It has been almost a month since I st saw Aleera and Nibbles. The twenty-five of us are standing in the middle of a gymnasium built on a high, ft-topped butte, overlooking the Academy's monumental facade.
During my very first days, I expected the deep insides of the Academy to be filled with stifling air but I did a little exploring and learned that this pce is more complicated than it first seems.
At lower levels of the cliff, to the north and south of the facade, there are tunnel-like openings that pick up cooler air which then travels through an intricate network of tunnels and passages. And I do mean intricate.
All those great shiny chambers deep inside the cliff are getting a neverending flow of rich, invigoratingly fresh air, through many, many, long and sometimes very narrow tunnels connecting to them. These tunnels, which often bend and curve, then continue to join the vast network of even wider tunnels that, in the end, fuse with the enormous, main inclined shaft. The diagrams I saw were a mole's dream typa thing—like the roots of an old tree turned upside down. This rge inclined shaft; or maybe I should call it a giant chimney-thing...anyway, the giant chimney-inclined-shaft-thing ends in a Maw. It is a rge gaping circur opening, located on the higher level of the cliff—very high up around the middle part.
The rocky lungs are maintained and kept clean by a busy army of Gray-made familiars—small, diligent, flying creatures, some no bigger than insects. Must be a pain to clean after Aegis disappears.
In conclusion...Hmmm...I should sometimes try and use that word when I want to sound all official and smart-like in front of the grandmasters. Conclusion. Conclusion. So...in conclusion, the exceptional architecture of the many tunnels keeps the air inside the cliff always bracing.
It turned out that the design of the goddess is not to be questioned for a reason.
My cssmates and I continue to stand in poor order, our backs turned at the facade, while the Grandmaster of Physical Education inspects us—with an expression of a henpecking grandmother looking at half-rotten vegetables on dispy in one of the shabbier pza markets. I'm having problems standing perfectly still. The gymnasium tunic feels rough on my skin. On more than a few occasions, I had to resist the urge to adjust it.
Eventually, after insulting us all for about the time it took my css to climb all the way up here, he notices me. Of course, he does.
''My goddess,'' he looks at me like I'm a turd. ''Half of your weight must just be hair.''
The hair of girl students is required to be worn in a bun, braid, ponytail, and so on, during our bors in the gymnasium or while running. The boys have it cropped short although I've seen older male students having more freedom in this regard. I had tied mine behind in a wavy mess of Sol-colored strands with bangs reaching my eyebrows. I assume he is being overly dramatic with his words to establish dominance over our group. Or maybe he's just an ass. I should ponder on this.
His eyes sweep our line and again annoyingly nd on me. ''Holy ancestors, we may tolerate girls having long hair but that doesn't mean to never cut it.'' He stares some of us in the eye before continuing. ''It makes me sick to look at you all. Useless dustbags,'' his voice almost drops to a whisper making the st few words somehow sting more.
Grandmaster Vidar looked like a veteran soldier—or at least how I imagine a veteran soldier—with a couple of straight and deep scars burrowing his left hand, wide shoulders, and a spear upright bearing. Maybe he does have a spear in him alright. I smile a little, but in a hidden, subtle sort of way—I don't need his fmboyant attention on me again.
The grandmaster also had a receding hairline and a thick brown beard. Apparently, his big fuzzy beard was perfectly suited for all physical activities. Hypocritical piece of--
''But that is part of the job,'' he continues cheerfully, interrupting my happy thoughts. ''To slowly cut and polish you so that maybe one day what remains is a person worthy of this pce.'' He throws his big arms toward the core campus in the distance behind my back for dramatic effect. The nest-beard bastard doesn't yell yet his voice is grating and the words get to me since he speaks with such annoying conviction. Grandmaster Vidar regarded all of us like one might regard puke or a piece of trash on the street.
He is about two times taller than me but I'm fairly certain I could find a way to reach and snap his thick neck. Sure, it would get me chained and thrown off the northern end of the canyon at the foaming water and jagged rocks far below, but that seems like a small punishment compared to potential satisfaction. Knowing that I could, will have to satisfy me for now.
