockinged feet. The staircase stood beside the window that depicted the virtues of diligence and quiet reflection. Jyx suppressed a snort. If he stuck to those, he wouldn’t be sneaking around the library at night, and he certainly wouldn’t be working on next year’s textbooks while topping all of this year’s classes.
The worn stone steps led up to the narrow gallery that clung to the walls above the stacks. During the day, a fearsome Wolfkin barred access to the staircase, and only those with a signed and stamped permit could pass. Even the students with permits were terrified of the massive guardian, a muscled warrior with the head of a wolf. At night, the Wolfkin slept curled like a puppy in a wicker basket, its armour propped up against the bookshelves. Jyx dipped a hand into the pouch hanging from his belt, and withdrew a fistful of sleeping dust. The high mages in the Autumn Gloaming made the best powder, but he’d made do with cheap sand and geo magick sigils. Jyx blew the dust across the Wolfkin. It stirred once and began to snore.
Jyx stole up the staircase. The librarians kept their most dangerous or valuable texts in the gallery. Some of the books were so treacherous they were bound shut with powerful enchantments even Jyx couldn’t unravel. Others were simply rare, and stored inside glass boxes on the shelves. The book Jyx sought was neither dangerous nor rare—simply reserved for more advanced students.
The Dominantur Umbras nestled between two ancient books bound in dragon skin. Jyx worked his fingers between the books and slid the Dominantur free, careful not to yank its spine or break its binding. Dark phantoms twisted within the depths of its slate-grey cover, its name a smudge of gold in the darkness. A double frisson of trepidation and excitement fluttered along Jyx’s soul. This was shadow magick, only a hop, skip and a jump away from the darkest magicks of all.
At his touch, the cover flipped open. A pale lavender square of parchment clung to the title page. Jyx recognised the flowing script of the warning as the handwriting of Madame Snytches.
The Dominantur Umbras is reserved for students in the fourth year or higher, and should be issued only to those students believed to be responsible and mature. The Academy accepts no responsibility for loss or injury sustained following the use of this text.
Being caught with the book would definitely lead to a night in the notorious chest and Jyx shuddered. He flicked past the warning to the introduction. Densely packed text described the principles of shadow theft, enslavement and proper maintenance. Theft didn’t concern him. There were plenty of unscrupulous traders in the Underground City who would give up their shadows for a few coins, and shadow slaves would make his mother’s household chores a lot easier. Maybe he could sell them and earn a few coins himself.
Jyx closed the Dominantur and slid the book into his satchel, pre-lined with a square of blanket from his bed at home. He wouldn’t be able to read the book at home; taking it out of the Academy would set off all kinds of alarms, and he’d probably lose his library privileges altogether.
Nothing stopping me reading this in here, though.
He patted his bag and headed back towards the spiral staircase. He’d told his mother he would be staying with Markus Prady tonight, knowing she would never dare breach the class boundaries between families to check up on him. He’d be able to study all night.
The Wolfkin stirred as he passed, and Jyx hurried across the library towards the reading area on the far side of the room. Tall bookshelves filled to groaning point with ancient tomes screened the reading area from the rest of the library. Jyx chose a table in the corner, and settled into the overstuffed chair. He pulled his parchment and quill from his satchel, flipped open the Dominantur, and began to read.
A raven sat on the sill, peering through the window at the rebellious student. It knew the type; it had seen that thirsty expression before. It never ended well.
The raven took flight, bearing news of Jyx’s transgression to a higher authority.
Jyx walked along the corridor in the direction of his Sigils class. The taste of bacon lingered on his tongue, and he licked the last of the coffee from his lips. The canteen staff only allowed students one cup of the hallowed drink at breakfast, but Jyx’s bleary eyes had convinced one of the nicer servers to give him a second. Jyx stifled a yawn and considered the possibility that Madam Edifer might notice his tiredness.
Still, the night spent reading the Dominantur had been worth it. The sheaf of papers in his satchel held copious notes, and while parts of the text proved dense or difficult, Jyx thought he’d understood most of it. He’d even managed to snare the tiny shadow of a moth that had blundered into the library, only setting it free just before he left. The book proved so engrossing he had barely noticed the sun come up, and he’d managed to return the book to the gallery and slip out of the library with only seconds to spare. He’d had to pretend to adjust his bootlaces outside the door to explain his presence to the librarians that morning.
“Jyximus Faire?”
Jyx stopped. A gnome stood in the corridor before him, flanked by a Wolfkin. The guard glared at him, yellow eyes burning in its wolfish face. The black fur of its canine head gave way to smooth black skin, encased in Academy armour. The gnome wore the royal blue robes of Administration, and Jyx recognised the emblem of the Academy’s dean at his collar.
