Even before he had any real chance of attending the university, Benji always knew when new student orientation was underway. There was a buzz around the entire ward as a sudden influx of teenagers showed up, many trailing parents or with older siblings showing them around. The teashops opened their patio seating no matter the weather in order to accommodate the extra bodies, while local hotels and the many nearby stores selling cheap goods aimed at the student market did a roaring business. In the past, the orientation crowds had been more inconvenient than anything, as the new students coming in from out of town brought waves of people who had no idea how to walk efficiently in the narrow streets that fed into the university quarter, somehow even clogging up the huge plaza in front of the Hall of the Elements, which could have comfortably fit two dragons in it, maybe three if they were especially polite.

  But today, this buzz belonged to Benji. It was for him, meant to make new students just like him as comfortable as possible.

  Well, maybe not just like him.

  Student guides, helpfully wearing bright purple pins, positioned themselves throughout the campus to steer wayward students and parents in the right direction. This was no small feat given the university’s layout—academic buildings clustered at the center of the university quarter, with dormitories sprawling outward into the surrounding city, up onto the hill where the city’s character began to change toward the newer high-rises with their pinnacle further up the Spire. There was no point where city ended and university began, no suddenly green campus or dividing wall as there would have been at smaller, less urban schools like the non-magical Heathermark College. The university was the city, and the city was the university. Most of the student guides, as helpful as they were, took a few seconds to recognize that he was a student and not a parent. The short young woman who pointed him toward the counter to collect his room key apologized for mistaking him for someone’s older brother, while the reedy man with freckles still looked unconvinced even after telling Benji where to pick up his identification badge.

  The student assigned to hand out dorm keys was thoroughly flummoxed. Like most male students, he wore his black hair at shoulder-length, and he kept nervously tucking it behind his ear as he attempted to locate Benji’s key.

  “No, I do see your name on the list, that’s not the issue,” the young man said. He’d introduced himself as Frederick, with a breezy smile that had immediately disappeared once he realized that whoever had instructed him in this task had not prepared him for this scenario. Frederick rummaged amid a pile of leather satchels, each engraved with the name of a new student. Their careful alphabetization was in serious jeopardy as Frederick became more and more flustered and started spreading them about more and more wildly.

  “I don’t get it, all the packages for students in the first-year dorms are supposed to be in here,” Frederick said.

  “Maybe it’s under my first name?” Benji asked.

  Frederick gave him a look clearly stating that, wherever it might be used, first name-based alphabetization certainly did not belong at the university. Framing Frederick were the massive pillars that supported the Hall of the Elements’s fa?ade. The line behind Benji was growing rapidly.

  “Is mine in there?” came a voice from behind Benji. When he turned, he had to look down at least a foot before meeting the eyes of a very small, very blonde boy. “There should be one for Simon McKay?”

  Frederick was flustered enough that he didn’t object to this disruption in his line’s dynamics.

  “Just making sure it’s not a more widespread issue,” Simon said with a beatific grin. “I’m not trying to cut the line or anything.”

  “Oh no, sure, go ahead,” Benji said.

  “Thanks a bunch, Tall Man,” Simon said. He turned back to the other boys and girls waiting behind him. “Did you hear that? Tall Man said we could cut in front of him!”

  Benji was powerless to stop the army of teenagers who had apparently been waiting for Simon’s signal to swarm the desk. For the next few minutes, Frederick completely forgot about his struggle to find Benji’s key as he located the satchel for each student who had cut in front of him. This gave Benji ample time to feel both far too old, and more than a little confused at being called “Tall Man” when he’d been just shy of an average height his whole life.

  “Go ahead and grab the one for my sister too,” Simon said as Frederick hunted for the final key. “Lucy McKay. I know it’s probably not allowed, but we’re twins so you can blood test me or whatever.”

  Frederick looked so grateful to be rid of another set of keys that he didn’t even question Simon taking the extra satchel. Simon winked at Benji as he collected it. “I probably won’t hide it and pretend I never picked it up so that she’s stuck waiting out here forever. Probably.”

  “Please don’t do that,” Benji said. “Take it from me, not being able to track down the key to your room is no fun.”

  Simon groaned. “I hate having the reasonable part of my psyche appealed to.” He leaned in close and his face suddenly darkened, his eyes bulging. His voice came out as a deep hiss that sent shivers down Benji’s spine. “That portion of my psyche has grown rather small of late.”

  For the first time, Benji felt he was on the same side as Frederick, as they exchanged a horrified look. Simon’s face returned to its previous placid expression. He whistled jauntily as he waved the two leather satchels, taking the steps back down to the plaza two at a time. A couple of the other first-years appeared to be following him, as if on instinct.

  Simon was going to be a problem.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “You know, come to think of it, they don’t put the senior first-years in the first-year dorms anyway,” Frederick said, eyes vacant as if he was still trying to shake off a deeply traumatic experience. “You’ll be in one of the dorms usually reserved for seventh-years and above, which they probably put in the box for returning students. You know, because of your…”

  “My advanced age, I got it.”

  Frederick winced and shuffled off to find the other box.