“Yes?”
“Dean Whittaker wishes to see you.” The gnome turned to walk away, content that his statement would be taken as an order, rather than a request.
“Why?”
“If you come with us, you’ll find out.” The gnome cast a baleful glare over his shoulder.
The gnome led Jyx away from the main corridor into a wide passage to their left. Ancient tapestries covered the walls, depicting different scenes within magickal history. As with most stories told of battles or struggles, the illustrated events didn’t agree with each other, depending on who produced them. The staff used them as an example to students to never accept anything blindly, but to always seek further knowledge. As much as he hoped it would, Jyx didn’t think this maxim would help much if his nocturnal library visits were discovered.
Dean Whittaker’s office lay at the centre of a labyrinth of passages, designed to prevent all but the most necessary excursions to intrude on his time. A massive oak door swung inwards, and the gnome scampered through, the slapping of his bare feet on stone arrested by the sudden appearance of carpet. The Wolfkin nudged Jyx forward and he stumbled into the room.
Bookcases lined every wall, and magickal apparatus covered every available flat space. Dean Whittaker did not tend towards modesty or minimalism. He wanted to display all he knew and all he owned. Jyx gazed at the books, his fingers itching to pry one free of its shelf. He could only dream of their contents.
Dean Whittaker sat in a large, high-backed chair beyond a vast, ebony desk. Magickal symbols made of mother-of-pearl were inlaid in the desk’s surface, and a large phoenix feather quill lay on the blotter in front of the dean. He gestured to the empty seat across the desk. Jyx hesitated, and felt the Wolfkin’s clawed hand land on his right shoulder. The guard propelled Jyx forward and pushed him down into the seat. Jyx straightened his robes and tossed an indignant look at the Wolfkin.
“Jyximus Faire. How nice to see you.”
Dean Whittaker sat back in his tall chair. Jyx forced himself to make eye contact with the dean, but shudders ran down his spine to see the dancing flames in the dean’s empty sockets. Jyx didn’t even want to think about how the dean would actually “see” him.
“Dean Whittaker.”
“I’m a very busy man, Mr Faire, so I’ll get to the point. I’m assuming you’re wondering why you’ve been called to my office?”
The dean steepled his fingers, his white skin stretched taut across his knuckles.
Jyx swallowed hard. “The thought did cross my mind, sir.”
Jyx’s mind fluttered from the geo magick book in his satchel, to the stolen hours with the Dominantur Umbras the night before. He risked a sideways glance at the Wolfkin behind him. He didn’t think it was the same one from the library, but he couldn’t be sure.
“We have a lot of students at the Academy, Mr Faire. Many of them pay good money to be here. Several of them perform to an exceptional standard, yourself included. Have no fear, we’re aware of your abilities, but standards are what this Academy is founded upon. Do you understand?”
Jyx nodded but a cold slug of fear crawled down his spine. He resisted the urge to sniff his fingers, convinced the smell of ancient book dust on his hands would give him away. He didn’t think the dean’s sunken nose would smell it, but the Wolfkin certainly would.
“Of course you do. You’re a bright boy. Almost too bright, one might say. I am well aware that you feel we are holding you back.”
The flames in the dean’s eyes burned slightly colder than before. Jyx wriggled in the seat until a clawed hand clamped down on his shoulder. He forced himself to look at the dean, convinced that his ears had turned an unpleasant shade of red.
“Wh-what makes you say that, sir?”
“The fact that you hide advanced textbooks in your satchel, which you even have the temerity to read in class, and the fact that you regularly sneak into the library after hours to read texts which are often beyond the level of some of this Academy’s professors, let alone your classmates. Never mind the declarations, Mr Faire, I know about it all.”
The dean waved away Jyx’s unspoken protests of innocence. His stomach churned as he thought about what would come next. Suspension? Expulsion? Worse? It would kill his mother if he were kicked out of the Academy. Jyx tried not to gasp when he thought of leaving the Academy and its delicious library behind. He couldn’t stomach the idea of going to one of the institutions in the Underground City.
“Your line of thinking is correct, Mr Faire. Normally such transgressions would be punishable with expulsion. There is a reason that we keep you at a certain level. We need to be sure that you are mature enough to handle the magick to which we grant you access.” The dean’s expression softened, and warmth crept back into the flames in his eyes. Jyx continued to stare, panic gripping and squeezing his stomach. Acid burned at the back of his throat as he fought to control his thoughts. Telepathy on students was supposed to be forbidden.
“Wh-what will you do?”
“Mr Faire, you are an exceptional student. The very fact that you have been able to study this magick, and understand it for the most part, tells me that you have sought this knowledge not out of arrogance, but simply impatience. Perhaps there is something I can do to remedy this yearning of yours.”
The dean snapped his fingers and the Wolfkin released its grip on Jyx’s shoulder. It stomped across the dean’s office and opened a door behind the desk. The door was set flush in the smooth wooden panelling of the wall and Jyx hadn’t noticed it when he first entered the office. A tall woman, taller even than the dean, swept into the office. She wore jet-black robes, devoid of any markings or devices, and a yellow bone held a pile of black hair on top of her head. She might have been beautiful if her features hadn’t been so severe. A raven sat on her right shoulder.
“Your Excellency,” the dean said.
He rose and bowed to the newcomer. She waved him away and sat in his chair. The dean stood several feet behind, his eyes fixed on the floor. Jyx stared at the woman, unsure as to whether he should stand in greeting. “Excellency” implied someone of rank—many more ranks above the dean.
“Jyximus Faire, I presume?”
The woman didn’t so much look at him as through him. Her pale blue eyes reminded Jyx of the wolves in the City Zoological Gardens. Her stare carried the weight of the ages, and Jyx gripped the arms of his chair, convinced he would suffocate if he maintained eye contact.
“Y-yes.”
“Good. I am Eufame Delsenza.”
Jyx jerked in his seat and stared at the dean, searching for confirmation of her words. The necromancer general was here, in the Academy? The dean gave a tiny nod, and focused his attention on a spot on the floor.
“You’ve heard of me. Good. Then you know that I have been recently hired for a rather large job.” Eufame’s voice skated along the edge of a razor—buzzing decay on one side, and frozen winter on the other.
“The coronation.”
“Indeed. Our illustrious boy prince is to become king, and he has a somewhat fanciful notion that the best way to cement the commencement of his rule is by parading around his ancestors as performing monkeys.”
No one spoke ill of the royal family, not publicly, at least. Besides, Jyx thought the new king’s idea was marvellous. What better way to announce you were now in charge than by having the whole royal line present at the coronation? He was surprised no one had ever thought of it before.
“Oh, close your mouth, boy. I speak as I find, and if you’re to be my apprentice, you shall have to get used to that fact.”
“Your apprentice?”
“Yes. My little friend here has been observing you for some time, and I was particularly impressed by your choice of text last night.” Eufame gestured to the raven. Jyx couldn’t swear to it, but he was sure it nodded at him. Was it the same raven from the canals? “The Dominantur Umbras is fascinating stuff, is it not?”
“It is, ma’am. I really enjoyed it.”
“Please, call me Miss Delsenza. Ma’am is reserved for old people.”
Jyx frowned. His mother had told him terror stories of Eufame Delsenza when he was little. She was at least four hundred years old, and she’d held the position of necromancer general for the past three hundred of those. The overcrowding in the graveyards in the Underground City made fears around the necromancer legendary. No one wanted to be one of her “experiments”.
“Why have you been watching me?” Questions flooded his mind but Jyx forced himself to ask something relevant.
“My last apprentice didn’t work out. I’ve needed a new one for some time but as I’m sure you can appreciate, I can’t simply hire the first person I find. The dean here has been gracious enough to help me in the past. I normally wouldn’t look at anyone below a fourth year but I think you could do well.”
“I’d have to drop out of the Academy?”
“Yes, Jyx, you would, but I’m offering you an apprenticeship within the House of the Long Dead. Do you know what that could lead to?”
Jyx shook his head.
“Well, your prospects, should you remain here, are essentially restricted to freelance work, unless you choose to enter one of the conglomerates and work in their alchemical divisions. But I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that the House of the Long Dead is attached to the City Archives, and we have links with the Mages of the Autumn Gloaming…”
Eufame left the words, and their promise, hanging in the still air of the dean’s office. Jyx smiled, thinking of all the knowledge just waiting to be explored. Even better, a position with the necromancer general herself would have to lead to some kind of new accommodation for his family. Perhaps they could finally leave the Underground City. A tiny voice in the back of his head voiced caution, but Jyx stifled it beneath excitement at the prospect of seeing the City Archives. All that knowledge had to be worth the risk of working for the necromancer general.
“I’ll do it.”
“Excellent. I knew you’d accept.”
Eufame stood and swept across the room. The dean still refused to make eye contact. She’d almost reached the door by the time Jyx found his voice.
“How did you know I’d say yes?”
“Because you’d be a fool not to.”