  ***

  There wasn’t time to walk over to the dorm before his first orientation session, so Benji still had his leather bag and a sheaf of parchment containing his course list and a few other orientation materials tucked under one arm as he climbed the stairs at the north end of the Research Center. The glass building was directly across the square from the Hall of the Elements, its bulbous glass windows looking out over the activity on the square below. The swarms of people only served to accentuate the massive statue of Varai at its center, his arm stretched high above him, as if searching for whatever knowledge might be attained within the clouds. The stairs were a spiral within one of the glass protrusions, so with every floor Benji climbed, the view only became more arresting.

  When he reached the research lab—it looked like some kind of combination of fireworking and metalworking with many pieces of scrap metal and portable kilns stacked haphazardly on the tables in the center of the room—Benji felt a surge of relief as he saw a familiar face, even if the head above it was shot through with sheets of metal and rivets.

  Tasman welcomed Benji warmly. They sat on the high lab benches, the professor asking benign questions about how he was finding orientation so far, and whether he’d tried the pierogis in the dining hall yet.

  “We’re waiting for just one other so-called ‘senior first-year.’ Ah. Here he is.” Tasman got up to welcome the new arrival.

  The man who entered the room could have been around Benji’s age, or he could have been three hundred. Pallid features rose to striking cheekbones, above a high-necked cloak that had been out of fashion since well before Benji was born. He seemed to carry a shadow behind him, as if he was the reason for the chill in the air. His delicate frame glided on long legs that made him well over six-foot-five.

  He introduced himself as Maynard, and then said, “Please do not make the mistake of asking me my surname.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Tasman said. Old pro that he was, he had no problem looking past Maynard’s strangeness and moving right into logistics.

  He described their course of study, how half their classes would be with other first-years, while the other half would be in the secondary track, where older students who had already mastered other disciplines would tackle magical techniques they hadn’t yet learned.

  “I won’t lie to you, the secondary courses will be a challenge,” Tasman said. “You’re working alongside seasoned mages who might not know how to excel in the exact discipline, but who are well-acquainted with magic.”

  “We will manage,” Maynard said gravely.

  “We will?” Benji asked, more at the concept that he and Maynard were automatically on some kind of team than at the concept of managing magic.

  “With the will of the world as our guide, we shall not fail.” Maynard smiled with a crookedness that suggested it was not an expression he had practiced often.

  “Good to see you being positive,” Tasman said. “Now, let me walk you through your schedules.”

  A few minutes later, Benji and Maynard were on their way to their dorm. It was indeed one of the dorms designated for seventh-years and above, one of the smaller buildings nestled in the hill above the center of campus. The brick building had once been a manor house for a single wealthy Thelspoint family, complete with a stable out back for their pet dragon. The story went that the dragon had eventually—as dragons tend to do—grown too large for the stable, and instead decided to move into the main house. By the time it outgrew the main house, the original owners were long gone, and the university used whatever sway they had in city politics to buy the house from the dragon so it could relocate to somewhere more appropriate.

  “Where are you from, Maynard?” Benji asked. The day had heated up, and his fingers were sweaty around the leather satchel.

  “Below.”

  Sure.

  Benji led the way up the twisting steps toward their dorm. He noticed with a disconcerting sensation that Maynard’s feet didn’t make any noise on the cobblestones. “Like, below Thelspoint?”

  “Yes. I lived in the canalworks beneath the city.”

  “That sounds very . . . damp?”

  “It was home. I have never had a problem with dampness.”

  “Did you just take the entrance exam this year? I’ve been trying to pass that thing for years.”

  Maynard’s cloak changed colors subtly as he shook his head. “I was compelled to be here. Apparently it is considered illegal to live in the canalworks, and when I used my magic to avoid detection, they offered to have me attend the university rather than face the punishment for trespassing. Perhaps in a misguided effort to ‘civilize’ me.”

  “Your mag—”

  “I can turn invisible.”

  Benji turned around to face him in surprise, only to find that Maynard was no longer there. Or at least, he was no longer obviously there. A faint shimmer hung from about six and a half feet up, all the way down to the ground.

  “It really works better in low light settings,” Maynard said ruefully. “I get too glittery.”

  Benji found himself reflecting that, compared to his own demonstrated magical abilities that seemed to involve making a plant move slightly, having one’s invisibility powers be a little too glittery in certain settings might not be that great a failing.

  “I’ve never heard of anyone being able to turn invisible, glittery or not,” Benji said. “It’s really impressive.” And sort of terrifying.

  As soon as they stepped inside and Benji began skirting around toward the back of the first floor to find his room, Maynard disappeared for good without saying goodbye. The halls were poorly lit by old magelights that no one had bothered to replace or recharge for years. It took an experienced lightworker just a few minutes to charge a magelight with enough power to last for years. Perhaps the students couldn’t be bothered with such a mundane task. Doors to individual rooms lined the passage at uneven intervals. It was not a smell that Benji could have identified without context, but he was almost certain that the hallway smelled of dragon. Like sulfur mixed with the scent of day-old barbecued meat.

  He reached room 103, which was tucked into a corner near the back door. Why did the simple act of opening the door to his new room feel so much more meaningful than any of the day’s other introductory rituals? Here was his new home, a space that was both his and undeniably part of the university.

  He pulled the key out, inspecting the round cylinder at its center as he let it dangle from its leather strap. With a deep breath, he slid the key in the lock. It fit perfectly.

  Then Benji turned the key, feeling the mechanism move within the lock. He turned it further, and tried to twist the knob. The knob remained in position. The key fit the door perfectly, but Benji was locked out. Somehow, it felt personal.